A Stereotypical Love Story

Why does it always seem to be raining? Ever since that idiot, that stupid, stupid idiot, had confessed to him, only two days earlier, there had been non-stop rain.
Was this some kind of fucking sign? Some way to say, "Hey, you like the idiot, too! Stop denying it!"? Only...he didn't like Yamamoto like that. It was insane! They were both boys, both men! Both meant to fall in love with women (even though women could be a pain, a nuisance, the most annoying beings to ever walk the earth). Besides, Gokudera couldn't be in love with Yamamoto because...well...what would the Tenth say!?
The bomber reached into his pocket, taking out his pack of cigarettes. All this "thinking about it" was stressing him out.
So, since he was so stressed out, it just makes sense that the pack was, of course, empty.
He supposed he could just go a day without his nicotine kick, but the thought of that stressed him out even more. He just walk up to the convenience store...
In the rain. The fucking, fucking rain.

This is where we introduce our second character, the idiot our beloved silverette was mumbling and ranting and (though he would never, ever admit it, out loud or to himself) thinking about in the previous section.

Yamamoto Takeshi glanced down at the list his old man had given him. He'd been sent to buy groceries, equip with three necessary items: a list of supplies, money, and an umbrella. He stared down at the list, trying to memorize what needed to be bought. Stumbling a bit, the baseball idiot looked back up, focusing on the path in front of him (we don't want him to trip, do we?).
Who would he see, but the person who was, well, seemed to be, avoiding him.
Honestly, Yamamoto thought about turning back. It was obvious Gokudera wanted some space, some more time to think. It was totally and completely Takeshi's intention to turn around...until he noticed Gokudera had no umbrella and was soaked.
His gaze rose to his own umbrella, not being able to stop a smile lighting up his face.
"Gokudera!"

The bomber froze. He knew that voice. That stupid voice, that idiotic voice. The same fucking voice that had been haunting his dreams every night and lingering in his thoughts everyday. Slowly, as if hoping it wasn't true, please, don't let it be true, he turned and sure enough, there was his idiot, running towards him.
Wait...Did he just think 'his idiot'?
Telling himself to breath, he let out a rather rude, "What the hell do you want?" He figured it was better to act as though the 'incident' had never happened.
Yamamoto smiled, (God damnit, why did he always fucking smile?) and held out this umbrella to the shorter boy. "You're all wet."
Gokudera stared, first at the baseball star, then the umbrella, and back to the other. Understanding hit him like a rock, and he felt heat rise to his face. "I don't need your fucking charity!" He spun around, stomping off.
Well, what kind of person would Yamamoto be if he just let the Italian walk away and get rained on?
"Wait, Gokudera!" He reached his arm out, his fingers wrapping around Gokudera's slim wrist. "You..You'll catch a cold!"
Hayato just couldn't take it anymore. He glared at the Japanese boy and tried to pull himself from his grasp, pulled hard enough to make him fall, dragging Yamamoto with him.
Naturally, they landed with their faces only inches from each other.
They stared at each other for what seemed like forever, the whole time Yamamoto trying to work up the courage to close the gap between them.
But, as it turned out, Gokudera, hot-headed, bitchy, temperamental Gokudera, Smokin' Bomb Hayato, the big, bad mafia guy, leaned forward and pressed his lips to Yamamoto's.
When they pulled away from each other, the baseball nut smile. "Does this mean you'll go out with me?"
"...Yeah."