Hey, I'm back. I'm working on Konoha Elite currently, trying to touch up my plot-strings. Thought I'd write this, since I've been dying to write a depressing-turned-cheeful story for a while. Hope you enjoy what I whipped up on the splurge of the moment. I apologize for the shortness, as I am still very busy. I will -hopefully- continue to write more. Please comment, as they quicken my ability to write...no seriously. They do! :P
Also, this is SLASH, which means boyxboy. If that bugs you in any way, or if you're simply super homophobic; I will nicely ask you to leave this story. I will not tolerate flames. They are immature and makes you look plain stupid because I actually took the time to write you a warning...which you obviously ignored or overlooked. :/ Please don't be an idiot or make a fool of yourself. I'll only laugh from behind my screen while eating chocolate frogs.
Disclaimer: I don't own Naruto. He and the rest of the characters in this story belong to Kishimoto and his little crew of anime artists.
Stupid.
Fag.
Geek.
Nerd.
Loser.
Ugly.
The list goes on and on. Kids with their cruel smiles; with curling devil horns under all their stylish hair. Claws of rapid needles, pointy and hurtful. Venomous to touch, poisonous to hear. Ignorant of everyone and everything around them.
Naruto Uzumaki clenched his fists tight; his head bent low and blond hair covering his wire-rimmed glasses.
Sticks and stones may break my bones, but words will never hurt me.
That is a lie.
It hurt just as much each time they opened their poisonous lips, with every word that came out pierced another shard of glass into his wounded heart. And despite once being strong, his will was beaten to mere shreds, not able to handle the blows.
Are you stupid, fag? No one gives a fuck about you. Go run off and suck dicks or something.
You're just a freak. No wonder your parents died. I would too if I had such a freak as a baby.
But those weren't even the worst.
Why don't you just disappear? No one would care. In fact, it would save us a whole lot of trouble.
That phrase had hit home. Why was he here? What purpose did he serve?
As he thought more about it…this single truth was revealed to him.
Nothing.
He was nothing. He was worth nothing. His purpose was nothing.
And his life had no meaning.
It was utter darkness, loneliness, and…nothing.
It had been five years since Naruto had last spoken. Five years since he had last opened his mouth or made a single noise. Only silence prevailed. It was the same silence that protected him from the torments of his classmates and come to be his only stand in life.
Five years of cold numbness. Utter pain. Total loneliness. But all in all, he finally served a purpose: he was a diminished nothing. His feelings did not matter, his voice did not count, and his being was nothing but an empty shell.
His nails were biting into his palm as he continued to walk jerkily. His teeth were biting into his inner lip like it was his only means of survival.
Along with being silent, he mastered the art of indifference. His face always showed no emotion, as if it had been carved of stone. But as trained as he was, he could never cover everything.
His eyes…his blue, blue eyes. They were the color of the sky—once a gateway to his spirit. Now they were the reflection of his pain. Even at the roughest moments, the times where he held onto his mask like a life-line…they always reflected his true feelings.
But everyone remained ignorant of such feelings. He was, after all, the lowest of the low. His torment gave way to their own happiness and feelings of self-accomplishment.
He was cold. He was tired. He was lonely.
And he knew he deserved it.
Five years of pain. And another year to come.
Whatever the outcome, he would face head-on. Whether he wanted to or not.
But his resentment of himself would never change.
His inner lip bled.