Sasuke clicked the mug down on the work surface and looked again at the digital display next to the microwave. 2:05. AM, though it didn't say that. The dark outside his windows was proof enough. He didn't have blinds in his flat. There hadn't been any when he first moved in and somehow he'd never got round to getting any. He didn't know what to choose anyway. Now he liked being woken up by the dawn light. He liked it in the night as well. Of the few things he did like and the many he didn't, the view at night from the balcony of this apartment fell into the former category. The way water sprayed out from the shower cubicle and soaked his towels fell into the latter.
It was easier to think about towels and curtains and views sometimes. Moving now from the kitchen, he snapped off the overhead light letting the faint glimmer of the street lamps outside guide him to the sliding glass doors and outside. Little pools of rainwater still lay patchwork on the floor from the morning's storm.
He leant against the metal railing, letting the cool of the metal bite into his bare forearms, and his grow numb, half submerged. The night air in Konoha was little different to how it was in the day. The smells of the daytime washed through the night wrapping around everything and almost smothering the smell of the forest he could see over the rooftops. He liked the forest, he added to his mental checklist.
Itachi always smelt like the forest from training.
The thought rose unbidden in his mind, and once again he could smell the scent of pine sap mingled with mulch and sweat. Naruto smelt like that, too, sometimes.
Sasuke half sighed and ran his hands through his hair, letting his head drop into his hands. He let his gaze fall on the cracks in the paint work of the balcony wall. He let his eyes trace the patterns brittley snapping through the white surface, turned dark my the night.
He stood like that for a good few minutes, feeling the slight breeze on his skin, and through his thin shirt. It was only March. It was too early to be out there like he was. His feet felt faintly clothy. He wondered if they would obey properly if he tried to make them move. He didn't like this balcony, he decided. It was too cold and exposed at the top of the building. He didn't like the paint. It needed retouching and he didn't want to do it.
Pine sap permeated the air now. He tried not breathing. It didn't work. He could smell it anyway. Peeling his skin from the mettle far, he stumbled back, treading water onto the dry ground. Without being able to feel his toes to grip, he felt oddly disjointed, his steps mismatched. He pushed shut the sliding doors, the smell of the forest trapped inside.