Sasuke lay in his bed, joint wedged between his fingers as he stared numbly up at his bedroom ceiling. Music played in the background, the record spinning, lyrics coming low and somber from the two speakers sitting on his desk. The same song on repeat for the past half hour—

Is this my old shape?
My mind is away.
How long have you been gone?

Down the hall, he could hear Deidara in his bedroom, laughing while talking on the phone. And Sasuke knew who the person on the other line was—

Linger on, linger on
And I can't move on.

He brought the joint to his lips, inhaled deeply, and as he closed his eyes, held it in for as long as possible before exhaling out the smoke in a quiet rush of air. There was a noise at the door; it pushed open. Sasuke looked over at the crack of light bleeding in from the hall and found his mom's cat staring at him from the doorway, eyes aglow. Even the cat was looking at him as if he were pathetic. He glared at it, but the orange feline remained at the threshold of his room.

Sasuke flicked his hand. "Go away."

Still, the cat lingered another 10 seconds before turning around and leaving again.

"Good," he said. "That's about right."

Why did Deidara have to be so loud, so obvious? It's like he was doing it purposely to piss him off. Even though Sasuke had told him no, even though Naruto had no reason to come here.

Though they hadn't seen or spoken to each other since the funeral. His skin itched as if bugs were crawling over him. He stuck his hand under his shirt, scratching at his stomach.

Sasuke rolled over onto his side, facing the wall, seeing only his shadow. He held his head in his hand—joint between his middle and ring finger. The other hand, he pressed his fingertips to the wall, meeting his shadow and dancing the fingers up the wall.

Why?

Hadn't he ripped that part of his heart away a long time ago?

But, he felt angry. Angry that Naruto always kept interfering in his life, butting in when he wasn't wanted, acting like because of their history that he was allowed to be in Sasuke's space. If he was truly coming to New York City to visit, Sasuke should take off that weekend. It was winter anyway, so the weather was cold and dreary. They were predicting record snowfall, too. Not that he'd purposely eavesdropped, but Sasuke had heard that Naruto and his girlfriend were on some kind of break. Again. Back in high school, at least he used to date interesting girls—not dumb blonde bimbos. Tch. It almost made Sasuke wonder why he'd fallen for someone like Naruto. Or, had he ever really fallen for Naruto? Wasn't he just young and infatuated? Naruto was safe. When Sasuke hadn't yet come out, he could play around with Naruto and knowing the type of person the blond was—that he was a good person—he wouldn't have outed Sasuke.

It didn't matter to him if later on he'd hurt Naruto's feelings or damaged their friendship irreparably. After all, nothing could compare to the pain of losing both of his parents at once. What could Naruto ever understand about that? At least he'd had time to speak to his mother before she died, but Sasuke didn't get that opportunity. One day they were here, the next they were gone. Stolen from him. Ripped from him. Then Itachi betrayed him by having Naruto come, having him stay at the house in Seattle, and Naruto thought he could comfort him.

Now I'm off to dream.
Comfort me.

He began to grind his teeth. Fingers turning into claws as they dragged their way down the wall. Or, he could stay here and make Naruto's time in New York as uncomfortable as possible.

The door down the hall opened. Deidara was still on the phone and, apparently, heading downstairs. But, in that instant his roommate passed by his room, Sasuke could hear that distinct laugh. Even over the music, as if it had been burned into him, into his flesh.

It did sting. The emptiness that single noise wrought. A sound he'd hoped to banish from his mind and memories for such a long time. He'd been successful, too. He'd found a myriad of ways to entertain and distract himself in the City that Never Sleeps. The bruises running from the back of his right shoulder to his left hip was the proof. Sasuke smirked smugly, flattening out the tips of his fingers again, pressing them hard against the wall until it scratched the skin.

So stupid. Why hold onto any of it? What did the past matter? He wanted it wiped, and, for the most part, it was. It was easier that way… than dealing with the pain. Even having that cat around was irksome, but Sasuke also couldn't be parted from it. He wouldn't call it by the name his mother had given it when he was a junior in high school. Just a cat. It was… just a cat.

A stupid orange cat. Stupidly oblivious and trusting and always judgmental.

Always… judging.

No one judged him more than himself, though.

But, he would never admit this.

Not when he'd become successful in his line of work thanks to all those years of experience working with the other bands in Seattle, helping them get gigs, doing their PR. It was the only thing that gave him pleasure, even if it involved music. He didn't play anymore, though. At least not for fun and not as a hobby. Only if it was necessary for work. It was the sacrifice he'd chosen to make, and it wasn't much of a sacrifice at all. Not compared to what he owed…

His father.

For not being the son he wanted in the end.

For…

Being born this way.

Sasuke rolled over onto his back and reached blindly for the lighter he'd set on the corner of the desk. He grabbed it, lit the end of the joint again and, while watching, took the lit end and held it to his forearm. It burned, singeing his skin slightly, and the pain was so calming. Numbing.

Linger on…
Linger on…

And I can't move on.