Hello and welcome to my first Yaoi.

There is swearing and other things not suited to young children in here and as such, you read ths of you're own accord.

I am willing to take into account any and all suggestions for this story, as I only have a sliver of ideas as to where this goes.

I OWN NOTHING RECOGNISABLE

Prologue

Their shouts echoed from their room and into the lounge where a boy was trying to read and ignore them. He sunk down lower in his arm chair, pulling the book closer to his face. They were the only three there, the others having left some time earlier in the afternoon, before the rain had started. All of them had left after looking in the fridge. The boy had looked too and knew what to expect from the argument that was sure to come. And sure enough, it came and it was torture. The boy closed his book when he heard their door open and sunk even lower. It would do well to not be seen during their fights. They looked in the fridge and argued in hushed tones. The boy took this as his chance to hide in his room. Closing the door and opening the window to get rid of the stuffiness and let in the smell of rain on the calm and cool breeze, he settled into his bed and opened his book and began to read once more. Well, try to, at least. Soon the shouting was back and in full force this time.

The boy listened, as he so often did, and waited for the usual responses that came from their fighting. He braced himself for the vain last attempts to win the argument and the slamming doors that would follow. It was simple really, the curse of "Fuck you, asshole" as the dying attempt to win would come from the loser and the loud –bang – of the front door as they left. The – slam –of the door at the other end of the hall as the other began to sulk at their win. And the loud shout of that person, cursing the other before slowly collapsing into tears. Even through the closed doors, the sounds were still easily heard.

Something crashed to the floor with a shatter. And the boy presumed that they would be paying to get it fixed, or make the one who broke it fix it. He tried desperately to block out the sounds but the yell of "Get out! Get out you asshole!" and the slamming of a door stopped that idea. He couldn't tell who was who from where he was situated, their voices both muffled by the closed door. Something else crashed to the floor before the slam of the door was heard and the too loud shuffling and flinging of objects was a dead giveaway as to who had stayed and who had left.

Taking this as his chance to escape, the boy jumped from his window to the fire escape stairwell that donned the side of the building. Hurrying down it, he tried to think of where the other would go. He jumped the last few steps and hurried in the direction of the other's favourite takeaway joint.

A small noodle shop called Ichiraku came into view soon enough, but it dampened the boy's hope of finding the other. As it turned out, the shop was shut and the boy didn't know many other places that the other went. So he simply started running through the streets methodically trying his hardest to find the other.

The rain never let up as he searched street-by-street and store-by-store. He even went to ask their room-mates if the other was there with them. It was times like these, when they fought, that the others would go back home and visit their families. He ignored the chill that seeped slowly into his bones from his drenched clothes. As he searched, many places closed down for the night and some opened up for their business hours.

He couldn't find the other as he searched the whole town, turning back to go home by the time the Central Clock struck three. The street lights were on and very few houses were still lit up. There was no one about and it didn't bother the boy in the slightest. He was used to solitude and lack of sleep, so it was nothing new to him.

It was strange in a way, that when he had moved here, he had wanted nothing to do with other people, but was placed in an apartment that was shared with a few others. He slowly got used to their presence and warmed up to them in the process. He had never been one to sit in a lounge full of rowdy people to read, but found that he rather liked it. As the time passed, he realised that he could buy the apartment that they were staying in. He saved all the money that he could and one day he bought it, telling the others that rent was no longer needed but the bills would still need to be paid. They were happy, the rent was a little too expensive for them and they had struggled to pay it.

He kept looking as he headed back home, trying in a last attempt to find the other. As he rounded the corner and into their street, he realised it was about time he had a talk to the one that was still at home and kick them out. After all, it was his apartment.

A light flickered nearby, drawing in the boy's attention. There were soft noises coming from within the only open store – an all-night noodle shop. The boy walked cautiously towards the door and peered inside. There, sitting at the bench with a bowl of ramen, was the object of all this effort.

"Naruto" the boy called, walking towards the lone person at the front counter.