Author's Notes: I would like to apologize for the long wait. This chapter made Not 10 seem like a walk in the park. I thank you for your endless patience!

Dedication: Futago no Seishi… damn you for being so flip-tastically wonderful. You helped turn this piece of crap into something worth reading. I've never seen anyone work miracles like you do.

Not

By LilPurplFlwr

Ten.

He considered himself lucky. Really.

Why? Because his roommate was currently folding laundry in their room? Or because they came to a mutual agreement-slash-understanding?

Of course not.

He was lucky, because avoiding the guy was going to be a piece of cake compared to all the shit that went down.

Avoiding? Why? Because there was be nothing more frightening than meeting his roommate face to face now, much less talking. Talking is much too mortifying. This must not happen. Ever. Never! He did want to keep the last shreds of his masculinity, after all.

How was he going to pull this off? He just needed to… tamper with his schedule a little. As long as his location was different from his roommate's at all times, life was golden. After all, the guy was just his roommate. There were plenty of people who never saw their roommates. And it helped that his roommate always left their room earlier and came back later than he did.

Places, places, places… how about the library? If he stayed at the library until midnight, he was safe (for today at least). It had five levels, was literally half a mile away from their room, and no one would even think to look for him there. Perfect.

After dumping his rumpled (but clean) clothes on his bed, he immediately backed out of the room and left the building.

Ten minutes later (he ran), he had scoped out the entire library and dropped onto a sofa in the northeast corner of the fourth floor. No one else there but a lone graduate student among the book stacks.

See? Easy. He could totally do this.

Nine.

Ten fifteen. His roommate would be back soon. How much time did that give him to be asleep?

He rubbed the towel against his head furiously. Stupid hair! Dry faster! Damn it. Why did he have to finish reading those articles for class? What a waste of precious roommate-avoiding time!

If he were to rewind his life to a happier time (i.e. before the Incident), he would have been eagerly anticipating the other's return. Because then they could eat. All good college students ate during ten and two at night.

Well, now he couldn't be a good college student. Limited options, see?

He was not going to be caught awake. No way in hell. There was no obligation to be conscious (and make conversation) when sleeping. A foolproof plan.

Still toweling. His ears picked up the sound of the key sliding in the lock.

OhFUCKbedNOW. He slammed off the lights. Two meter dash! The door unlocked behind him. He landed with a springy thump. Horizontal position towards the wall! Eyes shut! Look asleep.

His roommate entered and paused, probably due to the lack of light. The door shut very softly. It remained dark. A backpack was set on the carpet. Seconds later, the bathroom door closed almost inaudibly and he heard the faucet running.

He finally exhaled and rolled onto his back. When did he stop breathing? He eyed the ceiling and then stared at the sliver of light under the bathroom door.

Could have been worse. That was encouraging.

Eight.

It was four thirty. Walking home had never been this tedious until today.

His phone vibrated in his pocket. He pulled it out. Phone call. From 'Sasuke.'

His eyes widened. What was this? The guy never called! Should he admit that he was kind of scared? Not that a phone call could be dangerous, but… you never know.

Wait. Think about it. Avoiding the guy would take more than not being there physically.

… Ignore the phone.

He wasn't required to pick up. He could be busy! Singing in the shower. Trapped in the closet. Dancing in the Nile. Whatever. Just… not available.

One missed call. Sasuke.

He studied the screen. He felt kind of bad. Hold that thought. Don't go there. After one last stare, he dropped the phone back into his pocket.

He had walked about twenty steps when his cell vibrated against his leg. What? Again? No, that envelope icon meant a text message this time. Just a text.

Giving into curios—no, bad habit!stopstop—he opened the message.

'Are you still in class?'

Fuck, no! The temptation! To reply or not to reply. Since when did he ever not reply? But if he did text back, what could he possibly say? Yes, I'll be in class for the next seven years, so I can't talk to you?

On second thought… with a harder-than-necessary push, he turned off his phone. There.

Fuck that.

Seven.

Today was the toughest yet. According to his calculations, he would be in the Room for at least fifteen minutes.

Outside the door, he stretched his interlocking fingers over his head. Deep breath. Okay. Ready.

He swung open the door and paused to assess the situation. Roommate. Sitting on bed. Quite docile. The guy looked up from reading, gaze locking on him.

Please breathe. Lack of oxygen equates to brain suicide. "Hi," he managed coherently, entering with forced nonchalance. Wait. He was in a hurry. So hurry up. He tossed his notebook urgently onto his desk."Studying?"

"No," The other responded, scrutinizing his movements. He could feel his sweat glands kick into gear.

He toed off his shoes and began tossing his clothes into his hamper. "—Cool," he interrupted quickly, "I'm showering." Yes, inform the roommate of his soon to be unavailable status.

Eight minutes later, he was fumbling gel through his hair. Doing well. When he stepped out of the bathroom, he faked intense interest with his clothing selection.

He barely suppressed a flinch when his roommate put down the book (not even a textbook!) and asked, "Where are you going?"

He shrugged on a shirt over jeans and—fuck, wallet was in his other pants—began searching. "Out. Don't you have lab due tomorrow?"

"I finished."

He froze. No, he was not tempted to ask his roommate out again. He shoved the offending wallet into his pocket. "Good." He sounded a little strained. "Great."

He needed a distraction, and he needed it now. Keys! Please don't forget the keys! He checked as he swung the door open. "See you." The door slammed behind him.

Fourteen minutes.

He leaned against the wall with a sigh. He was fucking tired.

Six.

Returning at 3:07 am, he nudged the door shut, only to pause when his sleeping roommate turned beneath covers. Huh. Weird. Continuing to his bed, he heard an unfamiliar sound and froze.

Was it just him, or did the guy just breath out a frustrated sigh? Okay, whatever. Too tired to care.

He was crawling into bed when his roommate shifted yet again. Was the guy asleep or awake? Maybe the usually calm sleeper was having a bad dream. Yeah. That's it. He didn't give it another thought.

So it was completely understandable that he nearly suffered a myocardial infarction when shrill ringing jerked him awake at 6:00 am.

He should have known something was amiss. He never heard the other's alarm. Nevertheless, when the ruckus ceased and his indignation wore off, he fell asleep almost instantly. He was, after all, a simple man.

Three hours later, he woke up to his vibrating phone. He blindly turned off the alarm before vibrating turned into clamoring, and with a flop onto one shoulder, he rolled up using the wall for support as he rubbed his eyes. Sloth. Not a sin. School. Now that's a candidate. Fuck. Way too early…

He nearly fell out of his bed when his eyes focused.

That dark blue lump in the next bed… his roommate was still asleep? No. It couldn't be.

He slid off his bed and inched across the room. Whaaaat… there was no doubting that hair. Stop staring. That's rude. And unhealthy. Guy was just sleeping. Sleeping in at… nine. in. the. morning.

Oh, damn. Blizzard in hell, no?

He was being overdramatic. But should he do something about this? He risked his life too many times already. Hold that thought. Naruto wasn't meant for thinking in the morning.

Twenty minutes later, he set the other's clock to go off in ten minutes. And sprinted to lecture.

Five.

Fifty feet. That's how close he came to running into his roommate again.

He was walking to his one o'clock class and saw the guy cross his line of vision.

Oh, shit, that's him! DETOUR. His sneakers skidded as he pivoted straight into the largest crowd nearest to him. He turned around the next corner and leaned against the wall.

What the hell. He looked around, paranoid. This was getting out of hand. His blood pressure couldn't take this much longer. And he needed new options.

He dug through his backpack. Schedule, searching, searching… hey, shouldn't the guy be in lecture on the other side of the campus right now? He squinted at the wrinkled reference and folded it twice.

This whole following-the-other's-schedule method was somehow falling apart. Maybe he was just reading the chart wrong. He checked his watch.

Shoot. Now he was going to be late.

Three minutes later, he was relieved when his lecture hall's tall towers came into view. However, he almost tripped over his feet when he noticed an all too familiar figure sitting on the bench right outside the building. Looking all too motionless and not too happy. The almost-scowl on the other's face kind of tipped him off.

What the hell? This was something new—actually, frightening. Was the guy… following him? Shit. He needed to map out a new schedule as soon as possible (preferably in lecture).

Breaking into a run and mustering all his skills of stealth, he wove his way around the administrative building that ran adjacent to his lecture hall and then entered from the opposite entrance.

Damn it all. He should graduate with honors for having to sneak into class.

Four.

It was around 6:30 pm when the second strangest thing happened.

He was sketching some ray diagrams for physics when the door swung open. A chill went down his spine as he tensed. Oh, no. What time was it? Why was his roommate home right now?

Eyes staring pointedly (but blankly) at his homework, he wracked his brain for an explanation. Must stay calm, must stay calm—Ohgodgeez, what was he going to do?

He knew the routine. His roommate would put down the backpack and then go to the bathroom to take a shower. He would take that opportunity to escape—

"Hey."

Oh, fuckapocalyse?!11

His pencil was slippery. Clammy hands. Ragged breathing. Oh, no, no, nothiscouldn'tbehappening…

His roommate was walking up to his desk. He didn't even need eyes behind his head to know. The presence was obvious. In about two seconds, he was going to be cornered. Trapped. Shit, he was dead, dead, dead…

"Naruto."

Reacting (rather badly) to his name, he shoved his chair back suddenly. The guy backed up to avoid bodily injury by sliding chair.

"Oh, shit!" He cursed, unable to suppress the panic any longer. He hastily dropped his pencil and jumped out of his seat. He needed to run. Run really, really fast. He grabbed his room key by habit and bolted for the door.

"Wait a—"

"I got to go!" He blurted out, as if explaining his spastic actions. "Uh, meeting!"

Yanking the door open (and wincing when it hit the wall with a bang), he sprinted out and tried to forget the heavy stare that his roommate had pinned him with.

Three.

He didn't feel very safe anymore. And he could tell that he was compensating for that. He was starting to sit only in corners. Class—upper corner. Eating—Back corner. Dorm—Highest floor, opposite lounge, in the corner.

Why? Well, from that vantage point, he could see more than fifty percent of what was threatening surrounding. If there was anything alarming or threatening, he would notice it earlier than if he had to work with a full three-hundred-sixty degrees.

With his freshly purchased sandwich, he chose a corner table on the patio shaded by a nearby tree. Today felt pretty good (i.e. there were no deviations from his roommate's routine that had him running for his life).

His pocket started vibrating. Incoming call. He pulled out his phone. 'Sasuke.' With practiced finesse, he set his cell aside.

It continued to vibrate. And against a metal table, it was grating on his fragile nerves. He should turn it off or something. As if on cue, once he picked the cell up, it stilled.

"So that's what you've been doing."

He stopped breathing. His throat closed up. His brain froze. And his heart? Dropped like a stone.

No way. He had been doing so well. Shocked to the point of paralysis, it was a battle to lift his eyes off the silent phone.

His roommate was standing in his blind spot with a grim expression. An expression that demanded explanation.

Oh god, his vision was going blurry due to oxygen deprivation. That was the only reason, right?

"I-it's… it's not…" What could he say? He swallowed and tried to fight the nausea brought on by the sheer strain of the situation. "I… shit… I'm…" The image of his roommate grew hazier. His vision needed serious clearing.

"Scared." Sasuke concluded for him, expression cross and tone clipped, before walking away.

He dropped his head into his hands. Sorry. He was sorry.

Two.

He was in the boy's bathroom of the art building. It was one of the farthest points on campus, and one of the most indiscriminate as well.

Clutching the edge of the sink, he stared at his reflection. Ever since being caught red handed, every day included a debate. Go to class. I don't want to go to class. Are you stupid? Go to class. I still don't go to class…

No one was winning.

He lowered his head until it rested against the mirror. Well, obviously, it wasn't class that he so detested; it was his roommate being in the vicinity of his class that was consuming his soul.

But he really didn't want to drop out of college just because he needed to avoid the guy.

So yet again, he managed to covertly smuggle himself into class, open his notebook, and start scribbling notes while the professor droned.

As minutes went by, the anxiety returned and his writing got messier. Shit. What if the guy was waiting for him after class? In that case, he wouldn't even have a chance to spot his roommate. Leaving the classroom would be like walking straight into an ambush.

He bit his bottom lip and readjusted his pen. His leg nervously jerked up and down as if to mollify his fight-or-flight response. Should he leave early? What was that about failing his classes? Goddammit.

A sketch of the floor plan developed where his notes should have been. Which exit? He should slip out the back. No, that was a predictable move on his part. He should leave from the front, with a large herd of rushing students. Move as a dense pack. Yeah. And stay alert.

Upon leaving and cautiously circling the area, he breathed a sigh of relief. No terrible incident, and no sign of his roommate.

He plopped onto a nearby bench. Could it be that the guy had given up trying to talk to him? He stretched and tried to lose the tension in his body. He took a deep breath.

Relax. It had to be over. No one could put up with this much for that long.

One.

It had arrived a day and a half later.

After an attempt to asphyxiate himself by method of comforter, he had then realized he had practically called for it, making such a statement as he had. What did he expect? Murphy's Law had him chained to its bedpost, for sure.

'We need to talk. Meet me in Biology C3-1. 8:00 pm.'

It was now 8:39 pm. Naruto stood outside the lab with the post-it wrinkling in his hand. His roommate had left it on his pillow (and toothbrush) this morning. Not to mention a text and email.

He didn't want to admit it, but the guy had the bases covered.

He was nervous. Even now, where there was a chance that Sasuke wasn't even here anymore because he was late, he was nervous. Heart thumping, stomach flipping, hands shaking nervous.

The door handle twisted easily in his grasp. The sound echoed down the empty hall. Fuck. It was like a horror movie gone wrong. Damn sub-basement level.

When he slowly pushed open the door, his roommate looked up from some plastic sheets of who knows what.

He cleared his throat with a pathetic cough. "Uh… s-sorry. For being late." Honestly, he wasn't going to come. Or, to be more correct, he really didn't want to come. But he did. And with difficulty.

Sasuke placed the slides into a nearby folder. Silence. Waiting, waiting… oh. He jolted from his position in the doorway. He should probably go in. How about not?

"Uhm, about the other day," he wasn't sure if he was supposed to do the talking, or if his roommate had planned an itinerary, but either way, he had a couple of things to say. "Yes, I'm scared. But I'm also really sorry. For doing… that to you." He was sure both of them knew what 'that' was. Right?

"So you hate me, okay. I asked for it." He rambled on, floundering helplessly due to the lack of response from his roommate. Why did he even come here when he knew there was no fixing this? "Are we done here?" he finally snapped in desperation. Why are you pursuing this issue that obviously makes us both feel like utter crap?

In the stillness, Sasuke sighed. "Come here."

"… No." He still had his escape route if he was near the door.

"Naruto, please."

His eyes widened. What was… it finally clicked. That was it. Sasuke had never requested anything from him until this moment. This was serious.

Half-heartedly, he approached his roommate, all the while staring somewhere else in the room. He sat on a stool across from the other, a good solid four-feet counter between them. He took a deep breath, "Fine."

Sasuke stood and walked to where he was. He tensed, hands gripping the cold edges of his seat. Should he…?

"Don't run," his roommate advised with a hint of warning.

Well, there went that optio—ohfuckwhat?

Sasuke had bent at the waist, aligned their lips, and pressed a very clear kiss on his mouth. His eyes couldn't get any bigger. He was so stunned that he couldn't even think much of it.

The other pulled away and straightened with a subtle smirk.

"U-uh, wha-you… shi-i-it," he breathed out in a jumble, fingers brushing against the seam of his lips. The warmth.

Sasuke, in turn, collected the scattered folders. "Ready to go?"

"Uh… yeah." He was still just a little dazed. It would wear off… he hoped. Yeah.

This was a dream, right? He was going to wake up, and his roommate was leaving the room, and—

"Wait!" He shot off the chair and wove his way to the exit as well. He had to make sure. Make sure he wasn't hallucinating.

His roommate stopped halfway through the door, a mere stare making him doubt that anything had ever happened. Getting close enough, he was starting to curse this impulse, half-reasonable as it was. Trying to ignore his jittery nerves, his hands still shook when he gripped Sasuke's shirt and clumsily met the other's mouth for a second kiss.

Soft. For some reason, he was always surprised. The heat swam through his body again. He pressed against the other a little more to get more contact, but the binder that Sasuke held pushed awkwardly against his chest. He separated with a light flush. Even with the imperfect position, that felt good.

Their eyes locked, and he slowly recognized with growing dread that he could not read the other's expression. Fuck! He released his roommate and took a step back. Did he just… yes, he did. No doubt about it. He did it again, and he was probably in very deep shit right now. His response was automatic. "I'm sorry!" I apparently can't control myself?

Taking another minute to study him, his roommate simply turned away. "Come on, let's go."

Exiting, he dumbly watched Sasuke lock the door behind them and start walking down the dim hallway. His legs twitched when he realized he should be following. Trailing behind and gazing at the other's back, his anxiety gave way to insecurity.

Minus… that… nothing seemed different. Was it supposed to be like this?

Zero.

Author's Notes: Thoughts, comments, opinions, feedback, rants?