{ blackout
by: orenjiismile
there's a tragedy known as romeo and juliet
& then there's naruto and sasuke. }
- - -
There's a reason why people like you are called superstars.
And as clichéd as this sounds, you're a superstar because you've risen above the masses and climbed all the way to the top. You're a superstar now; you're presented to the word in arrays of glossy posters and bright album jackets. All that blood and sweat I watched you shed in that tiny little dance studio, it's finally paid off. Look at you know, you're adorning magazine covers and billboards all across the nation.
Like the one I'm passing now.
Raindrops are falling onto the window pane and sliding down the cheeks of my reflection. Ironic isn't it? The world is probably curled up in front of the TV, watching you with hushed breaths, waiting for that trademark sloppy grin of yours, a flash of those bright blue eyes, and yet here I am, on a lonely bus, watching only my reflection cry for everything that I can't seem to.
Across from me, curled tightly against each other, sits a couple. They were young, seventeen at most. Do you remember when we were seventeen? When we promised each other forever in the forms of pinkie swears and childish couple rings? Seventeen was old enough to understand that ignorance was no longer a luxury, but seventeen was also still young enough to indulge in it anyway.
The rain is coming down harder now; the streets are almost empty save for a few businessmen scrambling into the nearest bars.
I'm glad it's raining.
Because then I won't accidentally look up into the sky and see the stars -- forever visible, but never attainable -- and be reminded of another reason why I can't have you.
- - -
You always smiled.
It didn't matter if I had brushed you off coldly or yelled at you over something trivial, you would still smile at me. I liked it. I liked your smile. But it wasn't just your smile; it was the way you smiled. When you smiled -- eyes crinkling up and lips curling into a lopsided grin -- you would look only at me, and it was like, in your eyes there was only me.
It was like you only smiled for me.
But now as I walk past shopping malls (nose buried deep in the checkered muffler yo- I used to wear to your concerts) and I see your face plastered all over the translucent doors, grinning blithely down at the world, it makes me wonder if I can still call that smile mine.
- - -
I can't tell you why I don't answer your emails, your phone calls, your letters.
I can't, Naruto.
Not ever since the day our best friend Sakura Haruno came bawling at my door. Her hair was askew in pink tangles and her eye bags were etched deep into her pale skin. She came crying into my arms and she stayed there, fingers clinging tightly into my shirt, sobbing, "You can't do this to him. If the media finds out, he'll be ruined Sasuke. Everything he's worked so hard for, everything wewatched him willingly give up for -- will be ruined."
I wanted to be selfish.
I did.
I wanted to tell her, "Sakura, fuck that. Look at us Sakura, we're so happy. How can you even say something like that to me?"
But she was so frail, and she was crying and she hadn't gotten any proper sleep for the past three months and even though there was a little part of me that was still annoyed with her presence (you remember her irritating little crush on me, don't you?), she was our best friend and I couldn't just let her leave in vain and, and she was in love with you.
Your manager came next.
They begged me, Naruto.
"Please, Uchiha-san. Leave him now. It'll be easier on the both of you."
And you know how much I hate it when people grovel and beg. It's so weak, so pathetic. They were begging, and they weren't even ashamed of it.
Your manager offered me money.
Two million dollars.
American.
I informed your manager of a good place to shove that money.
I wasn't about to give up my pride as easily as he was.
But Sakura held me there until I promised I would leave you. Her tears, joined along with my promise, soaked through my shirt, underneath my skin, and into the essence of my soul.
(A constant reminder of heartbreak.)
And you'll never even know.
But that doesn't mean I don't keep every single one of your emails, your messages, your letters.
And on some days, when it gets too hard for me to pretend I'm okay, when it gets too hard to put on my usual stoic face in front of Sakura, I take out your letters and your emails, and I read them one by one.
Word by word.
All 722 of them.
And when it really starts to hurt, I play all the messages you left me.
Hey Sasuke, it's Naruto. I'm sorry I've been quite busy lately, call me back whenever okay?
Sasuke, why aren't you picking up?
Sasuke, you haven't replied my calls in two days. I'm coming over right now.
Sasuke, it's been three months. What's going on? I miss you…
Sasuke, I'm tired of this hide and seek game. Call me when you grow some fucking balls.
Sasuke, please. Pick up. I don't know what I did wrong, but just talk to me. I really miss you. I need to see you.
Isn't it ironic I'm loved by all these people who don't even know me, yet the one that does the most, doesn't?
…I called just so I could hear your voice on your answering machine…
I play them over and over again, all 690 of them.
And then, when I'm done listening to your pleading voice, I tell myself I don't miss you.
It was hard at first.
The winter never seemed so bitter and cold before, but I'm still breathing aren't I?
I'm still living aren't I?
See, I don't miss you.
I don't.
- - -
Everywhere I go, there are remains of you. The ramen stand outside my house, the gaming arcade across from Konoha Academy, and the stupid telephone booth where we shared our first kiss.
You remember what you said after we kissed, don't you?
"We're going to do many, many more naughty things in here Sasuke."
But I suppose you don't need me now.
Not when you have millions of cute girls throwing themselves this way and that at your feet, begging you to take them, anywhere. Not when you have luxurious penthouses all across the globe to do dirty deeds in.
Not when you're not mine anymore.
Even when I am waiting in line to buy a sky-train ticket, there is an advertisement of you plastered on the adjacent wall. You are holding hands with a pretty raven-haired girl, and you two are smiling lovingly at each other. I glance at my hand shrunken back into my sleeve. The hand that you used to hold.
But not anymore.
Because you can't.
- - -
"And we're going to grow old together, and we're going to have pretty babies with blue eyes and black hair-"
"The lack of female 'parts' poses quite a problem, Naruto."
"Shut up teme! Any-"
"Don't tell me to shut up dobe."
"-Anyway, as I was saying before I was rudely interrupted, we're going to have matching rocking chairs when we're old, and we're going to have competitions to see who can rock their chair the fastest, and of course I'll win, but I'll lose on purpose sometimes just so you won't feel too bad-"
- - -
The seat beside me is empty.
But it shouldn't be a surprise by now, really. Not when it has been empty for the past 634 days. Sadly, I still can't bring myself to allow anyone else to sit in the empty seat beside me.
The two girls in front of me are giggling as they play one of your music videos on their shiny black iPod touch. One of them glances back and catches me staring. She smiles cutely, tilting her head to the side. "Do you like Kyuubi as well?"
I survey her with impassive eyes before tearing my gaze away from her iPod and back out the window.
"They're having a fan meeting today at Konoha Mall!" The girl on the right is saying, trying to cheer her friend up from my rude response. (Or lack of.) "We should go right after we take purikura. I think it starts around three."
Don't you even think about it. I tell myself, frowning at my reflection.
But some part of me is smiling.
- - -
Girls are screaming obscenely loud into my ears from both sides, the girl in front of me is jabbing her black heels into my toes, and about fifty thousand more girls are pressing their weight against my back, attempting to get a better view of you. They're prancing, and jumping and they're chanting your name as if you would forget.
You belong to them now.
You belong to these fan girls.
With that thought relaying in my head, I pull my hood tighter around me. You- mymuffler is hugging my cheeks warmly. I tug at it unconsciously.
Naruto-kun, Naruto-kun. They are yelling. Your name sounds so foreign, falling from their lips.
You are striding on stage now, shoulders pulled back, head held up high with confidence. You smile at us, and the girls around me are screaming and shrieking impossibly louder.
Your smile looks different somehow.
It looks like it's been painted on, painted to be perfection -- the flawless curve of pink lips, and just the right amount of white teeth.
Everyone's lining up, waiting for the moment they'd finally get to see your smile before their face, awaiting for the moment they'd finally get one step closer to their favourite unattainable idol. The happiness and excitement in their eyes are so naively evident, but I wonder, as I watch your smiling face, are you happy? Is this what you wanted Naruto?
When it's my turn, I rub my cheeks, brushing my hands along the soft cotton of you- mymuffler. I step up to the table and I hold out your newest CD album with both of my hands. As you are leaning in and asking for my name, I catch a whiff of your cologne.
It's still the same.
And then I risk everything I've been trying to hide from you for the past two years when I raise my eyes and catch your glance.
You're wearing the same muffler as me.
In that fraction of a second, everything I've tried so hard to forget comes rushing back to me. The times we ate ramen together, the times you bussed me from school and back despite your hectic schedules, the times you bought one less manga so you could buy me a birthday present, the times we got mad at each other, the times we made up -
"…Sasuke?"
Your voice is shaking.
It took me all the self-control that I had to tear my gaze away from you. As I turned to leave, I felt a firm grip on my wrist.
"Sasuke, is that you?"
"Sasuke? Whose Sasuke, Naruto-kun?"
I twist away so fast, I don't even bother to take the CD I brought with me.
I miss you.
It hurts, I realize as I walk away. I swiftly wipe my eyes with the bottom of your muffler so I won't have to remember the feeling of crying over you again. And as I pass by the gift table, I rip the muffler from around my neck and I lay it on top of the overflowing pile.
"Sasuke!"
Your voice is trembling so hard.
Since when did you become so weak Naruto?
I stop in my tracks to glance back for a second.
The security guards are holding you back.
I smile at you, meeting your urgent gaze with mine.
And then I am gone.
Please don't call my name anymore, Naruto.
Otherwise, I might not be able to walk away.
- - -
Naruto (c) Masashi Kishimoto
Hope everyone enjoyed that ^^
Comments are loved & will be used to de-emo-fy Sasuke ; D!