Disclaimer: I don't own Naruto/Naruto Shippuuden

My lips move, forming silent words. I wring my hands together, and clench my hands into fists, dull nails tearing at the skins of my palms, blood breaking through. And I sit there, and pray, with everything I have, that you'll remember me. That you will cherish what we had, that I mean more than just a wasted hour to you. I hope that you won't think of this as a onetime shag, I don't, and it kills me to think my sentiments aren't reciprocated. I just wish that you'll remember what I felt for you, and how you promised me it wouldn't come between us.

You will, won't you?

It hurts me to think about it, but every time I see your smile in my head, I feel my cheeks stretching, and my teeth being exposed, and I realise that thinking about you makes me smile. Any memory, good, bad, disgusting, pleasant, stirs something inside of me. A feeling grows that I simply cannot quell, and it hurts me to realise this.

But I always thought you were straight. The most logical explanation would be you using my feelings for you against me. Plain and simple.

I was vulnerable. I was in pain. I was in awe. I was in shock.

I was so far in, that nothing could drag my beaten and bloody body out.

We hated each other, with a passion.

We fought each other, hurt each other, and destroyed each other.

Amidst all the airborne fists, disturbing insults, sharp sneers and blind condescension, I learned to respect you.

I learned to respect you.

All of the power you commanded, without realising you did. You simply stood and stared, and people were in awe of you. You were dominant in your milieu, but you weren't prideful, or a gluttonous pig. You acted like a human being. One capable of emotion.

I learned to fear you.

Seeing how you could crush anyone, and laugh while doing so, I imagined you as a madman. You hold an air of power around you, and people fear you. Your closest friends respect who you are, and what you have been through. They understand, too, the hard life of the streets.

Maybe that why all of you get along so well. You've survived some of the harshest torture, withstood some of the most tormenting pain, and come through everything stronger than before. It still scares me, the unknown, and I've yet to be brave enough to walk out my door unguarded, but I'm sure I'll progress.

I learned to hate you.

I saw you get knocked down in the street. A dim alleyway. You had a black hood covering your face, baggy jeans, and those stupid trainers on. Typical wannabe white trash.

And you were slumped on the floor, falling back against the weight of defeat, as again and again, fists connected loudly with your face. The sound of skin slapping on skin echoed reverberated against the walls, and I simply stood there, hands in my jeans, thumbs sticking out, and rain dripping down my face. It was a typical mobbing in the night, nothing off about it.

You lay there, getting kicked in the chest, but never making a sound.

Your four attackers grab you by the front of your jumper, and haul you into a kneeling position. As you shift upwards, your hood slips off of your face, exposing it.

Deep cuts and bruises litter your face, not showing anything resembling the normal colour of human flesh.

Even through all this, even though you had barely been able to keep yourself conscious, you were still beautiful, Naruto. And I'm sorry I didn't help you, I'm sorry I never will. But who would ever want the last Uchiha to appear to have any emotion, at all?

I learned to love you.

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