mfs: TADA! i hath returned to you, my dear fans who i'm sure have missed me so.
-muffled voice-
mfs: ...oh? they didn't miss me? they didn't even know i was gone!?
-sad sounding muffled voice-
mfs: ...what do you mean i don't have any fans? -sobs- sasuke! hold me!
sasuke: i'm gay dammit! get your boobies away from me!
mfs: -sobs more- i am the unloved!
gaara: that's my line bitch! and give me back my pb&j samich!
Suicide Boys: Words without Meaning
"Some people aren't born to live; some people are only born to die." –Naruto Uzamaki
The plug had been ripped out of the wall, the cord tangled around the young boy's corpse.
"Where'd he even get a power drill?"
An odd question to pop up in his mind as he stared down at the still form of the orphaned boy.
He should be wondering: "why?"
His team had informed him there were no indications that the teenager had ever used drugs, or at least nothing had been found. But he hadn't needed the team to clear the boy's name, he knew the kid from a long time ago, he'd never touch drugs, he'd seen what they could do and it had scared the boy. The man could see clearly in the bright, fluorescent light that there were no slashes on the boy's wrists.
He wasn't chasing a permanent high. Nor had he been physically preparing himself for death.
The man sighed, they needed to contact someone, to identify the body, even though he knew well who it was that lay bloody and lifeless on the floor. It was regulation.
Kakashi picked up a discarded, blindingly orange cell phone lying in the hallway, feet away from the doorway of the bathroom. Flipping it open he was assaulted with a bright screen and a box claiming there were three new messages, and finally, one missed call.
He opened them, scanning the name of the sender. They were all from Naruto.
"hey bastard theres a new movie out about ninjas! we HAVE to go c it! ninjas rule!!"
"bastard! answer me already!"
"i really think getting out of ur house'll help but I'll leave u alone for now just call me when u've got a min"
The gray-haired man hit the glowing back button and a picture of the deceased boy and another teenage boy occupied the background.
The other boy, a blonde, has his thin arm slung over the raven's shoulder in a sloppy, half hug, his sun-kissed face was pressed against his friend's pale cheek. A face splitting smile shone on his childish face, his eyes closed from the force of the expression.
He looked so happy, so eternally happy.
The dark haired boy's lips were curled in a small, but obvious grin, his black eyes were focused on the blonde who held onto him with the force of a vice grip.
He shut the phone with a definite, resounding click and looked at the corpse once again.
The police officer supposed he'd have to call Naruto sooner rather than later. But first he wanted the sticky, now reddish-brown blood cleaned away.
No need for the young boy to see the gruesome scene that was the last moments of his best friend's life so luridly displayed.
Interlude
An unhealthily thin boy entered through the front door, visibly tensing in the dim lighting of his home. It had always been dark, even before the sunshine had been exiled from the mansion.
He threw his backpack down in the hallway with more force than necessary and trudged up the stairs. Determination was engraved on his pallid face, but the moment his feet reached the top stair, that familiar, uneasy look that made him look younger than his thirteen years overtook his expression.
Running a hand through raven colored hair he began his now ritualistic, slow walk down the second floor hallway.
It didn't take long for the gruesome flashbacks to assault him this time. It never really did.
And they were getting worse.
He laid down on the carpeted floor, hugging his knees to his chest. 'Better to wait it out,' he thought. The pressure of them always drove him to his knees.
He just wanted them to go away.
"Why wouldn't they go away?"
Had he done something so terribly wrong that he deserved this? What awful sin had he committed that called for this punishment?
Or maybe he was simply bearing the sins of his older brother…
In the end, whichever it was it didn't matter. All that mattered were those scenes, flashing in quick, pulsing successions before his eyes. His smiling mother, his distant but caring father…and his destructive brother.
They were trapped in his head, and all the boy could do was blame his brother.
It was all his fault.
If he hadn't fought, if he hadn't pushed Father too far, or yelled at Mother… If he hadn't done all those things he was told not to do.
Maybe if Brother hadn't joined the 'bad crowd' as their mother kindly called it, no doubt sweetening the jagged reality for the nine year little boy who didn't understand why his beloved brother had become even more distant, even more elusive.
And violent.
He had become so violent.
Their parents blamed the drugs. Their wonderful, brilliant son could never be blamed.
Oh, but he could blame his big brother.
After all, he had taken so much happiness and given so much sadness.
That was all he had ever really done, all he'd ever really been good at.
He took away their family, they weren't perfect, but they were family and that was all that mattered.
He had given his little brother horrific nightmares that were never chained by the depths of nights, never frightened away by the light of day.
They were so terrible, revolutions of his mother and father dying their bloody, bloody deaths at the hand of their drug-ridden son, killed right before their youngest son's eyes as he screamed out for them.
"Mommy!?'
"Daddy!?"
Weren't parents supposed to be invincible? Wasn't his father a superhero? Wasn't his mother unbreakable?
No.
Finally, the eldest had loomed over his brother with a smile that spoke of sick enjoyment and bloodshot eyes that revealed how high those little pills took him. With slick, bloody hands holding his baby brother's face he spoke filthy words that over time lost the syllables that made them up, but never the meaning.
And then he was sprawled on the carpeted floor of the second floor hallway, feet away from their parent's bedroom where they lay dead at the trembling feet of his little brother who gripped the stair's railing in fear.
He was free…but his poor, little baby brother was not.
….
"SASUKE!"
A panicked scream echoed up the stairs and the grey-haired man's one visible eye widened. The muffled voices of Kakashi's team were followed by painfully hysteric yells of…
"Let me through!!"
And drawn out repetitions of…
"Sasuke!?"
And finally the dull sound of feet thumping up the old, wooden stairs.
Kakashi turned slowly to see a familiar, young boy with bright blonde hair and wide, scared blue eyes trip up the last few stairs.
He was always such a clumsy boy.
The boy stopped abruptly at the sight of the tall man and all his viscous energy from just seconds ago dispersed. He was trembling, he looked so scared…
Like he was waking into a nightmare.
The police officer had never seen him like this, even on all those late nights he had been dragged in for being out too late, making too much noise, painting graffiti and lectured. Even then the boy had been smiling, rubbing the back of his neck, promising not to do it again and begging his raven-haired friend with his eyes to back him up.
Those two had been Kakashi's most frequent visitors, from ages ten to fourteen they continued to be drug into his office by a night patrolman hiding a smirk as the blonde waved his arms about and the raven rubbed his temples, preparing himself for one more lecture about something he hadn't done. Naruto had always made him tag along. Now they were freshly turned sixteen year olds. They seemed so grown up and just as childish at the same time.
The boy took a shaky step forward.
"Naruto…" Kakashi began toward the boy, holding his hands up to pause him. But he saw blue eyes flicker to the mirror in the bathroom wall, and it was already too late.
The grey-haired man stopped and let his arms fall useless to his sides. Because he knew exactly what Naruto was seeing in the sickeningly, strategically placed mirror.
A waxen pale, pale hand resting on the white tiled floor, a hand with fingers limply curled, surrounded by a pool of blood that seeped in a defiant line to the hallway's grey carpet, turning it black. He almost looked as if he was reaching out for something, maybe someone…
It made Kakashi wonder who had taken his hand and lead him through death.
But he and other boy, who stood frozen staring at the terrible, terrible reflection in the mirror, probably knew exactly who had gripped the raven's hand and yanked him through with a sick smirk and glittering eyes.
It always came back to Itachi.
Interlude
The boy turned from crying to screaming, after all crying was weakness was it not? He remembered that lesson from the childhood days before.
"Get out, get out, get out, GET OUT!"
His nails dug into the soft carpet, fingers slipping through the soggy fabric, staining his fingers a bright red. He drug himself to his feet, fragile steps creating stomach turning noises as he splashed through the impossible amount of blood that…
Was all in his head.
And he knew it, he knew they were mirages, created by his older brother just for him.
But they felt so real, the blood squishing between his toe, wet and warm, leaving footprints on the stairs and messy lines from the bottom of his too long, baggy pants.
Pausing at the doorway to the garage he pressed his blood covered fists to his temples, ripping at his hair before pounding his head on the cold door.
"Get out!" he screamed, letting loose a mantra of raw notes that weren't truly words as he scrapped desperately at the handle on the door.
Then he was rummaging blindly through boxes of his deceased father's tools, stopping now and then to cry out to his brother to stop.
"Sweetie, please just stop while you still can…stop while you're still ahead."
His older brother should have listened to Mother's gentle words.
The blood on the soles of his feet had crusted by now, flaking off onto the carpet covered wooden stairs.
The plug that seemed to tag along behind the stumbling boy at an ambling pace bounced merrily off each stair and trailed behind him at a healthy distance as he made his way down the hallway, tripping into the wall and violently pushing away from the specks of blood that adorned them.
Without indication that raven was knocked to the ground by a forgotten object on the floor.
The plug paused in it's travels, waiting for the raven to regain his senses from the hard fall.
His head spun from taking the brunt of the fall on his elbow and his palm stung from scraping against what he held tightly in his hand.
Again he drug himself to his feet, ignoring the fresh pains and trudging on, using the frame of the bathroom door to pull himself into the fluorescent lit room.
The cord followed suit, grazing past the discarded object on the floor that twinkled in the dark hallway with a display that complained about being ignored. The plug tapped the brightly colored object, like saying "hello" and "bye" all in one breath, not waiting for an answer, and then was yanked sharply into the bright room.
The object vibrated on the floor, the sound mockingly overpowered by the shrill whirl of a power tool.
"…Why didn't you stop…please stop…"
A sob escaped the broken boy's lips, cut off by metal spinning at an impossible speed past a thin layer of delicate skin and grinding through the bone, stopping short followed instantaneously by the sound of a body hitting the floor and the tool clattering loudly against the tile.
His hand stretched out, curling around imaginary fingers as the dull, barley audible sound of a phone vibration, muffled by carpet, filled the now comparatively deafening silence.
….
And as Kakashi watched the blonde boy kneel beside the limp body of his best friend, his partner in childish antics, letting the blood soak through the fabric of his pants, he found he couldn't quite place a name on what he was watching, he couldn't quite label the scene filled with tears and blood, trembling hands and a chest that no longer rose and fell.
Naruto's shaking hands tried to reach out to the dead boy as his vision blurred with tears, distorting the beautifully macabre picture before him.
He couldn't tough the boy, he looked so peaceful. The raven's flawless face, without a trace of anguish or pain, shone with the calm only death could grant for him.
It was like…at last.
"Sasuke…" the way the blonde spoke his name was laced with desperation and a dark, destructive self-pity.
What an exaggerated love.
Kakashi pulled the crying boy to his feet and lead him out the door, he didn't struggle, but as the stepped over the power drill lying with fatalistic finality on the floor he turned his head to the dead boy once more.
But the heartbroken look he threw over his shoulder was wasted on closed eyes.
Flashback
"Hey, we're friends…right?"
"Here I was thinking we were already best friends."
"W-we are! And best friends means you hafta stick around 'kay?"
"Alright."
"Promise?!"
"…Promise."
It had been a beautiful lie.
Beautiful, but a lie none the less.
mfs: hey gaara, what sandwich were you talking about?
gaara: the one you stole from me!
mfs: search me, i haven't got a thing -looks into spotlight that suddenly appeared- i only have this pen and paper so that i might share my writings with the world
sasuke: look! she's got something in her pocket! -empties pocket-
gaara: ...
sasuke: ...
readers: ...
mfs: ...uh, i can expla-
sasuke: is that pot?
mfs: no! -looks about in a shifty manner- it's...ah, it's...catnip! yeah! catnip!
gaara: -sniffs baggie- nope, it's weed
sasuke: well this explains alot
kimmie: -randomly walks by- aha! caught you!
mfs: -screams in terror, grabs baggie and runs-
kimmie: -shaking fist- don't think you can get away! THE OPOSSUMS WILL GET YOU IF I DON'T!
...i hope this explains my abscence