It wasn't love. It was a lie.
The friction was delicious, sliding and slipping and striving. It burned and it hurt; a tear trickled from the corner of one dark, lifeless midnight blue eye. It felt so good and so addictive; his hands tightened around the biceps of the man above him.
He saw vibrant red hair – so beautiful, so bright, and so deathly. He saw aquamarine gems, fitted into black smudged eyelids.
It was bright golden hair his one hand tangled into; he held onto this man not out of love. This man did not love him, nor were they making love.
They were both crying; they were both being desperate.
Azure blue eyes had darkened to a dull sapphire, misty with pain and despair and betrayal. His ochre gold skin was blue and black and yellow wherever it was not red with blood and sores.
Why?
He couldn't do it.
He twisted his body, turning onto his hands and knees. He buried his face into the dirty green of the muddied grass, smearing his already filthy face.
The friction continued. A weight kept meeting with the globed flesh of his ass. An upper torso rested on his bleeding back. He was afflicted by stinging pain.
A hand covered one of his own, the sun-loved skin crisscrossed by small scratches, some still trickling even smaller beads of scarlet life.
He looked at it and saw long fingers. Not a large, strong hand; too buff for he was thinking of - merely long fingers, graceful and unmarred. How those long fingers had folded over his short, stubby fingers (deformed by years of training, stumpy from broken bones and scarred by torn skin) and had held without pressure but with a subtle, undeniable strength that had whispered of possession. How those long fingers had trailed up his thin arm, pressing and pinching here and there because the iron strength beneath the skin was still coiled.
Sobs were soaked into each thrust, each thrust harsh and punishing and irregular, only their voices resonant as they cried such as small children would.
I can not do this… I thought I could… I thought the pain would go away. I thought I could live.
LIES.
He screamed; not at the man he anguished with, but at the world that seemed so cruel; fate that was so merciless. He screamed because there was nothing else left to do.
As he screamed, the man who had tried so hard to do something stopped. The man's head dipped and his tears bathed the back of his neck.
"I can't do this…"
Neither can I… What was I thinking? Was I thinking? No… I had not a thought in my mind as I charged so stupidly ahead. I am never thinking.
"Why'd he have to die?"
I do not know… I tried so hard to learn why, but there was never an answer to explain this.
"C'mon, we can't do this… Just, please… stop running. Just… just come home, damn it!"
… Home? … Home… I would like to go home. Home is in his arms, but his arms are nothing but ash just as his eyes and his hands and his hair. His heart and his voice and his scent is gone; I would know, I haunted his room till even his pillows were washed of him.
"You need to stop running! I can't do this anymore! He wouldn't have wanted this! That jealous bastard would be killing me right now if he we- if he wer- … Stop it, damn it! We all miss him, just like you!"
… Home … perhaps not such an unattainable haven? Home is as far away as he is and he is not completely gone. He just… is not here. I can go to him.
"Damn it… Please… he wouldn't want this."
Hair tickled the space between his shoulder blades. A drippy nose was wiped on his spine. He felt the wet, smooth surface of teeth as they were bared against his back. Arms wrapped around his chest in a dire need of touch instead of the insatiable urge to turn pain into rage.
"We're all hurting… we just need to stick together and not make his sacrifice worthless! We need to be strong and win!"
The warmth and heft of the man left him barren and cold, but content. His body was his alone again and though that did not feel right either, it was better than giving it away as if it were a used and discarded thing.
And yet it was the man who acted as if he had been violated. He picked up his clothes with trembling hands – his body completely was trembling, now that he actually cared to pay attention - , his face red and stained with snot and tears.
Dark, dead blue eyes glared at him through hellish pain and choking rejection.
"You're coming home with me, Lee!"
His own name startled him somewhat from his numb reverie.
Home? You can not take me home, home was discarded as dust over the sands; home is everywhere and yet nowhere.
"Even if I have to break your arms and legs to do it, I'm dragging your ass back to Konoha!"
My arms and legs…? I do not want to go back… I do not think I can go back. You all pity me – I see it in your eyes now and you can not even meet my stare, so what is the point? I can not live off of pity, I need love. My life – though meaningless now and a waste of everyone's time – can not be carried out on the pain and suffering and tears that others feel.
I think I need to go home. I can go home; I just need to go home on my own.
"I beat you, damn it. You have to come home with me!"
Naruto Uzumaki, the hokage-to-be, the strongest and greatest man yet known in the five great nations since the death of their previous hokage, fell to his knees in a fall of faith and an ascent of agony. Hopelessness was his cloak and hatred was his torch and the mask he wore was cracked and broken so the lost and confused and frightened little boy behind it showed through.
He thought of tears that fell silently; small, clear droplets of salty water that went unmentioned by the man dispersing them. At most, one or two would fall and then that moment of sorrow was over. The tears would roll down smooth – yet rough – cheeks, collecting grains of discolored sand as they traveled unhurriedly to a stubborn and strong jaw and then would dip and curve to form to an untouched throat before disappearing into the collar of whatever cloak he wore like secrets that hid themselves; beautiful, heart breaking tears that no one but himself wished to assuage and make go away.
Home, home, home, home, home… he says the word often, but does he know where home is for me? He is asking me to go home, but he is spewing about Konoha and Konoha is not my home.
I think it is time to go home.
Perhaps Naruto did not see him coming – perhaps he did but knew what Lee was going to do and knew that this was a tragedy he had to let unfold so the healing could begin. More likely than not, he saw Lee coming but did not know why for he came.
Naruto went flying, unharmed and untouched but for the blade that he had had in the holster stitched into the thigh of his pants.
It was the most beautiful blade in the world, as far as Lee was concerned. In the dim light that filtered through the densely clouded sky, it shined such a beautiful silver colored copper. Such a cheap weapon, but it appeared priceless in that moment.
And then it did not shine; the blade disappeared such as the tears of his lover had once disappeared. Like a secret that hid itself. Except it had not hid itself, Lee's own hand had hidden it.
The blade was hidden in his chest, piercing his heart.
"No! Damn it, no!"
A hand grappled for the blade, but was not strong enough to pull it away. Fingers encircled his throat and began choking him, most likely, for his 'stupidity', though he could not quite make out what it was Naruto screeched and moaned and howled about as tears touched his face like raindrops.
Home… home seems so close.
And then everything became black. The mud and blood and pain and even the numbness disappeared into… nothing, but yet something.
In this nothing that was something, warmth wrapped its arms around his waist and pressed against his back while air breathed into his hair and whispered simple yet strong words into his ear.
You're home.
If home were in your arms – if your arms were my home
I would stay home and never roam, never roam
Home would be where I would stay, I would stay so near
I would stay home, I would stay with you here
I would stay with you there, I would stay with you, with you
Wherever you would go, wherever you might stay, I would stay with you
Welcome me home – I'm home, I'm home!
Please welcome me home – I'm home!
Home is wherever you are
Whether close or too far, home is where you are
Home is you and you are my home
I will never, never not be home