Author's Note: Naruto and Sakura's feelings are mixed and told almost as one. This is told in 2nd person. I'm gonna be honest, this piece was some rambling bit about obsession I wrote. I then converted it into a fanfic. But seriously, some episodes of Shippuden get me thinking, damn! Naruto and Sakura are waay to obsessed with Sasuke. What if that wasn't healthy? That's what this piece reflects.

Disclaimer: I don't own Naruto. I also don't own the concept of obsession, it exists independently of me.

Our Obsession

You, the boy-are bowed, your golden sunshine hair blended with pain by the wind.

And You-the pink-haired girl, stand.

The hardest stance to keep when you would fall over and wail at any given moment.

But you don't. You need the illusion of strength, in front of your dearest friend who is curled in a ball, weeping his eyes out, the sounds almost animal to you.

Obsession is like the tendrils of stubborn ivy. It adheres faster and firmer in the heart then the way wild tangles climb and stick to an old building. Growing more snarled and bold within the heart chambers as time passes. Soon you can't tell where obsession began and you ended, so entwined you've become, attested to by how numbed your mind has become, drunk on thoughts of one and only thing.

That which is the object of your obsession.

Your mind doesn't swerve except to land you right into the realm where 'it' is. Who or what, it is always a part of you. Your heart buzzes and sings and reacts to nothing else as strongly and or with such poignancy as 'it.'

Or him.

Black hair, a ghostly complexion and a smirk that you would turn your eyes out to witness again, just once again.

Something heady like a drug that you breathe in which seems to fill you up in a single moment. How can this be bad? You question for a second. It is merely something that stirs the blood within your veins in a hot and cold rush.

Images of you standing like a reed bent and blow by the wind in your most vulnerable state.

Night, the sound of an owl or other midnight creature which pierces the darkness with its cry as you stand tears gushing from your eyes. You the little girl.

And you the little boy-the little boy you are inside your heart no matter how much you've grown.

The pair of you, know yourselves.

Know what turns your mouth up and releases all the emotions in a violent spectrum of color—in one name.

One single name. Two syllables.

'Sas-uke'

You have to wake up sometime. It is wrong and you know it.

You can't be on 'it' like a drug, every moment of your life.

Chasing, chasing. It has to end.

Because lows come with the highs.

Very low, lows.

You have made him your world, your being, your soul, and the subject of your mind's eye.

When something that isn't naturally a part of you becomes adhered to your skin. How do you think it will feel when it's ripped out?

As it rips itself out of you and vanishes in a torrent of flames.

You know it will be a pain where the world ending would go unnoticed by you.

The planets melting and falling in your own realm would hold more attention than the outside world.

You have existed then inside yourself.

Chanting the formula of that man's name.

The world may have grown harsher because you have gotten use to your own inner jacket and forgot to don a real one.

What is real to you anymore?

You are so cold.

Your obsession is your God.

The power of your desire and obsession and want become your higher power.

Commanding you to worship it with every motion of your limbs and tick of your mind.

That is submitting. You've submitted to it so fully that worship and reverence are the only ways to convey how deeply you are aware of it.

You—the blue of skies in your orbs, fail to see without clouds obscuring their view.

You get to the point where you start to lose your sight. Not physically, but emotionally, mentally. You don't know what matters anymore, because nothing matters except 'it'.

Anyone who stands in your way, is moved.

Even the world.

You move the world for 'it'.

But 'it' will not stand being moved, so it pitches you until you are upside down and out of yourself.

You don't care and toss yourself to the hottest flames, because you can't feel anymore, and everything else is cold to you.

It's my way. You convince yourself.

You wake with it on your mind, and somehow during the course of the day it's on your lips, it's in your head.

Sasuke. Sasuke-kun.

That is your obsession.

You lose sight of your physical self, only moving and acting to survive and not to live. Because you don't live, not without it. You don't live, except when it is present. And when 'it' leaves, you die.

You feel somewhere deep down, a pit growing. So vast and so deep, but you try to cover it up, and it spreads. You feel there is something wrong.

It's the feeling of being a slave to something that utterly controls you.

You can't sleep without it. You can't breathe without it.

Your life becomes stagnant. You only learn the things that help you sustain it. To help you protect it.

And so you become almost non-living.

Why has the radiant blue of your eyes been drained? And why has the tinge of pink in your hair become pale?

You can't thrive anymore. You only know the same routine.

Train. Find him. Train.

The same tick-tock of obsession.

Your heart beats in time with it.

Oh, obsession, sweet juice of obliviousness.

You inhale and gulp it down in one sitting.

Hope.

You can't delay, it is too sweet and you need it too quickly in your veins.

You want it straight-lined through your system, want it to pass the blood-brain barrier with resounding speed.

Before long, you are a slave. The most pitiful of slaves.

You are made of rags, and the sun on your skin blows you to the wind.

You've become ashes.

You are obsession and gone in a flash-cinder together.

That is all the future will hold for you.

And a pitiful stain remains where you once were.

The saddest thing is that no one remembers you except that they recall the thing that drove and possessed you, some 'it' that was unworthy. But like the breeze they will glance up for it for a moment then move on and resume their day.

Don't you wish you could've created a ripple?

But you didn't.

Obsession wouldn't allow you.

He was too callous a master.