[A/N: I just came up with this deal... It's sort of an interesting theory, ne? And I also wanted to try doing a more descriptive story... Try not to skim it, you'll miss out on the point! Enjoy.]

Sasuke hates his voice.

It's dark and cold and gloomy, like the unquiet stillness of a vast and bottomless lake. It's like the great coolness of a forgotten resting place, the disturbing silence that not even the tiny crickets dare to penetrate with their noises. It's harsh like the biting frost of a cold winter's night. Its cruel tones are enough to send shivers—the bad kind—down the backs of the strongest samurai. It slithers around its prey almost exactly like a snake, squeezing and squeezing and squeezing until suddenly there is nothing to squeeze.

It's frozen and snapping and damp, like the unpleasant feeling of snow seeping into socks. It is repulsive and foul, the smell of rotting carrion mixing with last week's leftover beef dinner. It speaks of loneliness, of isolation, of solitude; it paralyzes the mind with the burning feeling of separation and seclusion and being alone.

It's the horrible realization a lost child grasps in the middle of a sinister forest or an ominous alleyway, that they are somewhere that they don't know and it's scary and frightening and awful.


Sasuke hates his voice.

He detests it, he loathes it, he despises it. It's the most daunting sound in the world; the most dreadful noise in existence; the most ghastly, hideous, nasty, unspeakable, atrocious thing that he has ever heard.

It disheartens, it discourages; it completely cuts off the circulation of confidence. It puts out the spark of life, it pours icy cold water over the fireplace of the heart; it kills from the inside out. It's unkind and ruthless and wicked, it twists the meaning of life and the purpose of love, it destroys all hopes and beliefs and dreams and it just won't stop.

It has a mind of its own, a miniature conscience that has long since been corrupted. It takes the words off the tip of his tongue and replaces them with hateful and terrible words that make him want to crumple up in a little ball and burst into little pieces and be burnt into ashes and hammered into tiny relics of himself and just die.


Sasuke hates his voice.

Because it makes him think -maybe this is the real me- and -this must be what I really feel, what I've hidden from even myself-. Maybe, just maybe, his voice is right to manipulate his meaning and mess up his relationships and fuck up his life—

—and push away the people he actually cares about—

Maybe it's right to make him feel alone, to separate himself from others because he's too dangerous—

—all he will do is mess up their lives, their love, their story—

Sasuke hates his voice.

It reminds him of someone he'd rather not be reminded of, someone who has long black hair—what his could be, if he really wanted it—and menacing crimson eyes, with their dilated swirling circles, results of the cruelest crime imaginable—his if he really wanted them—and dons a black cloak embroidered with designs of clouds that are splattered with blood—what he wears now—and committed the hellish act to protect a stupid, minuscule village that has no idea what the real world is like, under the orders of—

…….

He doesn't want to be reminded of the man whom he defeated—

—killed—

—destroyed—

—murdered—

with his own hands—

—his dirty hands that are tinted with red, cadmium, scarlet, ruby, all the colors of—

Sasuke hates his voice.