A/N: As promised, here's the second chapter—just a mere two or so days later. I didn't get very much feedback from the last chapter, but even so, those reviews made me smile. You guys truly made my day! Hopefully this chapter will be to your liking, as well. I personally think it's better than the first one, but I don't know. You guys can be the judge of that.

Well, happy reading!

EDIT: I made a change to the very first paragraph. It's not really important, but maybe the more perceptive ones will notice once I update the third chapter. The first paragraph of this would have conflicted with that. Just thought I'd say that.

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The Man by the Window

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Chapter 2

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X

He had passed out in the floor the previous night without even realizing it, and felt as if he had a hangover. As far as his exhausted mind could remember, he hadn't been drinking. He would rather rot in Hell than pick up a bottle, but drinking would sure explain the eerie thoughts and dreams that plagued him lately off and on...

"If you're happy and you know it..."

No. No, that couldn't have been a dream. His jaded mind was betraying him. Confused between reality and thoughts and—and dreams? He couldn't believe himself. He couldn't keep dwelling on this. Every corner he turned, his voice would drone on in his head like some sort of mantra which repeated itself over and over until he felt sick. Admittedly, it had given him something to think about in his less than boring life. In fact, that was all he had been thinking about. It kept him busy from other thoughts; thoughts that depressed him and made his stomach churn uncomfortably until he felt sick. Things seemed ominous as of late, though strangely, not in a negative way. Any other sane person would have to disagree with his line of thinking, though as he learned over the span of many years, he wasn't very much like too many people. Of course, every outward appearance of his own were just like any other individual's. He had a high-paying occupation and was well-known in society, a normal apartment—albeit he lives alone out of preference—a nice neighborhood, was a naturally attractive person and had every female in the city making their advances toward him, was intelligent...

He absolutely loathed it. Everything was too normal, everyone was too predictable, and it seemed as if change was impossible. He was a mess on the inside and not a single person seemed to notice, not even cared to acknowledge him or his feelings.

Something new needed to happen. Everything was too dull, lifeless, and repetitive, and it was beginning to drive him mad. In his world, everything was bathed in black and gray; so desperate for change... To him, it didn't matter how, things just needed to be different, whether it be bad or good.

Though, that previous night, things had taken a drastic turn. Blood began pulsing rapidly throughout his veins once more, making him feel truly alive. Fear, excitement—whatever it was, it didn't matter because it was different. The man by the window that night had thrown a splotch of color onto his gray and black canvas, bleeding through the material and staining it a bright, passionate red. He was beginning to find himself once more, he began to realize as the sun shone brightly through his closed curtains like a light at the end of a tunnel. A ray of hope.

Carding a hand through dark, tousled locks in an attempt to straighten them out, he arranged his feet beneath him and stood up as steadily as possible as he felt his blood rush to his head in a dizzying motion. It was then when he realized that sleeping on the floor hadn't been such a great idea as bones popped and muscles ached with the first step forward he took.

Taking a glance at the small digital clock placed on a small mahogany table off to his bedside, he groaned audibly in annoyance. It was so late, yet it had been the first time in a while since he had slept past noon. Normally, his insomnia wouldn't allow him the luxury of sleeping. He decided this time to take sleeping in as a good sign, and quickly dismissed the thought.

As his light-headedness began to fade, he made his way to the small black dresser just in front of his bed. Pulling out his choice of clothes for the day before showering, he chose a crisp white dress shirt to wear underneath that soot-colored jacket that the ladies absolutely adored. He was high in society after all. Impressing those around him had become second nature, although he didn't need to do much. He knew he was conceited, but he also knew that he was fucking gorgeous, possibly the best looking in the city—no, he knew that he was. No one dared to tell him otherwise. They knew better.

Gathering his things for a shower, he went into the bathroom attached to the master bedroom in his condo. He desperately needed one, so that's what he was going to do.

X

Only a few hours later, three consecutive knocks reverberated throughout the condominium, interrupting the man currently sipping at a cup of coffee.

I'm never going to get a fuckin' break, am I?

All thoughts aside, he rose from his chair and made his way slowly—on purpose—to the door. Eyeing the tiny peep-hole wearily, he looked into it, cringing.

His dealer. Orochimaru.

"Dammit all... Just what I fuckin' need this early in the fuckin' morning..." he muttered bitterly, carding a hand through silky raven locks as he walked away, not intending to answer the greedy man on the other side of the door. After all, he never came to him for anything good. No, if he ever came to "visit" him, he always wanted something, something that he was never willing to give on normal occasions.

Yes, he knew him well. Some would say a little too well. Either way, he knew him, and he knew what he wanted. He had yet to pay him for the drugs he so desperately took, and he wasn't planning on it, either. He knew he was treading on dangerous waters here, but it couldn't be helped.

That sick fucker already got his payment from him, no matter if Orochimaru saw it that way or not. He would never give his body willingly, especially to a man—he wasn't some sick faggot—but he was forced. Yes, the great Sasuke Uchiha was held against his will by those cold, spidery hands. He still shivered at the mere thought of it, grimacing at the memory. But that wasn't the first time something like that occurred. His father. He was only seven. Just a mere child...

"Daddy? Daddy, what are you—?"

His stuffed dinosaur was ripped from his grip by icy hands in the dark room, moonlight illuminating the man's features who stood beside his bed. His face appeared flushed, and the stench of alcohol was overwhelming his senses. His father seemed dazed.

His wife had left a few hours ago on a business trip, leaving him and his son alone for two weeks. She knew her husband had a drinking problem, but she trusted him. He had a little boy to be responsible for. There was no way he would pick up a bottle while she was gone.

How wrong she was. Her mistake cost her beautiful son his innocence.

"What's wrong, Daddy? Are you lonely without Mommy here? You can sleep with me!" He said excitedly, wiping the sleep away from his eyes, wearing a big grin. His father never paid any attention to him. He was thrilled that he had come to see him in his room! But why wasn't he saying anything?

A few more knocks sounded, harder and louder by the second, bringing him from his reverie. He could tell the bastard was furious, and he smirked inwardly. Good. As long as he was still pissing people off, then all was right with the world.

"Sasuke Uchiha, open this fuckin' door before I beat it off it's hinges!"

Well, damn.

He could either use the fire escape, or hide... No. No. He was many things, but he was not a coward, so hiding was out of the question, or even running for that matter. He wasn't scared of him like some bitch. This was his place, dammit. He would stand his ground.

Even if that meant ignoring the furious man on the other side of the door. He hated unnecessary arguments, after all.

Making sure his door was locked, he headed back to the kitchen to finish his coffee. He was not in the mood for this. A few tablets to bust up and snort seemed to be his only form of relaxation for the moment. That was all he had, until he made another drug run, of course. Pills would have to suffice for now.

"You dirty son of a bitch! You're here, I know it. Your car's in the parking lot..."

Well, duh, jackass, Sasuke thought, without a care for the angry man still residing behind his door, obviously desperate. It was rather humorous. A simple two-inch piece of wood was keeping the murderous son of a bitch from getting what he wanted. He thought he was so tough.

"I will be paid, you know. Whether it be with money, or something else, I always get what I want in the end. Remember that..." That voice dripping with malice continued on behind the door.

"Now, is that a threat?" He muttered, mostly to himself. "It couldn't be, not to me, anyways. People know better..." He smirked into his coffee cup, taking another sip. That smirk didn't last though as horrible memories from before came rushing back.

The covers were roughly jerked off of the tiny boy who went from happy, to thoroughly confused. Before he even had time to protest, forceful lips were already upon his childish ones in an instant. Eyes grew wide at the sudden contact, and the small boy almost gagged at the intruding tongue worming its way into his mouth.

"Mnh—!"

Thrashing his head from side to side, he tried his best to escape this man who pretended to be his father. This couldn't be his father. His feet were tangled about the sheets that donned his tiny frame, making escape impossible. A heavy body fell atop his own as he felt hot tears streaming, a horrible contrast to the cold hands roaming under his night shirt.

The man atop him never said a word, only a few grunts and moans as the child felt him grinding his hips harshly into his own. Why was he doing this? Why him?!

"S-Stop! Please...!" he sobbed, feeling a growing hardness between his own legs. What was it?

The drunken man started undressing on top of him, only proving to scare him further. There was a pause in the man's ministrations to his body, so he used that time to ask him a question he had been wanting to ask since the beginning of all of this.

"W—...Who are y-you?" He trembled, tears blurring his vision. His voice sounded foreign to his own ears. A few moments passed before he received his answer.

"Your father."

He gasped, taking in several gulps of icy air into his lungs, shocking him. Why were these memories plaguing him all of a sudden? The past was the past, and he wasn't going to let his bastard of a father get to him. He was long gone, anyway.

"S-Shit... That dirty fuckin' faggot. Should've kept his dick where it belonged, the cock sucker."

He hadn't a clue why he was swearing, but it sure made him feel better. Looking down at his hands, he noticed he was trembling. Fuck. He hadn't even noticed that the incessant knocking at his door had ceased.

He covered his face with his hands, closing his eyes. Despite sleeping in, he was ridiculously tired. Coffee didn't seem to help him, either. Oh, well. He would just crush up a pill later, after he finished his coffee. That would fix his problem, and calm his frazzled nerves.

He hadn't a clue what had gotten into him as of late, but he was rather jumpy. He perked up at the slightest of noises, ridiculously alert. He supposed it was because of...

"If you're happy and you know it..."

He closed his eyes even tighter, gritting his teeth. ...Why couldn't he just leave him the fuck alone?! His breath hitched in his throat as a light buzzing filled his ears, growing louder and louder by the second. Was he going crazy? What the hell was wrong with him?! He could feel himself starting to hyperventilate, gripping the sides of the table for leverage. He began to gasp, surprising himself. Everything was so loud... He felt like passing out.

Opening his eyes for a moment, he realized that the world around him was spinning. The buzzing at his ears was growing unbearably loud. He could feel scorching hot liquid in his eyes, but couldn't quite tell what it was at the moment.

Then suddenly, as if a plug had been pulled, there was an absolute silence.

The buzzing at his ears had stopped. His gasping had stopped. His grip on the table had loosened. Lastly, he opened his eyes and everything became clear once more. He could hear the screeching sounds of horns and city traffic just outside his window. He could feel the rapid beating of his heart within his chest. He could also feel the trickling of scalding tears at his cheeks. When did that happen?

He quickly wiped them away, beginning to calm down. Good. Reclaiming his forgotten coffee in front of him, he brought the cup up to his lips.

"Sasuke—"

It immediately fell from his grip, and crashed onto the floor. He fell backwards off the chair he was sitting in. He was silently glad that he hadn't taken a drink of that coffee, because he would have certainly choked.

The calm person standing in front of him arched an eyebrow in a questioning gesture.

"Um, is everything...okay?" he asked slowly, as to not startle the man currently sitting in the floor in front of him any further than he already had.

"What the fuck?!" he shouted, eyes wide and fearful. "How the hell did you get in?!"

It was his work buddy, Kakashi Hatake.

"Your door was unlocked, so I decided to just go ahead and come in. Anyways, why weren't you at work to—"

"W-What do you mean?" His face visibly paled, his voice going soft in confusion. "I locked the door, I made sure of it. Orochimaru, a-and that man..." he trailed off, not yet having gotten up off the ground. Glass shards were sprinkled about the floor along with a brown puddle of now-cooling liquid.

He had never seen this side of Sasuke before. He was absolutely hysterical... Was it the drugs? Was he going through withdrawl?

"Well, you obviously made a mistake. Why's that such a big deal, anyway? You're here to watch over the place. It's not like anyone's going to steal your things or—"

"Fucking hell..."

There was a moment of pause between the pair before his friend had finally decided to just come out and ask him the ever-important question.

"What is wrong with you?"

Sasuke looked him in the eyes, never once averting his gaze and appearing almost desperate before he answered.

"I don't know."