Unbound.
Self-masochistic hate, fury that swelled and never quite receded from him.
Donning a new personality, never the same, never quite even a shadow of his former self.
Shame.
He felt it, he craved it almost as the blood rolled off his outside and roiled throughout his insides.
Clenching his lover's clammy corpse, his soul, his never ending spirit of unprecedented humor and darkness.
Unraveled.
Quick spirals falling from tightly bound cords of sanity from his heart, from his very mind.
Screaming. Never ending screaming in his head from his throat as he tries to grasp upon his lover when everyone else is trying to take him away!
Ignominy.
Dominated was all he could sense when life left his other half. Dominated in a way that he lost everything life had given him. Macerated by the sudden pull of feeling and happiness away from him.
Stroking crusting crimson tainted silver locks it was all he could do not to take his lover's blade and join him in his peaceful, forever rest.
Detachment.
As he opened his deadened orbs to see the white sterile world that was the hospital, it was all he could do not to stain it. To sully that pristinely depressing white. To remind him.
He was numb from sedation, he wasn't allowed visitors, not even his nearly son who would try to cheer him up. However, to see those clear blue eyes…so much like the one pale blue orb that haunted him day and night and in his dreams and conscious…would surely strike him dead on the spot. Dead inside, dead outside, what was the difference anymore?
Anger.
Ripping fabric, pulling taut skin and bones, the wooden framed bent and crackled under his fury. Under his madness. The madness that rendered him decrepit, unfit to be seen.
His mutilation of psyche and flesh only too apparent, only too disturbing.
Acceptance.
His daze distant, never really seeing, never really processing…just gazing across the village, across the world from the ledge of his dead lovers' window.
He refused to leave, he refused to go back to work. How could he face the world alone again? How could he face those bright smiling faces when he could never give one again.
Naruto and the others would argue that he was not alone, that he had them. But no, it was never the same, he couldn't ever hope to have what he did with his silver-haired lover again.
Understanding.
He understood it, all of it. Death; why it took his loved ones, why it was so cruel yet to some almost forgiving.
He knew that he would never have his soul back,his life back. Therefore, the depressed creature of the sea that didn't exist at his home stayed perched upon his lovers' window sill, waiting for the day it would all end, the day he would meet Kakashi again.
Because for now, Iruka knew.
It was all so utterly Hopeless.
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Theme was Hopeless on Iruka-sensei's Festival. Fanfic for that very purpose. There's a fanart to go to that theme as well. I'm not quite sure if it will be like this though. I already have a drawing I did in mind.
Please review!
And support me at my deviant art http// www . kara-harper. deviantart. com/
And the Iruka-fanclub http// www. iruka-fanclub . deviantart. com/
Thanks for reading!
Disclaimer: Don't own Naruto, wish I did or just Kakashi and Iruka so I can make them do dirty dirty things. x3
I swear I am working on the next chapter of Why do Fools Fall in Love?.
Really I am :D
Menolly