It was supposed to be a drabble, but I suppose I went over the word-limit thing. Includes a tiny bit of shounen-ai if you squint, character death, AU-ish, and of course, a nice healthy heap of angst. Not expecting reviews...this is a nonsensical piece of crap. But Sinful hopes you'll enjoy anyway.

Sinful does not own anything. Now go away and read.

‹ S O L I L O Q U Y ›

The paper's old and yellowed, but that faces printed on the surface are cheerful, the c o l o r s vibrant and bold in his dark eyes. The image of those azurite eyes and the sun setting on his head, flaming golden spikes cast to the wind, to the
S o a r i n g,
S o a r i n g sky.

He remembers the smile tipped with c a r n a l fangs yet communicating nothing but simple happiness, long arms laced around his teammates as he poses for the camera.

…what was his name?

All he remembers is the binding dark, suffocating yet intoxicating, drawing you in with seducing whispers, p r o m i s e s of power and fortune by any means. Even as your lungs are constricting and you're gasping for air, you're reaching out for more and more and more, greedily consuming the shadow's scent of
roiling chakra,
of musk and blood and sweat, dying with a thin, l o n g i n g smile painted across your hollow face.

…Naru…ko…? To?

All he remembers is the darkness, pressing closer around him, a shield of cosmic eternity folded over his eyes… blinding him from something he held dearest once.

Protecting the echoing hole in his chest, a thin spider web of deception to be his barrier around a ceramic heart, all too susceptible to irreparable damage; reminding him that shinobi have no souls, and the dark does not require ‹l o v e›. Whatever that is.

…Naruto? Yeah, that's it…

The dark is strong, malicious, unstoppable. But never forgiving. Never merciful.

…Who is he, anyway…?

All he remembers is a name, just barely tickling the locked-away memories, neatly tucked into the recesses of his mind. All he remembers is ‹Naruto›, and for the life of him, he won't know why. There is no Naruto anymore... was there ever?

Nothing except the cynical wind probing his imagination, a faded image of something that never existed to him.

Her footsteps ring in the empty hallway, the chains and locks clanking across the room as she dispels the detainment seals and quietly enters, just another shadowed face from something he can't quite remember. Warm, blush-colored hair, a color that burns his blood-eyes; and she leaves nothing but tears and a hysterical

‹‹. . . W h y . . . ?››