The Devil's Hour

Three in the morning is the devil's hour, but Yamamoto is unaware of that, and gets up two hours before his morning jog to answer the phone. On the other end, Tsuna is apologizing profusely.

"I wasn't thinking when I picked up the phone! And then I looked at the clock—god, I'm so sorry. I woke you up, didn't I?"

"It's fine, Tsuna," he says as he shrugs out the kinks on his shoulders. The wall clock reads 3:05. He could probably start running later, after talking to Tsuna. "So what's up?"

The line is silent for a while. Yamamoto wonders if Tsuna has fallen asleep; debates with himself on whether or not he should try to wake him up, when the other boy says cautiously, "I didn't know who else to call."

When Yamamoto comes to pick him up a few minutes later, Tsuna is already leaning on the gate, somewhat subdued in the way he's studying his sneakers. He looks up at the soft thuds on the pavement and offers a timid smile. "Yamamoto," he greets.

Yamamoto isn't sure if he's imagining the tinge of relief in Tsuna's voice. Probably not; the weariness is definitely there, that much he can tell. Are you okay? he wants to ask, but doesn't.

Sometimes Tsuna can be forced into things. Sometimes he can be walked through it. Sometimes it's better to wait for him to get moving on his own, so instead he asks, "Do you want to walk now?"

They have an hour and a half before Tsuna's mom will wake up and make her way to the kitchen.

Tsuna nods. His smile can barely pass as an upturn of the lips. "Okay. I mean, yeah, yeah, let's go?"

The park is quiet, and that's fine. After all, Tsuna isn't trying to stay awake. He can't help it—which is pretty much the problem, Tsuna bemoans as he sits at the top of the slide. He checks Yamamoto to see if he's listening. The taller boy is, probably. Either that or he has a knack for giving well-timed nods.

Tsuna feels kind of bad for dragging his friend away from sleep, and says so.

Yamamoto chuckles. "It's fine, Tsuna. Just relax."

"Sorry," Tsuna mumbles again after a long pause. "I don't know what's keeping me awake. It's weird."

"Weird? Like tame-weird, or Hibari-skipping-in-a-field-of-flowers-weird?"

"…What the hell is that?" He continues to look horrified, only settling down when he gets prompted to answer. He titters uneasily. "Not as weird as the Hibari thing. Right now all I want to do is sleep, but no matter how long I lie in bed, I'd still be awake. I don't get it!"

"Hm…" Yamamoto approaches the slide, straining his neck as he grins up at Tsuna. "Maybe it's psychological? Like, if there's anything you're worried about, you can tell me. If you want," he adds when the other only frowns. "It might help."

Tsuna is clumsy and infamous in their year—and almost from the very beginning, Yamamoto determined him to be his reason, shaken as he was from that fall, shocked as he was by his survival and by being protected. It was unconscious, and by the time he realized it, he's already touching Tsuna too much for his own good, wrapping himself so fully around the boy with silent promises to give back as good as the second chance he received.

Tsuna isn't meant to know.

At half past four, they're climbing up the steps leading to the shrine. By the time they reach the top, Tsuna is panting and kind of light-headed, a hand clamped around Yamamoto's arm to steady himself, and Yamamoto—lets him, because most of the time, it has to be beaten into Tsuna's head that he can actually lean on his friends for a change.

"I think," Tsuna begins, taking on a resigned tone, "I might be a little scared." He falls silent until Yamamoto nudges him with an elbow. "I think… it might be this whole mafia thing. It's dangerous." The hand he's using to hold on to his friend tightens.

So Yamamoto asks, "What can I do?"

The shorter boy stares up at him, wide-eyed. "What do you mean?"

"If I promise not to die or get hurt, will it help you any?" he says in a way that's almost wondering, and gets bewildered silence.

He sees Tsuna's lower lip tremble until it finally twists up into a shaky grin. "You can't promise that, Yamamoto," Tsuna says, but there is laughter in his eyes, and that's all that matters in the end.

"I know. But it helped, right?" There's something of pride in Yamamoto's answering grin.

"Yeah."

Yamamoto watches him for a moment, before giving a satisfied nod. "Let's go," he says and, unable to stop himself, adds, "You can hang onto me until we reach your house."

Tsuna starts and pulls his hand back with a stuttered apology.

They don't need the street lamps anymore to get to Tsuna's house. There, Yamamoto stands faithfully, interspersing Tsuna's rundown of faults he has to apologize for with little laughs and well-timed nods; and when the boy trails off, trying to grasp for more things to be sorry about, Yamamoto tugs him closer to ruffle his hair.

"It's okay," he assures him. "You can say thank you." And he observes, gratified, the way Tsuna reddens in embarrassment and keeps floundering.

Later, with the gate between them, Tsuna finally works up to awkwardly patting Yamamoto on the shoulder. "Thank you," he mumbles, resolutely staring at a point behind Yamamoto's ear. "I took up so much of your time. And it's this early, but you still… yeah, so thanks."

"Tsuna." Yamamoto tilts his head slightly, and waits for Tsuna to look at him before continuing, "It's fine to ask, you know?"

Tsuna's lips quirk up. "I will."

"And next time you call, we can bring food and go on a picnic. So don't hesitate, okay?"

"Okay," he answers, pushing down the laughter threatening to bubble out. "But maybe not before dawn, I think."

Yamamoto only grins at him. "Anytime, seriously," he says, and flashes Tsuna a peace sign before turning to leave. "Bye-bye!"

Tsuna leans over the gate and watches him disappear around the corner.