A/N; This was an idea that struck me in the middle of the night when I was trying to sleep and was staring at the window. Half of it was written around midnight, in case it's a little confusing. However, it was edited, just to let you know.

Disclaimer: I do not own Naruto. Whoop dee doo.

Sea Glass

People compared her to porcelain. He saw her as glass. Fragile. Sea glass. Edges rubbed smooth by thrashing waves and swirling waters. Transparent and so easy to see through. And so clear and clean and, so flawless and smooth and fragile that he wanted to break her just because he could, because glass was meant for breaking. She was smooth and pretty and shaped by the stormy ocean of her life, so it was strange for him to think that glass, sea glass, could have some endurance, be strong. That maybe there was a flaw.

He had sea glass, he kept a piece with him all the time. He'd examine it because it reminded him of her. And maybe he liked the sea glass. But he didn't like her. She was different from him, and he disliked it. So it surprised him that glass was on both their minds.

He had snapped at her gain, because he wanted to see if she would break. He had done it so much it had become habit.

"You're like glass, Neji-Niisan," she murmured. He froze. As stiff as glass.

"What?" She smiled softly and disappeared, a piece of sea glass swept away by the bitter waters of life.

He wasn't like her. He was strong and sharp, and he was flawed. He wasn't made of the same stuff she was. Then he stopped, retracing his thoughts. Flawed? Of course he was. Everyone was. Then when did he started thinking of her as perfect? He reflected on that in brooding silence, wondering and hating himself for caring. He snapped at her less though. Glass found it hard to break glass, although he tried to deny it.

---

Everyone compared him to stone. Cold and hard and blunt. Hinata didn't think of him as stone. She thought of him as glass. Fragile, but cold and sharp and painfully clear. Smooth and shiny, he kept the world away from himself. And no matter how she touched the glass, however her pale, smooth fingers tried to handle it; she always got cut by the sharp edge he showed to everyone.

He was fresh cut, little splinters everywhere and he was a mess. All spikes and shards and razor thin, razor sharp blades. His edges were so sloppily cut, forced under the sharp blade of steel and forcing him to suffer every moment. There was no affection to rub his edges smooth, no weakness to dull his shine. He was pure, in a twisted, broken way, even as his edges were coated in clear, red blood.

"Hinata-Sama, I am not glass," his voice was low and piercingly cold. "You are glass. Weak and transparent." As he walked away, she smiled to herself. It comforted him to know they thought the same. Because she was broken too. And they were splinters and pieces and cuts and blood. They were both fragile, though she wasn't as sharp as he was. It was lovely, really, to have something in common with Neji-Niisan. The next time she saw him, she replied,

"Thank you dear Niisan." And she smiled when he walked away, milky eyes confused and brow furrowed. And frowned when he turned around , and came back to her. And his voice tickled her ear,

"Hinata-Sama, please do me the honor of telling me how I am glass and why you care." And Hinata smiled. He would always be glass, sharp and cold and to the point.

---

He was surprised when she actually began to explain.

"Dear Neji-Niisan," –and he noticed that she didn't stutter when she spoke about glass and him and her- "You are shattered and fragile and sharp and cold. No matter how I try to hold you I am hurt. You are distant and sparkly and flawless and every cut makes you stronger," she breathed in deeply, "If we are both glass, then I care. Neji-Niisan, in a world of steel and rock and ice, glass is rare." And he was surprised, as the realization and reality hit him hard and fast. A chip of his glassy surface seemed to chip away.

"Then I will tell you how you are like glass. You are sea glass, edges rubbed smooth by the rolling waves and thrashing waters and bitter salt. You are pretty and you are weakened by your surrounding because you are surrounded by the rough rocking of the sea and not the sharp cut of the blade," he paused, locking his eyes with a pair just like his. "And I care because you are fragile. You are different from me, but we are made of the same thing. Glass. Glass cannot cut glass, Hinata-Sama." And this time, Hinata was surprised, and her smooth glassy exterior seemed to crack a little.

"Glass is rare in a house of steel," he told her.

"Can glass break steel?"

"It can try."

The doctor said they were dead, every last one of them. Except for two, off on their mission safe and sound while the rest of them died, drinking ground glass. Those two had come back now, and had been shocked that their dangerous mission had kept them from dying, But behind the doctors back, behind the back of the Hokage and all the ninjas, they smirked. Glass was stronger than it seemed.

And at night he announced that she had some sharp edges still, and she replied that he was made of sharp edges. They kept a dark secret, always hidden in the back of their minds. They shared more than blood, it seemed. For they shared tears and lies and sins. But they were glass, and it all slipped off of them and they stayed pure.

The blood was everywhere, and he was sure he wouldn't be able to scub the stains of his smooth surface forever, just as he'd never forget this moment, no matter how hard he tried.

Her pale hand reached up to his, and blood covered it. She was warm, like glass left in the sun. But he bitterly thought that she'd be cold soon, when the sun finally set.

Glass was fragile, she proved this by breaking. He was shattered too, into millions of sharp, pieces that he couldn't be bothered to pick up. She had told him once that blood was thicker than water, but glass was thicker than both. And he was starting to believe it.

A/N: Not that long. But I personally like it. Send me your feedback, won't you? That little review button is screaming. But whatever. I just hope it didn't seem like it was written at midnight. Even though that's when I write the best, it ends up being a bit confusing.