On this strangely nostalgic night, a man leapt over a wall and landed on a grave. He glared at the marker on the ground with unreasonable hatred and sunk to his knees. Blood dripped down from the tip of his nose onto the marker, filling the carved lines of names long forgotten with the crimson tide. He watched silently and licked the corner of his mouth, still wet and warm with more blood, not his own. He traced the red names, felt them with the tips of his fingers, and read them more by memory than by sight. Who these people were, he did not know. What they represented, he knew as everything. Obviously a couple. Young, died within their first two decades of life. So short a life it almost should not count, yet the pair had found some type of meaning; they were married. They were also sacrifices. Their deaths were assumed by him unnecessary sacrifices. They could not have contributed much in their short lives, what could they have possibly contributed in death? He rose from the hated grave and turned to the monument. Names and names and names and names; connected to him, familiar to him, elusive to him, and more unnecessary. More sacrifices for even more meaningless happenings? His stomach recoiled at the names he saw; at all of the names he saw. His mother's name. His father's name. His name. And more.
"Why do you indulge in self-pity?"
He smiled and turned to the voice and the angered eyes he had expected. "I do not pity myself; I merely have a unique way of self-loathing."
"Seems more like you are wallowing in yourself … as always."
"Forgive me!" he laughed, bowing low and dramatically. "Forgive me, Great Hokage."
The other man closed his eyes and smiled, albeit a bit grudgingly. "You are an idiot."
"And you grew out of that category, did you?" the man chuckled, his voice dark. He turned away before he could receive an answer and glared back down at his favorite grave. Thunder rattled above him and a flash of lightning was witnessed over the trees he had just recently vacated. His laughter echoed in the cemetery; his laugh was humorless and strained. "Yet another reason I hate coming here."
"What?"
"It always rains when I'm here."
"That's because you only come during the spring." When the man did not respond, the other stepped closer. "Whose blood is that?"
"Just a roadblock," he replied drily as he knelt back down to the grave and traced the solemn names. "You know I hate when people get in my way, Naruto-sama."
The other frowned at the honorific the man had just recently adopted; it was mocking, belittling … it destroyed him. "Did he try to fight you? Is that why you killed him?"
"I said it was just a roadblock," the man replied coldly, the red tips of his bloodied fingers tapping against the wet drops that had begun to splatter onto the dark, grey marble. "No worry, Grand Hokage-sama, the blood spilt is not of Fire Country ancestry. Your people are safe from the danger of the fabled Uchiha Survivor."
"So dramatic," the blond replied, rubbing the back of his neck more out of habit rather than to knock out the knots he felt there. "I remember there was a time when you didn't like to talk."
"And still you like to talk too much," the man said, standing up straight before the ground turned to mud.
The blond looked up and caught the light downpour on his marked cheeks. "Do you want to come to my place?"
"Is that why you followed me out here for? To get me in bed?"
"I said my place, not my bed, but you can have the floor if you like," the blond snarled through his sharp, tightly clinched teeth. "I followed you because of a bloody fingerprint you left on my window pane."
The man smirked and stared down at his hands. "I guess I could wash up."
*
The warm water was tinged a rosy red as tan hands ran a soapy rag up and down a pale chest.
"Move so I can get your back."
The man reluctantly lifted himself from his established position against the blond's chest and draped himself across the edge of the large, white bathtub.
"I'm clean," he protested weakly as the rag was swirled between his shoulder blades.
"No, you're not."
The brunet did not reply, but closed his eyes in contentment. After a moment, he whispered, "I suppose I like being dirty."
"I hate when you're dirty," the blond replied just as quietly as his hand abandoned the rag and traced up and down the other's spine. The brunet turned to look over his shoulder with dark and hooded eyes and he watched as the blond's mouth slowly descended to his warmly damp shoulder. "Why are you so soft?"
"I'm not soft, Hokage-sama."
"You are … your skin …" A hand lifted from the rosy water, causing it to slosh around their nearly entwined bodies as wet digits threaded into thick, damp black locks. "Your hair …"
"I'm soft nowhere but the places you named," the brunet murmured as he leaned back into the fingers brushing along his scalp. "Don't delude yourself into thinking otherwise."
"Why do you always come back?" Soft brushes against his scalp became harsh yanks to his hair as he was pulled back until the top of his head was pressed against a hard, golden pectoral and his gaze was met with angry sapphire eyes.
"I want to fuck," he answered, delighting in the pain those eyes revealed as the anger eased away. He was pushed away harshly, the rosy water, looking more like rust than anything else now, was pushed over the side of the white basin as the blond climbed out. The brunet watched as he leaned back into the cooling water as the other harshly toweled himself off then walked, naked, out of the room. When he finally stomached himself enough to, he climbed from the tub, picked up the towel the other had abandoned and walked to the bedroom.
It was dark, completely dark, but the figure draped across the bed was easy for him to see. He dropped the towel and silently padded across the room. He climbed onto the bed and crawled, still dripping with the rosy water to the figure that watched him through the darkness with tired eyes.
Their lips met slowly. As if they had never met before.
Chaste kisses consumed them as legs were pushed apart and hands traced and grunts broke the silence.
"Why are you here?" the blond asked again as he was pressed back into his pillows. The brunet climbed onto his lap and stared down at him, his black eyes searing through the darkness. "Why? Don't lie to me."
The brunet lowered his pale form until he could bite and pull the other's lip into his mouth.
A silence filled with moans and pants and cries soon followed.
*
Sasuke stood in the rain at the graves and cried.
He felt the man behind him, the man who was always chasing him. The man that would always chase him, but he did not turn around.
He lifted his head towards the rising sun, just peaking over the trees with its soft rays of orange and pink. So bright and clear despite the rain, despite the graves, despite the blood still wet and running through the grooves of names long forgotten.
Naruto stepped up and stood beside him, silently watching the sight he watched and without a word took his hand. Sasuke gripped the hand before slipping his away and turning to the blond and waiting.
"Why?" Naruto asked softly, raising a hand to brush the other's cheek, but allowing his arm to drop listlessly to his side instead.
"The graves," Sasuke sighed softly. "I always come back to lead you to the graves."
"Why?"
"Bury me here."
"What?"
"Bury me here and forget about me."
"Sasuke, why?"
The brunet turned to his friend and smiled softly, the rain stopping as a new tear fell down his cheek. The sun continued to rise, birds were beginning their morning songs, but Sasuke cried.
"I'm no longer linked to this place, Naruto. I am already dead to everyone but you," he explained softly as he pointed to the large stone that carried the names of his fallen clan. "No one but you wants me here and I can't let you chase me anymore."
"So … You're being noble?" Naruto sighed softly, wiping a hand down his face. "Telling me to stop needing you so that I can uphold my duties to this village?"
"Yes." When Naruto stayed silent, Sasuke swallowed the lump in his throat and leapt to the wall that surrounded the village. It had been hard to finally tell Naruto the words he had been trying to say for years, but the pressure on his chest had yet to cease. He was prepared to jump over the wall when the cry of his name through the morning haze caused him to turn back.
The Hokage stood in the center of the cemetery, his hair golden and glistening from the droplets of morning rain that caught on the thick strands, his eyes bright and glowing as the sky would in another hour or so, his legs spread apart and his fists pressed into his hips, his long coat waving behind him in the slight breeze. He smiled at Sasuke, smiled wide and genuine though tears streamed down his face.
He smiled at Sasuke and he said, "I'll be buried in those graves long before I allow that to happen."
And Sasuke smiled into the sun as he left the graves.
-End-
*
Author's Note: I was bored and procrastinating and this is what came up! Yay, procrastination!!! -DMH