Whether he was ready to face his father or not was irrelevant. He had no choice today. Dad had pounded on his door that morning and stated in a matter-of-fact tone to meet him at his office that afternoon and left no room for doubt that he was not to miss this meeting. At first he was angry. The last thing he wanted to do was face the world again but he changed his mind when he looked in the mirror. He hadn't hardly left his room since Mitsuki died and it showed in his matted hair and swollen face. Maybe this would be healthy for him. Plus, it had to be important for his dad to drag him out of his mourning.
There hadn't been an official announcement about what had happened on the mission. As far as he knew, only he, Sarada, his dad, and the medical unit that had tended to them knew what had happened to Mitsuki. Boruto hadn't seen any of his friends since before the mission but he had no intention of confronting them. He was sure they were worried about them and wanted to know what happened but he avoided them completely. He knew it wasn't fair. Mitsuki was their friend too and they deserved to know what had happened, he just couldn't do it. Not yet. He assumed Sarada would eventually tell them anyway. She was stronger than he was so he had no doubt she would see their friends first.
He cleaned himself up as best he could and left quickly wanting to get this over with. He took his special path to the Hokage's office. It was the way he usually went when he didn't want to talk to anybody. The day was sunny and cheerful and though he was loath to admit it, the trip did help to lift his mood a little. He had missed the feel of the sun on his skin and the cool of the wind in his hair as he ran. Maybe he should ride the Thunder Train after his meeting. A memory of Mitsuki sitting on the train's roof beside him, his smile lit by the sunset stabbed at him. Maybe not.
Before he was ready, the trip was over and the door to the Hokage's office was before him. He felt numb and disconnected, as if he were seeing all these familiar things for the first time. It made his head swim a little and like he couldn't breath right. It is going to be okay, he told himself. He took a deep, centering breath and entered. They were waiting for him: Sarada, dad, uncle Shikamaru, and...
"Mitsuki" Boruto breathed, hardly daring to believe his eyes. Sarada gasped and covered her mouth as she caught sight of him too. Here he was, whole and sound, standing in the office like it was nothing. Boruto started forward a few steps, hand stretched out towards his boyfriend, his beloved believed to be lost forever, tears already forming in the corners of his eyes.
*There are clones of me stocked in the research lab. We will meet again, just like now."*
Boruto froze, Mitsuki's words spoken so long ago echoing loudly in his mind. Was that the answer? He stared at Mitsuki as Sarada pulled him into a tearful and crushing hug. Golden eyes, an exact match to the ones he had lost, looked questioningly into his own. He knew the horror he was feeling was open for all to read. Those eyes belonged to Mitsuki, but it wasn't him. This couldn't be his Mitsuki. Mitsuki was dead, he had died in his arms. The realization took his breath away. The rumors were true. Orochimaru was unspeakably cruel. This was not him. This was his replacement, an impostor trying to slither his way into his beloved's place. He pulled back his hand and held it to his chest as if he had been burned and took a step back.
He couldn't breath. The room was spinning. He had to get out of there, NOW. He turned and ran for the door. His legs shook and the floor felt like it he was running through pudding. He fought the darkness pressing in on the sides of his vision as he threw himself at the door handle. Rubber hands refused to work properly as he wrenched open the heavy wooden barrier. The last things he remembered were falling through the doorway into darkness and the sound of the impostor calling his name.
The first sensation to reach his shrouded mind was the smell of alcohol. Next, the cold and the feeling of crisp sheets under his hands and back. He felt sore, like he had fallen on something hard. He tested his eyes and was almost blinded by the bright natural light in the white-on-white hospital room. There was a door to his left and a window to his right. There were people arguing in hushed voices on the other side of the door. Voices he recognized. He sat sat up in panic, getting a huge throb of pain in his head as punishment for his sudden movement. He grabbed his head and willed the pain away with iffy results. His dad was arguing with Sarada and the replacement. They wanted to come in but dad wasn't letting them. He felt a rush of gratitude towards his father in that moment but it was starting to sound like he wouldn't be able to keep them at bay much longer.
The panic was threatening to make him hyperventilate again. He scanned the room, desperately looking for a way out and focused on the window. He half crawled his way the short distance to the window, undid the latch and was gone.
He left the window open. He always left the window open. He knew he was being stupid but he just couldn't bring himself to stop. He laid on his bed staring at the ceiling of his room, or really his fortress. He hated himself for being such a coward. He had panicked and come straight back here, ignoring everyone and locked himself inside as if all his problems would magically disappear. Someone was knocking gently on his door, most likely his mom again. He ignored her. It made him hate himself even more but not enough to unlock the door. He would apologize to her tomorrow. Ya, he'd make it up to her then.
The sun was setting again, casting long shadows and bright colors through the the open window. He rolled on his side away from the golden light and pulled the framed photo of himself to his chest.
"I love you, Mitsuki. I really wish you were here." He murmured before drifting off to sleep.
In his dreams, he was happy. He and Mitsuki were together again. They were running through the treetops. He smiled at Mitsuki and he smiled back. Then they were walking through the village hand in hand under the painted sky. Then they were in his room, on his bed. Mitsuki was touching his face, pulling him into his arms, kissing him, loving him.
"Boruto" Mitsuki whispered in his ear as his kissed moved from his lips to his neck. Boruto moaned and pressed into his warmth. He freed his hands from the sheets and ran eager fingers through soft moonlight hair. It was so real, like he had never left. Then Mitsuki was kissing him again, hard and Boruto realized this was no dream. His groggy mind was overjoyed at first. He had his Mitsuki back! His heart swelled with overwhelming joy, until he remembered that his Mitsuki was gone, replaced with a clone.
He lashed out suddenly, catching the impostor by surprise and throwing him off. Boruto scrambled away from the stranger with the familiar face. Said stranger was curled defensively at the foot of his bed looking at him with an expression of wide-eyed shock. If Boruto didn't know better, we would swear this was his Mitsuki giving him a look of deepest heartbreak.
"Boruto, What's wrong?" The fake asked.
"Who are you?" Boruto countered.
"What do you mean, Boruto?"
"Who ARE YOU?! Are you Mitsuki?" Boruto demanded not really knowing why he did. He knew this wan't the real Mitsuki. This was a clone sent to replace the one he loved, but somehow he was less sure. They were identical in every way.
"Who else would I be?" The duplicate asked, hurt and confusion on his face. Boruto wanted so badly to believe that this Mitsuki was his. Looking at him, he was tempted. It would be too easy to simply slip into this Mitsuki's arms and believe that it had all never happened. No, he couldn't do that. He refused to accept a replacement but what if this was really his Mitsuki? Could he somehow have made a miraculous recovery? He wanted to believe that. But he would never be able to silence his doubts just like he couldn't quiet his hope now.
Maybe Orochimaru had been able to save him after all. The creepy scientist seemed to be capable of almost anything, after all. He would never be able to forgive himself if he shunned his Mitsuki. There had to be a way to tell. Then an idea came to him.
"Show me your scar." Boruto ordered. Mitsuki stared at him.
"If it really is you, you will have a scar from that night. Show me the scar!" Boruto's words were hard and he could tell they bit deep.
"Boruto-"
"Show me!" Boruto demanded. Mitsuki obeyed, lifting his his hands to his chest and loosening his clothing. He held back the cloth, exposing the place where his chest had been pierced. There was nothing. No mark, not even a scratch, just pure white unblemished skin. The ground fell out from under Boruto again. He had known this was going to be the outcome but somewhere hope had pushed into his heart like a weed through concrete. Now, that tiny hope died painfully at the sight of the impostor's chest. Here it was. Undeniable proof that his Mitsuki was dead and this was a clone that sat before him. He took a deep breath, bracing himself for what he had to do.
"Get out." He almost whispered, barley opening his mouth. He clenched his hands into fists, trying to hold back the tears and failing miserably.
"Boruto, I-"
"No!" Boruto cut him off, "You are not Mitsuki! Impostor! Fake!" He was shouting now and the tears were falling. The devastation on the copy's face should have been heartbreaking but it only fueled Boruto's anger. He knew he was being cruel but he didn't care.
"I will never forgive Orochimaru for thinking he could just replace him and I will never forgive YOU for thinking you could take HIS PLACE!" Boruto bellowed through the cascade of tears flowing freely down his face.
"Get out. GET OUT!" Boruto seized the nearest object and threw it at the beguiler but he was already moving. He was as swift and fluid as the original and in the blink of an eye, he disappeared through the window into the night.
Silence, thick and heavy followed his departure. It was suffocating and Boruto couldn't take it anymore. He collapsed to his knees and cried.