He had been bruised and broken, but not physically. Fate had decided to take his life in its cold hands and twist and mold it into a form that could barely be called human. Any bonds he managed to carve out, despite all odds, were torn away again. Finally, after he had been molded, and then used to the extent where that integral part to trust people was whittled down to nothing, he just stopped trying.
The cold December moonlight shone down through pale fraying curtains, and cerulean blue eyes slipped shut. A headache had begun to grow, and even the quiet of the night did not make it go away. There was nothing much the blonde boy could do to relieve the throbbing headache, so he allowed his stormy eyes to open again. The room was to his tastes, nothing to strain his emotions-not that there was much emotion there to strain anyway. A small worn smile tugged at the boys lips, humor, how unlike him.
He hadn't always been like this; no one would believe it now of course. In the past he'd always been smiling, no matter if he felt like his heart had been torn out, he could keep that cheeky grin on his face. But after one is broken, it's hard to go back. What is left to do when all emotions are ground down to nothing? When love, sadness and even hate are worn away? Merely an empty shell of a person is left. It's not of importance how hard others may try to fix them. The only one who can do any fixing is the person who was broken…
His lips twitched again; he was thinking nonsense. He was beyond repair; anyone could see that simple fact. He rested his eyes; his mood was unusually…present. It was rare for the boy to feel emotions. The throbbing pain had not lessened, and if anything it had gotten worse.
A loud rumbling alerted the male that despite his sour mood, he still needed to eat. Even with his stomachs objection, the boy had trouble bringing his body to move. Was it really worth it anyway? He didn't truly feel alive at all, so what harm would not eating bring?
"…"
The blonde shook his head and picked up the phone sitting at his side. He might as well make an effort at living. His fingers dialed the long practiced numbers for the nearby ramen place. Thankfully, they delivered. A sickly pleasant voice answered with a chiming hello and requested his name.
There was that twitch of a smile again. She wanted his name? Of what importance was his name? His name only seemed to prove his existence, an existence that had disappeared. The voice became more uncertain and requested his name again. She really needed to be quiet; couldn't she see that he was brooding?
Once, a long time ago, he would never hesitate to give his name to anyone. He would shout it at the top of his lungs, accompanied by his ever present grin. He chuckled dryly. What the hell had happened to him? He had really let himself go.
The voice on the other line questioned again, "Sir? Are you there? May I have your name please?"
The boy took a moment to reflect, a strange time it was to be doing it, but he was a strange kid. So what if his life had gone to the gutter? He had never let that stop him before; it was damn time that he got himself back up.
After a pause the blonde finally spoke, "….Naruto….Uzumaki Naruto."