I Hadn't Ever Meant To - One Shot

by RMSE

Uchiha Sasuke has everything he possibly could've dreamed of. Known as 'Taka-sama' to his beloved fans, they see him as a pop god. Sasuke's dream had finally come true - but he had to sacrifice the one thing he's now figured out he never wanted to live without. Every day, he lives with the regret. But what happens when he's given the opportunity to right what had went so wrong...?

Just wrote a something or another. ^^;

Naruto (c) M. Kishimoto

SasuNaru; yaoi.

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I hadn't ever meant to hurt him. It was never my intention. Honestly, I thought he was the greatest thing to have ever happened to me. But things changed - I changed. I wasn't all that good before; I hardly liked who I was before. Who I became was even worse, but there wasn't anything I could do to stop it. Was there? No. Or is that an excuse? Was I scared? Maybe. I don't know. He made me confused. That scared me. He made me doubt my typical stoic resolution. That scared me, too. He made me vulnerable, like a glass vase in the hands of a child or an open book for all to read. That definitely scared me. Was I being a coward then? Is that how I was so easily swept away?

... Easily?

I wouldn't use that word. It wasn't easy. Nothing about that had been easy. I miss him terribly and I regret what I had done to him. I wish I could apologize. I wish I had the capacity to apologize. But I'm a wretch. I'm a wreck. I was lost before he found me, then he found me and I broke him. I broke him and laughed but I didn't find it funny. I had laughed because I wanted him to leave. I wanted him hurt so he'd let go when I couldn't. I still can't. I see his face every day in the strangest places but mostly when I close my eyes - when I sleep. I dream of him a lot.

I guess I had meant to hurt him, but not when I had first met him. It wasn't my intention in the start but then things just happened. They always just happen. ... Is that another excuse of mine? I really don't like myself but yet I find myself without the motivation to do anything about it anymore. I've become what I've become. It's whatever.

Except it's not.

There'll always be a hole in me. He drilled that hole, he filled that hole, then he left it empty. Or it's more like I carved him out of it. He shouldn't have made it to begin with. He knew it was a bad idea. He knew I was a bad idea. I was an asshole. I was a shit. But he smiled at me anyway. His grin was the widest and brightest and stupidest grin I had ever seen and that made it unforgettable. He was unforgettable. God, even to this day, he's frustrating.

Maybe the first night we were together should've been a tip off to how bad things would get. After all, we fucked the same very night he confessed. Was that normal? And before that, I hadn't ever been with a man before. He was a nervous wreck in the midst of his confession and I think at one point he was pretty set on chickening out, but I pulled it out of him. I think somehow I knew what it was he wanted to say and I wanted him to say it. I can't deny I had thoughts of how rather beautiful he was for a guy. I think somewhere deep in my subconscious, I'd been curiously wondering about him and what it would be like. When I first met him, I had a girlfriend at the time though, so those thoughts were given very little to no light at all, but eventually that relationship went straight down the drain. Was that my fault, too? Probably. I guess I'm a very difficult guy.

When I'm lonely, though, I can't help but remember his words as he tripped and stumbled over them. He spoke so quietly and timidly, it was rather hard to hear him at all. I told him to speak up a couple of times so he ended up just shouting his confession at me. I was more stunned than I thought I'd be and I don't know why. Maybe I was expecting him to still chicken out? I don't know. Or maybe it was because he almost blew my ears off my head. Apparently I don't know very much. But he shouted it and it echoed through the street we stood in. It was late outside, so those words filled the empty space easily. Before I could really even process his confession, he'd apparently accepted my nonexistant rejection before he turned and ran off. I think he was crying - no. I knew he was crying because when I'd finally caught up to him, his eyes were red and wet and his cheeks were damp. He was always an idiot. I ended up telling him that he was just that before I kissed him. I wasn't particularly crushing on him before. The most I thought of him I think was that he was attractive. Quite attractive.

I kissed him really hard and pinned him against a concrete wall that separated housal neighborhoods. I don't believe he minded since he eventually kissed back feverantly, probably after the shock. His arms had wrapped around my neck, clinging to the back of my shirt and my hair, mussing it and ruining the previous efforts of styling I had done to it that morning. At the time, I didn't pay a single mind to what my hands were doing, but I remember it now. They traveled up his shirt and felt over his stomach - god, that stomach - and toyed with the hem of his pants some but I never did anything with them there. I combed through his shockingly bright hair as we hungrily kissed each other, tongues raking against one another as our lips crashed repeatedly. It was like we were suffocating and our only options of air were within each other. I almost removed his shirt, fully intent on throwing logic out the window and fucking him there in the streets, but then a biker had passed us, scaring the shit out of both of us, causing us to leap a good five feet away from one another - well, sort of. He had slammed back into the wall and I moved the way. He ended up hurting his head. Idiot.

After that, since he lived both alone and closer, I grabbed his wrist and ran as fast I could to his apartment. I knew where it was because he had had a drinking party for his birthday not too long before. I had gone with my girlfriend at the time. I wonder how he felt about seeing me with her? Showing up to his party unavailable? I wish I would've gotten drunk enough to forget I had anyone. I wish I would've gotten drunk enough to fuck him in the middle of the living room, not caring who saw - not caring if my girlfriend saw. Honestly, she was a bitch. But I was probably a dick, too. I did just think of fucking him in the eyes of our peers.

We ended up crashing through his door, almost falling to the floor but we caught ourselves. Somehow the door was shut and locked behind us and we made our stumbling way to living room. We managed to pretty much crash onto his coffee table rather than the couch, knocking several things off like magazines and an empty beer can onto the floor. We couldn't be bothered to find a more befitting place. I was underneath him at first with him straddling my hips and I could only marvel at him as he removed his shirt and tossed it wherever. His chest - his stomach- his everything. My eyes drank it in like a starving vampire would blood. I wanted to taste him. I sat up, making him slide down from my lower abdomen and teasingly over my crotch. My tongue explored his tan flesh selfishly and he did nothing more than bashfully watch. I could feel his growing erection against me even through his pants and my mind was beginning to quickly think he could do without those said pants. I could do without mine, too. I had bitten at his nipple, causing him to whimper and some of my sanity to vanish. He ordered me not to act like a bastard but I hadn't been about to oblige such a request. I remember grasping at the back of his blond locks and tugging back, causing him to grunt and expose his neck for me to nip and suck at which I did, leaving rewarding marks where I wanted. Eventually, I let him go but only to switch our positions and plop him onto the coffee table.

Quickly but not quickly emough for either of us, I undid his belt and slid it out, tossing it into the abyss of the rest of the room that didn't matter to us. I undid his pants and -

"Heh." I smirk, shaking my head. Thinking of this now... What good does it do me? Recalling such lewd acts. Am I looking for something to masterbate to later? Maybe. But I'd get very depressed afterwards.

"Oi! Taka-sama!"

I grit my teeth a moment and inwardly sigh at hearing the voice. I don't feel like dealing with her right now. I'd much rather go back to my fantasial memory. "Sakura-san," I greet as she comes bouncing up to me. Her outfit is too revealing and it irritates me. I don't want to see that much of her.

"There's a lot of people out there!" Thank you, Captain Obvious. "I don't know how you can't get nervous at all."

"Hn," is my simple reply to that. "Where's Hatake?"

"He's finishing getting things ready," she responds, looking over the clipboard she has in her hands. "You go on in ten."

I know that. You're useless. Go away. Get out of my dressing room that you let yourself into. "Okay," I mutter, looking back at myself in the provided vanity mirror. I hear Sakura bid me a good luck before she heads to the door, but something inside me churns and makes me clench my fists and call her name to stop her. My stomach hurts. "Sakura-san?"

"I told you, you don't need to use the -san with me!" she says with a giggle but is attentive nevertheless.

I ignore her statement and downcast my face to where my bangs cover it. I don't want her seeing my expression. "... That - pass... Was it claimed?"

She blinks and frowns at me, confused. "Pass?"

Then Hatake didn't tell her. "Nothing. Nevermind." I stand off the seat with my stage name written on it and move towards the table where my costume coat lies. I grab it and throw it onto myself before adjusting it some. I can feel Sakura's curious eyes on me but I make no move to inform her of what I meant. I want her to leave and thankfully she's not stupid enough to linger for much longer. I hear the door click softly shut behind her. I go over and look into the mirror again. I'm really tired and if it wasn't for all the make-up I was wearing, it would probably show through. I frown at myself. I feel like a doll, or maybe a mask or puppet. I'm not sure which. Or maybe all of them. A puppet doll with a mask. I sigh heavily, moving away from the reflecting thing showing me what I don't want to see anymore and head for the door, not wanting to be in this room anymore either.

The tightness in my stomach is still there and I know it's not from nerves. I know what it's from but I refuse to dwell on it as I head down the halls. Even from here, I can hear their cheering and screaming. I pass a few staff members who hardly pay me any mind and eventually get to the more important people. I see Hatake and call to him as I near him. He finishes saying whatever he was saying to some girl before she goes off and he turns to me, smiling.

"You look sexy with your stomach all exposed."

My eyebrow twitches. "I don't care to hear that from you, old man."

"Old man by a mere ten years," he pouts.

"Thirteen," I correct with little enthusiam for caring.

"Thirty-five is not old enough for me to be considered an old man," Kakashi argues.

"It's old enough for you to be considered a pervert. Should I call you that instead?" Even though I'm focused with fixing the belts attached to the dramatically skin-showing coat I'm wearing, I can see the twitch of his face in my peripheal. It makes me smirk and I look to him. "No?"

"Cheeky..." I hear him grumble as he turns his head towards an approaching staff member. She's a young girl and rather timid and shy and instantly she irritates me. She keeps glances nervously at me with those hauntingly lavender eyes, but I can see the appreciative look on her face. I'll be stepping out into a seaful view of those in about five minutes. I huff and look away from her, now agitated. I hear Kakashi chuckle and mumble something dangerously close to 'He shows his nerves through acting like an icicle's up his ass - no need to worry'. It causes me to stab him with a glare that's extremely unsatisfyingly ineffective. I watch as he waves off the girl before turning his attention back onto me.

"That is not how I deal with nerves."

"No, you imagine your ex and beat off in the bathroom," Hatake said, straight-faced and matter-of-factly.

I'm very startled by this and it causes my face to flush red. "E-Excuse me?!" How the hell can he just say things like that? I may be an ass and am able to be bluntly honest with people, but to say that...?! Damn him! It's only so effective because I was doing the first half of that but a minute ago!

"Now, if we're done with the pleasantries," Kakashi says with that annoying small grin on his face. He gestured towards an area cloaked in black. "You need to get set."

I give out a gutteral snort at him before I storm off to my marked place, my teeth gnashing. He better be damn proud I can flip my switch and act like a perfect persona and not the pissed off tyrant I feel like. And he calls me arrogant, I grumble in my thoughts, letting my eyes close. I can hear their wails and calls of my stage name and I feel it seeping into my like rain drops on my skin. Eventually, I'm soaked and I curl my fingers into tight fists. No, I don't tend to get nervous before shows. I don't get nervous because I don't care if I fuck up. I've already lost the most significant thing in my life; my career isn't it. Some may call me a fool and selfish for saying that and that a million people would kill to be in my spot. Sometimes, I wish they'd kill me. That's not to say I don't love my job - I do. But it's lacking. I thought I'd be okay being like this in this business but I'm not. Surprisingly, it's pretty easy to sing without heart and fool people and make them believe you sing with everything you have. I sing nothing but perfect pitches, lovely lyrics, and tender tunes that strike any emotion-feeling person out there. I don't even write my own lyrics anymore and they all think I do. I stopped writing my own lyrics a long time ago when my motivation and inspiration died.

"Taka-sama! Taka-samaaa! Taka-sama! Takaaa-samaaa!" they scream for me. I look to my left as I listen to them and a person comes over, giving me a microphone. Another person comes over and does other set up with me that I don't pay attention to. I have one minute to spare and I'm ready to go. I take a step forward and feel the stage piece begin to rise beneath my feet, lifting me like a flat elevator. I look up as there's a crack in the blackness above where my entrance is to be, the floor from the stage splitting to reveal their beloved Taka. The screams grow wilder as I make my appearance and I flash them a seductive smirk, already feeling the music of the band members vibrate through me. I can barely see the faces of my fans because of the bright and colorful lights pointing at me and the stage but that doesn't matter. I don't really care to see their faces anyway. I close my eyes as I raise the mic to my lips.

"[In the stars, I see it]," I begin, singing in English rather than Japanese. "Bright as can be." I slip back to native and already the crowd is singing with me. They sound horrible but I smile anyway and encourage them. My cheeks hurt already. "No hope, no heart if it's not there." There's a large screen behind me that's doing all sorts of weird shapes and colors, adding to the visualization of the concert. "I made the mistake of letting it slip away. I was covered in ice, frozen to the soul. My castle was built to the skies where only the clouds and the gods could see. I was blind to what was happening. I grew lonely with no princess so I looked to the stars. [So I looked to the stars]," I repeat the last bit in English again as my free hand raises to point upwards. We were outside and my concert began at ten sharp. The scenery of the stunningly clear and starry sky only adds to everything and swoons the fans, making them scream like mad banshees. "[In the stars, I see it], my wish standing there in the flesh and a smile like flowers after a rainfall," I sing again, swaying my hips with the beat of the music because I know they like when I do that. I'm sure they'd like to see me do a lot more than I'm not willing to do on a stage. "I see so many visions of you in the skies. It's like a constellation of my dreams!"

The concert continued on, song after song, costume change after costume change, many with me lacking shirt material. It ended a lot later than it should've because for some reason I was feeling generous and indulged them on a few too many encore songs. My throat was hurting by the end of the gig. I plop down onto the couch in my dressing room and pour out a deep sigh, laying across the cushions in haphazard posture. I drape one arm over my face as the other dangles off the couch with one of my legs, the other propped up against the back of the couch. I close my eyes and want to sleep, but I can't because there's a knock at the door. I frown some and groan quietly to myself. I don't answer. It shouldn't be a fan - I already met with the ones with backstage passes, and any other obsessed rabid fangirls would've been stopped by my security. At least, I hope so.

"Sasuke," calls through Kakashi. "You've forgotten someone."

I move my arm a slight from my face, moving it to my forehead and staring at the ceiling. "You already told me there were no more, Kakashi."

"It seems I deeply miscalculated. Can we come in?"

"No. Give 'em a free ticket to the next concert or something. I'm tired." As if to prove this, I turn onto my side and face the back of the couch, curling up my legs some and laying my arm over my eyes to shield from the rather bright ceiling light.

"You say that even when they can hear you..." I hear Kakashi sigh and I can just imagine him shaking his head at me.

"Not my problem..." I grumble to myself. I feel a good portion of my face twitch when I hear the door click and whine open before it closes softly. "I thought I said no!" I growl out, closing my eyes with my brows pinched down. I'm developing a headache and I want it to go away. Just like them.

"Still a bastard, I see..."

I stiffen. I stiffen like droplet of water frozen in a milisecond within a snow storm, creating a gravity-defying teardrop, suspended there by sheer shock. I'm suddenly breathless and my chest hurts like it was nailed a thousand times. My stomach feels sick. I feel the familiar knot in it before; I hate that knot. I wonder if it's guilt? Or yearning ache? I don't know which. I don't care which - but I do. I just want it to stop. I don't move to reply to the foreign yet all too familiar voice to my ears because I'm afraid I might puke, be it me puking my stomachs little content or spewing words that best belong coming from a madhouse patient. I feel like my head should start spinning three-sixties and pop off and run away and leave my body to flail about like a headless chicken. Or maybe vice-versa, my head left behind to gawk at the moment that was now. It was impossible - is impossible. This can't be happening. I must've fallen asleep and am dreaming now. I'm aware of my dream. Is that it? My eyes suddenly sting since I didn't realize they had been opened so wide, staring at the couch back but not seeing it, so I end up wrenching them shut and laying there like a still person under the raiding of a wild bear - lay there and play dead and maybe it'll go away and leave you alone. If this is a dream, I want it to stop here. I want it to stop before I look. I know I'll look because I have to. I'm beginning to feel light-headed and for a second, I don't know why but then I remember that I can't breathe. Even though I remember that, I still can't. I feel like my breathing would be erratic and dramatic if I tried. Would he think me insane? I should be. He probably already does.

"You haven't fallen asleep already, have you...?"

Don't talk. Please. Your voice cuts deeper than any knife through bone. It's merciless yet a sanctuary all at once. It's many things to me and I just don't want to hear it. Shut up. If you're talking, then you should be screaming at me. Don't sound so kind. I hurt you. Hurt me back.

"Or are you just surprised...?"

"I didn't think you'd come." I'm almost startled at myself and it takes me a second to realize I actually spoke. I swallow dryly. I could use a big glass of water right now, but I'm not sure if I'd drink, splash myself in the face, or just smash the glass upside my head. I don't move from my spot. My body is stiff, still frozen. There's still a snow storm in the room. It's so cold, I want to shiver. Or tremble?

"... I didn't think I would either..." The reply was soft and normally almost uncatchable, but the room was painfully silent so the meer murmur sounded loud to me. I wonder a second if I was suppose to even hear it, so I pretend I didn't.

I don't know what to say so another choking quiet envelopes us and drowns the room. I feel washed over by it and I'm almost nauseas, like seasickness, I think. I don't know why I suddenly feel sick and I'm not sure if it even makes sense with this situation. Or maybe it's because I might feel like crying? I hate crying. I always have. It leaves my throat hurting, my eyes sore, my head hurting and myself congested. And a little dizzy. If I cried hard enough, it hurt my stomach and arms. And my pride. I think that in combination with - what do they call them? Butterflies? In combination with those and the want to cry and the already developing headache and the guilt... I suppose that's a decent recipe for feeling sick. I want to hold him. I really am sick. I grit my teeth.

"... It was a great show..." he says to me but the cheeriness in his voice sounds so forced, it hurts.

"Were you... here for it all?"

"I was..."

Another silence. I know he can never take silence for long, so he'll be the first to break it again. As expected, he does.

"... None of those songs were yours, though."

I scoff quietly. "I haven't sung my own songs in two years."

"You debuted two and a half years ago... You didn't sing your own songs for very long."

I fell quiet after that statement because I know the hidden question behind his words and we both know the answer. I don't care to think about it so I don't. I think about the show and how I could hardly see the faces of the people. I begin to wonder where he was sitting; if he was close or far away. Did I look at him or towards him without even knowing? Or was he hiding in the back so there was no chance of me seeing him? Or was he backstage the whole time? Did Kakashi knew he was coming? I never thought he'd accept that pass...

"... Sasuke - "

"Why are you here?" I don't mean to sound sharp or angry - at least, not at him. I'm upset, but not at him, and I don't know if he understands that but stupid me doesn't move to make that clear. I continue to lay there like a speaking corpse.

He's quiet a moment before he answers me. "... I wanted to see your concert."

"Well, you saw it." Now leave. Leave before I hurt you again. Leave before I say something ridiculous. Leave before I laugh you out of this room. Leave!

"... You're so animated on stage."

"It's a persona."

"I know," he responds softly - so softly, it digs like nails into my skin and I grit my teeth again. It almost sounds like a pitiful tone, really. Like he's pitying me or being sympathetic. He knows the real me would never be loved by the fans - we both know this. But 'Taka' is loved. 'Taka' is open-minded, soft-hearted and generous and kind and lively and anything else girls desire him to me. Not me. I'm a wretch. I'm a wreck. I broke myself by breaking others. "... I like your persona."

How the fuck am I suppose to take that? What am I suppose to even reply to that? "Of course you do. He'd be better for you than I would be. If only he were real, right?" I could say that, but I don't. We both know it anyway. Why can't I just be Taka? Why can't I just naturally act like I give a fuck? I hate it. I hate myself. That sounds pathetic but it's true. He was a good thing for me and I ruined it. All to get here. And now I hate it here because he's not here except he's here now and I don't know why and it's driving me mad. I always left him a backstage pass and ticket for my concert, but I never thought he would come. Perhaps I hoped he did but expected him not to? I don't know. I feel like bashing my head into a wall. "Hn." Brilliant response I give him there.

I hear him snicker though and it's melodious in that small huff of sound. I feel ashamed from my lifeless singing for a second but then I don't care anymore. "What?" I ask him briskly.

"That reply of yours... I see you haven't grown out of it."

Why are you being so nice? Stop it. You sound like a girl. I'm beginning to get really angry. And that's not someone 'grows out of', moron. "Why are you here?" I question again though my tone is heavier and my face is in a pained scowl. I'm glad he can't see my face. It's ugly right now.

"... I wanted to see you," he answers quietly. It makes my heart ache and feel pierced as if by a wooden stake.

"... You shouldn't."

"I know."

"Then why...?"

"... I don't know."

Another silence. If he stayed quiet enough, I could pretend he wasn't here or that this really was a dream. I wanted to believe it was a hallucination, but I knew otherwise. I'm not that crazy. Not yet. But of course he can't be quiet for long, so he starts talking again, though still in that fragile voice where if he spoke to loud, the room might shatter or I might explode.

"Won't you face me...?"

Don't ask that of me. I don't move. I can't move. I can't face him. I can't see those eyes of yours that I laughed at the tears of. I can't see that beautiful face that I mocked the scars of. I can't see that shocking hair I pulled out. I can't see the you I made the biggest mistake of stepping on and throwing away and giving up. I can't. Don't ask it of me. ... Or maybe you should. Is that your punishment for me? Is that you're way of retribution? I doubt it, though I want to believe it. You should've come here with someone else; shown up before my starred door with someone in hand and smiled at me to let me see how happy you were with a better person and make me hurt and want to beat the other person to shit, male or female, and steal you away and fuck you across the halls and claim you as mine eternally. You shouldn't have come alone saying you wanted to see me. My will is weak... but my guilt is loud. "No," I say to him and I hear him hum in dismay. I'm sure he has the most adorable glare on his face with his eyebrows tucked down into a small frown.

"Face me," he demands like I expected him to.

"No," I say again. "You should go."

"No. I want you to sing me."

I almost fall off the couch at the random desire. "What?" I suddenly growl at him, lifting myself to a sit and twisting my body in a rather odd angle so I can hand him my glare personally. But that look is instantly wiped off my face when I see him. God, he's a lot more perfect than I remembered. My memories did him no justice and I feel shame for it. There will never be anything that compares to the original and the way my heart pounds hard in my chest is a painful reminder of this as I look at him.

His hair, bright and unruly as ever like his personality, splayed out in all different directions, some strands floating over his face and laying at his forehead, perfectly caressing at the angles of his face. His eyes were like captured pools of the glimmering sea when the sun shines gorgeously on the water. His skin was graced by the sun like mine never could be in my procelaine complexion. Even the scars on either sides of his face did nothing to taint his Adonis-like features. Nothing about him was wrong. Nothing about him was ever wrong - except me. I was like a blue dot on a canvas painted of summer hues. I didn't belong in anything that had to do with him; he was a masterpiece all on his own and I was just a mistake. I ruined the picture and yet, somehow, the picture still looks as beautiful as ever. Guess I just ruined the picture for myself.

The look on my face must be pretty stupid with the way he's looking at me. I frown and have to look away from him, undeniably feeling the heat seeping through my cheeks. I wonder if he can notice it too but I suppose it would be hard not to in this lighting and with my pale skin. He shouldn't do anything about it, but what doe he do? He does something about it. He makes it worse. He makes his way across the room and towards me but I refuse to act like I saw it in my peripheal. I bore a glare into the couch as he sits on the table in front of where I'm sitting. He stares at me for the longest moment and it doesn't help the redness on my face. I think he smiles but I don't look. I can't look. I'd just die. He's too cute. I sound horrible.

"Blushing?" he inquires, reaching his hand out and ever so gently brushing the back of his fingers against my cheek, feeling the heat seep into his skin. It makes me flinch ever so slightly but I make no motion to move away. God, his touch... I almost melt into it but don't. I'm frozen - I now realize I want to be frozen and that I'm not forcibly frozen and he's threatening to defrost me and I hate it and I love it at the same time and damn him. Stop touching me. "And you always called me the cute one."

"Stop it," I order him coldly, my thoughts filled with ice. I know it makes him frown but not dejectedly - perceptively. He watches me, leaning back and straightening his posture some as if he's watching a show he needs to write a review about later. I don't know what else to say besides telling him to leave, as I know he should, but I find myself unable to actually say it to him again because I know a good part of me doesn't want him to leave. I want to throw myself at him and love him and caress him and fuck him and I want him mine - but I don't move. From my odd angle, I feel my left arm becoming numb, though. I focus on that. I wish the rest of me would go numb. Especially my hearing once I begin to hear the soft hum he emits. I know that tune... Damn you. "Stop it," I say again. He pauses for a very brief moment before he hums again. I wrench my eyes shut and say nothing more.

"I'll tell you a secret, but promise you'll hold it close to your heart..." he begins to sing quietly, like a mother lulling a child to sleep with a lullaby.

"Don't," I growl, sliding my eyes towards him. Anything but that song. Why is he singing that song?

"If you don't and tell it to others, I'll cry and never trust you again - "

"Stop singing that shitty song!" I finally blurt out at him, turning to glare at him though my glare is hardly fullhearted and mostly embarrassed. I wrote that song when I was little and it was horrible. I hadn't ever shown it to anyone else but him - more like he happened upon it being nosy in my room one day - and he had somehow gotten me to sing it to him, too. He said he'd loved it, but I didn't like it even back then. He was the only one I ever sung it to.

He laughs at me, grinning widely. "Fine, fine... I won't sing that one." He grows quiet and I have a feeling of what he's going to do next. I never realized he was so predictable before but perhaps he's doing it on my behalf this time around. I scowl instantly as I recognize the new tune he begins to hum, his eyes sliding closed before his head bobs with the tune. At how peaceful he looks, I can't muster up the nerves to tell him to shut up this time. "It softly reminds me of how things use to be," he sings gently, "When we held hands and spoke of the future..." I frown. Those weren't the lyrics. Well - they are, but... He's singing them differently. He's singing them past tense.

Oh, I feel like I'm going to have a heart attack. I don't want him to continue singing like that, so I rebute. "It softly reminds me," I sing, looking away from him, "of how things are now. When we hold hands and speak of the future..."

I look to him out of the corner of my eyes and see him smiling. I halfly scowl. He wanted me to do that. He knew it would hurt. So is this your retribution? "More..." he whispers to me, bringing up a leg and setting his foot on the edge of the table, wrapping his arms around his thigh and shin and hugging it to himself, the side of his temple laying on his knee as he watches me with those half-lidded eyes that look like they belong in a dream scene in some manga.

Somehow, I find myself unable to deny him. Fixing my position to rest my back against the armrest of the couch, I lay my arms limply in my lap with my legs stretched out and crossed at the ankles. I probably look arrogant like this, but I don't care. I'm quiet a moment as I think of the lyrics first. Then I close my eyes and begin the song from the beginning. "I would've never known before I met you. I'm glad I took the risk. I should've done this long ago but I was a coward. You gave me the strength and the power to step up," God, this song was just as horrible as the rest of them. No wonder I don't write anymore. "[With you at my side], I could carry the moon on my back. [With you at my side], I could paint a million stars into the cloudy night. I'd do both and all for you, as long as I have you [at my side]." I drag on the last words note a bit before I quietly finish. I don't want to sing the rest of the song. I want to cry. I feel pathetic - he makes me feel pathetic. And all he's doing is smiling at me.

"When the sky is crying, it makes me think you are, too. I'll run across the countries to see if you're okay. I'll bring an umbrella and my shoulder for you to lean on. I want you to smile again and I'll make you smile again, as long as I have you [at my side]," he sings the following verse, making me look away from him to hide the painful look on my face. How can he sing that song with such a peaceful expression when it wrecks me? Is this him laughing at me? Telling me that he's okay when I'm a mess? It's better this way. "... Sing the next part," he demands of me. I want to say no, but I don't. I give in. I'll always give in to him.

"... I never thought I was lucky before. I didn't believe in destiny, but then there was that one fated road which connected us and started a whole new world of new. ... " I stop, recalling the very memory that I remembered just before the show. My chest hurts so much. I deserve this. "... I would've... ... I would've never known before I met you... " I pause, trying to recollect myself. My fists are clenched so tightly over my legs but I continue and it probably looks like I'm being held at gun point to do so. "When... Whenever I see that road now... It softly reminds me of how things are now. When we hold hands and speak of the future, it makes me think of forever and how I need to spend it with you..." The same verse I sung before first came next, but I can't sing it. My voice was already breaking at the last few words of what I did sing and I just can't do anymore without a fullstop breakdown, which I don't want to have in front of him, so I go quiet. It was obvious I wasn't okay now.

I'm more than relieved when he doesn't sing the next part or ushers me into continuing the rest of the song. He embraces me with a comforting silence this time, allowing me to settle myself. I take a deep breath and just lean my side against the back of the couch, eyes closed.

"... That's cruel," I murmur without a right.

"Isn't it," he says, but it's not a question. The smile from his face is gone and I don't want to know the look in his eyes. I realize that he's the snow storm now, and beneath his gaze I could become frozen again, like a weird twist on Medusa. Somehow, I want to be frozen by him, though. "... You were awful."

For a moment, I'm not sure if he was talking about my performance on stage, just now, or events in the past, but with him, it's probably all of the above. "And yet they say sales are through the roof and popularity is as high as ever," I say with a bitter smirk on my face.

"You're awful, but you're successful," he concedes on that. I dare to steal a glance at him and notice his eyes are closed. My gaze lingers on him because of so. "... How are you, Sasuke?"

"... I'm fine," I reply stiffly, not liking the question. I see him begin to open his eyes so I look away again and close my own in turn. He's probably giving me a pitiful look. "... And you?" Are you happy?

"... I'm okay." There's a pause. "... I miss y - "

"Don't," I suddenly say a little too harshly as I shoot to my feet, almost stumbling over my own ankles in the midst of the abrupt action but I stand well enough and I move away from him, the nails of my fingers curling and digging into my palms as I keep my back to him. "Don't do this."

"But you want me to..." he replies. Shut up.

"... You should go."

"No," he replies simply and rather casually before he stands up. "You know - "

"I don't want to know," I interject. I hear him huff in irritation behind me. Good - be irritated. Leave.

"You know," he tries again and I resist the urge to interrupt again, "You seem more hungover this than I do, and I was the one used and thrown away."

I grit my teeth. "Then you need to get more hungover this."

"Or you need to get less. Maybe I'm moving on."

"How can you move on?" I snap angrily but I don't face him. What is his purpose in coming here? Is he trying to reconcile things? Things will never be the same again - they never can be.

"Isn't that what you want of me?"

I stiffen as I hear his words. I can feel his stare on me. Stop being logical.

"Don't you want me to be happy with someone else? Don't you want me to not hurt about you anymore? To forget what happened and live life fully? Is that not what you had in mind...?"

I say nothing. It's all true. And I'm stupid. I didn't realize he could read me like a book. I'm not sure how it makes me all feel, but definitely stupid.

"I'm still hurt when I think about it..." he admits, "But honestly, it seems like you took it harder than I did... I think you've punished yourself a lot more than I ever could've. Was never really my forté anyway..." He laughs quietly and it's actually a tender laugh and it hurts me. I can't help but clutch at the cloth of over my chest where it aches again.

"... What are you saying?" Don't say it.

"Sasuke..." Don't. "I'm saying I forgive you."

"Why?!" I shout at him, whirling around to face him. He seems surprised by my sudden boost in volume but I don't care. I throw one of my hands through the air wildly. "I never asked for your forgiveness! I shouldn't get it!" Despite that I see his face calm into a neutral expression, I rage on. "Are you really that much of an idiot?!"

"... Yes," he answers after giving me a moment to steady my breathing, though it doesn't and is quick and hot. I'm angry as hell and he just watches me so damn casually. "You're contradicting yourself, Sasuke," he points out to me, moving to sit on the couch, his eyes on his knees as his fingers fiddle in his lap. I want to take his hands in mine and kiss them forever. "You leave me a gateway to come see you yet you claim you don't want me to. I come and see you and you tell me to leave. You want me to hurt you like you did me when you've been hurting yourself two-fold this whole time instead. ... What do you really want from me, Sasuke?" He looks into my eyes and I find myself frozen again. Frozen and breathless. For a full minute, I cannot think. What do I say? I force out words.

"... It doesn't matter what I want," I say. It's true. "What matters is what you should do."

"I don't think you particularly have the right to think what's best for me and what isn't," he says softly but it's sharp and I feel it like a blade twisting in my back. I grip at my side with a troubled look on my face. "At this point, I can do what I want and you can do nothing about it. Isn't that right?" He looks at me with a faint curiosity. He doesn't mean his words. He's saying what I think he should. He's saying his words to make me sound irrelevant like I think I should be. It's mocking me. "So if I've moved on but don't want to let go, then it's fine."

"But it's not fine!" I argue pathetically, my typical calm and cool façade wearing down quickly to the mask he's portraying. It's like we're two actors on stage and I was the one who'd to be in the spotlight yet somehow he ends up outshining me and I'm simply desperate to get the glory back, but I want no glory here. I want to just be left alone in my self-loathing while he's out laughing with someone else. He needs to show someone better his perfection. "It's - "

"Shut up."

I'm so startled by the order I end up obeying it and just stare at him blankly.

"I've had enough," he says and suddenly sounds cross. He gets to his feet and now wears an expression of anger that confuses me. "Sasuke, I forgive you. You may not have asked for the apology outright but I know you want one and I know you regret what you did. I know you'd give up all of this," he gestures to the glamorous room though he means far bigger, "if meant making it up to me, but I'm not going to ask you to do that. I'm not going to ask you to get on your knees and plead your sorries to me. I know you would if I asked. You wouldn't have before but you would now because of everything you've done to yourself. Most would probably delight in the misery you feed yourself every night, but I don't. I know you want me happy in someone else's arms but what you don't get is that I don't want to be. I never have. And frankly, I don't want you to be happy in any one else's arms either but that's not because I don't want you to be happy at all. I want you happy in mine." He opens his arms and I just feel like falling into them like an invitation from cloud nine, but I remain still. His words soak into me like piercing rain drops, almost giving me that odd pins-and-needles feeling like when one's limb falls asleep and they try to move it. Am I numb? Frozen and numb. "Call me a masochist if you want... But I think no matter how many times you hurt me..." Don't give me that smile. "I'll always love you, Sasuke."

There's a sudden resounding crack and shatter that echoes through-out the room and then there's pain erupting through my right hand. I barely process the look of shock on his face before it smears into concern. Don't be concerned for me! He goes to take a step towards me but he stops at my venomous tone. "Why? I used you! I used you as a mere connection to where I'm at now and then I tossed you out like yesterdays trash. I laughed in your face and mocked the feelings you had for me. I played you like a worn violin before I broke you and ripped off the strings. How - How can you say you forgive me? How can you just accept what I've done?! How can you say you still - that you still... ..." It's getting hard to breath again and I notice my breaths have become ragged. But not only that, I've thrown my pride out the window and my eyes sting as they blurr with tears. It's not long before I feel streams down my cheeks and they're cold. I know I should be angry by his acceptance and admittance. I know I shouldn't so happy to hear them as I am. I should tell him he's an idiot and have him leave and never see him again, but I don't. I want him to say those words again and again. I wanted his forgiveness and I want his love. I want what we had before I was a fucking moron.

"... You're bleeding..." he mutters to me, his eyes on my hand. I can feel the blood pooling from my knuckles and vining down the creases of my hands before the red droplets land on the floor. My hand is severely cut and the bleeding will only continue. I have glass shards stuck in the gashes but I make no move to remove them. I stare down at the broken mirror pieces scattered at my feet that exploded off the vanity piece from impact. I see pieces of myself in them and I still hate what I see. A single drop of blood lands in the reflection of my eye, making me looking away. "... Sasuke..."

"I'm sorry."

He blinks at me. "... What?"

"I'm sorry..." I lower my head and my breath hitches as the crying seems to intensify with my words. I hate crying, but I'll sob for eternity for him. "I'm so sorry... I'm so sorry..." I keep repeating it over and over until it sounds like a mad delirious repitition or a broken record. Eventually my crying becomes harder and my words are muddled as I try to rub away the tears on my face with my unwounded hand. I don't know how long I say those words nor how many times, but I stop abruptly when I feel a warm hand touch onto my aching one and lift it in the gentlest of ways. I turn my wide, teary eyes to the source and I see him examining my hand with a placid look on his face. I watch his lips twitch in a frown and he sighs at me, clicking his tongue.

"That temper of yours... I swear," he murmurs though not really to me. He pulls me towards the couch and I mindlessly follow. He sits me down and he sits on the table again and begins to pick out the pieces of glass. I wince here and there but I don't stop him. "Do you have a first aid kit?" he questions, looking up at me through those lashes and I suddenly forget all about the pain in my hand. Apparently, I forget about my sense of reality and sanity, too. My clean hand reaches up and caresses his cheek and he doesn't look as surprised by this as he should be. Was he expecting this? My eyes fall to half mass and I lean in towards him. He glances towards my lips before peering into the depths of my eyes.

"You are my first aid kit..." I hear myself saying because I already know he'll laugh at me for it. He does and he smiles at me, shaking his head.

"That's horrible!" His grin softens at me into almost a snide smirk. I almost return it but my face feels too heavy to portray any emotion right now, so it's left blank. He leans in a little towards me, meeting me in the venture but he lingers an inch away, his head tilted down a slight bit more than mine to where his forehead brushes against my browline. "... You could kiss me," I hear him breathe as he lifts his chin, allowing his breath to spill over my lips. It gives me goosebumps and makes me close my eyes as I drink him in. I don't move to kiss him though. I remain still like a statue. If we started kissing, I know he'll just stop me because he's too worried about my hand. He'll tease me and I can't deal with that right now because I'd rather end up amputating my damn hand and fucking him than missing out and getting my hand taken care of. "First aid kit, Sasuke," he reminds me softly, confirming my thoughts and almost seeming poutish I didn't fall for the trap. I hadn't ever meant to know you so well.

"I don't know," I admit. "Do I look like a paramedic?" Of course, being a paramedic really has nothing to do with knowing where a simple first aid kit is, but whatever.

He huffs at me but smiles at my indulging him with my prickish attitude. Why does that make you happy...? "Of course not..." He removes the black scarf he had been wearing around his neck and I watch as he drapes it over my hand. The material is thin and smooth, almost like a clothy silk. I like it a lot and I feel like the scarf is familiar somehow, but I don't pay much mind to it. He wraps it around my hand tightly, but not too tightly, and tells me to hold onto the ends of it before he stands. "I'm going to find Kakashi. I'll be right back." He turns to leave but I don't want him to, so I find myself shooting my hand out and grasping at the edge of his ugly orange jacket. I hate that color. No, I don't. I love that color. I love his color.

"N-No..." I whisper like a shy child, my head down. He probably can't see my face, but that's fine. I probably look as pathetic as I feel. "... Don't... Don't go." You win. Stay. Forever. Please.

I know he's staring down at me and he probably smiles too. He leans back towards me, creating slack in his jacket. There's a silence riding between us before I hear him snicker and then feel his hand ghost over mine before his fingers intertwine with mine and remove my hand from his jacket. He then further connects our fingers before he moves to sit down on the table again, kissing the back of my knuckles so sweetly it's almost poisonous and deadly. "Sasuke... You're hand might get infected. And it might scar."

"It might scar anyway. I don't care," I say, gazing over the scarf. I suddenly remember why it's familiar - I gave it to him. Ouch.

"Yes, you do..." he says but it almost sounds like half-hearted scolding. He knows I'm vain and I care about my looks, but I'd rather obtain a scar than waste any time with him.

"It's not that bad..." I weakly argue, my eyes narrowing some but it felt like more of a pouting action than anything.

He gives me a look but I refuse to acknowledge it. "Sasuke... You punched a vanity mirror. You probably still have tiny glass shards in your hand that I can't get. We should go to the hospital, actually... You're gonna need stitches."

"No, I'm - "

"Sasuke," he says sternly, rising with my hand still clasped in his. "We're going to the hospital." I only stare up at him like a weak-willed puppy in obediance training before I stand after him and sigh heavily. We left the room hand in hand with him leading the way and me staring at the back of his feet as we went. We spoke with Kakashi and I think he was really too shocked by the fact were were even remotely touching or breathing the same air still to really process the severity of my hand wound. He ended up driving us to the hospital though where I received medical attention and loathsome stitches that were now hidden beneath fresh bandages that I'm poking at as we leave the building.

"Stop it."

I frown and glare at Kakashi for the order.

"You should leave them alone, otherwise Naruto's going to have to bring you here again later," he continues matter-of-factly. It makes me irritated.

"I don't like hospitals..." I hear said boy admit, shuddering a little as he's actually a bit ahead of us, eager to get away from the subject of his phobia. I huff at him.

"Still...?"

"You style your hair that way? Still?" he counters, giving me an incredulous look that I return with an unimpressed one.

I hear Kakashi laugh at us so I just end up glaring at the ground as we head back into Kakashi's vehicle. He takes us back to the concert hall, which is pretty much deserted now, and leaves Naruto and I to ourselves outside. If I didn't know what awkward was, I do now.

"... That nurse seemed quite fond of you," he says with a tease, smirking at me. He has his fingers interlaced behind his back with a mischevious glint in his eyes. I don't trust that look.

"Did she...? I reply disinterestedly, eyeing my bandages. Honestly, I don't know which nurse he's talking about. I wasn't paying attention. I'm too use to gawking eyes by now, so I ignore them. I look to him when I hear him chuckle.

"You haven't changed much..." I'm not sure if he thinks that's a good thing or not, but I certainly don't and I frown at it, even though I already knew. He seems to catch the change in my once blank expression and frowns himself, apparently ready to derail my pity train. Damn him. "Stop it. Don't read into that further than need be."

" 'Need be'," I repeat thoughtfully. I stumble a foot to the side in surprise after I feel his hand sock me upside my head and look to him with a matching expression.

"Stop it!" he barks at me, putting his hands on his hips. "Enough of that. If you want to get all deep and emotional about things, we can do that some other time. I just..." Suddenly, his face falls sullen and downcast, his hands slipping from his hips and arms dangling limply. "... You've had an exhausting night. Can't we just... pretend for now?" He gives me a weak and pleading smile. It's a bitter thing to do, but I oblige and give a silent nod. He grins at me for it but I know at least half that grin is insincere. "Maybe I can come to your hotel tonight...?"

I blink. I stare. "What?" I think I was more startled by the words than anything.

"Did all that singing run your ears out?" he questions me, giving a cheeky grin again. He's acting too familiar. But he wants to pretend... I don't know if I can. I act on a stage for hours - but for this moment? ... I don't know. I just stare at him for a very long moment and I can see his grin begin to faulter. I sigh heavily and look away from him.

"That doesn't even make sense." I look to the ground before I close my eyes. "Dobe."

There's a small quiet beneath us before he makes a weird sound with his lips and laughs, making me look at him again. "Oh, man! It's been forever since I heard that!"

You wanted to hear it, I think annoyedly. "... Okay," I say, causing him to settle himself and look at me curiously. Stupid. You're the one who said it. "You can... come over..." I can't look at him for the sheer fact my pride has taken enough hits and my face would probably go red. Ugh.

He smiles widely. "... Okay."

I had ditched my driver and just had Naruto take me back to my hotel, though I couldn't let him live down the piece of shit he was driving and told him I'd get him a new car. He had hit me for it and I don't know why. He didn't explain either. I didn't dwell on it. He gasped when he had first entered my hotel room and marveled at the luxuriousness of it. It was huge and grand, which was what I was typically use to, but apparently he wasn't, so I let him oggle over pretty much everything. He seemed smitten with the crystal tear-drop chandelier specifically, though he said it creeped him out standing beneath it because it could fall and impale him. I had to be morbid and say his blood would die the crystals beautiful colors. He ended up hitting me again. My head is going to have a massive bruise by the morning, it seems.

"This place is so big. And for just one person? Isn't this a bit... much?" I don't know how many times he's commented something similar, but I'm getting irritated.

"I'm a pop idol," I say as if that's explanation for everything. Which, to me, it is.

"Yeah, but..." he trails off, glancing towards the chandelier again. "... Is all this necessary?"

"Yes," I say simply. It's necessary because I like it. I'm an arrogant, chauvenistic ass that way. "Besides, if photographers were to snap pictures of me in some normal hotel or some run-down motel or even a love motel, what would the tabloids end up saying?" I sit in one of the royal red-colored chairs and lean back, crossing my legs at the knees. I have my arms lazily overlapped over my abdomen as I gaze at him.

"Why would you be at a love motel...?" he mutters agitatedly before letting it go. "So, what? You stay in these kind of places just so nosy people can make sure you're living the glitzy life?"

"I stay in these kind of places because I like these kind of places." Honestly, I'm finding it amazing I'm speaking to him so casually. Actually, with his questions, I feel like this is an interview, but I don't mind. I'll answer his questions forever if he wants. Maybe I've slipped into my professional persona? I'm not really sure. Or maybe my subconscious is treating this like a dream still, making this reality easier to accept? We are pretending after all; a dream pretending to be real.

"Oh...?" he says almost poutfully at my fine taste. "That doesn't surprise me." Of course it doesn't. Haven't I always been materialistic? "You've always been rather materialistic."

My eyebrow twitches. You didn't need to say it... I massage at the bridge of my nose a bit, eyes closed. "What are we doing...?"

"Sitting," he answers mockingly. He had placed himself on the dark plum-colored couch across from me, his posture rather straight with his hands gripping his knees. He was smirking at me. I love that smirk. I want to kiss it off his face and eat him up. I sigh instead, though, dropping my hand. I give him a hard look and he concedes to it. "We're pretending, remember?"

"Why?" I ask thickly. This is too hard to do and I don't want to play anymore. To pretend as if we are as we were back then... It makes me want to pretend I have the right to hold you like I did before. It makes me want to pretend that I can kiss you and love you like I did before. Like everything I want to do is okay when it's not. I can't pretend that. I'm not a kid with a box full of imagination. I'm an adult with a jar full of regrets.

"... Why not?" he asks, but he looks away with a sad knowing look in his eyes, so I say nothing in response to it. Eventually, his face disappears completely from my view, downcasted and shadowed by the bright lights above that his blond hair is just shimmering from. The way his strands move lifefully whenever he moves his head... I want to run my fingers through his hair. "... Please... Just tonight. Then we can talk tomorrow... Please... Sasuke."

I grit my teeth and my face twitches into a painful scowl. He shouldn't be the one pleading. He shouldn't be the one begging. "Stop that..." And it sounds like he's about to cry. He shouldn't do that either. I should be crying and pleading and begging and throwing myself to him, not him looking like a timid heap of desperate desire. "Just... stop. Fine. It's fine. Forget it." I look away, swallowing for no reason as I hand my troubled look to an oddly shaped lamp across the way. It's twisted interestingly and faded aqua in color. It's an ugly lamp, really.

I hear him remove himself from the couch but I don't move my gaze. I hear his footsteps come to me and I hear him stop at my side but I only move my attention to my hands in my lap. He stands there and it makes me want to squirm beneath his eyes that I feel boring into me. Is he doing that on purpose? By the snicker he suddenly gives - yes, yes he is. Idiot.

"You're use to eyes on you... You can stand anyone staring at you... but me..." he says, and I blink, turning my face and looking to him. He's wearing a soft but rather sad smile. "Why is that...?"

I don't know why that is. I didn't know that. It makes me frown and my eyes drop from him thoughtfully. Is it because I feel guilty? Or because his stares make me nervous? Even imagining him staring at me makes my heart quicken a bit. How odd. I never realized that before. I huff some, slouching in the chair as I look the other way from him. "I don't know." Another quiet between us before I grunt when he sits on me, making me look to him with owlish and confused eyes. He stares back into my dark eyes with his brilliant orbs and I'm captured. I'm frozen again. How many times is this now? I can't move as he's straddling me, his hands on either side of my hips. I can't deny I don't mind him being there, either. I also can't seem to recall him ever being so... cutesy? "You're being awfully bold," I point out to me like he doesn't know.

"It's like we're roleplaying," he whispers into my ear, causing my to battle down a shiver and close my eyes. He needs to stop talking in that voice. He's going to drive me mad. Or is that his intention...?

"... Are we now?" I reply.

"Yes," he confirms, lying his forehead on my shoulder.

"... Then what are our roles...?"

He hummed thoughtfully. "... How about... You be the all-desired pop idol Taka-sama," somehow, the name coming from his lips sounds like a joke, "and I'll be the lucky fan who won a backstage pass and a whole night with her favorite celebrity?" Though his voice was very sensual, I manage to notice a certain detail. I can't help but raise an eyebrow at it.

"You're a girl?"

He stiffens beneath me and I snort, resisting a laugh. "Er... I ... Shut up. No, I'm not."

"I was going to say..." I whisper back to him, matching his husky voice as my hands trail over his hips and trickle down his thighs. "I like girls in skirts... And you're not in one."

He huffs in a pout. "Why in skirts? What's so good about skirts?" Oh, I wanted you to ask that.

I let a smirk come to my lips as I lean forward, pressing the corner of my lips to his ear as my hands snake around to the back of him, fingers brushing over his ass, making him squirm just right. "Skirts are easier to access and less fuss..." I frown when he pulls away from me but I almost tackle him when I see his face but I don't. It's red and it looks so childish. He's being mean. I like it. Am I the masochist?

"So you'd like me in a skirt?"

I stare at him a long moment, debating that question before I just kiss at the tip of his chin and gaze up at him. "I'd like you in nothing at all, honestly." And the next thing I know, my face is being thrown down as his fist collides with the back of my head again. Hard. "Ow!" I yelp out, leaning back and clutching at the injured area, one eye closed as the other glares at him. "What the hell was that for?!"

"Pervert!"

I still a moment before I growl. "You're the one who straddled me!"

"You're too good at acting!" he accuses before crossing his arms and puffing his cheeks. What, is he a gradeschooler? Give me a break.

"I thought that was the point of this whole stupid thing!" I bark back at him. I want to hit him back, the jackass, but he needs to stop wearing that adorable face first.

"It was, but you're doing it too good!"

"What the hell do you expect?!" I exclaim, throwing my arms out before they flop onto the armrests. "Stupid! I act on a stage for part of my fucking career here and I've guest starred on plenty of TV shows! What do you want from me here?" I rub over my face after I say the last bit, exasperated. He's still as stupid as ever and he knows just the right strings to pull with me, damn it. "Jeez."

"You're not acting like Taka-sama, you're acting like you."

I frown at this and glare up at him. He seems confused as to why I suddenly seem so mad. "Then if you want fucking Taka-sama, get the hell off my lap and go back to one of his concerts," I spit out bitterly, turning my glare unto an unsuspecting fake plant in the distance. I know I speak of 'Taka-sama' like he's a different person and sometimes, I wish he was. Or maybe I wish he was like a suit I could take off instead of him always being attached to me. I was him in costume but sometimes I felt like he didn't end when I returned to normal clothes and less make-up.

"... I... I didn't mean it like that..." he stammers above me, apparently realizing what he'd said now. "I meant... I just... I forgot how perverted you were and I'm use to seeing your persona for the past two and a half years and... I guess I was surprised."

"Is that suppose to make me feel better?" I say irkedly. He shouldn't be comforting me anyways, the idiot. Let me stew.

"I'm saying I was surprised - not that it was bad! I missed the perverted you! No one turns me on like you do!" I hear a slap sound and blink and look to him. He's sealed his mouth with his hand and at first, I don't know why, but then his words catch up to me. I blink again and I can tell he's waiting for it, so I give it to him. My lips slip into a sultry smirk.

"What?" I place an elbow on the armrest of the chair, laying my cheek in it. "You only came searching for me because you're sexually frustrated? No one else but me will do?"

He stares at me over his hand before he gives a face and moves his limb. "Don't get cocky."

"But I'm the great Taka-sama... You're lucky to have met me," I say as my smirk grows into a grin. I didn't realize pretend was so easy. I should've started doing it a long time ago. "No one can compare." But I've been acting for a while, so this is nothing new to me. It's like changing a mask for another.

He snorts, shaking his head. "Well... Taka-sama... Actually... There is this one guy who can."

My grin falters a bit before I plaster it back on. "Oh?" Who?

"Yeah... He looks a lot like you... Talks a lot like you - arrogant, I mean. He even styles his hair the same." He points at my hair and I suddenly realize I had just been jealous of myself. Again. It's a rather odd experience. I don't like it. "And actually... Taka-sama..." Naruto leans down and presses his cheek to mine, lips brushing over the lobe of my ear since we seem to be playing off that sensation with each other. "I think he just might be better..."

A body part of mine twitches and it's not my arms and legs. "That so...?" I mutter back. He yelps when I suddenly grab him around his waist and stand. He's still as light as ever and I carry him like a weird koala-man-baby to the gigantic king-sized bed. I detach him and drop him unto it, where he plops and glares at me. His legs are halfly dangling off the bed and his elbows are propping him up but they won't be for long. Before he can start bitching, I place a knee at the side of him on the bed and lean down to him, my hand pressing against his chest and guiding his back to meet the bed. "So which one would you rather have tonight...?" I question him, my lips hovering tauntingly over his. I look from them to his eyes and I know he's carried away with the lust I'm exuting. Half of it is purposeful. The rest isn't and he just does that to me.

"I..." he begins, his face so red, even his neck and ears are hot. "I want... you..." he says to me, bringing his arms up to coil around my neck and bring me down crashing onto his lips. Immediately, the room heats up in degrees. Somewhere along the lines, I remove his shirt but I don't know where it went and I don't care. He works on getting mine off as our lips continue to mash together almost painfully, but we don't care. We're starving - we're suffocating. We need air and we can only give it to each other. This feeling is familiar. I didn't know I missed it so much. He finally gets my shirt unbottoned but I grab his wrists and pin them above his head together. He's not as strong as he looks, but he barely fights back anyway as I trail kisses down his neck. My free hand is working on undoing his belt, which I do and slide it out but I don't throw it. Instead, I make use of it and bind his wrists securely. He gawks at how fast I manged to do that before he lets out some sort of weird sound akin to a grunt-whine combination and makes a face at me. "Why are you tieing me up?!"

I smirk lustfully at him. "Why not?" I reply easily before my tongue dips into the hole of his navel, making him flinch some. His body is hot and I want to melt inside it. "Isn't it better this way?" I peer up at him in a seductively teasing manner which instantly shuts him up. He obeys and keeps his hands up, freeing mine which selfishly roam over his exposed skin. I kiss and I lick and I nip and I enjoy all the sounds he feeds to me. I can't get enough of them and I want more. I want more.

"Sasuke - " he whispers my name and it makes my heartbeat spike.

"Naruto..." I murmur back to him before connecting our lips again. By now, our breathing is erratic and hot and we're both probably light headed but we don't care. I can't help but grind against him and the sound he makes drives me just about insane. I grind again and he whimpers and I know why. I smirk and he sees it and glares but does nothing about it. I reach down and undo my own belt, tossing that wherever. It could've landed out the window and it wouldn't have bothered me now. My hands slip down his torso and sides before my fingers curl into the hem of his pants, tracing it teasingly until I get to the button, which I end up undoing with my mouth anyway and pinch the zipper piece between my teeth, slowly pulling it down.

"You're an ass..." he says breathly, flopping his head back against the blankets.

"You're suppose to say I'm a dick," I say to him, pausing in lowering the zipper as I flick my eyes to him, looking at him through my lashes. His face is so adorably bashful.

"Why?" he pouts, looking back to me.

"Because then I can say I'm a dick who wants your ass." I continue with the zipper again.

His face twitches before I suddenly feel a pillow slam into my face. I wasn't even aware he could reach those but alright. It slides down and lands between us, my expression revealed to be none too impressed.

"... Ow," I mutter though it didn't really hurt.

"Bastard!" he growls at me.

I just look down at him. He's a hot mess. His hair is already tousled and he's sweating. He has his face turned to the side and eyes closed so he can't see my face though he probably knows I'm taking him in. He's trembling but I know he's not scared. I smile untintentionally and lean down to kiss him.

We both almost have a fucking heart-attack when my phone suddenly screams in the silence.

"Wh-Who...?" Naruto questions after decently recollecting himself.

I'm pissed. I'm beyond pissed. I'm so pissed, now I'm shaking. I tear myself off of Naruto without explanation and storm over to my coat jacket and dive my hand into the inner pocket before ripping out my phone and slamming it open. "What?!" I snarl into it. I want to make sure whoever the fuck is calling me right now fucking regrets it. I bet it's Kakashi. Wouldn't be the first time.

"Well good morning to you, too, little brother."

From the sheer shock, I almost toss my phone through the window like it's a flaming parasite. I just - I didn't expect him. That was all. And for him to suddenly call me while I was in the midst of... I glance towards Naruto, who's staring at me with a rather concerned look on his face. I wonder if I went paler than usual? I look away from him and focus on the call. "Itachi," I greet briskly and quietly. "What do you want so early?"

"Early?" he seems to muse. I don't like this tone. "Is it early? Or is it perhaps late for you?" Why? Why does he say that? Is he suspicious? It's not unnatural for me to be out late. I'm twenty-two, for pity sake. I could've went drinking with friends or groupies - well, I don't have any friends, but whatever. I could've been with a girl all night or some other guy. He doesn't suspect Naruto's here, does he? He better not be gearing up to scold me or lecture. I'm in no mood for that, especially after what he had just interrupted. "I heard you had a long concert last night." ... Oh.

"Yes, so?"

"I heard it went well. Congratulations. You even debuted a new song of yours that's to be on your next album."

"Itachi..."

"Yes, yes. I have a reason for calling. I just wanted to make sure Naruto got there alright."

I blink. "... Pardon?"

"Did he not get to you? Oops... I hope I didn't ruin any surprise."

"N... No, no surprise. I just... He's here." I look at Naruto, who blinks at me. "How did...?" I look towards the phone, frowning in confusion.

"Oh, I sent him on his way. He had called me, as he usually does, to see how you were doing. He was actually near the area of where your concert was so I told him to head on over, but he wasn't familair with the area so he was worried about getting lost. I'm glad he found you alright."

"Uh... Yeah..." He calls... Itachi...? I didn't know he did that. Why did Itachi never tell me until now? Why did... Naruto even do such a thing? My eyes fall close and I suddenly feel very frustrated. "He's here and he's fine. Is that all, Itachi?" My tone is suddenly heavy and I'm sure he notices but I don't feel like talking to him right now. I'm pretty sure I'm about to have another pathetic break down so I need to end this conversation quickly.

"... I suppose it is. Do you mind if I call later?"

"Call later. I don't care."

"Alright then. Take care, little brother."

I close the phone without further reply and clench it tight in my hand.

"H-Hey..." Naruto calls nervously as he slides off the bed, his hands still bound as they dangle in front of him. "Is... Is everything okay?"

"Fine," I reply harshly, making him flinch a little. I don't look to him, fearing I might chuck my phone in his face. He's a fucking idiot.

"Ah..." He takes a step towards me and calls my name. I look at him and he flinches again from the edge in my eyes.

"You call my brother?"

His eyes widen and he looks like a caught thief beneath a spotlight. "I - "

"How long have you been calling him?"

"I just - It - Not - Not too long..." he stammers, taking a step away from me. I idly notice him trying to inconspicuously itch out of his bonds but I make no move to help him.

"How long?" I press, nearing him which startles him into not messing with the belt anymore, the backs of his knees pressing against the bed as he gawks dumly at me. "And why?"

Suddenly, he looks angry, but I don't back down. He glares at me and clenches his fists against each other. "Why? That's a stupid question!"

"Stupid?" I growl, in no mood to be mocked.

"I was worried about you! Why wouldn't I call?"

"Why the hell were you worried about me?" I cross my arms. I know my anger is rather irrational right now and there's several reasons. He shouldn't have been calling to check up on me - I was none of his business. He shouldn't have been having anything to do with me and once again, he should've been looking for someone else to take my place. Not calling my brother! And my brother shouldn't have even been speaking with him either. Least to say, I had two bones to pick here.

"I told you! I didn't want you out of my life, you wanted me of yours!" Naruto shot back at me. "Or maybe it's more like you wanted me to want to be out of yours! Or... ... Or whatever!" He meant to fling one of his hands out in gesture to his words, but due to his situation, his arms kind of went along with the motion together and made his overall action look rather awkward. He seems to notice this and grunts out in frustration, now more vigorously trying to undo the belt. I still don't help him. I'm still pissed.

"Of course I wanted you to want that!" I exclaim, "It's like you weren't even there for what I did to you!"

"Of course I was!" Naruto snarls at me. "I'm gonna hit you!" he threatens, holding up his double-fists but he hardly looks to be taken seriously. He's shirtless, bound, hair's tousled and he has a hickey on his neck. If I wasn't so mad, I'd be going at him again. Even now, I'm tempted, but I don't. "I tried calling you after you left me! You never answered me! I just wanted to make sure you were okay and happy - but from what Itachi's tells me - "

"What Itachi tells you is bullshit!"

"He tells me that you're okay but you're not happy! Is that bullshit!?"

I grit my teeth. "I never fucking talk to my brother! How the hell would he know?!"

"Maybe because you don't fucking talk to him anymore, Sasuke! You use to two years ago!"

"So what?! He was breathing down my neck and wouldn't lay the hell off so I cut connection!"

"He was doing that becuase he was worried about you, Sasuke!"

"Apparently everybody's fucking worried me!" I shout out, frustrated. I raise my hands through the air before they clap at my sides, my head shaking as I turn away.

"Maybe because you don't talk to anyone anymore, Sas!"

"Don't call me that," I growl lowly, fingers curling beneath my knuckles as I glower at the rich carpet beneath my feet.

"Sasuke," Naruto says exasperatedly but doesn't continue. He rubs his hands over his face as best he can. I hate when he says my name like that.

"Naruto." I stop him before he can say anything to make me feel guilty about our shout match because I know he can and will. "Naruto... Your father had connections that I needed. I dated you to get to your father to use those connections. As soon as I had everything cemented and in place - I ditched you. I dropped you like a fifty ton weight, Naruto, and I didn't look back. How can you be so..." I didn't know the right words so I ended up trailing off.

"You say you dropped it, but you didn't," Naruto says quietly, making me look to him. "You've been carrying it around all this time, Sasuke..." Pity. Sympathy.

"Don't give me that!" I shout at him as loud as I can, making him flinch but his composure doesn't faulter. He just watches me. He watches me with those damn eyes of his. "I didn't even come to your father's funeral last year!" I scream at him. Why are my eyes burning? I thought we were pretending? What happened to pretending?

Naruto is quiet for a long time. In that silence, I realize my breaths are hitching and I realize my face is wet. I'm crying again. My shoulders are trembling. Why am I the one crying? "... No... You didn't come... I tried to get you to. I tried calling you. Itachi did, too... But you didn't come... At first, it was because you had a concert the same day as the funeral..." His head lowers but I don't see much else because I'm rubbing furiously at my eyes, trying to get myself to stop being pathetic. "But that concert was cancelled." I turn my head away from him and I suddenly wish I was deaf, but I don't put my hands over my ears either. "With no explanation to the public. It was rumored because you lost your voice... Tickets were refunded. It was a big loss for your people. A lot of people were upset and mad and confused... Even to this day, nobody knows the real reason that concert was cancelled. ... But don't you?"

"Shut up."

"Admit it, Sasuke!"

"There's nothing to admit!"

"Oh my god!" he growls in frustration before he starts biting at the belt like a dog with tape stuck on its paw. He looks like a fool. "You're so damn stubborn and thick-headed!" he manages to grumble at me through his gnawing. He's trying to get the belt piece between his teeth enough to slip it out, but the way I looped and tied it is too secure, so he's struggling. I just watch him, scowling at his words. "You cancelled that damn concert - god, how the fuck did you do this? - You cancelled that fucking concert because you couldn't sing on that day because you did know that my dad's funeral was on that day! Cancelling that - my fucking god, Sasuke, what the hell?" He pulls at the belt and looks about ready to break his wrists just to get the damn thing off. "Cancelling that concert - I don't know what you did on that day, but you spent it alone, didn't you? Because you knew? You wanted to call me but you didn't! Isn't that right?" He looks at me with those desparate eyes that I hate and I feel like falling to my knees. I can't look at him for long before my eyes fall away, my tears staining my checks. "You wanted to be there, but you - " he goes back to biting at the belt in mid sentence, " - didn't think it was appropriate."

"It wasn't," I hear myself whispering, my head lowered.

"I would've wanted you there..." Naruto says to me through a piece of leather between his teeth and I can feel his eyes on me. "You being there would've - nng," he tries to pull at the belt, one of his eyes closing from the exertion but he's unsuccessful and grumbles something to himself I don't catch. "It would've meant a lot to me..."

"It shouldn't have..."

"Well it would've!" he suddenly barks at me. "You know, my dad was pissed at you for what you did for a while - "

"He should've been. I'm surprised he didn't try ruining me."

"He was going to," Naruto informs me, surprising me a bit. "But I stopped him."

"Why?" I ask through grit teeth, turning my bleary gaze to him with a hard sniff.

"Because I didn't want you to be ruined, Sasuke!" he yells at me like it's obvious. "I wanted you to be successful because you sacrificed a lot to get here! Jeez!" He goes back to biting at the belt like a dog on its bone. Apparently, Naruto reminds me of a dog. Just no muzzle and an obsession with barking.

"The only thing I sacrificed to get here was you!" I blurt, throwing my arm in his direction.

"And didn't I mean a lot to you?!" Naruto counters.

Why does he think he meant a lot to me? Why did he not believe I played with him like a toy and broke him and threw him away? Why can he not just stay broken and blame me and hate me? Why is he so readily willing to forgive me and just move on from this?! "Why do you..." I begin, my words heated and spilling through grit teeth, "... Why are you coming back to me?" I'm not sure if it's the right question I want to ask but I don't know how else to ask it or whatever is I want to ask him. I'm losing my mind and it's his fault. It's like he has my sanity in the palm of his hand and it seems he always has.

"Because I know you - "

"You know me?" I mock, scoffing at him.

"You may not think it but I'm beginning to think I know you better than you know you, Sasuke!"

"Oh really?" I call skeptically, glaring at him again.

"Yes, really!" he growls, not liking the way I'm speaking now. Apparently he really believes he knows better and I smell bullshit. "I know you loved me - you know why, Sasuke?"

"No, I don't fucking know why!" All I want to know is why!

"Because you loved me before you even knew who my father was!" Naruto practically screams at me, his body hunching from the volume, his hands knocking against his knees before he huffs and his head lowers. "The moment you met me - the moment I met you - it was..."

I don't say anything to interrupt him. I've crossed my arms by now and my fingers are gripping so tightly on my arms that it's hard not to dig in my nails. I feel like a defendant on the stand before a jury, the case being pleaded and I'm two statements from a guilty verdict and Naruto's the lawyer. God, he'd look fantastic in a suit.

"We started dating before you knew who my father was. We had sex before you knew who my father was. You didn't know I was his son because of our different last names yet you still loved me! You weren't playing back then! We dated for two months before you figured out who he was and even a couple months after then, everything was fine! Then I mentioned to my father of your dream to become big. I told him you were good and that you wouldn't let us down if he got you in, and you didn't let us down." My eyes widen as he speaks and I'm flabbergasted. I always thought I had obtained the right to Namikaze Minato's connections by myself. I never knew Naruto vouched for me. I never knew he had brought it up first. Namikaze never mentioned anything his son said either. How did I not know of this? "I wanted you to think you got recognized on your own, so I never said anything..." Don't - Don't cry. I'd rather be the one crying then you... Please. "I knew you were prideful, but I knew you were proud of your work, too... I wanted to help... I know you loved singing and writing, but I know you loved me, too. And I know you still do." His voice is getting squeaky and weak as the tears blur his eyes, his face flushing from the emotion. He sniffs hard and tries to wipe his tears away with the back of his hand. "But I guess somewhere along the lines... you lost sight. I don't know what happened to you. You got so big you didn't need my father anymore. Then you apparently didn't need me anymore either."

No. I always needed you. I was just an idiot.

"But I don't think that anymore..." He sniffs again, giving up trying to release his hands and sitting on the bed, his eyes on his feet. "... I've thought about it - and you - a lot since then... And I understand - "

"You 'lost sight'. You 'don't know what happened' to me... You say that and yet you claim you understand now?"

He frowns. "... No. I ... ... I guess there are some things I've always wanted to ask you so I could understand..."

"What?" By now, my tears have dried but it seems they only transferred to him.

"... Why did you suddenly leave me...? Why did you pretend to not love me anymore...?"

"And you don't believe I just never loved you to begin with?" I snap at him but he doesn't seem effected by my words. "I could've easily figured out who your father was before I met you. I could've found out about him through my brother or the internet."

"But you didn't," he says to me, wiping at his face again. "You didn't know anything about him, did you?"

I grit my teeth. Why is he pressing this so hard?!

"So why...?"

"... Because..." I turn my face away, my eyes wrenched shut. "... I... I thought I could get farther. I obtained new connections, met new people - things were shooting off faster than I could comprehend."

"That's because you're so talented..."

I ignore his quiet compliment and continue with my reply. "They were shooting off faster than I could even process. It's like being at a raving party and being handed a drink. You don't know what it is, but you drink it anyway." I notice his frown but I don't stop. "I guess I just got drunk off of how great things were going and... lost it. Lost you." I sit myself down on the armrest of the couch, suddenly feeling so very exhausted. "I was told I could get farther by dropping you because you were like heavy baggage... That I was better if I just - had a clean slate. Out of that came the sensational idol 'Taka-sama' everyone screams about... I was told you made me too... unavailable." Or vulnerable. "It wasn't becoming of a great iconic idol..."

"... Who told you such things...?"

I look over at Naruto with an almost numb feeling inside me. For a long moment, I just stare at him. His eyes are glistening and the tears have mostly stopped since I started speaking, making his eyes like a fountain glittering beneath sunlight. I want to wipe his lashes dry and hold him until he feels better, but this isn't the situation for that. I'm the one that made him cry. How many times have I made him cry...? "... It doesn't matter now. I was a fool for listening. I lost control of myself and I let go of the one anchor I had. I... " I let out a deep breath. "It was like I was in a haze... I don't know..."

"... You were in a haze and once you saw clearly again..."

"I realized my mistake." I look to him defeatedly. "I should've never done what I did. If I could go back and change it, I would faster than a heartbeat. ... If you were to ask me to give all this up - "

"I know, Sasuke..." Naruto whispers to me, his eyes having closed. A single stray tear rolls down his cheek like a liquid diamond drop. "I already said I knew you would..."

"... Guess you do know better..." I look to the ground again as silence floods the room. I stand and make my way to him, taking his wrists in my hands. I unloop the belt with little difficulty before I begin undoing the rest and eventually unlatch it. It falls from him and clatters to the ground like a dead snake. I inwardly frown at the redness of his hands from the chaffing of his struggle but the view changes when he begins rubbing at his wrists like a freed prisoner from hand-cuffs.

"Aah... How'd you even learn to do that?" he mutters a complaint, pouting at his wrists.

"Like that's the first time I've tied you up..." I murmur as I turn to move away from him but I blink when I feel a pull at my pants. I look and see two of his fingers are curled into one of my belt loops. I look to him questioningly and he smiles at me. This confuses me but before I can say anything, he speaks first.

"Hey..." he mumbles, staring at his hand just to avoid eye contact with me. "... You... Why don't you try another clean slate?"

"Because I never cleared my first one..." By the quiet he gives me, I explain further. "I never really started my second slate clean... It's like - pouring a concrete sheet over a hole, not really filling it in. Then another sheet over that. Then another. Eventually, they'll just collapse. ... Or something." I don't feel like that makes much sense, somehow...

Naruto chuckles and I frown at him, looking to him again from the floor. "That doesn't make any sense." My eyebrow can't help but twitch. "You weren't in a hole to start with and there aren't that many sheets of concrete on you." I roll my eyes but he continues. "It's more like you... set a plate on the sidewalk then set a cement block on it. That plate cracked and then you remove that block and miss the plate. Starting another clean slate is like just setting another plate over the broken pieces of the previous plate... Is that what you mean?" I frown at his explanation a little before I dumbly nod. Somehow, he explained it better than I could. What the hell. "Well you've already gotten rid of the block... Let's just pick up the pieces of the old plate and start using the new one."

"Using such an example makes it sound easy. You're the broken plate, Naruto."

"That's what you don't understand..." My brows pinch in confusion. "You're the broken plate, Sasuke... You're the block. If anything, I can be the new plate." He smiles widely at me and I'm not liking the metaphor anymore so I choose to stop using it because he's making it stupid and cheesy and it's giving me a headache.

"Shut up," I grumble at him. "You sound like an idiot."

"Sasuke... Aren't you exhausted from the pain...? Exhausted from the regrets and the self-hating...?" I look away from him. "... Would you make it up to me if you could...?"

"I would," I say indefinitely.

"... Then I want you to do something for me..." he murmurs. His fingers are still hooked onto my jeans and I just look at them as he lowers his head.

"... Anything."

"... Forgive yourself."

I stiffen, my eyes widening at him. "... Naruto - "

"That's what I want you to do for me. That would make it up to me." He smiles up to me. "Forgive yourself and start anew. Forget what you've done, remember what we had, and start anew. Do that for me."

My fists clench tight as I stare at him bewildered. I can't believe he's asking that of me. Does he honestly think I could do such a thing? "I - "

"Don't say anything," he orders me, shaking his head. "Just do it."

I'm breathless for a moment before I let a heavy breath fall from my lips. "... How can you think I can do that...?"

"Because you'd do anything for me."

"But that's..." I trail off after looking into his eyes again and groan quietly to myself. "You... ... You..."

"Me," he practically sings, leaning forward to look up at my face. He earns himself a glare but it just makes him grin wider which makes me glare harder and he just laughs.

"Idiot," I grumble at him.

"I know it's not an overnight thing..." Naruto says as he stands, fingers still latched. He actually clasps his other two fingers on the opposite belt loop and brings my hips into his, resting his forehead against my collarbone. "I know there's still a lot to go over... It's been two very long years, but... ... Will you give me the time...?"

I stand there unmoving for a long moment, gazing painfully over his shoulder and at the wall. Everything I've done to him relives behind my eyes and I feel my heart ache. I don't understand him yet he understands me and it's frustrating. He's frustrating. Everything's frustrating. I feel like hitting my head against the wall repeatedly. Or my head against his head. I'm not sure which. "I will always give you the time..." I can feel him smile against me and it makes me move my arms to embrace him. My hands glide up his back before they tighten him against me. He burries his face into my shoulder and I bury my face in his hair. I intake a breath softly, breathing him in and taking in the moment. I still feel like this is a dream. "... Uzumaki Naruto..." I whisper, "... I'm so sorry for everything I've done..."

"... Uchiha Sasuke... You're forgiven under the circumstances that you will make it up to me by being at my side like you were before and that you will forgive yourself over it in time. Is that a deal?" Now he's grinning again. I end up bonking him atop the head and he grunts, grumbling about how I'm a bastard and rubbing at the offended area. "That hurt..."

"You hurt." But I hug him close again. He laughs and just snuggles into me like a kitten. I can just imagine him purring. My little dog-kitten. I don't know - he makes me weird. "... How have you been...? I finally ask.

"... Missing you," he replies.

"I think we've established this..." I grumble, making a face. I move my arms and pull him away just a tad but only to look into those sincere blue eyes. "... I love you... So much."

He smiles at me knowingly and brushes his nose again mine. I ignore how much of a girly action that is only because of what he says to me next. "I know. And... I love you, too. Idiot."

I narrow my eyes at him as he laughs and before I could complain about his words, he slams his lips onto mine and moves his fingers through my hair. Somehow, we eventually find ourselves on the bed again but he's decided himself on the top. For now, I don't have a problem with this, but he better not be thinking he'll be staying up there unless he plans to go for a ride.

I hadn't ever meant for things to turn out this way, and I'd still change things if I could. But this outcome is something I would've wanted either way.

---

Four Months Later

"Well, well... It seems your brainwashing wore off."

"Tsk... That wore off long ago. He was riding off his own pity high since."

"So you confirm you tried to ruin things with him and Naruto?"

"I confirm nothing. I don't care to incriminate myself."

"Oh, of course not." He picked up his tea and took a brief sip before staring boredly into the thin colored liquid. "But ever since Taka-sama has been back with him, he's flourished phenomonally. He's also begun to write his own songs again. He was a sensation before but he held no heart. Now he has everything - everything but you... Yakushi-san."

"What is your purpose in saying that to me, Uchiha-san?"

Itachi narrowed his eyes at the scum that sat across of him. He couldn't stand him and would rather collide his face into a bed of spikes than speak with him on any remotely civil terms. Listening to him was like iron nails in a blender and fingernails on a chalk board. He could crawl beneath one's skin like a parasite and suck them dry until they had nothing left to give. Itachi has never hated a person so vehemetly, but as it goes - there's always a first. "My purpose in saying that is that I am pointing out he would've been great even without you and your pety words. Better, even."

"My pety words?" Kabuto mused, lifting his right ring finger to push up his circular glasses, causing them to glint off the low level of light in the room, creating an ominous image of him. "I wouldn't call them pety when they struck so deep. He seemed awfully willing to listen to me, Itachi - "

"Uchiha-san will do," Itachi strictly corrected, having no desire to be on any sort of familiar terms with this prick. "You took advantage of his newly inherited situation."

"It's not my fault he's weak-willed."

"I heard they call you the Shark, since you swoop in and eat any bleeding prey, but to me you're more like a snake, slithering in and suffocating people."

"... I'm not sure if you're implying your brother was bleeding or not."

" 'Bleeding' being used in the hypothetical sense that my little brother was a fresh cut of meat into the industry. You saw that and you saw an opportunity to play with him. I don't appreciate that, Yakushi-san."

"I'm not the one referring your brother as a hunk of chopped animal, Uchiha-san."

Itach gritted his teeth and sipped more at his tea before resting it in his lap. "... Yakushi-san..." He slipped his eyes close and drew in a calming breath. "You've been underhandedly stealing money from my brother under a false name since the moment you made a solified connection with him and stole his trust."

"Stole?" The cretin leans back in his chair, seeming highly amused by the use of such a word. He's interlaced his fingers over his knee that's placed over his other, an arrogant air about him in the most ugly manner. "I believe I earned that trust, Uchiha-san."

"Earned...," Itachi tasted the word unimpressedly but didn't further the argument on the validity of it. "You've wired bank accounts, hidden yourself and your trail. You've been a studious and sneaky little snake, haven't you."

"I confess no such thing. Exactly based on what evidence are you claiming that on?"

Itachi flicked his piercing glare to the other as another man in the room stepped forth and slapped a folder on the wooden table separating the two speaking persons. "That. Have a look, won't you?" Itachi gestures casually to the file, his eyes watching Yakushi's moves like a crow eyeing its prey. Yakushi Kabuto wasn't the only one who enjoyed playing with his prey before he killed it - of course, for Itachi, figuratively only. He watched as Yakushi picked up the file and seemed to boredly flip through it, but the more he read, the further his frown grew until his face was screwed into a scowl. "I'm under the impression that as soon as you milked enough money from my brother, you were going to wreck his career and sabotage him and obliterate any loose ends you may have had. With that in mind is what motivated you to take one Uzumaki Naruto out of the picture early, so he didn't become either a hindrance nor a delay in your plans."

"... You spoke of a life sentence. All this garbage won't grant you that," Yakushi spat, snapping the file shut and tossing it wontonly onto the table again. He was angry now and Itachi wanted him that way.

The eldest Uchiha let a smirk come to softly to his face. "No, it won't. But murder will." Itachi's colleague might not have noticed it but Itachi himself sure as hell noticed the tension that developed in the silver-haired man's jaw.

"Murder?" he inquired, raising his chin a slight with an eyebrow perked. One of the lenses of his glass reflected some light, giving him a deadly look. "My, we suddenly go from a money scandel to taking life. You do enjoy extremes, don't you, Uchiha-san? Is that an overall Uchiha trait?"

"An overall Uchiha trait is not liking being fucked with, Yakushi-san," Itachi said calmly.

"No, of course not," Yakushi remarked, adjusting his glasses again. "They enjoy doing the fucking with, isn't that right?"

An edge sharpened in Itachi's eyes at the comment and it seemed Yakushi took well in seeing this. It made him smirk but Itachi made sure to show nothing further of being affected.

"Suddenly claiming murder on no basis."

"No basis?" Itachi questions this time. "I don't spout nonsense unlike yourself, Yakushi-san."

"Are you saying you have evidence that nails me to killing, Uchiha?"

"I'm saying exactly that." Itachi waved his hand a slight and once more his colleague stepped forth, placing another folder onto the table. "I'm also saying that there is more than one body count."

"... So you're saying I'm a mass killer?"

"I'm glad your comprehensive skills aren't sub-par," Itachi remarked, opening the folder and sliding it to Yakushi before resting comfortably back into his chair, almost resembling a cocky king upon his throne.

Yakushi narrowed his eyes bitterly before he stabbed his gaze unto the provided papers and images. He stiffened upon seeing a particular one and lifted it to better light. He stared a moment before he suddenly smirked and let a single huff of a laugh escape him. "Really?" He flopped the image over for both Itachi to see and in gesture to the supposed ridiculousness of the claim. "You honestly suspect I'm the one who killed Namikaze Minato?"

"No. I know you're the one who killed him. You killed him approximately over a year ago now." Itachi was glaring at him now, all casual expression dripping off his face like acid. "You tried to be careful. Your prints aren't in the database and you have no sort of record, which was the problem of connecting the crime to you."

"So even if you found fingerprints, you can't match them to mine," Yakushi said a little too confidently.

Itachi drew in a slow breath before leaning his elbows onto the table, arms crossed. "But we have your fingerprints now."

"And how did you obtain them?" Yakushi cocked his head some, "Did you break into my home and dust them there?"

"To the public, it would seem you just have a thing with gloves, Yakushi-san," Itachi said, running his fingers through his bangs. "You're never seen without them in public. Tell me, did that start before or after you murdered Namikaze-sama?"

"Sama?" Yakushi mocked. "My, don't you hold him in a high light."

"I did," Itachi admits with a masked expression, despite the fact he hadn't meant to lead that on. "You should answer the question. Yakushi-san."

"You bring up my fashion wear like it's the ultimate weapon."

"Not so much weapon as cog in the machine."

"Hm..." Yakushi hummed and seemed delighted that they were dancing around the subject, but Itachi was in no mood to follow this man's tune. "I've always had a thing with gloves, Uchiha-san."

"Perhaps that's why it's not so odd. If you would've suddenly started wearing them after the murder, we'd think you didn't want to leave your fingerprints on anything. And if you were wearing them since before the murder, that would explain why there were no fingerprints at the scene..."

"Perhaps I just have automysophobia; I don't like to get my hands dirty."

"Highly doubtful. If that were the case, you wouldn't wear the type of gloves you do. You wear them simply for fashion - and murder - and nothing else."

"Tell me, detective..." Yakushi muttered, eyes skimming over the picture of one Namikaze Minato rather emotionlessly. "Do you think I'd be dumb enough to leave prints at the crime scene?"

"No. Not necessarily." A smirk lifted to Itachi's lip. "But I'm not speaking of prints, regardless."

Yakushi flicked his eyes to Itachi. "Oh?"

"As I said... You tried to be careful. And you failed. There was a struggle between you and Namikaze-sama. You were either shoved into or had grabbed tightly onto the corner of his office work desk, where the wood stretched enough to pinch fibers from your gloves and keep them there. It was a hard and minute detail to spot. But obviously, there are plenty of gloves similar to yours - "

"So it's impossible to pin such a thing on me simply because I wear gloves!" Yakushi argued but frowned when Itachi raised a finger at him in motion for silence.

"I said similar, but not like yours. Yakushi-san, all your gloves are specifically hand-made and tailored to you. Every single pair you have is unique and worn solely by you; you have them made originally. That also made their maker very hard to track down, but we eventually found them- I won't bother explaining the details of that search. Eventually, such a little clue lead us on a long trail - to you, Yakushi-san."

By this time, Kabuto was grinding his teeth in anxiety and couldn't muster a thing to say in reply.

"I wouldn't use such rare fabric next time, Yakushi-san... Though, I suppose there won't be a next time for you," Itachi murmured the last part, looking away boredly before he closed his eyes. "Despite that, however, we obtained some of your DNA as well, even though you seemed to have go through rather extreme measures to cover your tracks."

"That's impossible," Yakushi hissed.

"Hardly," Itachi responded. "You made a very rookie mistake and I suppose you greatly overestimated yourself in the venture. It seems Namikaze-sama himself was readily aware of what was to happen and took action himself in aiding us in the investigation."

"What the hell are you saying?" Yakushi was struggling to keep himself in check.

"Am I speaking riddles to you, Yakushi-san?"

"You seem to like to."

"Perhaps I gave to much credit to your comprehensive skills, then." Itachi inwardly enjoyed seeing the twitch in the other's eyebrow but portrayed no such satisfaction. "I'll read it out simple and clear, then: Namikaze Minato not only managed to obtain your DNA, which was lodged beneath his finger nails from having dug them into your abdomen - which we plan to match that DNA with what we get from you down at the presinct, and don't you bear a faint scar on your abdomen, too? - but he also wrote a letter."

Yakushi's jaw had tensed at the mentioning of his scar but his eyes slid arctic at the mentioning of a letter. "Anyone could've stolen my gloves to frame me!"

"It's enough to bring you in for questioning."

"Have you not questioned me enough?"

"No," Itachi said bluntly. "There are still many things to sort out. And I did mention a certain letter. Rather incriminating, really..."

"What damn letter?" Kabuto hissed.

Itachi rose his hand where a copy of said letter was placed by his colleage and he brought it beneath the light to read. " 'It's come to my attention that all those who see me are not my friends and may not like me. I know I've made plenty of enemies, but I can only think of one who'd do anything hanous enough as to kill me. I know my son is struggling with staying in contact with Uchiha Sasuke and I know it's due to the fault of Yakushi Kabuto. Eventually, I suspect he'll separate my son and the Uchiha boy and plan to get rid of me as a 'loose-end.' I have grounds to suspect this due to a previous conversation I hade the right mind of recording. It's attached to this letter. This letter is here to say that if I am dead when this is read, Yakushi Kabuto is at fault. This letter is to also say Uchiha Sasuke had no part in this and that I wish the best for he and my son... I beg whoever reads this to make ends meet and to not allow them to be destroyed forever.' As he said, there was a tape recorder within the envelope this letter was placed in." Itachi placed the paper on the table and pushed it towards Yakushi as the raven was handed that said recorder.

Yakushi made no move to grab that letter and could only stare with owlish eyes at the detective as he hit play.

"Sorry I'm late... Kabuto-san."

"Namikaze... I'm glad you've taken it upon yourself to waste my time."

"... I apologize again, but I had already told you - "

"Oh, yes, yes, you're a busy man... Aren't we all?"

"... Kabuto, we already know what this is all about. Let's skip right to it and settle this. You need to leave him alone."

"Leave him alone? Hah. And why would I do such a thing?"

"... Kabuto, I know what you've been doing."

"... ... Do you now?"

"Turn it off," Yakushi suddenly ordered but Itachi didn't oblige.

"And just what exactly do you know... Namikaze?"

"What you've been doing with his money. Where it's going and what name and means you're using. I never thought you'd stoop so low as to deal with the Yakuza."

"It's more like the Yakuza deal with me. So what if you know? I doubt you'd be able to get away with sufficient evidence."

" 'Get away'? Do you plan on stopping me if I try to publisize this?"

"Personally, no, but I do have my means... Namikaze."

"... Are you threatening me?"

"I believe I am, since you're doing the same."

"I want you to stay away from Uchiha Sasuke."

"I can't do that, Minato. I have someone who's rather interested in having him. You should be lucky I'm not aiming to kill that son of yours. Not like I did your wife."

There was a sudden scuffle and a very prominent sound of a chair toppling backwards before more shuffling followed. Then there was laughter.

"Do you plan to hit me, Namikaze?! And what good will that do you!? Do you think that will hold up for anything?!"

There was heavy breathing, probably on Namikaze's part, before there was softer shuffling and the sound of a chair being righted.

"There you go. Have a seat and calm yourself."

"You fucking piece of shit."

"Your words flatter me so, Namikaze. But since we're cutting right to it, I'll say this: Stop interfering with business that isn't yours, or you'll have business that you just simply can't deal with."

"I'll end you, Kabuto. I'll turn you into the authorities if it's the last thing I do!"

"Haha... Trust me, Namikaze. You'll be ended a lot sooner then that." There was the sound of a chair moving. "Have a good night, Namikaze."

"I said, shut it the hell off!"

"That's the end of that part anyway," Itachi commented before stopping the tape and rewinding it before he handed it back to the man in shadow. "What do you have to say against that... Yakushi-san?" He looked casually to the other, still resting his elbow on the table but now resting his chin atop his fisted fingers, gaze looking triumphantly at the silver-haired man before him. "Your bonified confession of killing the wife of Namikaze - one Uzumaki Kushina, and the mentioning of the Yakuza. That'll launch a whole other investigation and I'm sure they won't appreciate being prodded because of your negligent failing of 'getting the job done', hm? And your threat to Namikaze-sama himself is further grounds to suspect you. I'm without a doubt you're a murder. Yakushi-san."

"... I... ..."

"Nothing, then?"

"You..." Yakushi suddenly flew to his feet, his chair skidding backwards. His pupils had shrunk and a snarl curled his lips. "I'll fucking kill you! You're fucking dead! I'll have you fucking dead! I'll kill you just like I did Namikaze and his fucking bitch of a wife!" With that, the irate man hurled himself over the table, knocking the lamp above in the process and making it swing awkwardly, the light rocking back in forth, creating a flash view of Yakushi trying to tackle Itachi but being thrown back with simple ease by his colleague, who stood tall and wide and now unhappy.

"Keep your hands off of him," he growled lowly before he straightened his suit, glaring down at the, compared to him, tiny man below him.

"It's fine, Kisame," Itachi said gently before he stood, straightening out his tie that Yakushi had almost gotten a hold of, having only brushed against it enough to disturb it a bit. "Yakushi Kabuto, I think the games are over now... You are under arrest."

---

The whole last bit with Itachi probably feels extremely random, but I was watching Law & Order SVU, so. Yeah. Probably sounds like a bunch of hogwash, but OH WELL. xD It was fun, actually. It wasn't originally planned, either; I hadn't planned on Minato having been murdered but just died of some typical sickness or another, but I did want Kabuto to be the one 'brainwashing' Sasuke, and I wanted it to be mentioned - so I guess the whole cop bit is just to mention that Kabuto was at fault, lmfao. And yeah. Orochimaru is probably a Yakuza boss, too, hence Kabuto's mentioning of someone wanting Sasuke. I would've made it Orochimaru originally brainwashing Sasuke, but I like set personality better, lol. He's like the sane-on-the-outside-but-can-flip-his-crazy-switch- at-any-moment type. I like that type. xD Orochimaru is a perverted creep in my mind and I just didn't want to.

There's probably a lot of poppycock in this fic, but I hope you enjoyed. x'D

I also want to mention that I somehow find it weider to do kinky scenes in first-person. Idk why. ProbablywhyIdodgedtheminthisoneLOL.

Oh&review?