Sasuke-18

Naruto-17

Sakura-18

Itachi-23

Kyuubi (boy)

Disclaimer: Naruto no own-ed by me. Why would you ever think that... Stupid... In a nice way!!!

Warning: I write confusingly, I hope you understand what's going on... I suppose also mature themes? I don't know... Yaoi/Shounen ai, Though it's classified as M for mature, the rating is probably lower. I would just rather be safe than sorry...

Prologue

Love is like fire. It's beautiful; you want to touch it, to feel it, to have it for your own but once you do you wish you never had, yet each time you are drawn, again and again, like a moth to it's doom and perhaps one day we'll find a fire that wont hurt quite as much, but for now we wait and live with this warming pain.

Naruto Point Of View

Standing, here, with dusk pulling the fighting sun down below the horizon; with rays of sunlight stretching from behind me, grasping on every face of every object in reach, I begin to think, to understand, what went wrong, what I missed, what has to be done...

The cream colored paint of the house glows as shadows sluggishly creep toward me, trying to pull me forward into everything any normal person would want to avoid. In front of an oak door that leads to my house-- no, his house, her house-- it's no longer mine.

I shiver, the air thickly emits the feelings of freshly brewing war, whether it be from me, or from them. I wish I could forget, blissfully standing on the sidelines, watching some luminescent butterfly fluttering and oblivious... completely oblivious, a dream.

There, a half step forward in the shade cast by the porch-cover I place a limp hand onto the cool metal of the door knob. Strange, how something so small; an incident so unnoticeable can be strangely missed when absent for so long. Or so I imagine.

It's rather bittersweet, looking at the place I love-- loved-- though soon we will part, it's inevitable, and calm all feelings that have yet to come with deep uneven breathes and sad longing sighs, or is that only me? I wonder why I have to leave such a place of warmth to begin with but curse my stupidity, for I know, an have known for quite some time, the answer. And alas, a thought, I do think, with my hand on this door, with my home of warmth, with my life, or what it once was, in front of me: what is cold but a lack of warmth? How could I know what warmth (opposed to cold) is when I have lived for so long in absolute zero, for from where I came, hell as you call it, burns flames of not heat (for you were mistaken) but frost much colder than death will ever feel, and much more painful as loneliness cannot be shared, I learned. A demon of hell is what I am, and that I know is true, yet I still will miss what I know as heat, love (a human emotion is it not?)

Muscles in my hand and forearm contract as I turn the knob and I note that the door needs new paint, while I stand there resilient to enter. I step in with my worn ninja boots and open the door wider as to extend my view, which uncovers a pair of foreign shoes. I feel the tingling sensation of tears and I slant my face upward as to stop the flowing. I never noticed the ceiling was so very... white... and chipped? I wonder how long ago these buildings were painted. I mean first the exterior, then the door, now the ceiling? Did ceiling paint even chip? Perhaps my eyes deceive me... as so many others have. A shake of the head, to disrupt my sorrowful musings, will I really miss this place? Of course. But not so much to shed tears.

Those shoes... aren't so foreign these days...

Disregarding those sandals, going on only to let the darkness engulf me as I fully enter. I gently let the door squeak closed behind me. There is no sign of life. Glooming walls hang forward, towering, haunting... mocking.

Odd that this house had never seemed quite so alien as it did now.

Striding passed the staircase and making my way into the kitchen, which also is void of movement, didn't really help in this exciting expedition now though I memorize the counter of marble, the cabinets of wood, the sink, the medium-sized table accompanied by four alike chairs; farewell.

Retracing my steps I, again, pass the stairs into the living room to find all life missing. I really don't know why I bother the rooms when it was easy to ignore them from the corridor, but none the less I did. My eyes raked the room, despite the already known layout, landing on a framed picture of me... and him. Both profiles looked happy, and I could do nothing this time for the tears that most certainly will fall. How pathetic I have become, to cry!

I turned and ran from the undefinable memories of the picture, from my weakness, into the dark and dreary hall, standing directly at the bottom of the stairs I so desperately didn't want to climb. It was comforting to know that after today my life like that, smiling with him, will be over for the most part. People change after long periods of time, or have already changed in this case. Perhaps, maybe, I'm just being emotional, dramatic?... But I loved each drop of time spent with him, only I, and now to see it fluttering away-- that is a lie, it has already gone...

Tears crawled down my face leaving a quick drying trail, like two slugs leaving residue. This horrid mocking sticky feeling, how shameful, I'm now taunting myself... Covering my hands with my fleece sleeves and placing them on the source of the tears I squashed the slugs, for the lack of better words, and sat there for, god only knows how long, hiccuping ever so often, only to be left with tear stained sleeves in the end. What have I become... to cry so openly... You'd think I would have learned...

Eventually I got up letting a breath dissipate into the silence and looked at the opposing wall only to see the hanging pictures slanted in every direction. And I knew why, I've always known, but I love him no less.

Or maybe you didn't love him to begin with; there is no less of love.

Lifting my leg, I placed a foot on the lowest step while easing on my weight as to stop it from creaking because frankly quieter noises sound louder when one is trying to be quite. Then I repeated the process with the next step and the next and the next. As I reached my destination, the top of the stairs, I came to realize that we have sixteen steps on our staircase and as amazing as my epiphany was muffled noises reached my ears to pull me from my strangeness.

My steps, surprisingly, didn't falter and my head held up high, though I knew somewhere deep down that my head was actually lower than before, I strode forward to prove to every one of my doubts that there was no pain in my breast, that there was no breaking and my heart, that was thumping much to fast for this normal occurrence, was completely normal.

Pretending was my forte.

Firmly I grasped the handle, twisted the knob, knowing no one would notice, and pushed the door open to expose what I knew was there. And now here I stand, in all my glory, like a voyeur, watching their embarrassing performance. My eyes and my head turn quickly to my left, to the dresser specifically, avoiding the awkward scene. Red tints my tan cheeks, I know from the extensive blood flow, and as I stand here with my rapidly reddening countenance, I wonder why I am. He wouldn't be happy to know I was there, I don't like it when he's not happy. The pain in my chest wakes my from my trance, though I wonder why it's there in the first place (what does it mean? He's happy so I should too, right?) and in an embarrassed frenzy I scurry over to the dresser I was previously staring at. Grabbing the necessary clothes and bathroom materials I hurry to the closet to grab a back pack.

The blush that washes my face has yet to cease while I walk more calmly than before to the desk across the room. There is no need to hide my Chakra (though right now I lack any to hide) or tip-toe around like a burglar of some sort, I know this from experience. At first I would be careful, I'm not suppose to know, but soon I found that they are completely oblivious to everything during these certain... times. I suppose I'm not one to talk, though. At my arrival I snatched a pen and paper to gracefully write my short goodbye to my love. Along with that I write how long I'll be gone, a year and a half for training, without disclosing my residence in the Hidden Village of Grass, and that I'll miss him, because I will. I love him so much, so very much. Signing my name and again repeating my love for him, I hopes that it will change anything, I place the strap of my bag on my shoulder and leave the room, closing the door behind me. Walking out of the village, I can't very well jump through the trees with no Chakra, I realize that my heart has yet to cease it's pain, though I am smiling (usually smiling at least numbs the hurt,) and faintly, as I bid a silent farewell to my love, Sasuke, and my friend, the other, the one on my bed with my love, Sakura, I wonder why my heart has to hurt so very much.

Narrator POV

White washed walls reluctantly witnessed each moan, each pant, each creak of the bed, each thrusting sin. Such a shameful act to observe; if they had been bestowed eyes, said eyes would avert from such a disgraceful scene.

Their white eyes watched as the movements slowed, as the room quieted, as the "passion," lust, left both performers, leaving one to bask in guilt, and the other in false hope. Both persons lay there for a few minutes before standing, in sync, and proceeded to cloth their naked bodies; a routine fashion. The head topped with duck-butt-like hair glanced over at the clock, which he recognized to display nine o' clock, before focusing back on the pink haired girl, his partner in crime.

"You should leave, Naruto will be back soon," All was said in a monotone voice, demonstrating no emotions, no feelings, no love.

An un-lady-like snort escaped her gently shaped nose as her heart clouded over her judgment, fogging over the truth and painting a nicer picture. Because who would rather have the cold, stony, unattractive truth when a cloud-like fantasy was close enough to forge?

"We have to tell him sometime, you know, and he's so stupid he wouldn't find out even if we were still here, undressed, in the bed," she placed a hand on her hip, giving a snotty smirk "Naruto wouldn't know you loved me even if you told him straight out. He's that stupid." the pink strands of hair swinging as she flipped them with her unoccupied hand. Then strutted over to the door over swaying her hips in the process. "Call me next time you can get that idiot out of the house." she turned 180 degrees to face her love and winked while blowing a kiss after saying: "Kay, bye!" and took her leave.

"Hn." was the only answer Sasuke gave before resuming to dress himself, before stopping, deciding it would be better to shower and dress in clean clothes.

He didn't need the guilt so close to him.

Stepping into the porcelain tiled bathroom, he turned on the warm water and stripped from his recently used attire. A sigh slipped from his mouth as he lowered his naked self into the filled tub and turned the water off.

The warmth of the water encompassed his body, heating every part exposed to the soothing liquid. Small waves that splashed at the walls of the tub soon calmed settling into a expansive clear blanket surrounding every limb that disfigured the flat terrain. Dark eyes gazed past the liquid domain, not giving it a second glance, at the white tiled wall towering over him. His perfect brow creased, his worshiped eyes narrowing slightly as thoughts whirled their way through his mind like an awkward blend of colors.

Silence stretched limitlessly as time seemed to fly by, as his thoughts had done sometime long ago. Snapping out of his zombie-like daze, he turned to grab a bottle contain shampoo and squeezed, there emerged a blob of pink goo onto his open hand, which too much reminded him of another pink glob and in a desperate attempt to rid himself of the girl he turned the soap into foam in a few vicious rubs in between his hands.

He couldn't help the strange pull at his chest, his heart, when his thoughts turned to such undesirable topics. Her pink hair, her green eyes, every aspect of her, whether it was physical or a trait of personality, disgusted him to no end. So a common question that floated through his thoughts was why? Vague, yes, but true. Why had he broken his own heart? Why had he let his life take such an unsatisfactory turn? Why had he betrayed his... boyfriend (because that's all he was?) His answer was simple:

It had to be done. And again voices in his head spoke, echoing the question, why, begging for a reason, begging to know what had driven him to such insanity. Initially his answer came out as "I need to restore my clan." as it was a plausible excuse, though he knew, somewhere deep inside himself, that answer was a lie.

It was true he wanted children, though he couldn't really stand them, but that statement was nothing more than a diversion, if one were needed, his true reason being as pathetic as it is. "To run away?" Admitting that would prove truth to everything he had ever tried to deny; that one statement his brother had said, the one that haunted him since the words echoed in his ears, would be correct and that was something he couldn't handle.

Never would he let himself be weak, or admit it anyways.

Downcast dark eyes glazed over watching the water drain as he lathered his hair and rinsed the suds away with the nozzle of the shower head. For awhile he left the spray going, liking the warm feeling of the water rushing down his body only to wash down the now open drain, but soon became bored with the unproductive activity.

Leaning forward Sasuke turned the water off then spun to the towel rack snatching a towel to dry himself before producing new clothes. He stepped out of the bathroom, wrapped the towel around his waist after drying himself, looked toward the door, and found something amiss. Creeping down the stairs his noticed there was no noise coming from the kitchen, nor light, nor Uzumaki Naruto making any sort of food. Looking at the oven clock he turned away feeling a deep sense of anxiety in the pit of him stomach.

The same anxiety a child would feel sneaking a cookie. Because isn't that basically what he was doing, sneaking?

"Nine fifty three," he breathed out. "Nine fifty three, it's only Nine fifty three. He should be home by at least ten o' clock, no need to worry," and a sudden suck in of breath. 'Worried? Why would I be worried? He doesn't even suspect...' Shaking his head, he set all thoughts of a blond to the side and made his way up the, now known, sixteen stairs. Gracefully walking through the bedroom doorway he progressed to the closet to attain an outfit. He reached for the handle and slid the door to the right.

Inky eyes narrowed as they scanned the closet contents again and again soon coming to the realization a large portion of orange attire was gone (the term large being relative to the original amount, which wasn't much... just so you know.) Panic shook the body, wondering, hoping so desperately for... what? He didn't know. What was there to fear? He had no attachment to the blond, he was just another face, another bump in the road... another lay. A scowl jerked onto his pale demeanor at the strange betrayal he felt to think those words.

The thoughts of worry and panic were forced from his head as he began choosing a new set of clothes and applying them as they should. From the forced calm state he turned to look for any sign left by Naruto, anything that would permanently calm his nerves. Across the room from closet door he spotted on the far desk a paper with a short, happy looking note scrawled upon it. Few steps were taken to get across the room and a hand dove to grasp it's prey in it's deadly fingers. His dark eyes read with a sort of rush that didn't seem normal:

"Hey Sasuke,

I suppose you are done with your shower, since you are reading this. I'm sorry I couldn't bid good-bye in person but I had to leave for my training mission I received today. I'll be gone for a year and a half, I'm sorry I didn't tell you sooner, I didn't know until today; I was surprised I wasn't warned earlier, but that's just how it is, I'm sorry. I can't keep in contact, nor can I give you where I will be. Confidential. I'm sorry I'll be gone so long on such short notice, but I'll see you when I get back. I love you muchly.

-Love Naruto"

(AN: Sorry I suck at writing letters... Forgive me?)

"Stupid," the word was airy and followed only by an empty silence which seemed to amplify the quiet voice to no limit. The beating of his heart had slowed considerably, though the reason for the irregularity was still unknown.

Wandering about the room, from each side to the other and back, he was able to calm the rest of his nerves and proceed to the western style bed. Shadows had crept, cast by the luminescent moon, to his recumbent form, crawling about his body before engulfing him completely. Pulling their way across the sky the clouds brought upon more darkness, whether it be comforting or ominous, it devoured the land, the house, the body that lay awake, thinking.

Many times passing thoughts creep to ones mind when laying there waiting for unconsciousness to take over and in this insistence things happened that way. As dark eyelids fell a thought in his mind had appeared, though he probably wouldn't fully forget it later, a training mission confidential?