Disclaimer: I do not own Naruto.
A/N: A birthday present for a very amazing person.
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In Constant Eclipse
By MaethoMixup
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Kiba remembered that day vividly.
The woods did not know war, it was why Kiba spent the majority of his days lounging in the trees, listening to the cicadas buzz and the animals hop across the forest floor. The summer breeze cooled him as it passed through merrily, singing a song of peace against the leaves. It was his favorite lullaby. Natural, beautiful- like a harp coaxing him to sleep.
Akamaru shifted against the bark, sending soothing vibrations through the trunk. A happy whimper; a soft puff. Kiba hoped his dog was dreaming of bones and meadows and mud puddles large enough to swim in instead of the blood that haunted their waking hours.
The woods did not know war, but they did.
They knew what desperate screams sounded like when they came together in one, horrible chorus. They knew how it felt to see the people beside you, guarding you, become a name on a grave that rarely saw visitors. Their last whisper, a plea of help, yet being unable to save them- they knew that too; the horror of not being enough to stop the inevitable.
His eyes fluttered open. A canopy of green clouded his vision.
A parade of death clouded his mind.
It was like every day, except…
Except Naruto found him. A golden storm of smiles surrounded by that irresistible aura of victory, he bounced on the branch beside him, laughing at nothing or life or everything, Kiba didn't know, but his own laughter joined in without a second thought.
"Kiba," Naruto leaned forward, poking him hard in the stomach. "I'm hungry."
He rolled his eyes at his friend as he pushed himself upright. "Then why are you bothering me, dumbass?"
"Because you're hungry too," he said knowingly and innocently all at once. Like it was just a fact and not some huge insight into Kiba's bad habit of forgetting that his body needed things other than sleep and booze. "Let's get ramen!"
"We always get ramen," he grumbled without any real emotion.
"That's 'cause it's the best!"
Another fact, another thing Kiba couldn't dispute.
He wondered when it became impossible for him to tell Naruto no.
Kiba hated that day.
"I think I'm going to propose soon."
Kiba's foot paused in midair, eyes snapping to Naruto's back as he walked absentmindedly ahead of him, not realizing the other had stopped yet. This was a view Kiba was accustomed with. His back. Forever behind him, forever trying to catch up.
Forever failing and falling further and further away from him.
Naruto was nervously scratching at his reddened cheek when he finally noticed Kiba's frozen stance. "Kiba?" he asked, shuffling from foot to foot. "You hear me?"
"Yeah," was his breathless reply. It wasn't the word he wanted to say. When it came to feelings, the truth sat at the back of his throat, stuck. Breathing became difficult. He swallowed and it hurt, the pain the sort that made his head dizzy, suddenly hard to think more than two words without glancing at Naruto to see if he knew what thoughts were running through his mind.
"Are you okay with that? Hinata thinks of you as a brother so I, uh, thought it would be good to get your blessings."
He felt himself nodding, numb.
Naruto's infectious laugh echoed around the street, earning them questioning looks from the few passerbys. "That's good- no, great! I wasn't worried but, well," he trailed off into another chuckle, stuffing his hands into his pockets. The smile he wore was soft and happy and everything that Kiba wasn't.
Kiba grinned back and said some things he can't recall.
Whatever it was, it was a lie.
A year flew by.
The bachelor party was at a large bar in the middle of Konoha, filled with friends and men from foreign countries, half of which Kiba would be hardpressed to say correctly, especially in the drunken state he was currently.
It was hard getting Naruto alone; it seemed like that was everyone's goal. Shots and speeches and cheers filled the room and everybody in it with joy. They were celebrating a war hero, their savior, the future Hokage and all of his many accomplishments as loud and as rowdy as they could. Inhibitions were low, emotions were high, and all Kiba wanted to do was hide in the corner like the sad pup that he was.
Shikamaru wasn't letting him do that though. Something about suffering together and beer, a half hearted sort of pep talk that managed to make Kiba feel just guilty enough to agree to stand in the center of the room along with everyone else. Songs and hugs were shared between them, reminding each other of the war and battles they had fought together, and then taking another swig of alcohol to forget what they were talking about altogether. Moving on to happier things. Better things.
Or something.
It was as the sun was rising that Kiba found himself on a bar stool with only Naruto for company. Everyone else was either preoccupied, asleep somewhere they shouldn't be, or had already gone home.
"You're my best friend, you know? Are you happy for me?" Naruto asked, sloshing his drink around the ice, frowning. "This is what everyone expected I would do."
They sat side by side, close, but too far. Always too far.
Kiba gulped. He wasn't in the right state of mind for this conversation. He didn't want to do this- he never had, not really. It was cowardly but, ultimately, it was a year later and Kiba still couldn't say the truth.
His mouth stretched into something resembling a smile. "Yeah."
"Bullshit."
Kiba jerked his head around in surprise. Their eyes locked.
Everything centered into this one, breathless moment.
What was Naruto trying to say? Those eyes-
They-
Watery, needing, wonderful-
Something primal. Something he wanted-
He thought that, maybe, he was seeing something that wasn't truly there. That his hopes were making him delusional but, then Naruto gripped the end of his sleeve, and Kiba knew. This look- this longing- it was mutual.
His fingers ghosted the inside of his wrist. Their heat felt like needle points, dangerously begging him to touch, and Kiba wanted to touch him, he always had. It was a dream he dreamed when he was lonely and craving the slick slide of skin against his own. Having Naruto there, gripping him, grinding against whatever body part was closest- that is what dreams Naruto was making him remember right now, with his hand as close as it was.
If he just shifted slightly, Kiba would be able to feel Naruto's rough calluses against him. Everything in him begged him to do it, to move; his body shivered at the thought. But he knew that if he touched him once, that would not be the end of it. He would grab him fully, thrust him against the counter, and devour whatever it was that Naruto was offering him. Then the memory would stick with him always, like a tick, while the blond went on living his married life merrily without him, leaving Kiba forever in that moment of pure bliss.
It would never be enough. He wanted more than a one night stand with this man- this man who brought happiness to people who were starved of it- but, knowing what desolate future was waiting for him if he accepted this desperate, hungry plea, deep within those too blue eyes, was not enough to stop him.
What stopped him was Hinata, his teammate, his sister. He couldn't do that to her. He couldn't fuck her fiance senseless and still be able to look her in the eyes, pretending that they didn't love the same man.
He pulled his arm away. It was the most painful thing he had ever done.
"I think you've had too much to drink, Naruto."
Those feelings drifting in Naruto's eyes darkened, whether from understanding or anger, Kiba didn't know nor did he have the strength to keep looking at him. He wanted to kiss him so badly and yet here he was, rejecting his lustful curiosity. It might be his only chance at this but…
At the time, it didn't feel cowardly to push Naruto away.
The hand that had been so close… it dropped from the countertop and fell limp at Naruto's side.
"Bullshit," Naruto whispered harshly, before he downed the rest of his drink with one forced gulp and stormed out of the pub in a whirl of madness and confusion.
Naruto became the Hokage.
That moment in the smoky bar went unspoken. Days turned into months and then another year had passed and Kiba was at his home, an apartment next to the forest that he adored so much. It was just him and Akamaru here, always. Forever.
His keys clattered into the dish beside the front door, finally home after a long mission away. One step, then another, and then none.
He wanted to cry and scream and destroy and- fuck. He wanted to be loved. He wanted Naruto to love him. He wanted to claw and tear and feel something besides this growing devotion to a man with a ring on his finger.
His sharp nails dug into his scalp as he bent over, burying his head into his knees, quivering as a sob broke apart his willpower. There was nothing left. Just tiny pieces of him shredded into wisps of nothing. This- all of this- all of the pain wasn't worth it. He knew it. It hurt. He hated himself for it, yet…
"Fuck," he said to the tiled floor, bringing his body closer to its coldness. His shoulder hit the ground awkwardly; his elbow jabbed into his side. The smell of salt filled the air as tears fell- falling endlessly, a well of pent up emotions. A potent aroma against the night's pine needle air. Alone, he wasn't embarrassed about crying, but his arm covered his face regardless to shield himself from the shadows of the moon as they flickered across his bedroom, darkness swaying with laughter, taunting him into misery.
Alone. Yeah, that's what he was.
Maybe one day he wouldn't be. Maybe, by some miracle, his eyes wouldn't search out that too wide grin and deep sea eyes in places Naruto's infectious cheer would never reach, in lands too far for him to be, on missions Kiba had no business thinking of blond hair and tan skin and lips just a little too pouty. And, maybe, his feet wouldn't walk beside Naruto's afterimage as he dashed ahead and accomplished impossible dreams- Kiba's dreams.
His one secret goal, to become the Hokage. Respected. Then, maybe too, his other dream- of hands touching the teasing mysteries beneath orange clothes- maybe that would disappear, or be forgotten, or at least not be a constant craving that he attempted to sate with whiskey and women.
Maybe.
He curled into himself and felt a little like dying.
This is the end.