My Immortal
Disclaimer: I do not own Naruto.
Four months.
It was four months, almost to the day. And yet, she still couldn't get over it.
Truth was, she couldn't even begin to move on. Now it seemed like all she knew how to do was grieve. and grieve. and grieve.
She found herself in his room, although she couldn't remember entering it. That happened often these days - she would open her eyes and find herself there, unable to remember how she got there.
It almost hurt her to see how unchanged it was - they hadn't moved or changed or shifted anything since it happened. It was as though they thought he'd come back. But he was never coming back, never, never, never.
She moved over to his dresser in the darkness - she never put on the light (this room didn't need light now that there was no one to occupy it), then passed her fingers over everything, ignoring the dust that started to gather on them.
He always said he'd be the first to die. He was right. Why - when he'd been wrong about so many things before? She closed her eyes against the tears.
She had been trying to stop crying since she'd started. People thought she was cold, heartless and cruel - if only she could be. It wasn't so easy to pretend to be that way now that he wasn't here to pretend with her.
Her fingers touched something round - his face paint. For the first time, she moved something - she picked it up, held it in her palm as she moved over to his bed, then opened it. She inhaled deeply and almost started to cry as the familiar scent hit her. This was his smell, although she was sure he hadn't known it.
She sunk down onto the bed, clutching the jar to her chest, eyes closed tightly, then opened her mouth and let out a deafening scream.
Why wasn't he here? Didn't he know she needed him? How could he allow himself to die? How dare he leave her behind? Didn't he know she couldn't live without him?
He was her everything - the only one who really saw her, really knew her, really loved her. He was her brother, the one she'd practically raised, the one she'd always fought beside, the one she knew she could always count on to have her back, the one who'd joke with her and tease her and reassure her when she was feeling down. Now he was gone.
She got up, closed the jar and returned it to its place on his dresser. Then she took a deep breath, wiped the tears off of her face and left the room.
She would just have to pretend to move on until she actually did.
A/N: Reading Martin Carter while listening to Evanescence's 'My Immortal' apparently results in this. Good news - my Sand Sibs muse is back! I hope this was all right, maybe even slightly plausible. Thanks for reading.