Moving On is tough stuff. For instance, when you've just been dumped.
Shikamaru sat in a bar, nameless to him and 65% of the other patrons, most of whom were, like Shikamaru, stone drunk. He'd come here to drown his sorrows, intending to just have a few drinks. He'd had more than he could count. He knew he should stop, if he didn't he'd kill himself. But somehow, drinking himself to death didn't seem quite so bad right now.
He'd proposed earlier that day, or was it yesterday? Anyways, they'd been dating for three years, and he'd decided to finally ask her. And then, she'd dumped him. For Sai. The emotionless wonder. What the heck? He didn't know they'd even met, much less that she'd been lusting after Sai for the past year. It was really hurting, not where she'd slapped him after he'd begun calling Sai names, but in his chest. Not around his heart, strangely. It felt like there was a hollow in his chest, like the desires that had been pent up all these years had suddenly gone bad on him, like when you begin to throw up in the middle of a drink. Which he'd now done eight times. Huh. Why couldn't he remember that far back? Shikamaru pounded his glass on the bar, asking for more, but suddenly he realized nobody was there. What the heck. He'd find his own drink.
Several hours later, Shikamaru uncurled from a corner seat, the emblem of a sake brewery imprinted on his cheek. He felt like crap. Quite literally. He went to the bathroom and threw up, then stumbled out onto the streets, heading towards the sun(set? Rise?), in search of a new beginning. He'd find one, without Temari. He would move on. Maybe. If he survived his mother's lecture on drink without hurling all over her new floor. Ugh.