Hayato just shakes his head. Ryuutaro was wrong. It wasn't something he would usually do, just openly deny Ryuutaro of being right, but he didn't know. Parents and family were the one thing they could never see eye-to-eye on, because Ryuutaro didn't know what it was like to be tossed aside over and over for being who he was. He didn't know what his life on the streets was like. He didn't know what it was like knowing that if he died there would be no one to remember his name or mourn his death. Knowing that no matter how bad things got, or how hard it was to get by, there was no one to help him.

"If there wasn't something wrong with me then I wouldn't have been on the streets as long as I was."

Was it his heritage? Because he was a bastard? Because he played the piano? His temper? There were so many things he could think of, he just didn't understand what made him so bad that he wasn't worth anyone's effort. All he ever had in his life so far was the Vongola, Temari, and Ryuutaro. Briefly he would see his mother but he never told her anything. She might abandon him too.

Hayato just leans forward so that his head rests on Ryuutaro's shoulder, his hands wrapped around his middle. It wasn't because his stomach hurt, but rather he felt if he didn't he would just crumble and fall apart. He refused to do that now. He couldn't let his father win...