I wrote this when I was bored and couldn't sleep. I'll be stuffing all my SasuxNaru drabbles/one-shots in here. Please enjoy (..and review.)
Disclaimer: don't own, don't sue.
The door crashed shut. Uzumaki Naruto, a 13-year old blond shinobi walked inside his apartment and dumped his stuff on a normal-sized bed. He'd just come back from training. Yes, life went on, even without Uchiha Sasuke. And it sucked.
When he was brought back from the Valley of the End, and lay recovering in the hospital, Jiraiya'd come to him, and said he had to give up op Sasuke, to just forget about him. But he couldn't. Even if he wanted to, which he didn't, he wouldn't be able to.
He sighed. He shouldn't have let Sasuke get away. It was his own fault. His own entire damn fault. And even if she didn't act like is, Sakura blamed him as well for Sasuke's disappearance.
His fist collided with the nearest wall, hard. He knew it wouldn't give him Sasuke back, but somehow, it relieved him. Just a little.
He leaned sideways against the wall, sinking to the ground as he did so. He picked up an object from the ground, caressing and admiring it. It was one of his most valuable possessions. It was an Hitai-ate with a sloped scratch on it, almost like Itachi's. The only difference was that Itachi's had a scratch straight through the Leaf symbol. It was Sasuke's.
Naruto had never meant to keep it. The day after he was fired from the hospital, he'd thrown it away somewhere in a lake.
And went back the next day to pick it out of the water. Damnit.
He let his hand caress the polished surface of the steel. He traced the lines and curves of the Konoha symbol and the sharp rims of the scratch, made by him, Uzumaki Naruto in person.
As he did this, he watched his other hand desperately claw the grayish wallpaper. His fingers scratching the hard surface.
Moist drops graced the already shining steel, as Naruto willed himself not to cry. Damnit, he was not going to cry about the Uchiha. Never. But he did. Tears silently made their way down whiskered cheeks. He leaned his back against the cold wall, hugging his knees to his chest, leaning his head on it.
And all he could do was wait.