SYNOPSIS—
Naruto Uzumaki's fleeting, unrequited romance leaves him depressed and deprived. After talking over his conundrums with Kiba Inuzuka, a trusted companion, it's decided that the two attend a party the Hyuga's are hosting.

DISCLAIMER—
Though I do dearly wish, I do not own NARUTO.

CHAPTER NOTE—
I Quote, "I Love You" takes place in an alternate universe. It's early June—the birth of an adolescent, free-spirited summer—and the majority of the characters vary from the ages of sixteen to twenty.

"Fate is like a strange, unpopular restaurant filled with odd little waiters who bring you things you never asked for and don't always like."
—Lemony Snicket

I Quote, " I Love You"
Chapter 1

"She's a bitch."

Lips pursed and chair inclined back approximately seven inches away from his desk, Kiba Inuzuka drawls and enunciates those three piercing syllables without remorse. His face shows no signs of discouragement, the words nothing less than sincere. It was a gut reaction obviously, and the gritting of his teeth left his guest hesitant to speak out his opinion. The original four legs of Kiba's chair now balance on two, his own limbs outstretched and crossed over the length of the torched-oak furniture.

Across from him is Naruto Uzumaki, a halcyon boy of eighteen, sitting legs pretzeled Indian style atop the center of his friend's bed. "You just don't see her like I do, man." The boy eventually argues, both palms firmly pressed against his chest as he dramatically lets out a more than a love-struck sigh. Glowing cerulean eyes and a wide Cheshire grin accent his sun-tanned face, his mind completely immersed in deluded thoughts about a certain bubblegum-haired cheerleader.

"She's...aggressive—excuse the hesitation—as well as insensitive, but even she can be cute once you get to know her. Not that I entirely do. It's just, I don't know," he shrugs, a lazy smile tugging at his lips, "I just look into her eyes and they're this rich green, almost like pine, and... Well, I guess you can say I was lost in the woods."

Another longing breath is exhaled as Kiba groans in disgust at the trite, amorous babbling. Naruto's mind was a library littered with fictitious novels, Sakura Haruno's name titling every cover and beginning every synopsis. For once, Kiba hoped he recommend his friend a book out of his comfort zone. It didn't have to be in mint condition nor award-winning. The pages may be torn, stained, even crinkled, but he wanted to bring him clarity. In an analytical and literal sense, books weren't meant to be judged by their covers. What Naruto deserved were not eyes that suffocated him beneath evergreen, but a soul like a tender book to curl up to on a Sunday afternoon.

"Naruto, hear me out when I say this is the nicest way I'm going to go about this. You have horrible fucking taste in women. And again, nicest way possible. She's not good for you. Not to mention she's unattainable—Sasuke's girlfriend, remember?" Hooking four fingers to gesture quotations, Kiba continues, "The 'He's Your Best Friend...Well, Possibly Second To Me' Sasuke? Scratch that. The 'Guy Whose Taste Is Just Bad As Your's' Sasuke?"

"But—"

"Wait, I'm not done. She used you and your dork-cursed infatuation with her to get close to said best friend, blocked your number and any source of connection she had you via social networks, and, how should I say this, used her tongue to handshake your tongue in the most impolite way possible at Ino's New Years party just to have Sasuke take her back. I still for the life of me do not understand how that worked. Oh, and the cycle just repeats itself. I don't want to say this, but she doesn't care about you. I'm sorry, Naruto."

The blonde tufted teenager sighed wistfully.

Naruto absolutely hated it when Kiba made sense. His thighs sink further into his friend's mattress—misery caresses his cheeks like a forgotten lover. Any attempt disencumbering this life-sucking nuisance would have been futile. Depressed and deprived, he rakes a callused hand through his unruly locks and plops backwards onto Kiba's bed, the sheets flying up smelling like some sort of combination of sweat, cologne, and pre-ejaculation. Naruto now concludes the crumbling of paper beneath him was, in fact, an 'adult' magazine.

"Then, what do I do?"

Kiba sympathizes. "Hey, now."

The Aryan digs his cheek further into the pillow just when Kiba quietly sauntered over and allowed his slowly pressed weight to creak over the foot of his bed. "I feel like shit, Kiba." Naruto confesses. His azure irises, whisker-scarred face, and terribly chewed bottom lip all rouge a bruising red while a comforting hand rests over his shoulder, "I've told her so many times I liked her and I really did and still probably do and she just ignores me now. Honestly, I want to not like her. I try so much, but then—like the idiot I am—I pray for her to talk to me when we pass by each other. Even a 'hello' would more than fucking suffice." He heaves a dishonest laugh to himself, his head shaking negatively and a hand tugging at blonde tufts, "I swear, my heart's so hysterically unreliable and I'm an absolute dumbass. And, I know. I'm making this sound so much more traumatic than it probably is, but it hurts. It hurts so bad." Naruto's voice cracks at the last syllable, his jaw clenching with anger, "I just want her to notice me, dammit!"

The laughs subside. Slow tears start to come from the corner of his eyes. They build up, they roll to the side, and the weight of the collective salt pulls them down. Naruto was so angry, so enraged, and he faulted no one else more than himself. His Adam's apple bobbed with his struggled breathing. His squeezing throat shook vigorously. He had no control over these tears and the hyperventilation made sure he wouldn't forget that. Gaped lips swallow the tasteless air and the steady accumulation hurried down his torrid, flushed skin.

"And I try not to think about her," Shaky palms clumsily rubbed his aching eyes, "I'm serious. I DO. But then I'll see her in the shape of the clouds or I'll catch someone wearing her perfume, and I'm sorry. This is so childish. I hate this. Why is it that humans are capable of falling for people that won't reciprocate?"

Kiba removes his hands from Naruto's shoulder and draws them back to his lap. "Because every painful, heart-tearing moment that will happen to you, to me, to anyone on this unfair asshole of a planet, is nothing more than experience." He reasons before taking a moment to nod his head to agree with his own theory, "You don't have to take my word for it, but time will eventually soothe the scars, swallow up this affair, and spit it out into oblivion. I'm not going to tell you some 'Oh, I understand' bullshit. I know I don't and I definitely won't say I do. What I will tell you is that it's okay to feel the way you do, to be hurting the way you are. We're young. We love intensely. What you're feeling is not completely valid, but necessary. And that empty, shit feeling whirling around in that garbage disposal of a stomach you have there? It just means..."

The boy pauses and tries to find the right words. He notices Naruto staring intensely, eating up every little word to the point where his cheeks were these swollen, plump tomatoes and his face was this ugly kind of beautiful that made Kiba sympathize. Simply seeing someone he loved dearly so broken, tattooed with grief, and weighed down by vulnerability—God, it was agonizing. He gazes up once more, manages a sorrowful smile, and softens his tone, "It means you still have time to grow, Naruto. Hell, we all do. The space she left will attract so many other people who you wouldn't have met if it was full. Think of it this way: you've finally taken out the trash and recycled that Plastic Bitch. It's an opportunity. It's a new beginning. You are one person and two hands and one big heart. You're human, an incredible one at that."

Kiba takes a deep breath and allows Naruto to take everything in. His sobs are noticeably louder, messier, and uglier, the constant sniffles now relieved by the tissue box quietly handed to him. He attempts to muster a million thanks, but all that comes out are breathy heaves and exaggerated nods. After an echoing, nasally blow into a Kleenex, Kiba continues, "And, most importantly, if she can't see just how pretty damn awesome you are, fuck her! Fuck every opinion that has brought you down, Naruto. Don't let anyone tell you're not a fucking star. Just take a moment and acknowledge yourself; look at what all you're capable of. You're beyond exceptional."

Naruto laughs off the compliments out of modesty, quietly trailing off once he catches a glimpse of Kiba's concerned expression. "Man, I love you and everything, but you've got to realize that life is accepting the hot pile of steaming shit you're given. If someone doesn't treat you like you're worth the universe and every planet orbiting within, then let her go and make her your goddamn Pluto... If that makes sense. Fuck, you know I suck at these motivational speeches. That's always been your thing, but you get what I mean. I just—Nevermind, forget it. Plus, she's a stick and going after her would make you a dog and everyone knows Naruto Uzumaki is a stone cold fox, isn't that right? Look. I don't know anymore than you do, but I'm going to take my chances and say that, eventually, everything's going to be okay."

Finally, a small crooked grin manages its way up to Naruto's lips, swollen eyes crinkling in grand appreciation. A croaky chortle echoes in the comfortable silence. He was speechless and felt beyond fortunate. "Thanks, Kiba. I...I needed that."

Kiba sincerely smiles at this. "Hey, let's just forget about her. You know what? Neji Hyuga's throwing a party tonight and you need to get your mind off of things, hear me?" He forcefully proposes, having what's best for Naruto in mind. Reaching in his pant's pocket, he pulls out his phone and dials Neji's number.

"Hello? Neji? Yeah, it's Kiba. Change in plans: Naruto and I are going to make it tonight. Yes, I'll pause so you can cry those beautiful tears of joy." He pauses. "...or sure. I can fuck off, too. Whatever's cool with you. Seven? We'll be there. Okay, see you then." Kiba silently holds a thumb up just before ending the call and shoving the phone back into his pocket. Naruto smiles tiredly back at him, both arms now crossed behind his head. By then, the tears had subsided and evanescent hiccups fled out of his mouth at Godspeed.

Naruto had learned that in this world, there were two types of sadness. There's the kind you desperately attempt to get rid of, so—by his definition—you surround yourself with Positive Encouragements like listening to happy music, unhealthily fending your body instant ramen, or simply finding someone to talk to. You remind yourself of the things that make you feel provident and grand, like the chilling tickle of walking barefoot on grass or flattering compliments from complete strangers. And there's the thought: Ah, life honestly is not so bad after all.

On the other hand, there was the kind when you're clearly aware that you're sad and you submerge yourself in it without restraints. You feed it limb by aching limb. You isolate yourself and just drown in a pool of emotions and watch everyone else float above you. It's those heavy days where you don't want to wake up or move or get out of the shower. The world nothing more than hypercritical, belittling, and obnoxiously corrupted has worn you out and you're exhausted. You lie lifelessly in bed, read the same book repeatedly, listen to depressing music on shuffle that resembles your current depressing situation, and just basically feel empty.

And Naruto was aware that the two very diverse properties had a keen similarity: healing both took time—and he was terribly glad that he had not fallen into the pits of the latter.

An immeasurable amount of minutes had past since Naruto confined to Kiba. In that time, the testosterone count in the room depleted with every womanly wail Naruto had sobbed; Kiba was still in the process of shooting Naruto's used, snot-raped tissues into the trash bin and abusing the pump of his hand sanitizer without a second thought. Akamaru, Kiba's burly Mastiff, offered help by nudging the Kleenexes with his nose, fearlessly picking them up by the teeth, and tossing them effortlessly into the black basket. "Thanks, Big Guy." Kiba acknowledged once the white fur ball bundled up near the foot of his bed.

Orange lights peeked through the blinds leaving shimmering rays of warmth on the carpet and mattress. Naruto, barely conscious, basks in the comfort of it. The palette of Kiba's room was now a festive autumn painted in browns and reds—this in addition to the 6 pm sensations left Naruto sluggish and drowsy. Of course, due to evening plans, Kiba was not going to allow any naps. Without warning, the boy jumps from off his bed and strips, his healthily caramelized body exposed and rather eye-catching. "C'mon, the party's in two hours. You can borrow my clothes."

"Man, those abs are legitimate—mind cluing me in on your workout routine?"

Kiba exhales a boyish chuckle through his throat, his head finally pulled out of his shirt before giving his burnt-russet hair a quick shake and tousle. As much as he loved it when people stroked his ego, the only clear and evident reason Naruto would do so was to get out of going to Neji's. Regardless, Kiba cups his tattooed cheek and flutters his lashes at the compliment.

"Oh, stop it, you!" Kiba giggles in a girlish awe, his voice easily ten octaves higher. He scrambles towards his closet to pull out an outfit for his cunning company. When he speaks this time around, his tone immediately shifts from bashfully flattered to a solemn humdrum, "You're not getting out of this one, pal. Put this on and quickly."

The impatient teenager ends his spiel with the snapping of his fingers, gesturing Naruto that he didn't have time to wait around. The blonde only seems to laugh vigorously as his companion, Kiba, continued to glare angrily at him. "And what if I don't?"

Kiba clenches his fist before slowly unclenching it, his pointer finger directed at Naruto once a brilliant idea emerged in his diabolical brain. "Fine, be that way." He huffs, a devilish smirk lined across his face, "I'll just have to undress you myself."

The wiggling of Kiba's grimy fingers and the toothy grin plastered on his face immediately stops Naruto's laughter as he stares seriously at his conniving friend, his arms crossed tightly against his chest as if he were a violated—at the very least traumatized—victim. "I can dress myself."

Kiba smiles with triumph. "Thought so."