A/N: Inspired from lack of sleep at night, and the need to write something at twelve in the morning/night
Disclaimer: I do not own anything from Masashi Kishimoto.
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S A S U K E ' S L I S T
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He lay awake at night, peacefully, quietly. He listened to the sound of nothing, just his shallow breathing and his teams', and the occasional shifting of his legs to a colder spot hidden beneath the covers, which he soon found useless. The humidity was curling in from the outside through the screen cracks, and it was feeble to try and shut them tightly; he knew. He tried several times.
Eventually Sasuke just kicked his burning legs out from under the futon cover and outstretched them on top. He attempted to sleep, but Suigetsu began to nip at the air, which kept his brain rattling.
Sasuke's thoughts erred everywhere, touching on everything he needed to do, things he has done, and that damn chattering of Suigetsu's razorblade teeth.
Sasuke pulled himself up, wobbling to the screens as the blood rushed to his head. He pulled them open quietly, and closed them just as well.
He sat himself down on the small, creaky deck, crossing his legs beneath him and cupping his chin in his palm while his elbow poked into his knee. This was a typical night for Sasuke, a night without a thought or hint of sleep. It would have been called insomnia, but to Sasuke it was a time he had to sort out his thoughts peacefully without the disturbance of his team. Even though he would much rather sleep, he couldn't deny that he enjoyed the night, especially nights without the moon.
The moon was an obstruction in the sky that stole the light from the stars and imitated the sun, just far more pale. Sasuke never understood why people gawked at the moon, saying how beautiful and bright it was, when the stars were far more beautiful beyond compare.
Sasuke was not a sentimental person, but he found something among them that calmed him, and he would always find his face in there too, which was a bit unconventional.
Uzumaki Naruto was almost always on his drowsy mind, with his sunshine hair and sparkling sapphire eyes imprinted on his conscience. And no matter how hard, how much Sasuke denied it, tried to reverse his thoughts so that he could convince himself not to, he always forced the stars into the shape of that stupid kid's face.
Sasuke would pick out the two brightest stars for his strange, rare eyes that could make anyone smile, and anyone meaning the stone-cold, stoic and doleful Uchiha from time to time. Well, the slightest. Then his eyes would trace out the rest of the picture like connect-the-dots, and it always ended up with Naruto smiling like the idiot he always has been. Maybe it was because he wouldn't be caught dead without a smile when he wasn't in a serious situation, or maybe because it was how Sasuke liked him best.
And he would always scowl when his thoughts trickled to that. He would feel his stomach sink, and his heart suddenly race and pound against his chest in frenzy, and the next morning Sasuke would find half-moons and dried blood in the creases of his palm.
Sasuke struggled to control his breathing and his voice. The screens were simply waxed paper and polished wood; he couldn't risk anybody coming outside to join him, not with his face rosy like it was. He couldn't lose his dignity like that. He was an Uchiha after all, an Uchiha who was denied the right to desire or dream, only to complete his forever ambition.
Sasuke had a secret list. A very, very long, secret list. And on that list were many things Sasuke wanted to possess. And close to none of them were objects. Most of them were emotions, things he wished – yearned – to feel, things he hasn't for longer than he could remember. Maybe he never felt some of them. But he wanted to. He would have done anything to feel something other than this… incompleteness and emptiness beside unyielding hate and ire.
Hate was making him bored.
He was tired of feeling the same damn thing all the time, even if it was pushed to the furthest depths of his mind, he could still feel it. The burning ache itched at him like a horrible malady without a cure, engorging him into this state that scraped him out until he felt only hate. This then in turn made him into the unfriendly Sasuke that everyone knew, because hate was eating at him from the inside out. He was weary from it. He was empty from it.
And then sunshine-boy came his way, and Sasuke felt alight.
He was attracted to him like a fly to a lamp - because he made him feel things he never knew possible - just like everyone else, even though no one admitted it (Dignity). Naruto was one of those people who were rare to find, and once you had it, it was so terribly hard to let it go.
Sasuke knew that more than anything else in the world.
It was the Uchiha ambition – or traditional honor – that made him cut any ties he had. Made him. He had no other choice, no possible detour around it. But, that very thin, weak thread that connected them still lingered, wavered in the wind. Stripped of any honor it once beheld, but Sasuke let it stay. And he knew Naruto wanted to make it stronger, and Sasuke secretly allowed that.
And Sasuke also did not deny that he, at least, would like to be his friend again. He wanted that list to resurface again, and he wanted to have at least one scratched out. Just one. Would two be asking too much? Possibly, but Sasuke didn't care. By the time his time drew near to a close, that whole damn list would be scribbled out everywhere imaginable. Sasuke knew that much, because, damn it all, he was living and he had a life, and he should be grateful enough to pay it some respect and just live for a change.
He didn't know how he would accomplish that with all the skeletons in his closet, but building up that thin thread connecting Naruto and Sasuke may work.
But did he even deserve forgiveness after all the pain he has caused him?
And then every thought of being with Naruto again fell away, slipping through his emaciated fingers.
Even though Sasuke knew that by Naruto's nature, he would forgive him without a second thought, and that is what annoyed him.
Shouldn't Naruto hate him for ruining and shredding and destroying his life? Shouldn't he feel at least the slightest amount of despair or grief or wrath? Was Naruto even capable of such strong, hateful feelings?
Of course not.
What are you thinking, Sasuke? Are you that stupid?
Yes.
Sasuke did not deserve any ounce of forgiveness from anybody and he knew that full well. But Naruto wasn't going to allow that. He would keep pestering everyone to forgive his sorry ass, and even though Sasuke wanted that more than anything, he could not let it be. He couldn't just simply arrive and have everyone praising him again. No. It wasn't right. He was hated, his role switched around. He soiled the Uchiha name, cast it into oblivion. He wasn't welcome there anymore.
And to cause Naruto that much pain was beyond the slightest hints of forgiveness. Causing a person like him hurt, a person with so much life and who was so gentle and soft, was… Sasuke didn't even want to think about it. It wasn't like Sasuke to just aggrieve people like that, he was not like Itachi who was so dolorific he hurt people without a care, as long as it fulfilled his ambition.
Sasuke could never be forgiven, and that was that.
He sat wordlessly on the deck, the moist air showering over him as he listened to the music of the night. Sasuke weaved his hand through his obsidian hair, exhaling heavily through his nose. He opened his eyes, letting his empty gaze skip across the constellations, searching for Uzumaki again; he couldn't help himself.
Sasuke's body was numb. His face was pale as usual, his arms and legs suddenly free from the heat that coiled around him like fetters as he searched among the stars for the boy he was missing in his life.
The boy he threw away like garbage without a second glance back. The boy who refused to give up on him, the boy he loved but hated all the same (Hate). The boy he couldn't get out his head for the life of him. But he guessed he was complacent with it, he supposed. Naruto belonged there, forever in his mind, whether it be in the back or in the front, he belonged there. Next to that notorious and worthless hate.
Well, he was possibly complacent with it, because dobe kept on talking to him as well. Not just smiling, or old past conversations, almost like half of Naruto was nailed to his conscience, even though Sasuke wished for the whole. Half of two people make a whole, but a whole wasn't enough for Sasuke; he wanted the other complete person who made him like he was finally alive after all these years.
The person who made him feel like he had a purpose, other than to fulfill the forever-nagging needs of the Uchiha ambition controlling his life.
Sasuke slapped a hand to his forehead, trying to hide his smirk from himself by biting his lip. Alone, Sasuke let out a breathy laugh, even though it felt empty in his hollow chest, but he still laughed nonetheless. His mother once told him his laugh was like chimes; bright, calming, alluring. 'A cute laugh'. He didn't know what that meant, but he supposed it to be a good thing. He was blessed with a natural, childish, cute laugh, but now it was nothing like its past life – an empty shell of what it once was, screaming for a second life - just like him.
But Sasuke couldn't control himself from listening to the odd, nostalgic snippets Naruto gave him.
'Come on, Sasuke! Eat up! You never eat anything…'
'You just wait, teme, I'll kick your ass!'
'Well… Kakashi-sensei is a pervert.'
'Shut up, teme!'
'Teme.'
Teme.
He smirked wryly. "Dobe…." And Sasuke scratched off a thing on his list, despite the multiples of it. He wanted to feel it more than once, alike many of the items on his list.
Happiness.
