It's good to be back in the city. Hope everyone had a great summer. More side notes at the bottom for those who care to be in-the-know.
Anyway. Back to business I guess.Disclaimer: None of the characters belong to me. They belong to the Naruto creator, Kishimoto, Masashi.
Chapter Four – Tell You a Secret
The only lively thing waiting for him at home was their plasma television on mute. A game show aired, but to no audience as it animated the walls of their vintage living room, free from human shadow.
Temari and Kankuro must have taken the night out he realized, when he whistled to hear the sound of only himself echo up the stairs. Deciding to go straight to the bath, Gaara removed his shoes at the bottom of the staircase, and then stripped himself from his clothes as he walked his way to the tub. It was not the most reasonable method in putting his things away, but he couldn't remember a time when he was ever reasonable.
The shower went uneventful—lukewarm water rinsing wherever he lazily smeared soap over his body. Showering, he thought, was nowhere near as exciting as checking oneself out, which was why when he was finished he found it difficult to look away from the reflection of himself at bathroom mirror. Though the only thing that would distract him from the hobby was the sound of Sasuke's phone going off. And by the timing of the call, it felt as though the other boy was secretly watching his every move, acting upon things so accordingly that he would have expected to hear Sasuke say, "Don't flatter yourself," if he were to pick up.
Sasuke, a spy? He smiled at the thought.
On his desk where he originally hid it, Sasuke's phone rang. Only this time to the sound of Rick James' Give It To Me Baby—he could only take so much of its chorus looping so many times that he surrendered pride to answer the phone in its fourth ring.
"Ah, Uchiha. It's collect-calling hour at prison already?" he asked, unaware that he just milked another opportunity of pulling the boy's leg. "If only you could hear your new ring tone. It's fucking hilarious."
With a greeting to match his frankness, Sasuke retorted, "What have you done with my phone? I swear if—"
"Relax, relax. It's not like I called anyone important yet."
Then there was silence on the other end. The kind he understood as Uchiha-silence, where the subliminal message behind it went something along the lines of: I'm going to kill you.
"Uchiha…"
"What?""I didn't know you had Sakura in your memory book," Gaara changed the subject, hinting that his alone time with the device hadn't gone to waste.
The Sakura hadn't called the phone tonight, but he still wondered how much those two racked the bill together. Gaara had trouble believing the other boy was somehow into the pink-haired hazard, but one could never be certain. Sasuke's detached behavior around the girl told him many things, all of which were in favor of the idea that he really despised her, so he was confident that whatever attractions going on between them was one-sided at best, until now.
Gaara couldn't think of any reason Sasuke could possibly want with the girl's number other than to entertain himself with free phone sex, because what else could the two possibly have in common that they would want to exchange numbers? Though in putting Sasuke and 'sex' together, the thought of that was so scarring to his imagination that it was borderline-masochistic.
Anyone with a brain could tell that Sasuke didn't care for sex.
"About that day…" Gaara heard him say. Sasuke sounded as if he was about to apologize, but he had a feeling that the Uchihas weren't so prone to admitting their mistakes.
Fortunately for him, he could already make out what the brunette was going to say.
"Hee, how'd you find out it was me?" Gaara wanted to know. The stuffed animals that decorated his bed were tossed aside to make room, so he could then lie down and confess, "I was very careful you know."
Again there was silence, the same sort with the severe hidden messages.
"The day you ruined my life, you were there by my locker, watching me the whole time and I was too distracted to notice," Sasuke said in retrospect. He was calm and tactful about how to carry on, but swift. "My question is, how did an idiot like you manage to memorize my combination by looking at it once?"
"It's a secret," he giggled. This time he was really pushing it. "Anything else?"
"I have no time for games Gaara," Sasuke pressed on the other end, his patience running thin. "If word gets out that I've been set up. . ."
"Fine, fine. Tell who you want, but it's not like anyone's gonna believe you. Know why?" he asked, although there was no need for him to, since most of the time he took the liberty of answering his own questions. "Because you've got a bad enough rep as it is," he then said, but he took into consideration that the brunette wasn't the type to be discouraged by an obstacle that easy. He had to come up with something else, an offer Sasuke couldn't refuse. And so an idea struck him. "But if you insist, I'll do whatever you ask me to for a year if that's enough to hush you up."
A year? Who was he shitting?
"I'm not like you Gaara."
"That's what they all say before they crack," he argued. "But I'll give you some time to think it over. And on Monday before class you'll tell me my fate, face to face."
"And if I refuse?"
"Then you'll have to deal with me again," Gaara warned him. "And just so you know, Sasuke, my plans for you are more advanced than the trouble a couple of cheap firearms can get you."
Gaara could have sworn that he heard a subtle—"hmph"—on the other end. So maybe, he thought, Sasuke was reconsidering his offer. Maybe there was a chance for them to move on to bigger and better things, but it was now all up to Sasuke to decide where their relationship would end up going.
And when he felt that there was nothing else they could say to each other, Gaara ended the call.
"Think about it."
It was amusing seeing the two of them together that afternoon as they slipped into being informal, comical, like celebrity siblings do on reality television.
Because of what happened today, Sasuke's theft incident earned him the luxury of getting a ride home from his brother, Itachi. Though the ride went as far as a nearby hotel, since he had yet to feel comfortable enough to lure the wealthy heirs into his shabby neighborhood.
It wasn't until Naruto reached home that he felt at ease once more, and he was in a newfound comfort that he decided to take out on knitting, something he hadn't done in a while.
Naruto crocheted some orange and white yarn together while he read the town's newspaper—a first for him—and Page Three's article about Sasuke had his eyes glued to the paper. Not only was the column noticeable by its big size, it was carefully constructed of words that ripped the young boy to shreds in every snippet. From questioning their Senator's credibility to Sasuke's brief arrest, the writer, credited as being someone by the penname HYUUGA, sounded as though he or she were thrilled about smearing the Uchiha name.
Naruto didn't understand politics and he most certainly didn't understand the politics of Konoha. And Hyuuga? He could have sworn he heard the name before, but even if he had, he wasn't open to believing that they were as big a name as 'Uchiha.' After all, how many familial monarchs could one small town handle?
But before he could find an answer to that, he felt a strange wave of exhaustion coming in, one he could blame on the fact that it's been six hours since he last ate.
His kitchen clock went off. The mechanical sounds of birds chirped to tell him that it was only seven past noon, too soon for someone his age to want to go straight to bed for the night. But there was nothing else he could do to past time, other than to think about his crocheting project and work—something he groaned about, since his first workday was on a Saturday.
"Well shit. Tomorrow's Saturday," Naruto told no one in particular.
He wanted to call Itachi and share another memorable game of, "Count to the Impossible."
He wanted to hear the young man's voice again before calling it a night, but he was afraid he was coming too forward on the guy. His blonde hair was already a stereotypical curse to his intelligence, but what he didn't want was to live up to the expectations of being dumb and annoying.
Naruto blankly stared at the wall across the room. Had there been a television set, his eyes would've found better interest. But watching TV now would only worsen the headache he was experiencing.
Bothering Itachi again would have to wait he sighed, because a nice hot bowl of thick noodles could do him a hell of a lot more good tonight.
Itachi hated golf.
It was becoming a trend he could say; hating anything there was to everything yet getting involved with everything that he hated. And with that said five times fast, his life was more or less like the representation of a tongue twister—everything was fucked up once they got repetitive.
Yet here he stood, on one of his most hated Saturday mornings, waiting to start a match-game of golf with his father and another "father-son" team he loathed.
The Hyuugas were invited to their court this time around, another one of his father's attempts to purify any bad blood between them, or as he believed, an effort to worsen things.
Although they were in the brink of September, the day was sunny and warm, perfect for any outdoor sport. But his golf club thought otherwise as it grew uncomfortably heavy in his hands once the Hyuugas entered the field, carrying just as much flare and wealth on their backs.
Even as the surrogate son, Neji captured so much of his uncle to be recognized as more than just his nephew. Long, silky brown hair always adorned his pale face, possibly ever since he was brought into the world—he couldn't remember. It's been so long since he'd last seen the boy with short hair that it felt as though Neji came out of the womb with a head full of it. And with bursting lips to match, the young man was perfection completed at birth, a common denominator for those raised in old wealth such as he.
And like his father who was now deceased, Neji possessed the same silver eyes only Hyuugas were commonly known to have. Usually they would carry some sort of neutrality to his facade, except today the boy seemed upset over something. As to whatever it was, it became a troubled look that was immediately chased away once their eyes met.
On days like today he felt impartial about the heir, for they never carried themselves past a simple bow and handshake. Neji's uncle however was another story.
"Nice day for golf eh? Ready to lose in your own court Uchiha?" The game hasn't even started yet, and he was already being so cocky.
But this was how it always began, he remembered. Hyuuga would compliment the weather, tip his golf cap, then gallingly predict the future.
What a dick...
"I'll do the honor of showing you true Uchiha magic in this field, Hyuuga," his father replied. But it didn't help make him sound any better of a man.
Although rare, their immaturity was nauseating. And out of protest Itachi immediately started the game, where they then silenced themselves to watch his ball disappear after a good several yards of flight into the air. It was a decent start, except for one thing. When they all met up by the hole where they expected to find the ball, he felt that familiar numbness that has always haunted him alongside his success—the awkward, tingling sensation of boredom.
Neji and his uncle stood in silence as they continued to stare at the hole, an act done more out of custom rather than amazement.
"I was lucky," he told them casually, as if luck could possibly be a substitute for talent. He didn't want to sound egotistical, but why did he have to be good at everything?
"Wouldn't call that luck boy." Hyuuga sounded doubtful, as if suggesting that he might have cheated. And if it were of his best interest to go through the trouble of fixing a game of golf, then he would have given the man credit for assuming something that outrageous.
Upset and aloof, Itachi dumped his club to the ground and walked away from the game.
"Wait! Where are you going? We haven't even finished our play," his father called at his back. And it should have made him felt like he was doing something wrong, like the game actually mattered to him, but it didn't.
We?—he wanted to say, and what a start for an argument since there was no "we" in Itachi or Uchiha.
Partnership was never part of their vocabulary. He knew it, his father knew it, and so did everyone else who knew him, but he wasn't going to make any more of a scene in front of their guests, Hyuugas in particular.
So Itachi went back to putting up a front. "I just remembered. I need to be somewhere."
"Like where?"
"Like home," he stressed, putting an end to their small talk.
By the time he felt that he was a good distance away from them, Itachi stopped and turned to look at the field. He could see how Neji was entertaining the other men with one of his practice swings, and they were all so engaged in what they were doing that it gave him a firsthand look at how easily he was forgotten. Did his father really care if he stayed? It was so hard to tell from what he was seeing. But why, much to his surprise, wasn't he the least bit saddened by it?
When the final reigns of summer would be over and his father's fields would be buried in snow, preventing any balls to be putt or holes to fill, would he then care? Would that then be enough to make him miss this?
Itachi tried to think of anything he truly liked about golf, but quickly realized how impossible it was for him to, because it was something he had done before and he would always come up with nothing.
Winter promised a game-less season where there would be no father-son Saturdays. It also guaranteed months that would be spent without climate golf and the Hyuugas, something he was very much looking forward to.
But once the weather came to kill the sport, what next? It wasn't like he could foresee any other opportunity at happiness—because nothing in this world could make him happy.
Gaara's little game of making his life a living hell was beginning to wear him out. Though what was more upsetting was the fact that not only did he fall for his pranks once, but twice. And at this point of their feud, Sasuke feared it was becoming more evident that he would never be able to redeem his dignity from The Gaara.
Though he had to admit that yesterday wasn't as bad as he was making it out to be, save for the new boy he met at school. The boy with the wild eyes—Naruto, was the name.
In bed with his legs crossed, Sasuke couldn't help but daydream about the previous day. He still couldn't forget those eyes Naruto had, brilliant sapphire eyes that have left him feeling compelled, nauseous. And had there been anything to tell, they clearly spoke a language that could only communicate those truths, an understandable excuse for getting yourself lost whilst looking at them.
Their school was repulsively crowded for one, so chances were that he might never get to see the other boy again. And it was discouraging to know since he couldn't wait to have another inviting conversation with the blonde, or to go into another one of those dizzy spells by gazing into those wild eyes. Sasuke wanted anything that could help bring them closer together.
But given those circumstances, what could they have done as acquaintances? Or better yet, what could they have done as friends? Did Naruto even enjoy social outings and golf?
Naruto and golf. The thought of that startled him, but he smiled at the scenario.
The blonde didn't look like a golfer. Hell, Sasuke wasn't convinced that the boy was even part of his league, but that was what was so fascinating about him. Naruto was a little rough around the edges, but safe. Someone who was pure and comfortable with himself. Perhaps even naïve, but guaranteed not to be boring; all traits that were so unlike anyone else he had met.
Oh god, he thought. He was obsessed with the boy. But why, when they had only met once? It was strange. Not to mention very awkward to the point that he tried to think of something else, and go back to what he was originally doing.
He glanced at the dangerously provocative spread on his lap as a distraction, a glamour shot of two young males he forgot about when he spaced out.
The models on the page looked no older than his brother, but they possessed a latent sense of maturity that was believable due to their nudity. They were beautiful, dark-haired beings—one fair, the other tanned. Sort of like a yin and yang, they were opposites complimenting each other.
And the way they looked like they were about to kiss was stunning. Inspiring even.
Sasuke had never kissed anyone before, never even came close to it. But he didn't need the experience to know what it would be like for he already knew. Countless spreads have told him that a kiss from a lover's lips could only be sugary-sweet, with an aftertaste of freedom. An inexplicable encounter with love that required teamwork when given the chance. . .
At this he sighed. Was it wrong to think of it that way? Somehow he couldn't help but feel that his pent up romanticisms were more fitting for someone like Sakura. Or Naruto, now an ironic subject, since he was doing exactly what he was trying not to—think about Naruto.
Though it wasn't like he was going to be punished for it. In fact it was harmless to think about the boy, because Sasuke knew that his thoughts were a secret to everyone else but him. So nostalgically, without shame this time, he thought back to the moment he first met Naruto. But then he discovered that there was something very odd yet obvious about the blonde that he shouldn't have overlooked.
Naruto's brightly colored umbrella, his cartoonish watch and his whimsical smile. Even his shy glances that made their way towards his brother, and how it all made sense.
Yes. It wasn't until Itachi came into the picture that he felt something was different about the air. Something he couldn't quite put his finger on, until now.
Was Naruto gay? Like Itachi. . .
Without even wanting to, he thought back five seasons ago, to the night that he felt it and understood it; the overwhelming sense of adrenaline that not even a homoerotic photograph could ever have the capacity of showing him. The lonely night where, he couldn't sleep, even in fetal position as his heartbeat hummed a fearful pace—all in consequence for peeking at his brother's raw and intimate lovemaking with his best friend, a male.
And what a performance they gave the stars he remembered, perhaps all too well, since he was already reliving the sights and sounds produced that night. In the way that earth was caste as their mattress, how their bodies collided in lustful, needy rhythms; and with their cries loud and not giving a fuck. . .how could he forget?
Itachi's affair with his best friend became a secret he's kept for more than a year, the only truth about his brother that has left him feeling ashamed and confused. Though he could say that he was partially to blame for it, since it was his decision to stay silent about his brother's sudden change in behavior. He chose not to tell anyone about the nights his brother spent out in the garden, doing one of those typical, wild things he thought teenage boys would do after dark.
He didn't want to have to think of Naruto in that way, as someone who would want to do things—filthy things with his brother or any other person of the same sex. And he felt this way not only because it made him uncomfortable, but also because he feared he would enjoy it.
If there were anything he didn't want to inherit from his brother it would be his homosexuality. When Sasuke first found out the truth about his brother's relationship with his friend, he took the blow quite hard. But their parents, who were so conformed to classic traditions; how would they react if they knew?
Somehow the notion that they were brothers allowed him to look past that imperfection. It was enough to make Sasuke try to forget and to protect his brother by staying quiet about it.
But Naruto? He knew of nothing to help secure his conscience about the blonde. Nothing about his family, his friends, or his past.
Naruto was a stranger to him, he disclosed. Thus whatever known respects he had for the boy were now crumpled up and thrown into his memory's wastebasket.
There was no chance in hell that they could ever become friends, nonetheless acquaintances.
"I hate you. . .Naruto."
The clock reminded him that his shift was almost over, as its needle routinely traveled its way around twelve to produce a good whole five minutes.
Konoha Pharmacy was located in the better parts of town, where the dog-sitters and nannies did most of their day shopping. The aisles were kept spotless, quiet. And the workload was far less hectic than his old job so he always had to search for some work to do. It was better than waiting for someone to call for his assistance.
"Na-Naruto?"He turned to where the voice came from. And with a face to match the sound he then recognized the customer. "Ah, Hinata!"
"I-I didn't know. . .you worked here," Hinata told him, or rather the floor.
"Yeup, starting today," he smiled. The girl was still helpless when it came to conversation so he took the responsibility of changing that. "But my shift's almost over. You need anything in my last, uh. . .two minutes?"
"Un…un, w-well…"
"Psst, it's okay," he mused, his voice lowering to a whisper. "If it's birth control you need, you can just say so. I'm not here to judge, you know."
"A-actually I-I'm not—"
"This one's really popular, at least that's the impression I've been getting while I was here." He was quick to select a box from the shelf nearby and the girl kindly accepted it, saying nothing. "I'll check that for you."
"N-Naruto!" she said, then froze at the notion that she didn't like the way that she raised her voice at him. The counter was what occupied her wandering eyes, where she subsequently took a moment to feel safe enough to add, "D-did you…did you like the present I gave you?"
Right, he remembered. Her present. The one he felt too intimidated to unwrap the other night. He remembered leaving it on his kitchen counter (or was it the kitchen sink?), still uncovered from its blatantly expensive foil and ribbons.
Naruto could always say that he liked it, and that he was very thankful for her generosity. But with the time he was taking in finding her an answer, to flat out lie about it now would only give himself away.
"Oh…I didn't open it yet," he started with a pang of guilt. Unsure about the girl's tolerance to bad news he then coaxed, "But I will today. When I get home. I promise."
"Un. . ."
And that was it. Nothing more was said between them, not even as she continued to stare at him while he punched himself out for the day. The girl had a way of making people feel as though they were being watched, probably because she stared more than she talked. It was a feeling that escaped him once he got outside, though it wasn't until Naruto entered the supermarket nearby that he realized he wasn't the only one shopping for the same groceries. Hinata was still following him.
At this he grinned. Then he turned to her. "Hey you, are you stalking me?"
Caught off guard with an apple in her hand, Hinata violently shook her head. "I-I. . .w-we didn't say our goodbyes so. . .I-I thought y-you meant..."
"You thought I meant for you to follow me?" he laughed. "No big deal. Cause since I know you I really don't care what you do. Now unless you're some creepy old guy following me around, then we'd have a problem."
Together they laughed. Though it was only a matter of time before their shopping for groceries together went back in silence.
"Hey, what do you think about The Leafs? Especially Itachi leading. . .don't you think he's amazing?" Naruto grinned, although he felt like he was talking with himself again. "But I doubt he'd ever go major league once he graduates. He looks like he has a lot on his plate already…"
And it was true. Itachi always looked so busy, particularly when he would skip lunch to bury himself with textbooks and note taking. Being that excellence was something he only strove for, it seemed like the young man had an incurable addiction to learning.
Though as if to disagree, Hinata looked at him funny.
"Um…N-Naruto," she said.
"Mnnn yeah?"
"Uchiha, Itachi…"
And by the worried look in her eyes, his smile wavered. Whatever it was that she had to say, he wasn't sure if he wanted to know, or if it was meant for him to know. His instincts were telling him that it could be anything but good news. Curiosity killed the cat, he thought, and right now he felt like a fat cat clinging on the edge of a cliff.
"Uchiha, Itachi, he…he g-graduated t-three years ago," she admitted ominously.
He paused at this, taking a moment to register everything she said.
Say what?
Idle in thought, he felt a chill run down his entire body, as if he had dove in headfirst into a lake marinated with icebergs. Confusion, anger, and even betrayal unexpectedly crossed his emotions. And for what, he didn't quite know, or understand why. All he knew was that he hated to be himself right now.
Itachi graduated? And the words: three years ago?In putting everything together so he could make some sense out of the surprise, he dropped his groceries, terrifying the girl when he replaced his calm pretense with, "EEEEEEHHHHHHHHH?"
End of Chapter
First of all, I would like to start out by saying—thank you!—to the people who have offered their kind words of encouragement to me.
In writing Leap Frog, I had some difficulty sticking to one set of cultural values, since it's "Naruto" and all, but I guess I've already made it bicultural from the beginning?
The issue of birth control is like a retarded social 'taboo' like so many others in Japan that I incorporated a more Western, liberal approach to it – ha. Anyone who knows this might have appreciated the Hinata and Naruto scene a little more. . .
In addition:
I've had no beta for this story, just a close friend who cared to be the first to read what I've been up to.
Long story short, I'm still trying to get over the loss of said friend since last fall—a very talented, professional, beautiful person I loved and admired. I've always been picky about my writing, but now that he's gone I'll be honest and say that I've been nervous about sharing it with anyone. In its early draft, this was the last chapter he had the chance to read before the incident. . .and I'm guilty of holding on to it compulsively.
Anyway, I still care (deeply) to entertain others so I've always been anxious to get this story moving. It was. . .what he wanted as well, which is why I super skimmed through it tonight with that in mind. So I apologize for the quality. . .
And as long as I still exist I do plan on finishing what I started, and more - hopefully at a more consistent rate.
Oh. And as always, thanks for reading.
