A/N: It's been a while. Sorry.

Hyuuga NejiHere, Against My Chest

Miraculously, my sloppy cover up attempts weren't as see-through as I had thought. I spent over a month anticipating, waiting, for a clan member to pull me out of my training and to bring me for punishment, for one of Hiashi's dinner invitations to tell me that I was to meet him, for Hinata to walk into the council room, for something, anything to prove that we had been caught.

And when none of that happened, I realized that Hinata and I didn't really do anything taboo. How would one know of our feelings, which were universally wrong, if she and I never showed any physical signs of affection? How were they to know of the torture and anguish I felt when I was away from her for more than a few hours, if I did not show any sign of it? How…how could they comprehend any of the overpowering emotions I felt?

Perhaps that was part of the reason I was so afraid of being caught. My feelings were so overwhelming; it felt like they were written across my forehead in plain sight, right over top of my curse seal, as if mocking my place in the clan, and my feelings for Hinata. The feelings that made me wish I could rip my heart out and tear it to pieces.

Some people get butterflies when they are lovesick. But I swear, what I had could not have been those dainty, fluttery insects that invade the tummies of infatuated people. What I had was some sort of monstrous, mutant, distant cousin of the butterflies, that were ten times bigger, invaded in masses and weighed twenty pounds each, giving me gut wrenching feelings of wanting to puke. These butterflies were so awful; more than once I found myself contemplating the side effects of downing a bottle of insecticide. The only thing remotely similar that this feeling had to a butterfly, was the way it onslaughted me once an image of Hinata fluttered through my brain.

It wasn't pleasant ignoring her, when monster insects were flapping around horrendously in my stomach each time her name was uttered, or I thought about the scent I missed, and the skin I longed to dream about. For the sake of her, the clan, and myself, I ignored her, though. And the longer I did it, the more routine the pain became. I learned to live with the butterflies (I hate calling them that), I accepted the fact that feeling something and acting on it were two different things, and not always were punishable, and I pushed back the homicidal longing to murder everyone into that dark place in my brain, where I kept my fondness of the color violet.

I developed a sense of humour, to my team-mates surprise and lack of enthusiasm about. Though subtle, I found a way to deal with the pain through smiling, ever so slightly, at the world. Being cold had only violent outcomes; I cringe when I thought about the way I was when I first realized my feelings for Hinata. I was cold and murderous. I would not let myself become that way again…even if it hurt more this way. By avoiding Hanabi, Hinata, and concentrating solely on becoming a jonin, I began to lose sight of Hinata altogether. I pushed her so far back into my brain, that my conscious self no longer recognized her existence. I could walk past her in a room, and not know she was there. I didn't know she was ever alive.

But I still felt the pain. And after forgetting what I was hurting about, you can understand why it confused me…I decided that it must've been something I had been born with. A burden I'd just have to deal with. And for two years, two, long years, with me being on the verge of turning seventeen, finally having reaching my goal of jonin months earlier, Hinata had ripped open the door in my brain that she was locked in, and stomped right back to the front, almost as if to say, "Neji, you can't forget about me, no matter how hard you try."

And she was right.

Slowly, ever so slowly, that cage I had locked her behind began to melt into a puddle of hot metal, burning my head, and I could hear her screaming in my mind. The screech would become so shrill and so loud, and then I would realize that it was not her who was screaming in my mind, but me, out loud. I had become delusional, unsure of when reality started and when dreaming ended, becoming trapped in a world of confusion and insanity. I had lost my marbles, so to speak. At first I wondered if anyone could tell, but then, I realized it didn't matter. Why should I care of what others thought? I was a lunatic, right? So why did I continue to torture myself?

When the subconscious wins the battle with the conscious, you do what you wanted to do. And I wanted to hold Hinata, feel her warmth, kiss her sweetly, hear her whimper; give her pleasure, love and adoration. All the things I suppressed, because of fear, bled back into my mind and system, and I thought, "Why am I afraid?" The limits of reality, such as, what society would think of that decision, what consequences would come from it, and many others, did not cross my mind, since that would be the job of my conscience, and it didn't have a say anymore. The biggest concern would be, "What does Hinata think of this decision?"

I already knew the answer to that, though, so at this point, the only question that mattered to me was, "Does what I have to lose compare to what I might gain?"

It was a new moon, that night. The sky was at its' darkest, shadows were blacker than black, and the only light came from the cloud cover over the sky, which reflected a dark purple white on to Konoha. I crept through the halls of the Hyuuga estate, avoiding creaky floor boards that I was so familiar with, suppressing my chakra, all the way to the main branch quarters. I wore only grey sweats, my bare chest and back exposed, and I stood, in front of the door to Hinata's room, feeling very self conscious. Why had I come to Hinata's room half naked? I glanced at my feet, my right palm resting on the wooden door frame, my left hand balled into a fist at my side. I could feel a nail digging into the pad of my hand, and I shifted it up the wooden siding, still standing there like an idiot, gritting my teeth.

What I wanted was inside that room, the only way I could get it is if I went for it. I reminded myself that the odds of getting caught weren't as high as they felt. It thrilled me, that I was sneaking into Hinata's quarters, that I could finally feel her skin pressed against mine, smell her hair and hear her breath. How I longed to so much as touch her lips, her neck, her breasts and her stomach, let alone truly explore her. The excitement rose inside of me, overwhelmed me, and got my stiff limbs to move once again. I slipped into her room, silently, and slid to the floor, resting my hands on her futon.

Not surprisingly, she was awake, and she stared at me with a wild disbelief, even fear. She probably had no clue it was me, and not some other impostor. The excitement nearly bubbled over in my body, I was grinning like a mad man. But could you blame me? For two years I suppressed my body's urges, for much longer I suppressed my heart's. This was long awaited and well deserved, but I probably should say something before she screamed.

Barely a whisper, I said, "Hinata, it's Neji." And immediately the panic in her eyes flooded into tears, of joy? I couldn't tell. But she was crying, hiccupping, panting and grabbing at her sheets for dear life. She made little noise, and thrashed around for a bit; I sat there and watched her hysterics, trying to be neutral, trying to hide my happiness to simply see her move. She stopped, her breathing became controlled, and she slowly came to a sitting position. We sat there, for a very, very long time, staring at each other's form. I couldn't comprehend anything, my mind was in a state of euphoria, I drank in her image, noting all the different things about her.

Her glorious hair was long, much longer than before. I couldn't tell where it fell on her back from this angle exactly, but the difference was huge. She wore only a thin night slip, which fell to her navel, and I noticed how round her breasts had become, resting below shoulders that also had grown. Her face wasn't as childish, in fact, it had become much more womanly, her stomach was muscular, but not to the point that was masculine, and her eyes…oh, her eyes.

I subconsciously moved closer to her, now sitting closer to the middle of her futon rather than on the edge. I wrapped my arms around her waist, bidding her legs to spread, and pulled her into my lap; her legs naturally crossed around my own waist, and her hands found a place on each side of my face. We sat, fitting together like a perfect puzzle piece, and I watched as her eyes frantically studied my face, and then moved down my neck, and chest. Just like she did all those years ago, her hands slid from my face to my torso, slowly, and I felt exhilarated, as if her touch was electrified. Every nerve in my body stood on edge, and I longed to explore hers. But I had to wait my turn.

She rested her head between my neck and shoulder, and let out a shuddered whisper of my name.

"I love you, I love you, I love you," she repeated, holding my torso tightly. I remained silent, running my hands up and down her back, pulling off her thin shirt so I could feel her skin underneath my hand more easily. She obliged, and then resumed her position on my shoulder, except this time I could feel her breasts firm against my chest, her stomach pressing against mine as her back arched from my massaging. Eventually, we deigned to lay down, I kept her firmly in my grasp as I pulled her blanket over top of both of our bodies, and rocked her to sleep. I myself stayed awake, fighting my tiredness, knowing that soon I would have to leave without waking her, and go back to my own room.

Each night the same routine happened, and each night she explored me further. She admired my strong arms, and muscular torso; she ran her hands along my hips and down the inside of my thigh, then back up to my face and chest, over and over again, and each time was harder for me to bear the excitement. Each morning, hours before dawn, I'd sneak back to my own room, and we'd repeat the process the next night.

Hinata got better. Slowly but surely, her face began to brighten, and her sunken eyes and cheeks weren't as prominent. Every aspect of her was slightly lifted, every word she muttered, each step she took was with more confidence. And finally, finally the blush came back into her face. But there was still something missing in this perfect image of her.

Me.

And then, as if nothing had even happened, as if our silence toward each other had never existed, Hinata murmured to me from across the kitchen table one rainy morning, "Neji, will you be training with father, today?"

Well, that floored me. Such a simple, light, normal question. In a very normal situation, nonetheless.

"I'll have to see what the thinks," I replied, my eyes burrowing into her forehead, seeing as her own violet orbs were glued to the cereal bowl in her hand. Why must she always look at the ground when we spoke?

Her eyes lingered on her food, and then slowly slid up to meet mine. It seemed that she was focusing primarily on my nose, seeing as her own eyes were slightly crossed as she replied, with much strain, "In that case, I'll be sure to make the two of you tea and a snack."

I wondered, just slightly, if she was remembered our night meeting, which was only about three hours prior to this conversation.

"Hinata…" I began, my expression probably much harder than it should've been, "Did last night bother you?"

She looked genuinely confused. Perhaps slightly uncomfortable. I could see sweat beginning to form on her temple.

"No. I slept fine."

Her eyes darted toward the exit, and her body followed, leaving me in the kitchen alone. I heard a whispered 'goodbye', and watched in slight horror as she walked away from me.

Now, I'm not exactly the most perceptive person when it comes to people, but I'm pretty sure she didn't remember anything. She acted as if she had no idea what I was talking about – as if 'last night' was referring to her sleep. Her sleep? Did she not realize I spent four hours intertwined with her, doing some serious cuddling?

Either that or she was messing with me; frankly, I don't see her doing something like that. In fact, the whole scenario confused me.

I was done with it all. I was about ready to seriously confront her, to remind her right there in front of everyone the pleasures I brought her. How could she moan so much, how could she whisper my name in need and be slick with sweat from simple touches along her neck and chest, thighs and calves…not even going within her private regions, and she would nearly scream from the pleasure…how, how could she not remember that?

Or was it all in my head? Maybe there was nothing to remind her of; maybe these night meetings were simply delusions to rid me of the pain, my mind going into overdrive to save what small amount of sanity I had.

What was wrong with me?

I had no answer, finding only more confusion in the sweet, honey tea Hinata brewed for her father and me after training. It felt as if it warmed me all the way to my toes, the taste not too sugary, yet not too bitter. Perfect; just like she was. And just like I was obsessed with our confusing night visits, which continued on for about another week before Hanabi began spending her nights in Hinata's futon instead of her own across the room. I'd witness Hanabi holding down Hinata's hands, her light form crouched over her sister in a manner that only reminded me of an animal protecting her young.

No, that was wrong; an animal protecting her prey. Nothing else would be able to send such shivers down my spine. And therefore, she left no room for me in Hinata's bed. I couldn't get around her, or move her to her own bed. Hanabi was much too light of a sleeper. After standing, watching, trying to find a way to get my body closer to Hinata's, I realized there was no reason for me to be there anymore.

Our nights were all we had, and Hanabi had taken even that from us.

--

FUCK. UGH. FUCK. I AM DONE. THIS CHAPTER HAS TAKEN ALL MY ENERGY FROM ME. I'LL MAKE THINGS INTERESTING AFTER SOME FEEDBACK.

FUCK.

UGH.

I'D BETTER GET A LOT OF REVIEWS.