disclaimer: blah blah blah blah, Naruto (c) Masashi Kishomoto-dono -bows-
a/n: I couldn't think of anything for The Wind and the Night, so yeah. -turns into zombie- reeviiiewwww!
He Smiles Today
Sometimes when the world gets too much, it takes every fiber of his being just to put up that sappy grin, that cheerful smile, and pretend everything is alright. Even though nothing is alright. Even though his mask feels fake and plastic and ever so necessary. Because without it, he knows that he would crumble. He would shatter and break into a million different pieces, die in his own blood, and wither away into everyone's minds.
Sometimes its hard to admit that no one knows him, really knows him, and that he is all alone, unwanted. Sometimes he feels like dying, it's so hopeless. And then he reminds himself that its stupid, because other people, in another town, in another world, may be having it twice as worse, twice as hard. But still the feeling comes flooding back, so deep and strong that he feels that no barricade can stop it. And this makes him feel worse, because somewhere deep down he knows that nothing will ever get better.
Its times like these when he curses the world and lies on the floor for hours, looking up at the ceiling, wondering why everything is so fucked up. Its times like these when he wishes he had him by his side. Him telling him to shut up, telling him that he feels too deeply, telling him that he's an idiot... telling him that he loves him. And then he remembers that he's gone. He couldn't stop him.
And he can't help thinking that it was something he did wrong. And he hopes to God that the other is all right. And he hopes to God that he'll come back to him. Because it's hard when everything he looks at reminds him of that one stupid person that he will never forget. Because it's hard when he lays alone at night and all he can see is him, his face, his voice.
It's hard when you love someone so much that it hurts. Some best friend. Some empty promise.
Sometimes, sometimes, sometimes. But sometimes the whispering memory of a dark haired boy, curling and winding and clinging to his mind like a drug, is all that keeps him going. And its not much, but it's enough.