Games of Pretend
Let's play a game, shall we? Let's play with masks and let's pretend that things are different from what they really are. Sure, you'll still be a demon, he'll still be cursed, and I'll still be weak, but let's ignore that, and let's play. Let's play until we forget the difference between what's right and what's wrong and we believe in our masks. Until our masks become our real faces.
Sasuke, pretend that you hate everything, everyone, and the whole world. Pretend you would betray your nonexistent family, your few close friends, your would-be lovers. Pretend you would give it all away in a moment for a little more power.
Maybe you can.
Maybe you will.
Maybe you have.
Naruto, make believe nothings wrong in this cruel, horrible world. Make believe that there isn't a demon inside of you, feeding on your soul, make believe you can't hear his tears of rage, fear, betrayal, and so much more, make believe you can't hear, can't see, can't feel the pain and hurt and hate. Use a mask, force a grin.
Maybe you can.
Maybe you will.
Maybe you have.
I? I will pretend I love the sharingan user, pretend the world revolves around him and his eyes. Pretend I don't see my- and Sasuke's- true, albeit unrequited love. I'll ignore the blond boy when he needs me most, use my well worn mask of stupidity, ignorance, and hate to cover up my tortured features. But…
Can I?
Will I?
Have I?
Naruto, my… friend. Sasuke, my sweet feigned koi. My mask cracks. The lovely silky satin strings tying it to my head are slipping out of their knots, and they flutter to the floor, the porcelain they are connected to shattering soundlessly on contact. My real face shows through to the world.
What do you see? Has my mask become my face? Is fate so horrible as to have etched the cold, unforgiving glass features into my skin?
Only seconds pass, eternities, before a new mask is crafted and it slips onto my face, tying securely on the nape of my neck. We all sigh in relief and pain, breath whistling slightly through the lifeless hollows that are our mouths. We go back to our lives, slipping into the stream of life and death easily. Our masks are in place, we're still playing our little game…
It's not so hard,
It's… only pretend.