.0. When you remember
(that you're alone)
'Oy Asshole.'
He shuffles down the street, hands tucked firmly into his pockets, hood pulled down so low over his face that it is reduced to a nameless shadow made of blue eyes- foggy and unclear, wide and unfocused. He can hear the echo of his breath in his head, the bumpbump of his heart in his chest threatening to burst out of it, every single foot step that drew him closer seeming to echo painfully in the night. A steady reminder with every step, with every thrum in his chest, of 'what the fuck am I doing? Cut this shit out! This is-'
Yeah what was this? What the flying fuck was he doing right now, walking down a seedy back alley in the jumbled shit hole they called Konoha at three n the morning, gasping like he was drowning, head pounding like he had a headache? He could almost hear the sarcastic murmur of that bastard's voice in his head, chiding him with that bite he knew so well. "Go home Naruto. You're drunk." B-But...he wasn't! He really wasn't!- so the world was spinning a little, so yeah, maybe for a moment it seemed like the cracked cement beneath his feet and the sky overhead whirled into one endless nothing- so yeah, he had to concentrate on the plunk of his steps and not the feel of his stomach, clutching painfully- so yeah, he was wandering around through a back alley at three in the morning, not even noticing the scent of shit and filth in his nostrils- but he was not drunk dammit he was just-
Again, he could hear her this time, her voice brash and abrasive screeching loud enough to break the sound barrier. "For God's sake Naruto! Go home you idiot you're drunk!" Ok so yeah maybe he had made out in the back of a club with some girl's whose face he couldn't remember, because the sight of the two of them going at it in front of him had put a bad taste in his mouth. But it wasn't like he was bitter or anything! It wasn't like he gave a shit! Of course he was happy for them right? His two best friends? The fuck did he need to be mopey and drunk about? So yeah maybe he'd been easy to coerce to the back, so yeah maybe he could vaguely remember her crawling on top of him through a whirling carousel of colors, head foggy from the three shots, four beers, and ramen- yeah maybe but that didn't mean he was fucking drunk he just couldn't- think straight- and- in the middle of the faceless chick telling him he was the best she'd ever had- he'd realized abruptly- one: who the fuck was she? two: When the fuck did he get naked? Three: What was she doing with her mout-oh shit! to Four:
Overcome with the sudden, powerful, most fucked up need he could have possibly thought of in the middle of getting blown: he wanted to see her.
Which brought him whirling back to this: totally not drunk, stumbling through a back alley at three in the morning wondering if he'd already asked himself- he had hadn't he? What had he been asking himself? Oh-'What the fuck am I doing? Oy Asshole!-'
Ignoring yourself was tough shit when yourself made perfect sense- what the fuck was he talking about?- But he was NOT fucking drunk, he was just- he was just- taking a stroll through the cool night air at three in the morning, not thinking of how illegal what he was doing was, not thinking of Sakura and Sasuke with their tongues intertwined, not thinking of faceless chicks fucking him in the back of clubs, not thinking of the two shots three beers, not thinking of anything but that single, strange fucked up need: 'Gotta see her. I just gotta see her.' But there's himself, laughing in his head- 'Oy bright idea asshole. And what the fuck are you going to say? Ohaiyo sorry about being drunk and gross on your porch at 3 in the morning, got any ramen? Or how about this one- so I've been wandering around in the dark for an hour trying to find your house, mind if I come in and vomit in your toilet?'
And she would- no, he thought groggily, with a shake of his head, making the night and black of his fading vision blur- he just wanted to look is all- stupid voice needed to shut the fuck up- he just wanted to look and there was nothing wrong with looking was there? Surely there was nothing wrong with looking? 'Yes,' the pissy little shit that was his conscience clearly enunciated-'When you're doing it at three in the morning, piss drunk, scouring the street in the dark for her house- that is called stalking asshole.'
The fuck? How? He was just going to fucking look! It's not like he was planning on jumping through the window or breaking down the door, although the uncomfortable thought of- 'what if...she has a boyfriend? What if he's in there right now?'- in his head suddenly made all of that sound ridiculously plausible. Because truth of the matter was- what if he got there? What if he saw her? As in, what if he got there and saw her- straddling some dude like sakura did sasuke, doing the lip tango?
'I would lose my fucking shit-'- no if, ands or buts- this whole block was going up in flames- as if he would let some slimy faced, cross eyed bastard so much as put a hand on her! No, no, no he was always sharing shit he was not sharing her- fuck that! Hell let anybody try it! He would beat their asses into next week! As if-! Just thinking about it, just thinking about it- made his face burn from the heat of his blood boiling in his veins, the mix of alcohol and anger making one dangerous combination of 'I wish a bitch would! Cause I-'
'What?', the voice in his head, calmly reminding him he was a fucked up asshole drunk and in a alley at three in the morning- 'What did you just say you twerp? You're going to what? Add assault to your list of criminal offenses? Yeah how noble of you, I'm sure she'll some to appreciate it after she finishes filing that restraining order on your drunk ass.'
"Shuddup." -Not even aware that he was speaking aloud, still wobbling on his feet. And-"I'm nawt...nawt 'runk I just-" He just wanted to see her. There wasn't...anything wrong with that right? It wasn't like he was expecting more- or hoping for more or anything- she didn't have to say anything- what would there be to say? She didn't have to...to do anything, he just-
'Just what? Want her to give you a hug? Kiss your boo boos and make the pain go away' "-Shuddup."
He stumbles out of the alleyway, momentarily blinded as he steps out into the lukewarm light of a streetlamp, flickering in and out of focus on the dark street. There is nothing but the black of shadow, closed shutters and locked doors that meet his haggard gaze- of course, why not? If he had a nickel's worth of sense he would be at home in bed too, sleeping off the booze, lost in a dream world where everything was perfect (well until the hang over kicked in) not standing under a street lamp, seeing spots and visions, watching a moth dance beneath the the murky light.
A dark street, closed off an unwelcome- the clearest visual representation of 'you don't belong' he had seen in awhile- so that his heart aches, as if he has been knifed there. 'And what did you expect?' The voice whispered softly, full of pity- sorrow-his vision- the world is spinning- the world of shadow and that flickering light blurring into one- 'Did you think she would wait up for you, even expect you?' -Shut up you stupid fucker- 'Why would she? Why would anyone?'- he didn't want to deal with this shit, not right now, not right fucking now- sick- abruptly he feels sick-'After all in the end...why would anyone? After all you're just -' -and there is a light, there is a beacon in the darkness- he looks up, looks up and-
-illuminated in that light, outlined in shadow, she is-he sucks in a breath, can't breathe she-
-She is staring out into the night sky- her eyes- he wants to draw closer to her eyes- why do they look so pained? 'I'll make it go away for you.' Anything that hurt her, anything that burdened her, anything that saddened her- he would make it go away-if she asked him-'C'mon smile.'staring at her so intensely he wondered if she could feel the force of his thoughts directed at her- up there looking like the world was falling around her- he wanted to take his hood off, make a face, make her laugh- but she- her eyes found him, dark figure beneath the street lamp, watching her-
-And she is-staring at him- staring at him- why wouldn't she? He's standing outside of her fucking house- she sees him, but she does not know him- her eyes- lavender eyes are wide and frightened- why wouldn't she?- she doesn't know him- it's three am- she draws back abruptly, drawing the shutters closed with a violent motion.
Sick- he feels sick, like throwing up- he'd seen her- but it wasn't right- what had he been expecting? 'Go home...you're drunk.' Yeah...so...maybe he was, drunker than he'd ever been, sicker than he'd ever been- not even vomiting sick anymore, but that surreal delusional this is it kind of sick- being young and reckless and fucked up and standing outside of the apartment of the woman you love, thinking to yourself 'you're fucked up in the head, something is wrong with you and you just can't seem to fight it-'
'And you can't fight this, you never could. You've always been destined to wind up just like them, just like-' "Shuddup." Is he still talking? The words sound heavy slow, as if he's at the bottom of a well drowning in black-"Shuddup 'on't wanna...hear...dat shet." As if talking would make it go away, as if- 'Silly boy...you can't run from yourself. This is who you are, who you have been- you must accept it- your destiny- doomed to-'
The world is spinning- around below- and that stupid fucking moth is fluttering around his head, so that he swats at it drunkenly- stupid little shit! go away- but he totters off balance and he's falling- and maybe it's what he needs anyway, his face in the pavement, pain- maybe that's all it will take. But he's falling and-
She catches him.
She grunts beneath the weight of his body, slack against hers, her small, lithe arms catching him underneath his own, wrapped around loosely around his waist. They seem to struggle with even that much, trembling with exertion as the full brunt of his weight comes to rest on her. His face is resting on her small trembling shoulders, nose buried in her hair. He didn't realize how cold he was until he was in her arms- she's warm. So warm. And she smells like flowers- it is a sweet gentle scent- and he can feel her body beneath his, struggling to hold him upright- and for a moment he doesn't know whether to laugh or cry.
"H-Hina-chan! I wanned...I wanted to see you-" He sounds drunk, he is drunk- he can barely hold himself upright, to take the burden of himself from her, but he feels powerless, weak, so that he stumbles a step, and so does she- he can imagine the tremble of her lips, the heat in her face.
"U-Uzimaki-san-! W-w-what is w-wrong w-with you? W-What are y-you d-doing here?"
"I 'old you- I wanned to see y-you- I-I just wanned to 'ook att yooouuu dats all jus' makin' sure you're fiinne so I 'an- I 'an jus' go home now-" He's talking, he's lying, he can't move a step- he doesn't want to move. His hands, his arms, are limp by his side. He wishes he could lift them, so he could hold her too. Then maybe she would understand, then maybe-
"U-U-Uzimaki-san-" Her voice sounds tight, flustered, disoriented-"Y-Y-You've b-been d-drinking? B-But I t-thought you s-said y-you d-didn't do that a-anymore?"
"N-Naruto. Call me...'all meh Naruto. I twold jou to caaall me by m-my naaaame.", he murmured with more force than he thought himself capable of mustering. His name- if she would only call him by his name, then maybe- just maybe- "I dwont drenk 'nymore Ima jus' I wassa jus-" Just what? When had he started, why had he started? Did it matter? Did it ever matter? No, no all that mattered was her- the gentleness of her scent, the warmth of his body- again something chokes in his chest- is it laughter or is it tears? What was he saying? What was happening?
"Uzimaki-san-" She stated firmly, more firmly than she often believed herself capable of, in that same laughably timid tone that was a muted mockery of authority. 'Authority-' "Y-You s-shouldn't! Y-You're s-still a-" 'Don't say it.' Saying it would remind him. He didn't want to remember- was that what he wanted to forget? Maybe? Was that what he had wanted to forget? Why he'd started in that club on the edge of town, laughing- but feeling sick too- smiling- but feeling sick too- joking and drinking, but feeling like- 'Don't say it-' But he can imagine her lips, forming the words, bringing up the dredge between them he'd tried so hard to forget.
"Y-You're st-still a s-student and I...I-I am s-still your t-teacher."
AN: So confession, sometimes I get in the mood to read shoujo even though I kind of hate it- it's usually a little TOO sappy for me. That said, I just finished reading Sensei wa ore mono over at mangafox AND HO SHIT IT WAS PRECIOUS. Seriously the main characters were so like Hinata/Naruto (brash, blond man boy who does things his own way x dark haired, timid, shy girl) that it was actually pretty frightening. It's a cute read. and it partly inspired me to write a teacher x student romance. I'm sure this is a narhin challenge somewhere maybe. I apologize if it read s a little erratically, he is drunk after all, even if he doesn't want to admit it...
There honestly aren't enough fanfics that reverse the narutoxhinata crush dynamic so I decided to write one. Yes, I have a habit of writing things I want to read, So expect naruto in this to be his usual self, perhaps with a little more angst, a crazy crush, and the occasional drunk stalking thrown in. Should be fun, but I guess there has to be a plot eventually, so I'll see what I can do. I'm currently trying to decide if this is going to be AU or not