Gokudera hears the roof door creak open, screaming rust-harsh, but he doesn't open his eyes until Yamamoto's long cool shadow falls over his face. He squints up, one hand shielding his eyes, Yamamoto's face shadowed, the sun peaking out in bursts of light between the wayward strands of his hair. "'Sup," he says, and Gokudera can hear the smile even if he can't quite make it out.

"Idiot," he says, shutting his eyes and lowering his hand. "You're blocking my sun."

"Haha, sorry," and then his shadow's gone, footsteps moving around and the rustle of fabric against asphalt as Yamamoto sits down beside him.

"Should you really be climbing all those stairs up here with your ribs like that?" There's no worry in his tone, just playful curiosity, but Gokudera knows better than to believe it. Yamamoto's hand brushes lightly over the front of Gokudera's school shirt, lazily checking the bandages are still wrapped tight around his chest, and Gokudera's too sun-sleepy to knock it away.

"Should you really be climbing all those stairs up here with your knee like that, idiot?" he says instead, but it's missing all its usual bite, the sun draining everything out of him and leaving him warm and lax. Yamamoto huffs out a laugh, his hand retreating. He lays down beside Gokudera then, arm pressed against his, skin-warm bandages brushing against the back of Gokudera's hand. His one ring clinks against the cheap gothic-fashion ones Gokudera has decorating his fingers. It's uncomfortable for a moment, press of skin on skin too hot in the post-noon sun, but Gokudera knows he'll get used to it quickly enough.

He'll feel cold in the places they touch when Yamamoto moves away.