Summary: College AU. His next door neighbor is a brunet with charcoal smudged fingers, paint-splattered jeans, and a seemingly permanent stripe of blue poster paint on his cheek. He's clumsy and shy but his smiles light him up from the inside. Yamamoto can't help but be drawn in.
Author's note: Allana-chi: PAINT-SPLATTERED JEANS. Thank you for all your support and for putting up with me texting you just because I had no one to share 8027 feels with Q_Q Also, unfortunately, the title of this story is not paint-splattered jeans XD Haha, though I am obsessed with those. I like artist-AUs, they rock!

To my loyal readers, I love you and thank you for your continued support. If you're lonely for 8027, join the 8027 famigliain FB!

Taking A Chance
by ilYamaTsuna7227li

Yamamoto Takeshi had heard of their enigmatic neighbor going by the name of Sawada Tsunayoshi. He was infamously known in their dorm as No-Good Tsuna, someone you have to avoid unless you wanted paint in your clean shirt or charcoal smudges in your good jeans. Apparently he was more than a little clumsy, and he had the habit of carrying around paint which he almost always dropped on other people. The athlete wouldn't have believe that anyone could be as clumsy as that if he hadn't seen the constantly paint-streaked floors that was proof of the brunet's clumsiness more than anything.

Sawada Tsunayoshi was apparently and art major, to which some people scoffed at in disbelief. Although it did explain his habit of carrying art materials wherever he went, the people who do know Sawada (mostly middleschool classmates) would always express disbelief at the fact that someone no-good and clumsy would study something as precise and delicate as art.

"I bet he can't even color within the lines." Yamamoto had heard one of his dorm mates snort at his own joke.

"Eh, but either way, there's no money in art." Another student said, "So I guess No-Good Tsuna and art are actually a good combination."

Yamamoto had always thought it was unfair for people to judge the brunet like that when they've only known him from afar, from how other people see him from the outside. He wondered if anyone had even gone through the effort of being friends with Sawada before judging him biasedly on how clumsy he was.

Of course, little did he know that he was about to get that chance, one morning when he came out of his shared dorm room with Sasagawa Ryohei (a sports enthusiast like him who was given a spot in the varsity boxing team). The athlete was doing a milk run when suddenly someone short collided with him just as he turned the corner.

"Sorry! Sorry!" There was an immediate squeak of apology when Yamamoto sat up with a groan, feeling something cold and wet on the front of his shirt. He blinked rapidly and saw a brown-haired, brown-eyed teen with a stripe of blue poster paint on his cheek looking at him with a horrified expression. The taller teen followed his gaze and looked at his shirt which was splattered with orange paint.

"I'm so sorry!" The brunet kneeling beside him said, closing his eyes and bowing his head, "I didn't- I wasn't- I'm really sorry!"

Amber eyes blinked and Yamamoto tilted his head. It was clearly an accident and half of the fault was his too so he opened his mouth and said, "It's my fault too, for not looking where I was going." He smiled at the other teen who blinked in surprise, "So, no harm done, Sawada."

Brown eyes widened as the brunet asked, "H-How do you know my name?"

Yamamoto chuckled as he stood up leaning forward and hand outstretched, "You're pretty famous around here as the guy who brings paint around and almost always spills them at anyone or anything."

Sawada blushed at that but accepted the hand given to him gratefully, "Yeah, I'm really sorry about that again. I just-" He sighed, "I'm just really clumsy, I can't help it."

"You shouldn't apologize for being clumsy." The athlete laughed good-naturedly as he let go of the other's hand, moving instead to ruffle brown locks. "Besides, being clumsy is cute. I bet the people who talk about you are just jealous of that." He winked which made the brunet's face flush red.

"C-Cute?"

Yamamoto nodded seriously, "Definitely cute."

Sawada didn't seem to know what to say to that so he looked at anything but at Yamamoto before saying, "Uh, well, I have to go now and I'm really sorry about your shirt. I mean, I could pay for the dry-cleaning-"

"Nah," The raven-haired teen waved his offer off immediately, "It's fine, my clothes were due for a wash anyway."

"But-!"

"If you really want to make it up to me though," Yamamoto said with a grin, "Then show those people who talk bad about you a thing or two about art. Blow them away with some genius masterpiece, alright?"

Brown eyes blinked up at him in surprise and Yamamoto wondered if he went too far with his request. But then the brunet suddenly gave him a bright smile that made him stare, as Sawada said, "You can count on it!" He ran past Yamamoto before pausing and turning to say, "Thanks again, Yamamoto-san!" He rushed off to his room while the athlete continued to stare at his retreating form.

"A-Ah…" The taller teen said before he continued on his way to buy some milk. It was only when he was picking a brand did he realize that Sawada called him by name even though he didn't introduce himself.

Life went on after that faithful meeting. Baseball practices were more demanding and really took a chunk of his free time, so even though Yamamoto wanted to go next door and get to know the enigmatic art student, he couldn't because everyone always seem to need him for something. As days passed he found his smile growing strained with every person he talked to that wasn't Sawada and eventually he had enough, shut off his phone, and locked himself in their dorm room on Friday, telling Ryohei to tell everyone that was looking for him that he was sick.

His roommate gave him a sympathetic look, he knew well the annoyance of peer pressure and in a few days' time, people eventually stopped asking for the baseball player and he was finally given some much needed space.

But of course, staying indoors was never his thing. So one night as the weekends were about to end, the raven-haired teen snuck out of their dorm room, a thick jacket on hand as he made his way up the fire escape and to the rooftop. He'd spent the weekends sleeping, reading, and throwing a random baseball against the wall just to alleviate his boredom. Even though it was really cold outside it was still better than staying in their dorm room any longer and besides, no one would be up at three in the morning to bother him, so today was a good time as any to-

Oh, it looked like someone was already here.

Yamamoto was about to sneak back down because to his disappointment someone had already thought of the idea of staying at the rooftop before him, when suddenly the person huddled in blankets knocked over a can of something and orange spilled to the cemented rooftop as the person jumped up, sighing in frustration.

The short stature and the spiky brown hair looked familiar and the athlete was already stepping forward saying, "Tsuna?" before he could stop himself.

Said art student spun quickly at the sound of his name, his face panicked at the thought that maybe someone caught him. But then brown eyes met amber ones and the brunet's expression morphed into pleasant surprise.

"Yamamoto-san!" He said and then his eyebrows crinkled in curiosity as he realized what the athlete just call him, "Uhm, did you just call me 'Tsuna'?"

Yamamoto had the decency to flush as he scratched the back of his head sheepishly, "Uhm yeah, sorry about that." After their first meeting, the athlete had been hoping to see the brunet again and ask about his art, if he'd show him some of his works. And in all of those scenarios he'd unconsciously started calling the brunet by a nickname in his head. "It just sorta came out. I mean, it's easier to say than 'Sawada'."

The younger teen shook his head, "No, it's fine, you don't have to apologize." He said as he bent down and tried to salvage the remains of the orange paint he brought. If Yamamoto didn't know any better, he'd think the other was also trying to hide a blush, "I don't mind if you c-call me Tsuna."

The athlete stepped forward, catching another can of paint before the brunet could topple it over again. Tsuna stuttered out an apology and a thanks and he couldn't help but smile at the teen as he helped him put the paint aside, so that he couldn't accidentally knock them over again.

"So what are you doing out here, so early in the morning?" The athlete asked as they finally sat down on two of the three chairs brought up by the brunet. One chair was for the canvas, one was for the cans of paint, and the other was for himself. Yamamoto placed the cans of paint down before sitting down and looking at the bundled brunet.

"You'll laugh," Tsuna sound resigned and the athlete let out a laugh then to ready himself for whatever the art student had to say.

"No, I won't, I swear." Yamamoto swore seriously, "But I can already tell from your art materials that you came here to paint something."

The brunet let out a sigh and Yamamoto watched his frosty breath swirl before him before dissipating. 'I came to watch the sunset and paint it out." He mumbled as he waited for the raven-haired to laugh at the cliché admission.

"That sounds really cool." Yamamoto said sincerely as Tsuna shot him a disbelieving look.

"No it doesn't. It sounds cliché and used," The brunet huffed, "I was lacking inspiration for my artwork so I decided to come look at some ball of fire rising in the east." He grumbled and Yamamoto laughed at the way Tsuna described the sun rising.

"Well, either way I'm sure your painting will turn out great."

"You don't even know if I can paint or not." The brunet told him, giving him an incredulous look. Yamamoto raised an eyebrow in his direction, tilting his head before smiling.

"I don't have to know." He said with a grin, "You love art and that's enough to tell me you're pretty great at it." Tsuna blinked at him and his already red cheeks from the cold reddened even more as he covered the half of his face with his blanket.

"Thanks."

The athlete felt a warmth in his chest that he couldn't explain, as he said, "No problem."

They sat in companionable silence as Tsuna leaned to the side, taking out a thermos and pouring something warm into styrofoam cups, giving one to Yamamoto and pouring one for himself.

"If you didn't know, I'm pretty clumsy." The brunet explained, "So I made sure to bring extra cups and make a lot of coffee, just in cases I spilled one or two or four." His companion laughed again.

"I'm pretty luck that you did then." Yamamoto said as he sipped at the warmth, he watched Tsuna blow at his cup before taking a sip himself. The two of them drifted in and out of conversation, watching the sky lighten as time passed.

"Aren't you going to start painting yet?"

"It takes awhile to paint something, I'm just watching today and I'll paint out what I remember." Tsuna said as he took something from his bag, "Plus, I have a camera."

The athlete smiled, bright and warm as he said, "Good idea!"

Click!

Yamamoto blinked as a flash suddenly went off and he blinked in surprise. The brunet was blushing as he apologized, "Sorry, I accidentally took your picture."

The raven-haired teen recovered with a small smile, "No problem, accidents happen right?" He turned back to the lightening sky, unknowing of the way brown eyes lingered on his features before following his sight.

A variety of orange, pink, and red painted the sky and Yamamoto let out a cold breath, watching the night turn to day, half of the earth still dark blue with stars and the moon shining on the other side while the other half welcomed the sun, the skies burning in red and orange, welcoming the light.

Yamamoto turned to look at Tsuna a smile on his face and ready to say something along the lines of 'you say a sunrise is cliché but it actually seems pretty difficult to paint' or 'can I see your painting of this when you finish?' but then Tsuna turned towards him and the words he was going to say died in his throat.

Brown eyes reflected the sunrise orange and Tsuna gave him a soft smile as he said, "I guess painting a sunrise isn't all that cliché after all." He said before turning back to look at the sky.

The athlete opened his mouth and closed it, nodding instead, not trusting himself to speak. He felt an itch under his skin, the same itch he usually feels when he wanted to play baseball or drink his favorite milk shake. Yamamoto let out another cold breath, zipping his jacket up to his neck and resolutely looking forward.

College life just got complicated.

After that faithful sunrise, Yamamoto and Tsuna had somehow gotten into an unspoken agreement to meet each other on the same rooftop, every Sunday at three in the morning. The brunet had forgotten to take a picture of it on their first sight since he had been too busy watching. The familiar, clumsy action of the younger teen made the athlete laugh and momentarily forget about what he'd discovered on that rooftop.

Contrary to a certain musician's belief (Gokudera Hayato was a music major that Yamamoto had befriended on the first day when he accidentally entered dorm room 59, though 'befriended' wasn't really a good term to describe their one-sided arguments and the relief in Gokudera's face when he realized that Yamamoto wasn't his roommate), Yamamoto wasn't that stupid. He wasn't a stranger when it came to liking someone and he knew that the way he turned abruptly whenever he saw a hint of brown hair pass by, or the way he always looked at Tsuna's closed dorm room before he left for practice suggested that he had it bad for a certain art student.

He also wasn't a coward and when he liked someone, he was the type to make it clear instantly. But he also wasn't the type to rush into things, he wanted to get to know Tsuna and learn about the things that made him smile. He wanted to know why his fingers were always smudged with something black ("Charcoal," Tsuna told him once with a slightly embarrassed smile on his face that didn't help the way Yamamoto's heart tripped on itself) or why his jeans were always splattered with paint ("I don't think I even have jeans that aren't splattered with them anymore," Tsuna said sadly as Yamamoto tried to swallow back his offer of lending him some of his sweatpants) or why there was always a streak of blue on his face ("I spilled some paint on my only mirror. So even if you tell me I have something on my face, I can't exactly see it." And Yamamoto would have laughed if he didn't find it so endearing).

And four weeks since that faithful first sunrise they saw together one cold morning passed and all the things Yamamoto had learned about the art student had only made the warmth in his chest grow and the smile on his face seem more genuine whenever he saw him.

"How come you've never shown me any of your paintings before?" Yamamoto asked as he and Tsuna lied down on the grass, eyes trained upward at the blue, blue sky. "Or even just a sketch?"

"Because they're not that good." The brunet scoffed as he pulled at innocent tufts of grass (his hands weren't entirely clean this time either, a combination of midnight blue and white staining his fingers) before sprinkling them over the athlete's stomach. The taller teen turned to the side, balancing himself on his elbows as he frowned at the brunet who looked up at him. Yamamoto resisted the urge to reach out and wipe the smudge of blue his friend had on his brow.

"You have to have a little more faith in your abilities, I bet they're great." Yamamoto lightly scolded him and the brunet couldn't help but smile.

"You haven't even seem them yet."

"Well, yeah but I know you." The taller teen laid back down on his back, arms outstretched as he smiled up at the sky before turning his head towards Tsuna, eyes half-lidded in happiness. "You're amazing."

Brown eyes widened at the compliment and Tsuna stared at him for a several seconds in silence as the athlete blinked at him in worry. "Tsuna?"

His name seemed to snap the brunet off of whatever thought he was having and he flushed in embarrassment at the fact that he zoned out while they were talking. "Sorry about that, I was just- ah, never mind."

Yamamoto tilted his head but decided not to prod further and just said, "Right." Looking back up at the sky, not entirely unknowing of the gaze the brunet continued to direct at him.

"I heard that all artists have a muse." Yamamoto said as he looked at Tsuna upside down from his bed. The brunet had come over to play his new digital baseball game with him but after a few hours of playing, they eventually grew tired which led to Tsuna currently scanning the baseball magazines in the athlete's possession while Yamamoto lied back on the bed, watching his friend in a different point of view, preferably in an upside down point of view. Not that it changed the way Tsuna looked. He was still the short teen who wore paint-splattered jeans and hoodies with smudges of pastel on them. "So does that mean you have one?"

Tsuna hummed thoughtfully, scratching his cheek, which to Yamamoto's amusement, had a stripe of blue green on it. He looked at Yamamoto for a second before looking away, cheeks slightly pinker than normal, "You could say that."

The taller teen sat up at the affirmation as he gave the brunet a wide grin, "Oh? Really? Who is it, Tsuna? Is it someone I know? Is it Sasagawa Kyoko?"

The brunet huffed but his blush had darkened as he looked away, "Not telling."

Yamamoto's expression looked put out as he said, "Oh come on, does are friendship really mean so little to you?" He said in a hurt tone that made the brunet look at him in panic.

"No, of course not-"

The athlete made a hurt expression on his face, dropping it a few seconds later when Tsuna gave him an apologetic look. He smiled at the other, "I was just kidding." He said teasingly to the brunet who looked at him incredulously before sticking his tongue out like a child.

Yamamoto let out an amused laugh and Tsuna gave his friend an exasperated look before laughing himself. The sound of laughter from the other made something in the taller teen's chest tighten as he lowered the volume of his own laughter just to hear the other.

He had it bad for him.

On the fifth morning he and Tsuna came to the rooftop to watch the sunset, the athlete had agreed with himself that he needed to say something about his attraction to the brunet. While he was steeling himself to this decision and he silently rehearsed the things he was going to say, Tsuna took that opportunity to present him with a ticket to the art students' exhibition.

"It's in two week's time." The brunet exhaled over his cold hands and Yamamoto resisted the urge to reach out and warm it himself. "My teacher, Reborn, is hosting the whole exhibit. He somehow got permission to put in the artworks of his students and uh… It would mean a lot if you could come and check it out." Tsuna's cheeks were red but that was most probably because of the cold air.

Yamamoto stared at the ticket in his hand and the brunet started to fidget at the silence. So Tsuna blurted out, "The theme's 'Taking a Chance'. Although I've been working on that sunset painting for weeks now and I have no idea what that has to do with taking a chance but maybe I can wing it and say something about tomorrow or a new day or something like that- I uh-"

A familiar warmth in the athlete's chest made itself known and Yamamoto knew it doesn't have anything to do with the coffee they just drank to keep warm. So he cut the brunet's rambling off with a confident, "Of course I'll be there, I wouldn't miss it for the world." He winked and maybe there's hope for him after all when the flush on the brunet's face darkened as he closed his mouth.

"O-Okay, good."

The two of them sat on their chairs, allowing the comfortable silence to drift between them. It reminded Yamamoto so much of that first time he saw the sunset with the brunet who, impossibly, became his best friend in a short span of four weeks. The ticket felt heavy in his pocket and his heart rate doubled in anticipation of what he was about to say while the sun rose for the two of them for the fifth time.

The sky began to lighten and the array of orange, pink, and red began to decorate the sky as Yamamoto turned his head towards the brunet, mouth opening and calling out softly, "Tsuna."

With the silence between them, the word carried out to the other easily and Tsuna looked towards him, features bathed in the color of the sunrise as he smiled and asked, "What?"

The smile on the younger teen's face wasn't really fair, nor was the way the sunrise made his eyes seem like they were burning balls of fire staring right into him. Yamamoto felt the words die in his throat and for a second he panicked, because he had this amazing, clumsy but perfect person in front of him with his fire-like eyes and soft features always dressed in too-big hoodies and paint-splattered jeans, his face constantly painted with a stripe of blue in different varieties and soft hands always smudged with charcoal or poster paint or pastel or both. He wondered what could he have done in his past life that made him lucky enough to be in this person's presence, to hear him laugh, and see him smile and be invited to see his artwork, things he created with his own hands-

And Yamamoto felt an overwhelming ball of warmth in his chest and he felt that no words would ever suffice in telling his best friend how he felt about him. So without much thought, he leaned forward and kissed him like he'd wanted to on that first time they saw the sun rise together.

And it would have been perfect too if Tsuna hadn't gasped and frozen under his touch. The athlete immediately pulled back as though slapped, eyes wide and hurt as he looked into equally wide orange eyes. Yamamoto flushed as he abruptly stood up and said, "S-Sorry." before running away.

Because he wasn't an idiot and he knew what rejection was and he'd been rejected before (first try-out on the little league, a friend not wanting to play with him, his dad not wanting to be comforted by him when his mom died)…

But nothing as painful as this.

It had been two weeks since the rooftop incident and Tsuna hadn't even bothered to come after him or come looking for him or ask him what the hell was that about? And Yamamoto didn't know whether to be relieved or hurt by that. The last he heard of the brunet was the door slamming closed beside their room, hours after Yamamoto ran way with his tail between his legs.

Two weeks he'd been moping around and hating himself for doing something so reckless that he lost the best friend of his life forever. Now he was staring at the ticket of his best friend's (ex-best friend, his mind helpfully supplied) first art exhibit and hey, he could choose not to go and just sulk some more under the bed sheets, but Yamamoto had always been a man of his word and despite how horrible he felt for jumping on Tsuna with his feelings like that, he still really wanted to see the brunet's art works.

So that's how he found himself in his best blue shirt and dark jeans heading up the steps of some fancy art exhibit. He gave his ticket to the guard by the entrance, a tall guy dressed in a formal uniform but with heavily penciled eyes and spiky dark hair hidden under his security cap and wearing a nametag that red 'Lanchia' on his front. Lanchia seem to give him a searching look as he took the ticket and Yamamoto gave him a forced, friendly smile before moving forward.

The place was huge and seemed to be somewhere rich people frequented on their time off. True enough, there were several people in suits and evening gowns walking around with champagne glasses in their hands. Yamamoto would have thought he was in the wrong place if not for the equally many students dressed in jeans and hoodies milling around him. Still, none of the rich-looking people seemed to care, so they're probably not the snobbish types but rather, were real fans of art.

The athlete walked through the halls decorated with many art forms, varying from pottery to charcoal presentations to paintings. He spotted a few of his classmates who waved at him with knowing smiles as he waved back and some strangers he didn't know that pointed at him and whispered to his confusion. A few girls took a look at him and blushed and giggled before running away which just made him even more curious as to what the hell was happening.

He let the strange actions go as he focused on finding out where Tsuna's painting was (and internally panicking and wondering if he'd accidentally run into the brunet there). He walked around for several minutes and was just wondering if he'd ever find Tsuna's paintings when some suddenly grabbed him by the back of his collar.

"There you are idiot!" Yamamoto abruptly turned and saw Gokudera as he was dragged towards the opposite direction. "You sure took your time!"

"Gokudera?" The athlete choked at the harsh grip on his neckline. He had been looking at a painting of a man with blonde hair placing a flower crown on a blue-haired little girl (the artist was called Uni or Yuni, he wasn't able to get a closer look) when the bomber had pulled him away. "What-?"

"I can't believe you're late! But then again you're an idiot and you probably can't even tell the time-" As the pianist dragged him up a flight of stairs, Yamamoto noticed more people (specifically those going down the stairs) looking at him with interest. He gave them a curious look and one of them (a pretty brunette, probably a student) winked at him and mouthed 'good luck'.

"Here we are!" Gokudera said as they finally stopped and he dragged Yamamoto to turn to where he was looking just as the athlete opened his mouth to ask what was happening.

But then his words got stuck in his throat and his eyes widened as he looked at the two paintings put side-by-side as though they were puzzle pieces meant to fit together.

"Don't forget to thank the Tenth for giving you such a privilege." Gokudera said proudly as he crossed his arms and the functioning part of Yamamoto's brain thought to ask him who 'Tenth' was. Another part of his mind was aware of the fact that people were pointing at him and he understood now why they were doing that and decided he couldn't really blame them.

In front of him were two life-sized paintings of him.

They were a contrast of each other, one dark and one light, both scenes familiar to him and Yamamoto couldn't help but gaze at it in awe wondering how one person could capture so much detail on such simple events.

The light painting was of him lying on the grass, wearing a white collared shirt and his favorite dark blue jeans as he balanced on his elbows, face cupping his hand while he smiled to the side, light amber eyes, with a hint of blue reflected from the sky, half lidded in happiness. The colors used on the painting were light and applied thinly, giving the painting a hazy-memory look, as though it would just up and vanish without anyone looking. It was bright and had an overall warm feeling to it.

In contrast to that, the painting beside it was a scene of Yamamoto sitting on a familiar-looking plastic chair bundled up in a thick jacket during a time when the day and the night meet, half sunrise orange and the other half midnight blue (it's a scene from the roof, and not just any scene, this was most probably the moment when he tried to confess to Tsuna too, his mind whispered). The Yamamoto in the painting had a heartbreaking expression on his face (hopeful, scared, determined) but his features were soft with adoration. And the real Yamamoto could feel himself flush and wonder if he was really as transparent as the him in the painting.

There was a play of shadows on this painting, on his face as it was hit by the rays of the rising sun. The paints used were also dark and done with precision as though to give it a sharp and well-defined look like you were looking at a printed picture rather than a painting. The total opposite of its other half.

"That no-good student of mine really outdid himself this time." The athlete turned abruptly and saw a tall man in a neatly-pressed suit smirk at him in amusement, "Yamamoto Takeshi?" He asked and Yamamoto nodded. The handsome man gestured to something behind him, "I think you may want to read that first before you go looking for the artist."

Yamamoto followed the gesture and saw a small description of the painting and it's relation to the theme.

Taking A Chance
by Sawada Tsunayoshi

(Yamamoto's heart jumped to his throat because although he already had a clue to who it was that painted him, it was still different to having it confirmed right before his eyes.)

In real life, I'm a no-good, clumsy, coward who doesn't have many friends.
I thought that for the rest of my life I'd be that sad, lonely painter people
would look down on, whose only friends were his canvas and paintbrush
(like Da Vinci, but I can't really compare myself to the best painter in the
world, I don't even have half of his skills). I was even prepared for that sort
of future of loneliness, painting things to get rid of my loneliness rather
than painting to make other people smile.

But then this guy (yes, the one in the painting), he proved me wrong.

He 'took a chance' at befriending me despite only hearing bad things about
me and my reputation. He encouraged me when everyone else looked down
on what I could do. He smiled at me and gave me hope and told me I was
amazing. And it was because of him that I came out of my shell and 'took
a chance' at doing this painting. I wanted to do justice to the expressions
on his face. I wanted everyone to see him as I saw him.

Yamamoto Takeshi, thank you.

(And please, let me take another chance with you)

"Yamamoto." A soft voice called to him and the athlete jumped in surprised before he turned to see Tsuna standing nervously at the side, people giving him a wide berth as he walked towards him. He was wearing a black suit, tie loosened, and for the first time, his face and hands weren't smudged with charcoal and/or paint. Even his hair was styled carefully. Yamamoto felt his heart thud painfully against his ribs. He looked good. The brunet gave him a hesitant smile and Yamamoto continued to stare as Tsuna extended a picture.

It was that 'accidental' picture he took on that first sun rise they saw together, a few weeks ago.

"I said it was an accident but that's not exactly true." Tsuna confessed quietly, "I took that picture on purpose because I needed it to help me in painting your features." He let out an embarrassed sigh, "I've wanted to paint you since the first time you smiled at me and told me that it wasn't my fault that I spilled paint all over your shirt."

The taller teen's breath caught in his throat as he asked, "Tsuna, what are you-"

The brunet made a gesture with his hand, telling Yamamoto to flip the picture over. Yamamoto did and stared at the words clumsily written on the back.

My answer to that kiss: Yes, I like you too.

And before Yamamoto knew it, he had his arms full of warm brunet that smelled like paint and cinnamon as trembling lips kissed him on the cheek and whispered, "Take a chance with me."

At the back of his mind, the athlete was aware of people catcalling and whistling appreciatively as he laughed and hugged the brunet closer, giving him a kiss on his cheek (the spot which usually had a stripe of blue on it) as he said, "Of course, Tsuna."

We'll take a chance together.

Author's note: The brunette was Haru, by the way :D Just to be clear. And also, Tsuna knew Yamamoto's name beforehand because the baseball idiot is famous in their campus :P

So guys, another 8027 one-shot. 45 stories now, thanks for all the support as always! Love ya! And don't forget to drop a review!