Dare You to Move – 8/26/08
I should move, shouldn't I? I should move away from death's embrace, instead of gazing over his shoulder. But he's left something behind. I can see it clearly, but he doesn't seem to notice, or if he does, he doesn't care. I can't fathom why he wouldn't care. The someone left behind – I can tell clearly now it's someone – it stares down with a look akin to amusement or smugness. It smirks, and its lips move, but I hear no sound. And then, suddenly as it got there it's gone. He's whispering words into my ear, words that vaguely make sense.
I'm supposed to move, aren't I? I'm supposed to move, to beat him senseless, to wake him up, to drag him back home, whether he be unconscious or kicking and screaming or trying not to wince in pain from broken limbs inflicted upon him. I'm supposed to do all those things, and to do that I have to move. I'm supposed to move away from the weapon he points at my back, away from the pain that's sure to come.
But I can't move. His hand on my shoulder exudes no force, and I could get away quite easily if I wanted to. But I can't move. His pale hand doesn't have to exude force, doesn't have to hold me in place, and he knows this. That's why his hand is so light on my shoulder, like a leaf or a feather that has decided to rest there. And maybe it's because his touch is so light that I can't move. Because if I don't move I can imagine this touch is intimate, is tender.
I don't want to move. If I move, I won't be able to imagine this touch is intimate, is tender. And maybe, somewhere, I don't want to live. It's taken a while, but the boy Sasuke left behind, I realize who it was, and what he was saying. "It's too late, Naruto."
I should move.
I'm supposed to move.
But I can't move.
I don't want to move.
And then Sasuke brings down his blade.