The Theoretical Existence Of An Outcast
There is something oddly liberating about falling from grace and hitting rock bottom.
Everything around is suddenly pulled out of its normal perspective and thrust under a new light for skeptical analysis. Somehow, one-in-a-million situations seem to make the most sense.
The joyous cries of a bird finally able to fly free after the three week lightning storm are actually the heart-shattered shrieks of bird that no longer had a family after a passing bolt struck its home-tree and nest. The cheerful embrace of a pair of lovers in public could very well all be a show done only to hide the homosexuality of the par-takers. The comforting gesture of a father placing a hand on his son's shoulder during a school interview might actually be the threat of punishment to come for not obtaining the highest class marks.
Never ever take anything for face value because nothing is as it seems.
That is why, after all, these out casted individuals wound up here in the first place. Basing actions off assumptions made on false promises.
Selecting a simple ensemble, he wore his clothes and proceeded to the kitchen for breakfast.
Once the centre of attention, for all the right or even all the wrong reasons, when someone hits rock bottom; does the truly unspeakable, somehow they cease to exist, too shameful for even the shadiest and most immoral people to gossip about.
The newly disgraced are allowed to roam wherever, return whenever, do whatever. Besides, if they were to leave and never return, nothing would really change. Perhaps everyone would take a deep sigh, reminisce some of the good things the person used to do, and move on with their more productive endeavors.
It was all very liberating indeed.
He tightened the headband across his forehead and checked his appearance in the living room mirror one last time.
Finally able to step back and observe the flow of motion, dissect human behaviour, and evaluate one's own choices that lead them to their current predicament, the fallen often wonder whether they would do everything again anyway; feel the pain, the loneliness the misery, all for that final conclusion, a mental state of awareness, and understanding.
Real Freedom.
None of the flowery writing on declarations of independence, or the striking but ultimately pointless speeches those corrupted political leaders feed their citizens.
None of that, just the ability to see clearly and objectively.
That is why, in the end, only those who have truly felt rock bottom, the solid wall one hits when they realize they cannot degrade themselves any further, can really understand the magnitude of what it means to succeed within this unforgiving environment, filled with irrationally judgmental people. This wound, festering with parasites commonly known as society.
He opened the front door to reveal a clearly worried young man. The guest opened his mouth to say something but ended up gasping as he suddenly felt one hand firmly grasp his waist and another one caress the side of his face.
However, most of these people preferred staying where they were; out of the loop, in a rebellion perpetually fighting the system that had cruelly thrown them out for actions based on incomprehensibly desperate, lonely, disillusioned times.
Unfortunately, however passionate and justified one feels, it is impossible to damage a much stronger organization by attacking it from the outside.
The dumbstruck man blushed as was pulled close by the slightly taller man. Even if he wanted to, he could not bring himself to resist or speak. What was going on all of a sudden? Where had his cool indifference gone? Who was this guy? And just what was he doing; holding him like-
"I am ready," he said, usually apathetic voice transformed into one with regret, hope and anxiety. He released his hold and stepped back, placing both hands in his pockets; a shy smile on his face.
Completely star-struck, his guest stumbled over the words he had literally spent years rehearsing for this very day as the other man waited for him to finish, one eyebrow pulled up, teasingly. It would not do to act completely out of character, he was already pushing it with all of the smiling.
He wanted to hurt these people so fucking badly.
To make them pay for all of the suffering they had put on his family. To make them endure the complete agony he had, since he was eight. To feel the guilt and torture he felt as he learned the real truth about his irreplaceable brother.
He rolled his eyes and tugged on the other's ear, a non-verbal command for him to shut up. He already knew all of the emotions his ex-teammate was trying to communicate anyway.
The other rubbed his ear and mumbled out profanities, otherwise silent as he watched the older of the two close and lock his front door.
So, he was going to infiltrate this cruel system and destroy it from the inside, as it had done to him. Hands down, it was the best way to extract revenge. Crush them into irreparable smithereens that can never be re-pieced.
Casually, he intertwined their fingers together and led them to the staircase, smirking at the other's obviously restrained blush.
He knew.
Since the turning point battle taken place at the Valley of The End, he knew that the man behind him loved him, deeply and irrevocably. Almost as much as his brother had. After all, one does not train for two and a half years to save 'just a friend,' because of a childhood 'promise.'
This man who somehow, stupidly, believed that he could and should live among these people who had never cared for him. Jut like his brother. He understood how they felt. They wanted to believe so badly that society could change, be better, accept them if they bowed their heads and wagged their tails in submission.
But they were so wrong. So wrong, it hurt him just to watch. Disgusted him to watch.
Pausing for a split second, he moved to press the shorter boy into a wall and grab his chin so they were forced to make eye contact. His expressive blue eyes were easy to read, pupils blown wide open, sky blue irises just barely visible. He was excited and nervous all at once.
He kissed him for all they were worth, not letting up until he felt an arm wrap around his shoulders and a quiet, strangled moan released into his mouth.
He pulled away, smiling down at his panting partner and pressed a small kiss to his cheek; lovingly, reassuringly.
The other boy returned the favor; tightening the grip on his shirt, he pressed desperate kisses on his face and along his jawline, soft lips trembling the whole time.
"Don't you ever leave me-, us like that again..." whispered Konoha's Savior, pulling back from the other's pale skin.
Inch by inch, step by step, limb by limp, he would burn this damned village to the ground.
He smiled.
And the more people that got hurt on the way, the better.