I'm a Fake [1/1]
Pairing(s): Eventual NaruSasu, one-sided NaruGaa, implied KakaIru
Rating: M (To be safe).
Warnings: Homicide, character death, cutting, yaoi.
Disclaimer: I do not own the series Naurto, or claim any rights to the characters. The plot of this, however, is my own.
Uchiha Sasuke had been diagnosed with clinical depression at age 11. He had been riding around on his bicycle and complaining about something-or another to his mother when she had confessed she had made an appointment for him with her own psychiatrist. Being the troubled youth he had been at the time, the boy had of course thrown a fit, with tears and screams of hatred towards her included. Mikoto, his aforementioned parent, had just given him a sad smile and explained how he would do something to make him a lot happier and outgoing. Sasuke had not been swayed, yet went anyways just because his curiosity demanded it.
The man he met with was named Orochimaru. He had very peculiar eyes and seemed to wear much too many cosmetic products. His hair was usually pulled up into a slick ponytail, but once in a while he would let it down (Sasuke had asked about this once and Orochimaru had replied that the patient in the slot before his own liked to mess around with his dark tresses). There was a snake that lived in a case in the corner of the room that Sasuke enjoyed watching. It was known as Manda, and the young ebony-haired boy had to wonder if the pungent smell of medication that enveloped the room bothered her at all.
Their meetings had started out a little awkward, with the Uchiha giving simple one-word answers that the doctor did not seem pleased with, but eventually the boy became comfortable enough the divulge a few secrets. Orochimaru put him on some kind of antidepressant and sent him on his way, insisting he come back in a week's time and report on if the medication had any negative side effects.
There were none, but the act of swallowing the pill really screwed with the child's mind. He could swear he could feel the little tablet slipping down his throat, causing him to gag and choke a little. Not wishing to cause a fuss, however, when his appointment came the next week he acted like nothing was bothering him. A bottle of 60 little tablets (enough to last him 120 days, as he only took half of one due to his petite stature) was his reward.
The Uchiha's moved to a different part of the county – one where it was hot year-round- when Sasuke was 12. He didn't like it much, because the sun made his skin burn and the heat often made him woozy, but staying inside was an option. Plus, it made his mother much happier, and she had been increasingly crabby as time passed when they lived in their old home (his father had told him it was due to her suffering from something called seasonal affective disorder, where she could not stand cloudy days). Sometimes Sasuke returned to have appointments when Orochimaru, but they were few and far between.
He found it hard to make friends, as he had always been a shy child growing up. His parents and brother were often gone doing something with their friends or working. People he knew from back home could not always talk with him, so he often found himself alone. This, of course, resulted in him having a plethora of time to ponder his life, which led to him becoming angry with his family. His mother had fucking ruined his whole life by forcing him to move somewhere that made him unhappy. The heat sucked and made him want to tear off his own skin with its blistering heat, and he himself sucked for being such a weakling. Kids his own age didn't have to take antidepressants to be happy, why the hell should he have to take such an unnecessary tablet? Fuck happy pills, they made him pathetic!
Skipping the prescription was obviously noticeable, however, because his family began to make comments about his mood and overall attitude. "Sasuke, have you taken your pill today?" his mother would ask as she exited the home. "You need to take your meds Sasuke, or else you will be deep in shit," his father would remind him, pressing his phone back to his ear directly after. Itachi would often just give him one of those looks meant to goad him into doing an activity or acting in a certain way.
Their actions pissed him off so incredibly much. What did they know about him; they were never around so it couldn't be much. His interests had changed nice his was little; instead of pop he listened to punk and something people referred to as 'emo' his homework was almost always done in school because he was too busy hiding under his sheets and trying to sleep during the day instead of attending to it, staying up and writing until the wee hours of the morning caused him to always be extremely tired.
Fuck them.
The youngest Uchiha flushed his pills and shut the blinds to his room before retreating back to bed.
Nobody noticed their absence and continued to pay for refills whenever Sasuke felt guilty enough to take the little tablet.
By middle school, he had taken to scratching his arms with his fingernails (he was rather disturbed by viewing blood, despite being sick enough to enjoy thinking of the substance, so using a knife made him a little war; his nails would remove the skin and cause pain but not usually go deep enough to draw blood) whenever he felt as if he had done something stupid or deserved to be punished for something he did. Once in a while it just felt too good to resist. The marks were covered up easily with a hoodie. His bangs had been grown out long so he was able to hide his eyes in their shadows. He met a boy named Naruto, but immediately became his enemy and rival. His hair was too bright, skin too sun kissed, and personality much too exuberant for his own tastes. Plus, his cerulean eyes were much too alive to mesh well with his own dead ones. They were opposites, and in this case they definitely did not attract.
An employee of his father's came down to work on some electronics in their home during this time. His name was Shikamaru and he was extremely intelligent, although he did drink a lot and chewed an exceedingly large amount of tobacco. Him and Sasuke seemed to connect in some weird way, like siblings, and spent a large amount of time together. The man made the raven-haired boy laugh and smile with his somewhat crude jokes and tales about his young daughter. He was extremely vigilant about the going-ones at the boy's house, something Sasuke did not realize until years later.
During the summer vacation of that year, spent in their old home, his father cornered him about the scars and cuts that adorned his arms. Sasuke vehemently denied the accusation of self-harm, but his father did not seem to buy it. Itachi also happened to stumble upon his sibling flushing his antidepressants down the toilet, something that too was addressed. It was honestly not shocking that he was sent back to Orochimaru's office days after.
Things had changed now, however, while the teen (as he had turned 13) had become more delicate, the psychiatrist seemed more forceful than ever. He immediately questioned him on subjects that had festered over the years and brought tears to his eyes. There was nothing wrong with the method; it was just too much at the same time. Sasuke always walked out in a worse mood than he had arrived in, so his parents had opted to stop bringing him there.
He wasn't sure why it bugged him, but it had. Maybe he liked the pain or the act of being able to share all his inner emotions with someone else or felt like they had been getting somewhere, but Fugaku and Mikoto were not to be swayed.
It wasn't until two years later that shit hit the fan. Sasuke found out through his sibling that his mother had been cheating on his father since he had been in sixth grade. The bickering that had been occurring since then was due in part to this, along with the fact they had only gotten married due to the birth of Itachi. They would be getting a divorce by the end of the month with split parental rights.
It did not bother him at all. Everyone had their own problems and this one did not pertain to him; currently he was attempting to rid himself of several anxieties and to disperse his depression (he knew it was practically impossible as it was due to some hormonal imbalance in his head, but sometimes it was entertaining to live a lie and grasp at invisible strings). As of late his emotions had been jumping from abnormally content to extremely upset, verging on suicidal. The fluctuations were somewhat interesting, but he hated it. While he kept his 'I-don't-give-a-fuck' attitude, he wanted to go out on weekends and have friends like everyone else. Living a lonely existence was getting boring, and playing his guitar could only be entertaining for so long.
The time passed quickly, and Sasuke found himself staying at his mother's house for the first week. It seemed a lot more like home than his father's residence did, as it had been the building he had lived in since he had moved to the area with his family years prior. The blinds could also be shut, blocking out the retched sunlight, another plus.
He finished his homework quickly and was moving to plug up his ear canals with melodies from his headphones when his Mikoto knocked on the door. She insisted he come with her immediately and he begrudgingly agreed after a small argument.
They took her SUV to a building, one that was blandly colored for being in their warm-weathered neighborhood. There was no explanation given, but she shooed him from the vehicle and handed him a slip of off-white paper with a number scribbled on it through the open window. With a final glance in his direction, she drove off, leaving a very confused in her wake.
Studying the scrap for a moment, Sasuke realize that the number seemed to be a room number, presumably one for the building he stood in front of. While he was not sure as to why he was here and why his mother had never mentioned an appointment before, he decided to snoop around anyways and figure out just what Mikoto had set him up for.
It ended up being another shrink, one who went by the name Hatake Kakashi. His method was quite different than Orochimaru's however. Rather than sit in a room overcome with the scent of bitter medicines, he took the Uchiha out to get a slushie at a nearby gas station. They sat outside the building in the man's beat-up silver car, the air conditioner blasting, and talked about things completely unrelated to his feelings and depression, like their favorite brand of shampoo or how terrible traffic was due to all of the snowbirds. After a few hours, the silver-haired man had driven him home and given him a card with the date of his next appointment written on it in sloppy cursive numbers.
By all means, Sasuke felt like he had the right to be angered with his mother. After all, she knew he had not wanted to go to a shrink other than Orochimaru and had made him an appointment with Kakashi against his volition. The raven-haired boy found it impossible to bring up such an emotion, however, as the meeting had been almost enjoyable. If every session tuned out like his previous one had, he could definitely see himself overlooking the stunt.
Sasuke met with Kakashi for the following weeks, never once having to actually sit in some stuffy office. Usually they talked about stupid things as they had during the first meeting, but once in awhile they would actually get down to the Uchiha's demons. The Hatake never forced anything out of him, but was a good listener and asked insightful questions that did not seem harsh.
Well, maybe that was due to the fact he had developed quite a little crush on his doctor. He doubted the man could tell, as he never became flustered or said anything sexual or flirty, but with his raging teenage hormones and such, it really was no surprise the ebony-haired male had a few fantasies about the man. Kakashi was very attractive, after all, and his personality was pleasant; not too rambunctious, but social enough to be able to hold a conversation with.
When Kakashi practically insisted that Sasuke attend some get-together for all of his patients (which was really unprofessional, but the word practically defined the man's tactics, so there was really nothing to be said) whilst slurping on his blue slurpie and screwing with the radio dial, it took every bit of self restraint in the Uchiha boys body not to scream out a positive response. Instead, he played the usual 'on-the-fence' type of game and blackmailed the man into buying him a refill of his own drink in trade for him attending the party.
Uchiha's always win.
When the day of the event came around, Sasuke was rather disappointed to learn that the Hatake had a partner, one he was engaged to at that. He had even gone as far as to wear his tightest pair of skinny jeans and most flattering shirt in an attempt to catch the man's attention! Iruka, the aforementioned partner, was extremely amiable though, so Sasuke really couldn't do anything but admit that he thought they were a great couple (how could he be annoyed and hurt, Kakashi had admitted that day that the Uchiha was his favorite patient).
In spite of this, his outfit still had not gone to waste. While sitting by himself on some random bench, he was confronted by a boy with red-hair and skin as pale and pasty as his own. His name had been Gaara, and he had come over in order to make a note that one of the bands on the fat bands that lined the Uchiha's wrists was amazing. One thing led to another, and the two ended up exchanging cell phone numbers before going back to their respective homes.
Sasuke found that he and Gaara were eerily similar. Both enjoyed the same genres of music, dressed the same, and even had the same crush on Kakashi. Depression was something shared by them as well. It was not uncommon that the two would spend every day, whether it be after school or through the whole weekend, curled up under the Uchiha's blanket with headphones in or talk about something that was bothering them, or just stare at each other. They never went to the other boy's house to some sort of complicated circumstance of which the origin had never been revealed.
They never really dated, but they did hug and snuggle a lot. Their kisses had been experimental and both had realized they were better off as friends than as lovers. It was a common assumption that they were dating, and many did not believe the pair was telling the truth when they insisted that they were not. Sasuke's own parents were two of such individuals; Mikoto always gave them some sort of look they supposed was to be knowing, and Fugaku would always put several seats between them at the table (whenever Itachi was home from the university, he would be forced to sit far away from them as well; Sasuke would readily admit he was gay, but incest was not his thing).
During the summer vacation before eleventh grade, Gaara insist they go out to eat with his cousin from out of town and another boy she knew that came from their area. Although a little hesitant at first, Sasuke had agreed and found himself being dragged to some nasty-ass ramen bar- he really hated the food. There he was introduced to a female with bubble-gum pink hair, emerald eyes, and porcelain skin (you could see the similarities between her and Gaara). She called herself Sakura and apologetically admitted her friend was late and that they would have to wait for him.
The idiot who walked up ended up being Sasuke's enemy and rival from middle school, Uzumaki Naruto. They had attended different high schools after eighth grade, and therefore had not seen each other for years.
Sasuke was the first to admit (in his head) that Naruto had grown up to be very attractive, more so than Kakashi. He was tan, muscular, and still had that deep fire burning in his cornflower-blue eyes (the one that had made him seem so alive). His hair was messy, but it looked good on him while matching his dirty clothing. The raven-haired teen found himself intrigued by the male rather than irritated by him.
Gaara too, seemed to be entranced by the handsome blond in front of them (damn their similarities). His pea green orbs had carefully traced every curvature and dip visible of Naruto's form. When their hands had accidentally brushed while reaching for a condiment, the vermillion-haired boy had flushed the darkest shade of any color Sasuke had ever seen him- a very light and very visible pink.
Thinking of his best friend rather than himself, as he would do anything for Gaara, Sasuke ignored Naruto's blatant attempts at catching his line of vision. Any words spoken to him were replied to with a snarky remark and a scowl. Acting like an arrogant little prick came unnaturally easy to the brunet boy- a fact that had always confused him because as far back as he could remember he had been distantly cool personality wise- and so playing himself off as such in order to put Gaara into Naruto's favor had not been difficult.
After their meal, they had all taken a walk around the park. Sakura had been walking to the right of Gaara, while Naruto was on his left and Sasuke on the other side of Naruto. The blond had kept "accidentally" bumping shoulders with the Uchiha, who proceeded to glare and nudge him back into Gaara. They stopped to get ice cream, of which the Uzumaki had purchased for everyone as a gift for being tardy. When a soccer ball from a nearby game rolled astray, tripping Gaara and causing him to drop his frozen treat into the dirt. Although he had acted and most likely was unaffected by this, the blond still offered to share his own. Sasuke was rather pleased with his progress of matchmaking at the time, but too soon found his illusion shattered.
When it became dark, numbers were exchanged and everyone took off for home (Sakura and Gaara went in one direction, and Naruto and Sasuke in another). The blond had insisted to give the brunet a ride home in his shitty little car and proceeded to rest his right hand on the other boy's leg the entire time- in his head Sasuke blamed this on the fact the automobile was too petite for the two of them not to be squashed together. Neither said a word about the arrangement while the Uzumaki babbled on about the new burnt orange corvette he was going to buy with his savings later on that month- also promising Sasuke one of the first rides in it. The situation was terribly uncomfortable, at least on his end, and Sasuke could not help but flush a bright red at the squeeze his thigh received exiting the vehicle. Naruto had mumbled something else before the brunet had slammed the door shut, but Sasuke had missed the phrase in his haste to escape the male's presence.
Lying in bed that night while exchanging text messages with Gaara (whom was slyly hinting at how much he adored Naruto and his desire to meet up with him again someday soon) the Uchiha could not help the little sliver of jealousy and annoyance that crept up his spine. Uzumaki Naruto was absolutely striking and wanted him, not stupid Gaara with his dumbass tattoo and vermillion hair and light green eyes!
Not that he returned the blond's feelings of attraction. Nope, definitely not. Just because someone was hot it didn't mean you had to like him or her. He just felt like his best friend was too good for some idiot like Naruto.
Yep.
For the next month, Sasuke found himself continuously encouraging Gaara to call the Uzumaki (hell, Naruto texted him all the time, he would have to be around to answer for Gaara right?) and set up plans to do some sort of activity. It was not uncommon practice to dial in the number and have his friend bail on the call on the last second. Every now and then the boy on the other end would even answer and Gaara would flee, leaving Sasuke to make up some bullshit reason as to why they had called. Saying you were a telemarketer selling sex toys to those they believe were in need of them only worked so many times before it became sketchy.
It had been during fall break- a very sunny and warm day- that the emerald-eyed man had steeled his resolute enough to insist he would actually speak to his crush when they called. Sasuke and Gaara had gotten a little tipsy on Fugaku's collection of fine alcoholic drinks, hence bringing on a period of high adrenaline. Through the poorly suppressed fits of chuckles and snorts, the two had dialed in the correct number and pressed enter, choosing the speakerphone option, only to be disappointed when nobody answered.
Leaning heavily against the boy, Sasuke had sloppily patted his back and attempted to console his friend. Surely Naruto would call back when he wasn't busy- they had called from Sasuke's cell after all and the blond would almost always immediately respond to him- he was probably just working or something of that sort. Everything would work out in the end. With a sigh Gaara had leaned back against the wooden headboard of the Uchiha's bed, their current location, and pulled the other male to lie beside him. The stench of warm alcohol was secreted from almost every crevice of their forms, creating a smell that was wretched and made each of their stomachs churn. Neither said a word, however; the situation was rather pathetic and did not need to be addressed with any sort of wording.
Both had drifted off into an uncomfortable sleep within a half of an hour. The room was humid and rather hot due to the sliding doorway leading to the balcony being left open in an attempt to bring in fresh air (Gaara had a habit of forgetting about the 'no smoking in the house' rule Fugaku had put in place after finding the red-head's cigarette ashes embedded into his youngest child's carpet). Several more cans of delicious flavored liquor littered the floor and the boys faced away from each other as to not inhale any more of each others beer breath- Sasuke had ended up vomiting before due to such an action. The punk music that rattled the cheap stereo speakers in the corner of the room almost drowned out the blaring of some kind of horn from outside.
The keyword being almost.
Sasuke found himself roused from his intoxicated sleep by this noise and grunted in annoyance. Gaara and himself were practically the farthest from popular one could get, so it was very doubtful someone had come to visit them. His father was out of town on business for the week too, so there was no excuse for whoever the motherfucker outside was to be blasting his horn. The house had a doorbell for a reason.
He decided it was probably best to play ignorant of whoever was outside, as ignorance often led to bliss, but Gaara had thwaped him on the head- in actuality the boy had missed and thrown the pillow into the opposite wall instead- and demanded he go shut whoever it was up. With a grumbled complaint of how this probably would never happen if they went to Gaara's house (to which he got no response as usual; the topic was really off-limits but Sasuke loved to be a dick when he was ornery) the brunet went to go cease the disturbance.
After a failed attempt of going out on the balcony due to the sun burning his delicate and burning eyes, the Uchiha had grabbed a dark hoodie and made his was down the stairs and out the front door. The sight that greeted him really should not have been shocking, but to his foggy mind, it was as if his world had been blown up.
Naruto had stood leaning against the very vehicle he had been enthusing about months ago, shooting him a bright smile. Through further discussion, Sasuke had discovered the blond had been at the dealership with his step parents the whole morning picking it up, and he had driven directly to the brunet's house (how he knew the address was beyond Sasuke's comprehension because he did not remember divulging such information to the other male) to, low-and-behold, give him one of the first rides. One thing a person could say about Naruto was that he never lied.
With a negative answer and a stern, but slurred, demand to leave the premises, the ebony-haired teen attempted to retreat back into his home. Naruto was persistent, however, and began to follow him into the building, begging the entire time. With an annoyed huff, the raven had twisted around on the stairs with plans to rip the blond a new one. His plot was not executed, however, as in his state of absolute intoxication he found his balance was not what it had been earlier that day. A slight miscalculation of a step had sent him tumbling down the stone stairs that lead from the front door to the walkway outside…
At least that's what would have happened had Naruto not managed to catch him around the wrist before an inch of his ivory flesh could come in contact with the rock.
The blonds' calloused hands pulled Sasuke back to a more solid position on the narrow step- so narrow that their chests were pressed together and limbs kept brushing against one another's- and held him up until he regained his footing. The fact that he was more than a little intoxicated at the moment was not helping the process. Despite his steel conscious that demanded he take control of his movements, the rest of his body did not seem to wish to comply. In fact, Naruto had moved his arms to reside around the Uchiha's lower back and squeezed in an attempt to keep his stumbling to a bare minimum.
It had to be horrendous timing or some kind of bad karma at work, because it was at the moment that Gaara crossed the threshold into the outside world to see what in the hell was taking his friend so long. Seeing Sasuke in a loving embrace with the man of his affections must have been heart shattering, because he froze in place. The vermillion-haired boy muttered something unintelligible before stumbling off.
Watching his friend disappear around the corner of the street in a haze of 'what the fuck just happened' Sasuke had been still. When the realization of what had just occurred and because of the stupid compromising position he was in, the brunet fought hard against Naruto. The blond attempted to subdue the male, but failed miserably when he received a hard kick to the crotch.
The amount vigor Sasuke possessed for a drunken teenager staggering down the street during midday dressed in tight black skinny jeans and no shoes or shirt was amiable. He could hear all of the elderly people whom were walking their fancy little dogs or strolling with their wealthy husbands gasping and calling out lame derogatory names. It would have usually bothered him (okay, that was a blatant lie, usually he would have just scowled at them and continued on his way), but at the moment all he had desired was to catch up with Gaara. The emerald-eyed boy could move much faster than the Uchiha, however, and was considerably less dunk. Due to this, the boy easily out ran Sasuke and had been rather far even before the pursuit had begun.
When he breaths had begun to come in short little huffs, Sasuke halted and fell to his knees. His vision was swimming, he felt like blowing chunks all over whoever's pristine yard was to his right, and guilt had all but encompassed his body. The warm rays of sun were beating down harshly on his back and he didn't realize he was about to pass out until it was to late.
Sasuke had woken up lying in his bed with Naruto lounging on the side, skimming through one of his old magazines. The blond had silently handed him a couple of aspirins and a glass of water before turning back to the magazine. The brunet was not sure if Naruto knew why the situation before had occurred, but he wasn't going to mention anything either. He did not want to guilt-trip the cerulean-eyed man, as he had probably been the one who drug his body in from the street.
The Uchiha had extended an invitation for dinner to the Uzumaki in thanks, who accepted (there had been a rumor around school that Uchiha boys had some strange talent for the culinary arts and Naruto wished to test this theory). They had slowly made their way to the kitchen- Naruto practically carried Sasuke, because in all honestly he was still a little drunk- where the raven had set to work creating some simple vegetable and chicken stir-fry. The blond-haired male settled himself on the sofa in the attached living room and clicked on the television to some evening new channel.
Glancing over to his black and silver Smartphone that rested on the counter, Sasuke sliced the book choy at a snails pace. He had texted Gaara several times since he woke up, yet the redhead had yet to respond. Calling had the Uchiha even resorted to, which was something extremely uncommon.
The waves of remorse from Gaara's assumption about the situation earlier that day had yet to recede. He doubted they would disappear fully until he was able to speak with his friend. What had occurred was not his fault, but he was not going to say that it was not enjoyable. Sasuke was attracted to Naruto. Gaara was attracted to Naruto. Naruto seemed attracted to Sasuke. Sasuke was willing to give up his possible romance for Gaara but Sasuke had never said he would continue to push Naruto away forever. They could still be friends.
[When had his mentality on such a subject changed?]
Sasuke took in a deep breath and set the knife down for a moment. His hands were trembling (he didn't understand why) and he did not wish to nick his finger.
From the living room, there was an increase in volume from the television. The newscaster's voice boomed about some car accident on a main road between a truck and an elderly woman and the weather for the next week. The Uchiha ground his teeth, resisting the urge to go shut off the damn thing himself before beginning his task of cutting veggies once again.
Several minutes elapsed. The headache that had gotten significantly worse as the volume of the show was continuously increased- seriously, was Naruto going deaf or something- and Sasuke was just about to go flip shit when an interesting segment came on.
It was about a combination filicide, uxoricide, and suicide. This would not usually have caught his attention, as there were a few rough cities in which were in the stations coverage area, but there was one small detail that resulted in him listening. One of the three children's names had been Gaara.
Sasuke cut his finger.
He attended Gadara's funeral in a black button down shirt, skinny jeans, and matching shoes. As was the norm, there had been eyeliner too.
Sakura had clutched onto his right arm, balling her eyes out and wiping her snotty nose on his sleeve. Naruto had been on the left, staring ahead impassively, but eyes body language secreting a sort of melancholic sadness. Kakashi was behind them, as were the rest of the Haruno's and he was sure his family was mixed in the crowd somewhere as well. Everyone else there shouldn't have attended. They hadn't known Gaara, they had just shown up to sniffle and cry and all that other bullshit so they didn't look callous and unsympathetic. Boys and girls alike would speak by the coffin, making up bullshit stories or how they had been such good friends when they had not even spoken to the redhead once. The decrepit old ladies who sobbed so loud had sneered and called the police on the two of them several times. It made Sasuke incredibly angry, them being there. If Gaara had been alive, he would have flipped them all the bird. If it had been Sasukes' funeral, he probably would have chased them away.
Sasuke wasn't feeling the motivation to do such an act at the moment. He felt like lying down and dying.
The Uchiha could not have slept over seven hours over the last five days. He only ate and drank enough for survival and refused to see anyone. Locked up in his room with the blinds closed, blanket over his head, and utter silence, he could pretend that the tragedy was all a dream. He could fabricate a story in which Gaara and Naruto had gone to elope and they would both return later that day and mock him for his stupid overactive imagination.
Unfortunately one cannot run from reality forever.
From what the police had revealed and little hints given by Sakura and Kakashi, Sasuke had constructed a pretty solid idea of what had been occurring in Gaara's life. He had a crazy-as-all-fuck 'father' who abused his bipolar 'mother' (which explained the reason Gaara had always insisted they did not go to his house). His supposed 'sister' had gotten knocked up at age 13, and instead of putting the baby up for adoption, her parents had taken it in and raised it as their own son. They had instructed their other son, Kankuro, to treat the child as if the child was his own brother, not his nephew. So, in simpler terms, his parents had been his grandparents, and his siblings were his mother and uncle respectively.
His father had a particularly rough day at work the day the murder-suicide had occurred, and returned home to rain down insults and punches on his wife. She, on the other hand, was in a period of extreme rage and did not wish to tolerate his bitching. They had gotten in a large argument, and stormed off in opposite directions.
Temari- Gaara's true mother- had screamed at her father for being a dick all the time, while Kankuro had gone off on their mother for the same idea. It was unclear how the rest of the tale had played out (they only knew this because of a nosy neighbor who had been listening in on the drama) but each one of them was shot dead by the eldest man. First Gaara's 'mother,' then Temari, Kankuro, Gaara himself, and then his "father's" suicide.
It was depressing.
Sasuke did not blame himself for the incident. The demise of the majority of the party had nothing to do with him or his own actions, but Gaara's had. If he had just been a stubborn ass and stayed in bed, or hadn't gotten drunk, or held his temper and not tripped while returning to attack Naruto his best friend could have still been alive. His family would have been dead, but that would have been okay. Gaara could have lived with him at his house and they could just lie in his bed and wasted their days away. They could have drowned themselves in alcoholic, or ended up as vagabonds on the street, or became super successful. With Gaara around, he could have done anything.
Now he wasn't so sure anymore. He wasn't sure who he was now, or who he had been before, or even if he had ever been something.
It was like a fucking paradox.
When the funeral was over and Gaara had been buried under pounds and pounds of dirt (where maggots and wonderful bacteria would eat away at his flesh and organs until he was nothing but bones; the thought had pleased him for some disturbing reason, yet it made him want to gag and sob at the same time) Sasuke found himself at home, staring at himself in the mirror. He had yet to cry and grieve. Kakashi had stared at him for a long and hard time before telling him there was nothing wrong with him not experiencing it yet. Sometimes it didn't hit a person for an extended period of time, in some case years.
Sasuke prayed it would not that long. He was ready for his fall from grace; perhaps it would remove the emptiness that had seemed to consume his soul. Feeling nothing was absolutely wretched, especially when everyone else seemed to experience at least something! Even if it had been a hoaxed emotion for many, Sasuke still found himself envious.
Mikoto and Fugaku had allowed him to take a week off from school in order to cope. They were treading lightly when peaking with him, as if they were walking across a lake of paper-thin ice, and it was bothering him. They had been concerned with his well being before, but not to this extent. He wanted everything to just stay the way it had been. Gaara had not been a staple in their lives, so why the hell should they change just because something happened to Sasuke? He could shoulder his own burden; those who could not were weak and fucking pathetic.
Sasuke despised the idea of being pitiable.
He spent the majority of that time the same as he had before the burial service; wrapped up in his covers and prancing around in his fantasy world. He ate a lot less and took a lot more time in the shower just sitting on the floor and staring at the water swirling down the drain. No matter how scalding it became, it still didn't make him feel much of anything. His skin would just turn a bright vermillion that reminded him of Gaara's hair.
Sometimes he thought it was stupid to be so caught up over the emerald-eyed boys death, it had not been like they were dating or anything. Just very close. Kakashi had said it was normal however, and Sasuke trusted the silver-haired man almost more than his parents and brother.
On the Sunday before he was going to have to return to pursing his education, Sakura and Naruto had stopped by with several boxes of Gaara's things. The pinkette had insisted he would probably want to at least take a few things rather than have them all thrown away. The Uchiha had numbly agreed and instructed them to just leave them in the entryway.
As she must have sensed some oncoming emotional storm, Sakura took her leave of his residence, demanding Naruto to follow. The blond had watched her exit before he pulled the brunet boy into a gentle embrace. Sasuke did not resist or fight back, even when a soft kiss was placed on his temple. The Uzumaki left silently after that, leaving the Uchiha to his own devices for the rest of the night.
After retrieving a few CD's, notebooks, fat bands, and a single pair of clothes, Sasuke had hauled all of the other items out to the fire pit in his backyard and burned them. He would not end up like one of those freaks that rocked back and forth in their closet while smelling their deceased friend/relative/lovers items.
On further inspection of the flame before he retreated into his home, however, he saw something he desired to obtain but failed to discover before ignition. A photo album sat of the edge of the heap, with fire beginning to lick its fraying spine. With just a few blisters on his fingers as consequence, he managed to retrieve the item. Its pages had been slightly burned, but there was beauty in imperfection. Sometimes, the best things resulted from the destruction of something gorgeous.
He did not look through its pages that night, although pondering the secrets of its contents had kept him awake throughout the night. This, of course, resulted in school being quite a miserable experience the next day. People stared at him with pity in their eyes (which made him enraged for both being thought of as feeble and the fact that they still all believed that Gaara and himself had been in a sexual relationship) and teachers insisted he did not have to make up the homework for the past week. New assignments, the Uchiha found, he was exempt from. He really did not wish for special treatment, but they forced it upon him anyways.
Upon arriving home, he was greeted with a smile from his father. This was extremely unusual. The man spoke to him in a tone than was much less harsh as well. Rather than grunting out whatever fast food option he was wiling to go pick up for his son, Fugaku had instead asked for the boys opinion on what he wished to consume. It had been completely out of character for the man.
More fucking people bending to what they believe Sasuke needs!
With an angered huff and a terse response of not caring what they were to consume- he doubted he would eat anyways, he really hadn't been hungry for a while now- the teen had stormed upstairs and entered his room, signaled with a slamming of a door.
His night was spent mostly flipping through the album alone- he had powered off his cell in an attempt to avoid Naruto's constant bothering; the blond had taken up the position of making sure he wasn't doing anything stupid and was always inviting him somewhere or to do something. It was filled with pictures and other small items from Gaara's life, their time periods raging from age 7 to just a few days before his demise. Towards the end, there were several pictures of himself and the redhead involved in multiple activities. There were the ticket stubs to the first music festival they had attended (also the first time in which they had gotten drunk). There was a dumbass fake love note the Uchiha had written and thrown in class in an attempt to piss the instructor off.
It was all worthless junk, but it still made him want to cry.
Unraveling at the seams Sasuke had decided, however, was unacceptable at this point. Everyone else was beginning to get over the event whilst he had not even begun to grieve in the slightest. The one caught crying last for a tragedy was often the weakest, the most vulnerable. He did not want to be that one.
It had been close to midnight when he slinked down the stairs and into the kitchen. Following his apparently rude behavior previously, his father had made the decision to not retrieve any dinner at all and instead had chosen to go out with his girlfriend. With a barren fridge, aching chest (it wasn't painful, per se, but more of a numbness that was not enjoyable), and a grumbling stomach, the raven-haired boy decided to get flat-out inebriated; an attempt to flush away his troubles.
After downing enough alcohol to at least get buzzed, the Uchiha had found it a brilliant idea to go take a shower in order to shave his legs. The coarse black hair growing from the flesh there had been bothering him as of late- he found thick dark hair on the pale skin of people's limbs to be rather disgusting and had determined at a young age that he would never allow himself to look such a way.
In his not-so-drunk-but-drunk-enough state, he had accidentally angled his razor at an unfortunate angle and managed to slice his calf open. At first he had panicked at seeing the small stream of blood running down his leg, but then he became a little…. curious. He had actually not even felt the minuscule wound occur, or even had the slightest idea of how long ago it had come into existence, but when he gazed upon it he felt a sort of pleasure roll through his spine. It wasn't necessarily in a good way, as pain was the nerves alerting the brain to damage and they usually was not positive, but it was a hell of a lot better than feeling nothing.
He vaguely remembered someone talking about how they would rather feel nothing at all than pain. At the time, he was young and had not disagreed. He had not yet experienced pain or numbness, so a comment would have been foolish. Now, however, he had several dozen reasons as to why their belief was false. Pain kept one feeling alive, just as conflict stopped life from being boring.
With a small tilt of his wrist, the Uchiha had made another slit, this time in the soft flesh of his inner thigh. It was much longer and stung a significantly larger amount more than the first had (perhaps because this infliction was not unconsciously delivered). He bit the inside of his cheek and continued in his little project however, as the feeling definitely overpowered his mind subconsciously screaming that what he was doing was disturbing and wrong.
Within several minutes, vermillion trails of his life liquid were seeping down his legs, the color contrasting starkly with that of his ebony skin. It stung terribly, and his thighs were mutilated far beyond what he could explain- thank all the deities he always wore jeans that covered the area- but Sasuke could not help but allow a small smile to overcome his features. It was beautiful. It was artwork. It made him feel sick.
He loved it.
Upon waking up the next morning and discovering his little "project" from the night before, the ebony-haired teen was appalled. He had vowed to never return to his ways of self-harm no matter how hard life seemed to get and finding he had picked up on such a habit once again caused him to be quite angry with himself. He was such a stupid little shit. He didn't want to cause anymore problems for anyone around him, he didn't want to go back to multiple appointments with a psychiatrist a week- both because it was embarrassing to admit its where you were heading every afternoon and because they were often expensive and both his parents were working from paycheck to paycheck since the divorce- and he definitely didn't want to seem weak.
He wasn't fucking weak.
Despite his silent declaration, however, Sasuke found himself being drawn back to the razor (usually it was a razor in the shower anyways, sometimes he would use a knife or piece of glass or some other sharp object). There was a laceration added for when he got in trouble, when he got bad marks on an assignment, when he had a shitty day, when his dad or mother accidentally locked him out and he sat on the porch for hours, when he realized he was depressed for no liable reason as so many people were worse off than him, or just when he was felt like being swallowed up whole by the Earth. It was shameful, but he justified the idea with the fact that he deserved the pain. If he couldn't or wouldn't just disappear, he could at least punish himself for everyone else. If they knew, he always assumed they would be grateful.
Nobody could find out, of course. If they did, they would probably attempt to stop him from resorting to the habit. Although it was deserved, there was always a sliver of remorse people would experience. Cutting was disturbing, and not a soul should subject themselves to such a thing. They should not be subjected to watch someone partake in self-harm. They did not deserve it. This is why Sasuke cut in places nobody would look, like his thighs and chest. He had no lover and he had fulfilled his physical education class with Gaara during freshman year, so there was no risk.
This cycle continued without discovery until the summer before his last year of school. Sasuke had found himself slipping deeper and deeper into an endless hole of depression and angst until he found it infeasible to go a single day within having a session between him and the blade. It was almost a mechanic action now (like an OCD), to a point where it no longer even had the desired euphoric effect.
It had been, as was almost cliché in such a situation, his sibling that stumbled upon his habit. Sasuke had made a hasty retreat into the bathroom after a disagreement with Itachi and jumped into the shower when the water was still icy cold. He had forgotten to lock the door. The elder Uchiha brother, in his rage (something he was known; there was a common misconception that he was coolheaded) had barged in to reprimand the boy only to instead to witness to first few drops of blood rise to the surface of his beloved little brothers flesh.
There had been a lot of fuss that occurred in the Uchiha household that day.
Kakashi was phoned for an appointment on his day off- something that Sasuke assumed had cost his parents a fortune and immediately felt guilty about- and the youngest Uchiha found his torso and legs wrapped tightly. Anything sharp or potentially dangerous was revoked from his list of privileges, which was actually his preferred out of two options, the other being a mental hospital.
Kakashi arrived by 3:00, but their appointments were different than they had been before. The silver-haired man suggested that rather than just begin their new schedule with a one-on-one session between himself and Sasuke, the whole family partakes. He explained it to Fugaku and Mikoto- Itachi was to catch a flight back to his residence as he had work the next day, therefore he could not attend- as a way that they could get their questions answered, just Sasuke knew Kakashi just wanted their prodding hands out of his hair.
Everything had been going routinely until the raven-haired teens mother broke down into tears in the middle of the meeting. She had demanded to know why her baby boy did such a thing to himself, what he believed it was to accomplish. The boy had just shrugged and stared at the wall, not completely comprehending his reasoning for the act in the first place. This pissed off his father who, although did not particularly enjoy the company of Mikoto anymore, would not tolerate Sasukes' inattentive attitude and unresponsiveness during something that would take a large chunk out of his wallet. Upon raging at his son for lying and being short with his answers, Sasuke had turned to him and smirked only slightly (for the first time in a long time) and softly stated:
"Father, I am not a liar, I am just genuinely fake."
It was surprising to the Uchiha to find that Naruto had shown up at his mother's door with car keys in hand and a melancholic smile on his face that evening. Even more astounding was that she allowed him to go with the blond, even with the events that had transpired that day. Most shocking of all was that Sasuke actually agreed to go as well.
They did not speak as Naruto drove; a preppy mainstream song about love was preventing silence though. Cerulean eyes were pasted to road in front of the vehicle while ebony ones were gazing at the intricate stitching of the tan leather interior. The car really was a piece of art, but in a way that was different than Sasuke's habitual mutilation. Beauty could come from flawless design, flawed design, or from a destructive oblivion. Artwork is something that could be perceived in several diverse perspectives.
Their destination ended up being some secluded rock formation about an hour away from their town. Naruto seemed to be lost in some deep train of thought as they sat beside one another, and Sasuke did not wish to interrupt his notions with a vocal disturbance. He was curious as to how the blond had knew what had been occurring (because the Uzumaki had never had a such a forlorn look on his face as he had that day) but not enough so to break the tranquility that came with the scene.
Not speaking for at least a half an hour after they had arrived Naruto had seemed to choose his wording carefully when explaining that experiencing vulnerability was not always an unpleasant thing. Sometimes it could lead to great things, just as sometimes everyone needed to fall apart a little in order to come back stronger than before. Life was just like breaking a bone; if it didn't destroy you completely you will just come back better than before.
The Uchiha didn't have a response for Naruto's sudden insightfulness; usually he came off as an idiot so the sudden change in personality was a bit strange. Not bad, but definitely strange.
Without another word spoken, Sasuke found himself lifted from his place and nestled in between the blond's toned legs. The situation was rather uncomfortable for the Uchiha still was not open to Naruto's feelings towards him (it should have been Gaara in this position, not himself), but he listened and did not shift as the other spoke softly in his ear.
"If you're wondering how the hell I know do much, well, Kakashi is kind of my adoptive father. He knows about the massive crush I kind of have on you," there had been an awkward cough before he continued "so sometimes he'll tell me stuff about you. Like, about your depression and that shit. I guess he thought I would do something helpful cause he casually let it slip at dinner that he had rushed off to see you before and accidentally left his notes on the table. As for where we stand on the issue of Gaara, I always knew he liked me, but I just didn't share his feelings. I don't usually settle for anything less than I want, and even if I had dated him for awhile he would have just ended up heartbroken in the end anyways."
Sasuke wanted the object, to say that the blond could have learned to adore the redhead the same way in which he swore he loved him, but Naruto had continued.
"I realize you don't like me all that much, and this romantic crap and flirting I pull all the time really gets on your nerves, but I just want you to know I really like you. Truly, I do. Even if you never reciprocate my feelings, I don't think the sensation will ever go away. Trust me; I've tried. Just know that if you ever need to break down, fall apart on someone, know that I will be there to catch you. You don't have to be strong all the time Sasuke, I think you'd be cute if you acted all feeble and pathetic."
The Uchiha had felt a tick coming from his eyebrow. He didn't know if he should be offended or flattered by the Uzumaki's words, but he really had no reason to become aggravated. He was only attempting to be sweet and it had caused a strange tingling feeling in his stomach that he found strangely pleasant. Not in a painful way either, but more of a warm wave of tingles that he had not felt in an extremely long period of time.
He had not been sure if it was going to rain tomorrow, or if there was going to be some kind of horrifying disaster. He would probably feel the urge to cut and ponder the meaning of his existence or why Gaara had met his demise instead of himself. Maybe he would meet up with Naruto again, or go out in the sun instead of staying curled up inside of his blanket. And perhaps, just maybe, he could find that he was real, his true self, for the first time.
A/N: Idon'tevenknowwhatthisis. This *motions towards text* is not at all what I had planned to submit next. I was working on my next multi-chapter NaruSasu piece when the angst! plot rats came to devour any story but this one! Oh, it is also being somewhat of an excuse not to write an epilogue to Rural Mentality (I've gotten mixed views on whether or not it should have one, and I'm leaning towards no right now), MoA, and Mel. Sus.
Yep. I'm a first class procrastinator.
I got caught up in some game this morning on my iPod too, which made me not want to finish this (so strange, there is this one kid in it who looks eerily similar to Naruto, was disliked by his village for being a troublemaker, yet is named Sasuke...he is a ninja too...)
Anyways, I apologize for this being so cliche and my stereotypical not-so-certain ending. This, as most things I write, had a plot altercation during the process of writing...
I would BE SO INCREDIBLY THRILLED if you reviewed, they make me really happy (even if this was super typical I hope you enjoyed it...)! I want to know what I can improve on- other than my terrible endings, because we all know they are- as an authoress! Anyone who favs is amazing too! Even if you spend your time reading I'm happy!
I need to go study for my EOC now... seriously I have so many huge tests in the next few weeks it's insane.