Don't know where his came from. I should be writing an essay on British Literature. Whatever.
Warning: Hints of shonen-ai. Some language. Spoilers for VotE.
Musical Inspiration: Ruined World (Eternal Derelict Mix) – OC Remix of a Chrono Trigger Song
Kakashi had never loved Sasuke, not really. He had favored him, enjoyed having him as a student, seeing his potential. Memories of his time as the instructor of Team Seven were some of the happiest in his life. Sasuke was a part of that. His antics with Naruto had reminded the masked man of himself when he was young, before all the blood and violence and loss that came along with being a ninja had transformed his outlook on life. He looked at Sasuke, and he saw himself. And with his transplanted eye, he felt that it was his responsibility to teach the young man how to use the Sharingan. It wasn't as if Itachi would be coming home to help along his younger brother's progress. They had spent hours, days alone together training. Kakashi had chosen him to pass on the Chidori to. But he could see the thirst for vengeance in the young man's eyes, the need for power so that he could fulfill what he thought was his sole purpose in life. And even as he told the last Uchiha that his revenge was not worth the cost, Kakashi knew that he wouldn't listen.
When Kakashi scooped Naruto off the ground in front of that thundering waterfall and placed the abandoned scratched forehead protector on the young boy's chest, he was not surprised. He could only feel regret at being too late. Uchiha Sasuke's name was not emblazoned on the memorial stone like the rest of his family, but every day during his ritualistic mourning there, Kakashi pretended it was anyway. Gradually his fondness turned to apathy. What use was continuing to care about someone who was as good as dead already?
Sakura could remember the exact moment that she stopped loving Sasuke. It was a Tuesday afternoon around four o' clock. She was in the Hokage's office organizing her filing cabinet after a recent explosion of her anger had upended the entire thing. Mission reports were everywhere, strewn from one end of the large room to the other. She had been in a fairly good mood despite the circumstances. Tsunade herself was in the opposite corner of the pink haired kuonichi complaining to Shizune about Jiraya's incessant perverseness which had driven her to making the mess in the first place.
For a moment, it was just another piece of paper. She almost tucked it away without thinking. Then she noticed the date. It was three years prior on that day, the day that everything changed. Upon opening it and seeing his name she felt the familiar anxiety and twisting in her stomach that came along with thinking about the boy she had obsessed over nearly all her life. And for a longer moment, she debated whether or not to keep reading. A quick glance over her shoulder confirmed that neither the Godaime nor her assistant were paying any attention to the pink haired girl, still absorbed in their argument. She felt a bit of guilt, but assured herself that she deserved to know what had happened between the time Naruto had left her at the front gates of Konoha with a bright smile and a thumbs up and when she saw him next in the hospital covered in bandages from head to toe. She had known that Chouji and Neji almost died. She had known that Lee, Kiba, and Shikamaru had only survived because of the help of their Suna allies. She knew because they talked about it, relived the terrible mission with their friends and loved ones. But Naruto had only said to her that he was sorry he couldn't keep his promise. The known details were on the third page.
"What?" she had whispered desperately. Naruto had never told anybody that when he was thirteen years old, his best and only real friend punched a hole through his chest.
From the instant he last saw Sasuke, all Naruto could think about was seeing him again. He dreamt about it, imagined how he would feel, what he would say. Some days, he woke up to his own screaming and had to force himself to calm down, remind himself that Sasuke was still alive out there somewhere; he had not yet died by the blond's hand. But that yet would only serve to distress him further, and he would pray frantically to every deity he could think of that it wouldn't come to that. Other days, he joined Shikamaru out in the field gazing lazily at the clouds. He envisioned the stoic Uchiha apologizing for his indiscretions and saying he wanted nothing more than to return to Konoha by Naruto's side. Shikamaru would glance sideways at his indignant snort, but never asked what he was thinking or why for an instant there was something akin to unfathomable sadness in his eyes. And on days when he was feeling particularly lonely, he could almost see Sasuke there in front of him, almost hear his voice.
It's been a long time, dobe.
"When are you coming home?" he'd ask the phantom, voice nearly quivering with need and hope. He didn't care that his desperation shone through plainly or that tears were in falling in hot steady streams down his cheeks.
You should already know the answer to that.
"I'll make you come back, you stupid bastard," he'd whisper fiercely in response. "I still love you too fucking much to let you go."
A/N: Review. Let me know what you think.