With Torn-up Pages (Sequel to It's Time to Let it Go)
Warnings: None for now. Rated for some low-key swearing at most. Oh, and later chapters will be written in third person, not first. Can be a stand alone, but things will make more sense if you've read ITTLIG.
Disclaimer: Have not and probably never will own the Naruto characters or anything relating to them.
Dedication: This chapter is dedicated to se-tar, because of all the help she's given me, and not sugar-coating her words to make me feel better. So thanks!
Prologue
When I was a kid, I used to wonder about things. I'd wonder why the sky was blue, how clouds stayed in the air, how lights worked, so on and so forth. More often than not, I'd keep these wonderings to myself, maybe do a little research on my own, but mostly I just left well enough alone. It wasn't that I was afraid, or shy, to voice my opinions, quite the contrary. I'd be the first to argue my side in something I believe strongly in.
But I was, more or less, a brilliant kid, one who was assumed to know everything already. If I were to ask my teachers, they'd be less impressed by my intelligence. If I were to ask either of my parents, they'd just tell me to ask the other. I couldn't ask any of the kids in my class, because they knew less than I did. So often I kept these thoughts to myself.
Until I remembered that there was still someone who could answer me, who would put away what they were doing just to listen to me ask pointless, who didn't judge my questions by intelligence, or lack thereof, or eloquence asked with. My older brother. My know-all, silent, deceptively caring, and genius older brother. The older brother whose shadow I was forced in at a young age, though I didn't mind. Much. The older brother who quickly became my friend, my only friend, and my confidant.
As we grew older, we grew closer. And though I had my friends, as he had his, we were still best friends. I still came to him with my silly wonderings, and he began to add his as well. But no matter what, we were there for each other for everything, every time.
And we all know how long that worked out.
When I was a young child, I had a very low threshold for pain. I'd stub my toe and cry until the throbbing stopped a few minutes later. Normally I'd cry alone, as there weren't often people in my house to hear me. But sometimes my mother was there to comfort me, or my father would ask me if I were all right in that gruff way of his. Though it was often more comfortable to be alone in my moments of weakness.
But I had again forgotten about the most important person in the house, beside myself, my brother. With no questions asked, no patronizing comments, no talking at all usually, he'd patch up my scrapes and cuts. First cleaning them with disinfectant, then covering them with a clean gauze or a Band-Aid –depending on the injury- and placing a kiss over the wound. And as I grew older, the kiss turned into a hair ruffle, then finally to a light poke on the forehead.
Over the years though, me tolerance had greatly expanded. So much so that I no longer needed anyone to patch up my mistakes. I could endure more cuts and scraped, purely child-curiosity caused, and soon the only real pain I felt was that which resided deep within my own heart. The pain of the second child, of being the person everyone wanted to be around but never take the time to get to know. I became, in essence, my own cliched worst enemy.
I was the cause of my pain, which was the start of my downhill fall. I began to hate myself, but could not find it in me to resent the cause of me inner turmoil, my brother. But those thoughts, those self-loathing, angry thoughts flew the coop when my world crashed down around me. Leaving everyone else fallen, save me, standing alone as I noted those who had wanted me so badly, now shied away, like I was infected.
And so I left. It wasn't like there was really anyone to miss me after I was gone.
When I was younger, I had a few… embarrassing quirks. For example, I had the bad habit of being completely unaware of my surroundings. Someone would walk up behind me, not quietly either, and I'd jump right out of my skin. Of course I grew out of that fairly quickly, as a few of the other kids at the school had taken to calling me "Jumping Bean." Don't even ask why; as I said earlier, these weren't the brightest crayons in the box.
A second embarrassing quality was that I had the habit of really latching onto things. For the first four years of my life, I had this raggedy old blanket that I'd carry everywhere. The only reason I stopped was that I had dropped it off the side of the boat when we were on vacation. I also latched onto people. First it was my parents, but after they made it clear that they were busy, I turned to the last member of our "happy" family, who was again, my older brother. Whenever we were home, I'd follow him around the house like a lost puppy. Until he died, that is.
Another thing, not quite a quirk, but more of a trait, was I was unfailingly naïve. But that was only when it came to family and close friends. If a stranger were to tell me something, I was always suspicious of their intentions. So everything my friends would say, I'd believe, with a little doubt on the more far-fetched ideas, but I'd still believe them. Everything my brother would say to me, however, would be taken directly as fact. I wouldn't question a word out of his mouth, and taken the advice directly to heart.
And everyone knows it's the naïve that will believe all the lies spewed towards them from the one they trust most.
When I was a young teen, I lived my days alone, waiting for something to come by and change me. Something to help me give meaning to my seemingly meaningless existence. I would pass through my days with people, who only pretended to care about my wellbeing, until I couldn't stand the piteous stares, the people who would talk behind their hands about the poor tragedy of what happened, when they assumed I couldn't hear.
So when I was gone, I could finally breathe, the oppressive air that was surrounding me dissipated and I was able to live my life, the way I wanted. Not under the watchful eyes of those who knew me, my family name, and "worried" after me when remembering the inheritance I was sure to get when I came of age. All those who didn't give me the time of day when my protégéous brother was alive began crawling all over me, confessing their sympathies for my losses.
I was alone, I was free, and though my greatest fear back then was being left behind, completely alone, I welcomed it, embraced the fear and grew stronger.
When I was in the hospital, I was so overwhelmed that I thought I would burst. The people, the caring, and the unimaginable pain of it all. I never thought that people could actually care for my wellbeing, and not just for my family name or eventual inheritance. Then there was the overwhelming pain of being broken down; down but not out, and of being so close to death. My body hurt, hurt more than anything else I had put it through thus far, and yet I still couldn't seem to give up.
And what pained me even more than being run over by a car, was finding out my dead brother was actually alive, and chose to stay away. Oh yeah, that hurt.
Now, as I sit in my room to my now shared house, pondering my excuse for an existence, I can't help but fell as if I'm missing something. Something wrongfully overlooked, and now I have to suffer the consequences of my oversight. Something that was sure to change my life as I know it, something I'm not sure if I want to find out.
A/N: And the long awaited sequel is officially out. It'll take a while before I can come out with chapters regularly, because I still haven't finished the outline. But this just came to me so suddenly that I just had to write it. And next week is finals, so please just be patient with me; as soon as school is over, I'll have all the time in the world to write (more so than before, anyways).
Thanks for everyone who reviewed It's Time To Let It Go, and those who voted on my poll! Even though a yaoi pairing did win, nobody specified on what pairings, so I chose for there to be no romance. That and I didn't really want to write romance into this story, it just wouldn't fit in with how I've developed the characters.