Hey guys! Abby here, at your service! –salutes- Well, yes, some more fanfiction. How nice of me, huh?
I felt the book that has just resulted in a mascara-stained entity deserves a mention. You could say I wrote this in honour of it; the Book Thief, by Markus Zusak.
I fell in love with the way Markus described things. It deserves a read. Really, it does.
Now then, time for some NaruSasu before you all kill me. Don't own, never will.
ON WITH THE STORY!
--
It's cold.
The thought flickers through Sasuke's head quickly, passing before his eyes.
It's lonely.
The feeling dances inside Sasuke's heart, treading icy footprints into his heart.
There's a glow over there.
The realisation sweeps softly into his mind and heart, dispersing the words and warming the frosty footprints.
Only one person glows like that, even from far away. Only one can light the way to himself like a candle in a storm.
The shock of lemon hair, of candlelight hair shining like a beacon through the blizzard in front of his eyes, the blizzard of words and sentences, lies and promises. If he does not see a word before his eyes, he knows it's the truth.
He walks forwards, knowing the blizzard is calming and settling, letting him see straight finally after so long. And last, desperate tendrils melt and flow away as the candlelight hair turns towards him.
The candlelight hair is paired with blue, promising freedom to fly on wings of white should he trust the boy enough to jump into them. Whisker-like scars mark the tanned skin, offering empathy and no pity.
Naruto
He feels the words in his heart, rather then see it before his eyes.
He knows it to be the truth, and knows it to be beautiful.
It's warm, now.