Disclaimer: Naruto does not belong to me...

I stand here thinking of you.

Regretting not getting there in time.

I knew something was wrong that day. I could see it in your eyes.

I remember when I found you, drenched in your own blood.

I started crying, wondering how wrong I was.

I don't know what I could have done to make you happy.

I thought you were happy. Weren't we happy?

As I stand here, in front of your grave, the wind making my black hair whip around my face I ponder this. What made you do this?

That morning when I woke up, you weren't in bed. You were up making our favorite breakfast. That should have been the first thing to tip me off that something was wrong. You never woke up before me and usually, neither of us had breakfast until an hour or two before lunch. It was seven A.M. I took it as you trying to be romantic. I am such a fool.

Then, when lunchtime did roll around, You insisted we ate lunch together and you made me pick what we had. Then you paid. That was a very unnatural occurrence.

Something I only now notice, looking back on that day, is that all your smiles were forced. I remember that look in your eyes, The one I couldn't recognize, I can now. It was a pained look, a tortured look, a sad look. The one you used to have when we were little, before I bothered paying attention to you.

Whenever I close my eyes, since that day, all I see is you the night I found you.

I came home from training and knew immediately something was wrong. I searched the whole house for you. When I found you I didn't realize until after it was the same place I found my parents that night when I was seven.

Your golden hair, longer then it was when we were kids, strewn underneath you, slowly turning red from you own blood. We weren't able to get it out before the funeral, it just refused to be removed.

Your cerulean blue eyes, that have been described as the clearest body of water one could ever find, always so emotional, empty and fogged over.

If I didn't know you were dead, I would have said you were more beautiful than anything I had ever seen, in a tragic sort of way.

Everything from that moment to now, is a complete blur.

I stand here with our friends passing by me offering me words of comfort.

I'm clenching the letter that was found with your body, containing your last words.

I've been standing here for three hours now. It's dark and everyone else has left long ago.

I decide I should head home and get some sleep, so I turn around and start towards our -- my home.

I stop and go back to your grave. When I reach it I stay just long enough to leave the note with your last words on it, then I leave again.

The next day when I come back I am happy for the simple reason that the note was blown away in the night.

I am happy because I know I shall never have to see those two words in your writing ever again.

Those two words that, after I read them broke my heart in two.

Two words that will forever haunt me.

'I'm sorry.'