TW: Self harm, Attempted Suicide
He often had to pause and wonder, looking at his violet-eyed team-mate, whether her all-seeing vision allowed her to truly see. Shino's eyes, hidden by black-tinted glass except on the rarest of occasions, never seemed to look beyond what was in front of him, but Kiba wondered if Hinata had ever noticed.
Ever seen.
He allowed a soft sigh to escape, the back of his throbbing head tipped to lean against the ice-cold tiles of the bathroom wall. It was easy, in this moment, to close his own eyes and block out the noise of his dog scratching and whining at the door. It was easy to forget about the daily pressure to be a good shinobi, to become stronger- to forget that his teammates had gone off without him again. That the powerful Byakugan couldn't see through his faint smiles and weak excuses not to join them.
There was only himself, and the running water falling from the showerhead to scatter noisily on the also-tiled floor, and the sharp edge of his kunai that pressed against the skin of his forearm, pressing in but not breaking skin.
Kiba had contemplated for a long while. Months, even. What he really needed was a definite factor that swayed him to either side of the split decision between life and death.
Depression was not easy when there was not, in comparison to others, a lot to be depressed about. Kiba came from a relatively good home- and apart from his father leaving and his mother's harsh but fair method of raising him- his life had not been considerably strenuous. There was no triggering event that had started his descent. No, he'd woken up in the bottom of a well, smooth stone walls making his hands slip as he scrambled for purchase to climb back up.
The words pain is relative flooded his mind, a reminder of a time when Shizune, of all people, had looked a little too closely at the dubbed "Battle scars", but she hadn't been looking at Kiba when she said them boldly. They had bounced around the room in the confusion they left in their wake, no-one understanding her meaning exactly.
It would be better if there was pain, he noted to himself as he sat with his kunai quietly, rather than this numb feeling.
A quick moment of indecision, followed by a faster strike of movement- the blade slashed into his skin, carving a jagged line across his arm, and he grinned with a slight wince at the pain. This was nothing compared to stabbing himself, to save Akamaru from Sakon and Ukon. Nothing- this was release.
Breathing deeply, he refused to glance back down to watch the blood well, instead turning to stare at the bright light above him, the intensity practically burning his retinas. His kunai had clattered to the floor and he was made aware once more of Akamaru's whines against the bathroom door, but he wasn't ready to emerge yet. He wanted the silence.
Finally looking back down at the crooked cut he'd created, he regarded it with some interest, watching the wine-coloured liquid poured. It was already going to clot, Kiba noted dully- the cut was deep but paper-thin. He'd just sharpened his weapons, so no surprises there.
He had to get up. A voice urged him from inside of his head to get up, move, clear the splattered blood off the tiles before Shino came home. It was so easy to get away with this.
They spend little time with me as it is. They don't even spare a glance for the red lines on my face, why care for those on my arms and legs?
He had to move, though, that voice continued to urge him. To get up, to go and answer the fucking doo-
That's not in my head.
He has as much time to register the thought as he did to prepare himself for its consequences as the bathroom door fell backwards with a crash, peeling off of its hinges like skin off a banana. And behind it, well, that was not something Kiba wanted to face with his arm dripping blood all over the floor and the evidence so clearly laid out for those impenetrable, icy black eyes.
Insides melting and fear crawling like ivy up his spine, he met the stare challengingly, as if to ask why Sasuke dare interrupt his privacy.
His next thought was 'ow'. as he found himself several feet in the air, pinned by the throat to the wall behind him by one strong arm, the other end attached to a furious, yelling, explosion of startled Uchiha.
Staring back innocently, blood rushing past his ears too loudly for him to interpret what the fuck the Sharingan-user was screaming at him, he shook his head, only really reacting when Sasuke reached to grab at the open wound at his arm. Bringing the arm up, the raven-haired teen shoved the cut in Kiba's face, still yelling like a television on mute for Kiba, as if to show him what he'd done.
The Inuzuka howled in pain as the hands clenched over the self-inflicted slash, but his heart raced- what if he had found someone else that would give him what he needed? The thought was cut short, however, as his head collided against the wall, and, like a switch being flipped, he could hear again.
"-NO RIGHT TO EVEN FUCKING THINK ABOUT DOING THAT SHIT TO YOURSELF YOU FUCKING COWARD, YOU DON'T EVEN-"
"Okay! Okay!" He interrupted, finding his voice weakly as he struggled against the tight hand gripping at his neck. He liked breathing- if he was going to die, asphyxiation wasn't how he wanted to do it. Akamaru had entered the fray at some point, and was trying to tug Sasuke away, but he stayed put, pinning Kiba effectively to the wall.
"What the fuck made you think you had the right t-" The Uchiha spat, and Kiba was turning an interesting shade at this point. Motioning as best he could for the other to release him, he watched a light switch on in the other's face as he came back to coherent, rational thinking.
Sasuke let go, and Kiba gasped in air, sliding back down to the tiles against the wall. Akamaru slipped across, placing his head in the Inuzuka's lap with a soft keen.
Standing, looking at a complete loss, Sasuke seemed to reach a decision about what to do. Kiba watched without real interest as the Uchiha rifled through his cupboards, pulling out antiseptic cream and bandages, and flinched involuntarily. Not at the thought of the touch- although a gentle touch of any kind from Sasuke was strange in itself- but at the thought of being cared for after one of his… episodes, for lack of a better word.
Seeming to have calmed down a little, the black-haired teen grabbed at Kiba's wrist, a little more carefully this time, and turned it over, exposing the lighter, creamy flesh to his eyes.
"Fuck," the other cursed, and Kiba looked up at the cuss. "You do this often? You fucking asshole," but it was with more refined, gentle hands that Sasuke applied the cream and wrapped his arm up.
The process seemed to move quickly, Kiba zoning out to focus on the feeling of warmth spreading through the areas that the other shinobi touched. He jumped a short while later to find that he wasn't wearing anything- in the numbness that had conquered his brain and spread through his body, he hadn't noticed Sasuke undressing him. He didn't have the words to protest, physically and definitely emotionally drained, as Sasuke lifted him carefully from the bathroom to carry him to the queen-sized bed occupying his room.
As he was placed down and went to lean back, however, Sasuke gripped his hair, pulling him forwards.
"I don't know what kind of fucked up shit you've got goin' on that makes you do that, but whatever it is, you better get over it, because if I come over to ever see you like that again I'll kill you myself," the Uchiha snarled, hands fisting in Kiba's blood-stained shirt collar. The hands let him go, easing him backwards.
It was a promise as much as a threat, and Kiba nodded dimly. It wasn't something he could "get over", there was nothing for him to get over. No festered hatred or particular anguish, just a deep-set loneliness that every so often presented itself and needed to be dealt with. But Sasuke was doing much more than threatening. He was promising to be there, a buffer between Kiba's brain and his kunai, even if he didn't say it in words. The raven-haired teen would rather comfort him than have him bleed out to feel less nothing. The worry that tried to hide away from the forefront of the Uchiha's eyes wasn't doing a very good job, and Kiba could feel the gentle reassurance that he wasn't alone in the soft fingers that began to card through his hair.
Akamaru became a dead weight beside him, falling asleep, and Kiba was tempted to do the same, but those eyes pinned him, kept him awake.
Sasuke knows.
Sasuke had been there at some point. Where the inexplicable need overwhelmed him, to show his pain on his sleeve rather than let it grow within himself. And Kiba knew- these simple actions showed him that Sasuke didn't want that for him.
Sasuke wanted to be there for him. He hadn't said so, himself, but his gentle actions and harsh words and that slight ounce of fear in those onyx eyes penetrated Kiba's mind like an arrow- screaming in big neon letters, I do care.
His heart swelled- tears stung behind his eyelids more intensely than the throb in his wrapped-up arm. He wasn't better. He wasn't going to stop doing what he needed, if the urge came. Unless Sasuke was there.
But Sasuke cared, and with his heart in his mouth and soft fingers in his hair, reassuring him that it could always be worse and that he could pull through, and that Sasuke was there to help him, Kiba managed to drift off into an uneasy sleep.
Guess the Sharingan sees more than the Byakugan.
/Okay, so I've had nine hours sleep out of sixty-three, and I was feeling angsty. I will go back and edit this when I feel more awake, I just wanted to get something up here for now. Thanks for reading~