Late, a naruto fanfic

We're finally here.

Just the two of us, just lying here side by side, a tiny dot of peace in the burning, splintered graveyard of trees around us. It's silent. All I can hear is the crackle of your greedy fire consuming more wood, and my own hoarse wheezing.

I whisper – "now that was a fight" – and mean every word.

You don't answer me (not that I really expected a reply, even though it would have been nice). Despite the fox's chakra burning through my veins, I'm exhausted, muscles, bones, mind, soul. I can barely tip my head to look at you, glancing out the corner of my eye. You're so close, so close I could almost reach out and touch you- reach out and trace the bright slice of blood trailing down your pale skin. But I'm too tired to move that far, Sasuke. Gods, I'm too tired.

And you really do seem so close to me, but I know that's a lie. I'm not the ignorant, naïve, idealistic idiot anymore. I know that the closeness is just an illusion, that you've always been (and always will be) so far away.

Your eyes are half-closed, unfocused, studying some delicate and tiny detail that I can't see. But I try anyway, mimicking your expression, letting my eyelids give into the exhaustion with some relief.

Heh. Look at us, Sasuke. Look at how much we're almost alike.

Have you ever noticed? Ever thought about it? Probably not. I've never been important enough to catch your attention for more than few seconds, after all. But still – look at me, please. Acknowledge that I'm alive, that I'm here next to you, that we've always stood side by side.

You don't look up at me. Won't. Our eyes both half-hidden from the all-knowing sunlight – blue and black, bright sky and night, bruises and pain, sadness and death. See? Almost the same. So close, Sasuke, I swear we are.

But hey – I didn't come here to mumble poetry to you, right? I won't waste your time; I can't let another opportunity slip out of my hands, into one of Neji's relentless rivers of destiny.

I came here to tell you everything, Sasuke, even if you didn't want to listen. Because I've thought it over – and over – since you left. Yeah, I actually did think about something, amazing, I know. Asshole.

I thought about you. And me. And Itachi and the Uchiha clan and Sound and Sakura and the seal and Konoha and the hospital and power and training and teamwork and the Valley of the End. And you.

Damnit, Sasuke. You're so selfish.

We all tried to forget you, I guess – shove you into the back of our minds. We tried to turn and face the new day with a bright smile. But whenever I turned my back on your memory, there your shadow was, lurking ahead of me with a smirk, tainting every action and thought.

I guess that's sort of a compliment, letting you know that we always remembered you. Go ahead and take it with your usual, apathetic scowl. And fine, tell me to get on with it, yeah, I know. Sorry, Sasuke, but its just a little bit awkward spilling my guts out to an ex-teammate after this long. I'll try, though. That's all I know how to do.

So I thought about you, Uchiha Sasuke. Day, night, training, mission – you followed me everywhere. Into dreams. Nightmares. There were mornings I'd wake up shaking and sweating; the taste of your flesh lingered in my mouth and the thick blanket of your blood covered my hands.

Sometimes I imagined ripping your throat out with my own teeth.

Sometimes I didn't. And those dreams were the most confusing, because I could never decide if they were about pleasure or pain. With you, maybe, it's always both.

After all, after those years 'training' under Orochimaru…no. Never mind. I didn't mean that. We've already screamed our best insults into each other's faces before the battle, so I've run out of anything good. Anything truthful.

Got away from the point again. You know how short my attention span is. (Yes…still.)

Anyway, all that obsession made me realize one thing: I missed you. Sasuke, I missed you like hell. It hurt to remember you and everything you'd done, but it hurt more to ignore your absence. Go ahead and smirk at me, chuckle out that slick arrogance and amusement at how emotional I am.

A ninja should never feel emotions.

I know. But you've always been so much better than me at that and, for once, I don't feel like competing with you. And this is what I came here to tell you. All of this. That I miss you, that I hate you, that I will take you back this time because I'm stronger than before. I'm stronger and better and this time I'll prove the worth of teamwork and Konoha and everything sacred.

From looking around, right now, I think I was right. I finally beat you, teme, even if that means I have to lose as well.

Wait – I'm not done yet, though. Wait. I'm almost finished. Just a few more things – and yeah, I still talk too much. And you still don't answer to any of my rants.

We're both so damn alike, Sasuke. Heh, it's amazing.

We're both stubborn fools, for one thing. We believe in ourselves so much that even if we know a tactic is failing miserably, we can't let ourselves stop. We won't give up. Because its our tactic, and even if we have to use it a thousand times in a row, we will make it work.

You know what I'm talking about. I've stayed annoying and bright and loud all this time, desperate to attract any attention, even negative; you're still cold and silent, purposefully avoiding all the same attention, even the positive. But hey – don't you have the right to be all withdrawn and anti-social? After all, you are the tragic little boy who lost his entire family in one night.

Me? I'm just a pathetic imitation – how can I feel any sorrow when I had no family to begin with, right?

And you have a brother to kill. Not to say I'm not busy; I have my own brother-teammate-friend-traitor to hunt down and beat the shit out of. I'm sure yours is more important, though.

But we're almost the same, right, Sasuke?

All those years ago, I grinned and declared 'rivals' on the roof of a hospital, while you scowled and announced 'friends' before trying to murder me. When I screamed teamwork and slammed my fist in your face, you snarled back child's play, answering with a blow of your own. I say – stop. Please. You can still come back and make our perfectly imperfect world whole again.

You repeat – its too late. You're too late, Naruto.

I'm too late to save you, to tell you everything, to explain and plead and apologize.

I thought I could fix it this time. And here's the whole speech, everything I wanted to confess, but it looks like I was late again. Same mistake. Sometimes I wonder if I can do anything right, especially here, lying next to you, Sasuke.

Sasuke.

Damn it, Sasuke, I'm sorry. That's what I really wanted to say all along, then and now. I'm sorry I fell in love with you.

And…I'm so sorry…that I couldn't make you fall in love with me.

No reply. Again.

You're perfect at this, like usual. You're perfect at dying, while I still can't even start to figure out how I'm supposed to live.

But…we're almost the same, right?

That doesn't change anything, right?

Right? Sasuke?

…why won't you answer me?

For Pakkun and his owner, it was a twisted scene of déjà vu. Even with the combined tracking efforts of the nin-dog, the Inuzuka, and the Aburame, the squad arrived too late. Once they neared the battlefield – a nameless, irony-less forest in the middle of nowhere – it took only thirty-eight seconds to locate the two warriors. Even so, when the makeshift ANBU team reached the small clearing, they were hours late. An autopsy revealed that they had been approximately three and a half hours too late to save the boy, but Kakashi knew (of all people) that late was late – be it five minutes or days.

It could have been perfect déjà vu, except that there were two bodies, rather than just the discarded, barely breathing Uzumaki. When the team arrived, no one's eyes were wide enough to take in the bloody, ruthless, complete destruction created by the two demons. And certainly, no one there could believe the sight that the pair presented, the blonde boy still curled around the Uchiha, clutching desperately, his tear-and-blood-stained face buried in the corpse's neck.