Truth
Their faces poke through the night and flicker, glow, then fade. The candles around them sputter and melt away, but still they burn. They burn with the integrity and permanent hope of life itself until he cannot find where the candles end and his friends begin.
And it's frightening but beautiful.
There are five dead faces above him as he lies in bed, and five ghostly sets of lips moving as they hurry to ask questions. Does he know who he is? Does he hurt anywhere? He does know who he is, and he hurts everywhere. But he can't tell them. Because they can't hear him. …Because they're fake.
First there is his mother, who loved him unconditionally, who lied to him (lied for him). She is the woman who nursed him, the woman who patched him up when he skinned his knees.
He hurts now because she isn't there to fix him again.
Secondly is Kakashi, who understood him. His ghost stares with his good eye and it's just like old times: they're near eachother and it's enough. They aren't close enough to touch, but neither of them was ever very partial to physical comfort, and anyway, it's not like he loved Kakashi. Kakashi was just some man—just some man that taught him things.
He hurts now because Kakashi isn't there to teach him, and there's so much he hasn't learned.
Third, there's Naruto, who always pushed him. If he took a step Naruto took two. He was either drowning in Naruto's shadow or struggling to stay ahead of it. The constant competition was unhealthy, at times, but he knows that neither of them would have traded it for anything.
He hurts now because this stupid, ridiculous, pathetic game is one that he has to play alone.
Fourth, there is Itachi, who is simply himself, who Sasuke expected more from. If he'd thought Itachi could deliver the world on a silver platter, he would have asked for it. Just to see that it was possible. Itachi leans against the wall, away from the other ghosts, because even as a spirit he emits authority.
He hurts now because all he ever wanted was for them to be close like he was with Kakashi. They didn't have to feel anything; he just wanted to be by him. But he's gone, gone, gone by Sasuke's own hands…and nothing will bring him back.
Lastly, there is Sakura, who loved (loves) him in the same way that girls fall in love with heroes. But he has never been a hero and he'll never be a hero; he tries to tell her, but she keeps crying.
He hurts because, even as she lies next to him in spirit and body, she's still crying. Her stomach is swollen—oh god, his child is in there—and she's sobbing madly, drifting in and out of sleep.
In his head he can hear her screaming; once for every time he has hurt her. He stares at her and remembers that he's not the only one to feel pain.
She's screaming and crying and…and she opens her eyes and looks at him and guides his head to her stomach and asks, "Can you hear it, Sasuke-kun?"
And he pales and ignores the ghosts that are watching him and says, "Yeah. Yeah, I can hear it, Sakura."
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Truth: he has no idea what he's talking about.
Truth: This matters very little.
Fin.