I know it's been a minute, but now the kid is back to do what I do… Disclaimer: I own you, so get over it.
Chapter 3: Pulse
It itches sometimes. Though not often enough in her oh so humble opinion. Because when the damnable thing isn't itching, it's searing with a pain so unbearable that it almost feels alive to her. Like it can jump up and out of her skin. And just like the lightning that splits the night time sky, it runs through her blood stream, attempting to fry her entire system. Pain like this shouldn't even be possible…
It throbs. And too many times for him to count, he has found him self being forced to his knees with a hand clasping the side of his face. Thankfully, this always happens in the sanctuary of his own room, when the lights are still off, and he can't even make out the color of his own deathly pale skin. This, he muses, though not as indifferently as he likes to pretend, is just plain cruel…
It's a feeling that shoots through her chest every time she sees him (sometimes even before she sees him, because the smell of those God awful cigarettes reaches her long before his body does). And that feeling stays with her all day, because that's where he is. With her. Conversation is not rare between them, he asks about her day, and she in turn, inquires about his own. Talking, however, seems to be a whole ball park. But then again, when had conversating, and talking become two different things…
It burns him, often to a point where he has to clutch at his chest, green eyes closed to override the sudden bout of vertigo that has lay claim to his body. It's a feeling that hits him only when he comes home to the absence of wood shavings on the floor, or the smell of burnt cooking to fill his nose. And although he knows that they're gone (after all, he was the one to send them off), that damned emotion never, never fails to throw him for a proverbial loop. After all, it is only natural. We've finally become a family…
It tingled. That's the only way she knows how to describe it. The only way she can explain why a simple glance always made her breath catch in her lungs or a touch could damn near send her into cardiac arrest. He almost never smiled, but she had accepted that. Like it went against some set of unwritten laws, and God forbid if he should so much as flash a glimpse of pearly white. Even now, it tingled. Whenever she drew in a breath, his name would spring, unbidden, onto her tongue and tears would make their presence felt in the corners of her eyes. This is so not fair…
Overall consumption. That's what she tells herself every time his image begins to flood her mind's eye. It's like I've been drugged. He drifts into her system with an ease that unnerves her, almost as much as his ability to create and execute near flawless plans, and sometimes she's not sure whether to smile at his memory or to scream until her lungs decide to burst. She keeps a shogi board in the corner of her room now, placed on her windowsill, with the pieces carefully set on both sides. And now I'm addicted…
It's akin to drowning, the way he feels whenever people turn to look at him. They glare down from the tips of their noses, and for a moment, just a tiny second, the always present grin falters, and he can feel it pushing against those tightly coiled restraints. The inside of his chest aches, while colors flash in the corners of his eyes. Red and then white, black and then crimson. Life, he snorts quietly, can really suck...
It's the end of chapter 3, ladies and gents. Just in case anyone was curious, the order for this piece is; Anko, Kakashi, Kurenai, Gaara, Sakura, Temari, and of course, Naruto. Hopefully, you guys enjoy my ramblings. If not, well… what does one say to that?