EDIT: Just fixed a few things like Naruto's parents death. It's better now, I promise.

Hi! I'm new here, sorry if my writing's crap. I don't write fanfiction often (i.e. never) so forgive me if I can't keep everyone in character all the time... feel free to blame me if there are grammar or spelling errors, or if it just plain sucks (but please don't...::whines::)

Disclaimer: Oh, how I wish. Not mine; Naruto& company are copyrighted to Kishimoto, the movie The Invisible is copyrighted to...someone else...(woops.)

Warnings: Language, mild violence (will get worse for a bit later), YAOI.

Pairings: InoNaru (minor), OroSasu (minor), NaruSasu (main, but later)...

Summary: Naruto has always had dreams of being invisible. After a falling out with his aunt and a run-in with the school bad ass, Sasuke, he finds he really is. Somehow he has to make Sasuke see him, or he'll never be seen again. Based on the movie The Invisible.

The Invisible

Uzumaki Naruto had always had dreams of being invisible. He'd be sitting at the table with his friends, his family, his aunts and uncles—not that he actually had any, but in the dream he did—and he'd be completely invisible.

Normally, Naruto was a hard person to miss. With a wild main of bright blond hair, piercing blue eyes, unusually tan skin, and a grin that could charm the pants off the President, he was a pretty noticeable person. Half a life-time of living in the shadows of society had taught him to be loud and proud, both of himself, his heritage, and his achievements in life.

And so, the dreams were weird. Not inconceivable, just weird.

Because sometimes—just sometimes—he felt invisible too. That was mostly at home, though at school it happened on and off as well, just like it does to everyone. His aunt, Tsunade, had taken him in after his parents died in a car accident, and because she worked full time at the local hospital, she was rarely home, and when she was home, she was busy.

But the dreams scared him. The utter helpless feeling of being completely invisible, when no one you knew or cared about could see you, could notice you, notice if you'd died; it made him feel sick.

So when he had the dreams, he would smile extra bright, wear his favourite orange shirt—sometimes his orange cargo pants (no one could figure out where he had found them, they only knew that he was ecstatic when he had)—and be even more noticeable than before.

And then he would write his dream down in his notebook and hope that no one would ever read it.

Kiba was the first person to notice that these days were getting more and more frequent, but he never mentioned it.

May 18th, 6:45 in the morning. Naruto sat at the table, staring blankly at his happy, happy breakfast plate. The eggs were kind of runny, and the bacon was just a little burnt, but it was a decent breakfast. If it weren't for the fact that it was 6:45 in the morning, he might have appreciated it.

"Naruto."

He blinked sleepily, and cocked his head at the plate. He hadn't seen the happy bacon-mouth move, but the plate had definitely said his name.

"Naruto, you look pale. Are you feeling okay?"

He blinked again, and turned his tired gaze to his aunt, who stood behind the kitchen counter, long honey-blond hair pulled back into two loose pony-tails, arms crossed under her ample bosom.

She was reading the newspaper.

"How could ya tell?"

Tsunade raised her eyes from the newspaper and glowered at him.

"Eat. I have to be at the hospital in half-an-hour. If you don't eat, I won't make you ramen later."

That woke him up. Ramen, food of the Gods, was the only thing that made life bearable. His eyes widened in terror.

"But granny! You can't do that! I need my ramen!" Desperation laced his voice. Without ramen, his life was over.

"Then eat. And don't call me Granny!"

Naruto grumbled, his face contorted into a pout. His breakfast was too happy. He viciously stabbed one egg-eye with his fork, and turned his bacon-smile upside-down.

"Dude! Whazzap!"

Naruto turned to look down the hallway at the source of the obnoxious call. Only one person in Konoha High could possibly be that loud and annoying aside from himself. Inuzuka Kiba.

"Hey, dude, you gotta help me. French final, I got no fuckin' clue what to do!"

The blonde reached his locker and fiddled with the lock on it, hiking his orange backpack higher up on his shoulder.

"Uuzuumaakiiiii! You gotta heellpp meee…" the spiky-haired brunette whined, clinging onto Naruto's sleeve in desperation. His cheeks were scrunched with his pleading, making the red triangle tattoos on them distorted.

"Whaddya want me to do about it dog-breath?!" Naruto scowled. As a promise to his late father, Naruto tried his best in school at all times. While for the most part his best was slightly crappy, and he never could keep his attention on one subject for too long, he still gave it effort, and managed to uncover a decent talent in writing that not many people had expected. Unfortunately for Kiba, his talent did not stretch to the romance languages. "I've never taken French in my life!"

Kiba wilted, still hanging off Naruto's sleeve. "I'll pay you! You just have to write me something, then I can find someone else to translate it into French! Pleeeaaaassseee..."

"No, dog-face. I won't help you cheat! You're not gonna go anywhere if you keep trying that." Naruto shook his friend off of him as the bell rang loud and shrilly, and hurried off to his English class before the next bell.

When he entered the classroom, Jiraiya, the white-haired English teacher, was already seated behind his desk, giggling to himself over some perverted poetry book. Where he had found a perverted poetry book was anyone's guess, but it was pretty damn raunchy to make the biggest pervert in the school giggle like a teenage girl.

Naruto sat in his usual seat next to Yamanaka Ino, the one of the prettiest girls in the senior class. Her long silvery-blond hair was pulled back into its usual high pony-tail, with side bangs that framed her delicate features. A sky blue tank-top that matched her eyes hugged her torso perfectly, accentuating every curve in her body.

She grinned at him when he sat, and leaned close.

"You going to the Hyuuga's party on Friday? It's gonna be great," she winked. Top flirt, prettiest girl, reasonably smart; anyone would relish in her affections. Luckily for Naruto, he was the most often recipient, ever since Hyuuga Neji started dating some college freshman.

"Gyeeh, I can't. I've got tons of shit to do," Naruto shrugged apologetically. He had been waiting for ages for that week to arrive, and he wasn't about to blow all his precious plans for a party he wouldn't like all that much. The Hyuuga's were snobs.

"What?" Ino frowned attractively—nothing could ruin her fine features—"But school's almost over. We've practically graduated already; how could you possibly be busy?"

Naruto opened his mouth to answer, when the late bell rang, and Jiraiya pulled himself away from his perverted book.

"Alright, brats! You all had to write a poem last night, so instead of slacking off, you'd best have gotten your asses to work! Gimmie what you got! Akimichi, why don't you read yours for us?"

Naruto turned his head to look at the chubby boy as he grumbled, but got up from his seat. Akimichi Chouji was one of the less motivated kids in the class—or rather, motivated by the wrong things, which seemed to affect his social status, even though he really was a sweet boy.

"I wrote a haiku." Chouji cleared his throat, holding his notebook out in front of him.

"The love of my life,

Your beauty astonishes.

I love barbeque."

There was silence in the classroom for a moment. Jiraiya sighed, face drawn with exasperation.

"And, you wrote that...yourself."

Chouji looked proud. There was an annoyed murmur from the back of the classroom as Nara Shikamaru lifted his head from his early nap to clap belatedly. The rest of the class followed unenthusiastically, and Naruto felt his brain dribble out his ears just a little more.

Jiraiya turned on his heel, patrolling the classroom, his broad frame squeezing between tables.

Naruto didn't pay any attention to the rest of the readers, too busy chatting with Ino, when a large hand slapped solidly onto his shoulder, making him jump and squeak in a devastatingly un-manly way.

"Uzumaki. Why don't you go," Jiraiya said, grinning almost sadistically. Naruto whined pathetically, "It needs work!" but the old pervert was unrelenting.

The blond hung his head, before bounding up from his seat and to the front of the class, where he propped himself on Jiraiya's desk. He opened his notebook and flipped to the last night's assignment.

The assignment was to write about a dream. Chouji's had been about barbeque. Naruto couldn't exactly remember his, but had written anyway. He was almost proud of it, but it wouldn't do to tell his classmates that.

"When I sleep, the night flows in.

Through me, around me,

I feel within me, the shadows of dying light.

I hear it crawl, I watch it breath,

It circles around, like birds of prey.

My dreams are broken, but bright,

Like the—"

The bell rang again. Class was over.

TBC.
Poems are mine, yes I realize that they're crap, I wrote both of them in about 10 minutes. Naruto's probably completely OOC (so emo...!), and I'm sorry about that, but he sorta has to be...it'll get better later, hopefully.

Also: I LOVE CHOUJI. He'd make the best plushie ever...