Hinata's writing to Naruto about his "fix". Too bad it causes more destruction than fixing.

Dear Naruto,

I wish I could tell you this in person. I wish I could magically poof to wherever you are and just tell you that… well, that I love you.

Weird, right? Why would someone as extraordinary and amazing as you care about some shy, timid girl like me?

You must hate me, hell, I hate me. I saw you crumble before my eyes, and helped you get to where you are now. I fueled the addiction. Whenever you told me you were going to smoke or go get a line, I would just smile and tell you to have fun. To have fun. That's all I could say. I remember I even bought you a line, when you had spent all your previous money on your previous fix. All I would do is watch you fall from grace.

I wish I was like Sasuke, or even Sakura, who refused to be around you when you were high or drunk. They always knew what to do when you had an episode. They were true friends. I want to go back and tell you that if you continued you would destroy –obliterate- your life. But I didn't. I'm a coward. I've seen people on those TV shows that finally get better when they lose everything. I was the only thing that stood in your way of a better life.

I'm sorry. I'm sorry it escaladed to what happened. I should have stopped you. I should have. I don't know what I would have done, but God, I would have done something. I could have saved you. But I didn't.

I remember when I first met you. We were 7th graders and you commented on my hair. Out of all the things you could have pointed out, you decided to talk about the purple mess on my head. You called it pretty and I blushed. You smiled at me, which proceeded to make me blushed even harder. Then you left, and went to your friends. After the 5 years we've known each other that is my fondest memory of you. The way your eyes shone under the florescent light bulbs in our science class paralleled the way an ocean sparkles under the sun.

I miss that shine. It's been absent in my life for years. I crave it. I crave it as much as you crave your fix.

Maybe that's why I stayed. I thought that it would come back when you were sober. I thought it would be a normal occurrence in our lives. But, like always, I was wrong.

Once again, I'm sorry. Oh God, am I sorry. When I heard the news I, well, fainted. When I woke up I threw up my lunch. I know it's a little graphic, but that's how you affect me. Then, I shut up, to put it simply. I stopped talking to anyone and everyone who tried to comfort me. I went into a metaphorical coma. I stopped talking, eating, stopped leaving my house. I couldn't face what I did to you.

The scene keeps replaying in my head. The last time we talked face to face, was the worst moment in my life.

You remember it, don't you? We were walking through Konoha, and like always, you were begging me for cash. We used to joke about this being you favorite activity. You were coming down, and coming down hard. You needed more. When I said no, you tried to describe the feeling or being high to me.

Flying, soaring, weightlessness. Not a worry or care in the world. Happiness. Like a blanket of comfort wrapped snugly around you.

When I looked like I didn't care, you told me of coming down.

Crashing, falling, heaviness. Every worry you had ever thought came back, ten times stronger. As if God had tied you down with thousand pound weights, and made you suffer. The dry heaves, the sweating, the shaking. The insanity.

I let my guard down and looked shocked, and sorry for you. That's when you made your attack.

You told me that you needed money to fly again. You needed money to be happy again, and then you smiled. Much like the time I first met you. Your eyes sparkled under the sun, and I melted.

You must have felt the shudder I gave, because you moved closer to me, and I could feel your breath on my ear.

"You want me to be happy, don't you?"

I knew you got me. I couldn't say no, because I did, and do, want you to be happy. Just not in that way. I wanted you to be happy in the way everyone else is happy. I wanted you to smile at a bright day, laugh at the wind messing with your hair, goof around with friends. I wanted normal happiness. Not a chemical induced one.

But your face was so close to mine, and I could feel the warmth of your body near mine. So, I did what any other love struck teenage girl would do. I gave you what you wanted.

When you pulled back I felt cold again. Not because your warmth left me, but because your smile changed. It was colder, and sly, in a way. I could see in your smile that I was a toy to you, and that I was disposable as soon as I provided you with what you begged me for.

What once was a friend was now a bank.

I asked if I could go with you, to see what kept you going there, what kept you from me. First you seemed apprehensive, but slowly nodded. You told me that where we were heading was dangerous, and that I should keep my mouth shut. When we arrived I did what I was told.

I still don't know what you see in that place. It was cramped, dingy and smelled like a chemical bath.

You exchanged money, and left the place with me and your fix

You were so desperate for some that you turned the next corner and took the bag out of your pocket.

I'm glad that you were so focused on the white powder that you couldn't see my face. I was so scared. I had never seen you snort before, and the look of hunger in your eyes gave me dry heaves.

I should have stopped you then, I should have taken the powder away or ran to a place where they could help you. But instead I turned away and stared at the ground.

I'm ashamed. That was the worst thing I have ever done in my life, neglect a friend when I saw he needed help.

After you were done snorting, I turned back and saw you smiling. It was a lazy, dropping, calm smile. It made me shiver. But one the less I walked back to you, and sat next to you.

I asked how you felt and you laughed. It was a scary, creepy laugh. You said you felt like you were flying. Like you were invincible.

Can you believe I actually smiled? Who smiles at a drug addicted friend? A sick, twisted person who was happy she made her friend happy.

What a load of bull.

I couldn't stop you. I wanted to, I so wanted to. But it was already in you, and all I did was promise that I wouldn't supply you again. That I couldn't. But we both know the truth, you own me, and I do whatever you say, I would most definitely supply you.

We sat in silence, before you turned my face toward yours and kissed me.

I understood what you meant by that high. I was flying and ecstatic and never wanted to crash. But I did.

You tasted wrong.

I've dreamt of our first kiss since, well, since I met you. I imagined us somewhere bright and beautiful, like a park, or watching a sunset. I imagined how your lips felt, soft and firm. But mostly, I imagined you tasting like ramen, and soda. Childish, yes, but it is the taste of childlike innocence. The kind you used to emit.

You tasted hard. I don't know what that was because of. It could have been the fix, it could have been the way your mouth felt cold. Or maybe it was the way you explored my mouth with such a need, with such a hunger, that you didn't feel me, just my mouth. It was nothing more than a meaningless kiss.

You know, when you first started I actually researched the effects of your fix? Increased libido was one. I was nothing more than a side effect of your fix.

Knowing this, I should have pushed away, but I couldn't. Even if I was nothing to you, you were everything to me.

So, I kept going with you, in a dirty alley. Unfiltered passion. Well, on my side of things.

When we broke apart, you gave me that lazy, induced smile and chuckled.

"I love you"

Wrong place, wrong time, wrong circumstance.

I started to cry. You wiped my tears away. That made me cry harder.

I shook my head and got up. I stared down at you for a few seconds, before turning the corner and walking away from you.

I want to change it. I want to change everything. I want to change me giving you money, change the sinfully incredible kiss, and liking it. I want to change walking away from you, not answering any of your calls in the following week, shutting you out of my life. I want to change not visiting you in the hospital, and still not being able to visit you in rehab.

I even want to change loving you. But I can't, and I know I never will.

I left you alone I that alley because that kiss broke my heart. It shattered me. It was everything I could dream of, and everything I have nightmares about.

I loved that kiss, I loved it more than I can describe in all the words in our measly little English language. I often want to put that time in reverse and replay it over, and over. You were as high and messed up, no wait (excuse my language here) fucked up, as could be, and used me to satisfy yourself, and I loved it. I wanted more. I almost turned back because I needed more.

I craved you. And as a result of that,

I feared you.

It's my fear and avoidance that put you there. After the week of ostracizing you, Sakura called me to tell me what happened.

You were going a week without a fix, and you were falling, crashing, and burning harder than you ever had before. No one would give you money, and you were suffering, in torment, dying. You couldn't handle it anymore, so you took the blade you used for separating lines and slit your wrists.

I know I'm the girl who is going to major in English, but I think you should join me. Slashing your wrist with the thing that helped you and your fix. Veins are the symbol of life, carrying blood to the heart that keeps us going. Veins, that carried your fix through your body, to your brain and your heart whenever you choose to inject it. Veins, that stopped carrying blood to my brain when I heard of what you had done. Veins that struggled to get blood my broken heart, the heart that decided that it would stop beating if yours stopped.

It's been 3 months since I've seen you, the longest I've ever been away from you in five years.

I'm sorry.

I'm sorry for everything. For helping you, for not helping you, for rejecting you when you needed me, for being there when you didn't, for avoiding you for three months, for not being able to banish my fear and visiting you. For not letting you go.

I understand if you're mad, and don't write me back, but I just wanted to tell you it's not your fault, it's mine.

If you turn into a monster

A murderer

A thief

A saint

Or stay the same druggie

I will always love you.

Always yours,

Hinata.

Loosely based around mine and my friend's relationship.
There are some things in this world you wish you could rewind and fix. But life is full of would have, could haves, and should have. Too bad we don't.

Edited while listening to Cat and Mouse by The Red Jumpsuit Apparatus

Next chapter the "fix" is actually named.