Disclaimer: I don't own Naruto, or any of its associated characters!

Summary: Sasuke has spent three years trying to figure out how to live on his own. Maybe it's time to try something different. WIP. Future SNS, updates once a month. Canonverse. Rating may change!

A/N: Okay. okay. Here is the situation I've gotten myself into: this fic stands on its own, and will for a while. However, it's part of a larger idea which I will tentatively aim to update once a month, if I don't end up writing it all in a wild state of inspiration - in which case I will update this to reflect what I will do :) This chapter may be updated as future updates come, but I don't anticipate any major changes. I'll update any warnings & content ratings as soon as the content is up.

Two is a Crowd

Chapter 1: if not a place of birth

It was hard not to feel like a failure, standing here.

Sasuke felt the wind as it blew by him. There'd been a time where he thought he'd never breathe this air. Every step away had only reinforced the choice—but time made a fool of him, and here Sasuke was again.

He stood tall, and looked into the distance.

Konoha's roofs looked back.

Leaving was uncomfortable. Being gone was just the same. Sasuke had wandered like a ghost. Nothing more than a spirit, trapped and unfinished. Worried and…waiting for something. Sasuke didn't have a purpose anymore. Sasuke was someone searching—with nothing to search for.

Naruto did what he could, but Sasuke had still been lost.

…

He did get the letters. He did. He held them and read them and tried to reply. He'd found something to write with. He'd found a place to write. But his hand shook when he tried to hold the pen—the ink smudged and stained just as he'd put it to paper, and as soon as he wrote a word, he forgot the rest of what he was trying to say—

And then the next letter would come.

He fell behind.

It didn't take long, after Sasuke's silence, for them to stop. Naruto had known Sasuke wanted space. Naruto had known he'd asked for his head to be his. His steps to be his own. His space to live as himself, and no one else. Sasuke wasn't sure it was something he'd ever managed, even at his smallest, even at his biggest, but it was something he needed to know, and so—

So he kept the letters close, but kept going. Kept trying. Kept searching and living and trying. His life was strange and split in two. The part of him that wanted to leave. The part of him that wanted to be here. The part of him that spat on this place and the part of him that yearned for it—

He expected to be sick, when he saw these roofs.

But now, he just felt…resigned. He'd tried. He'd spent three years trying. Maybe it was time to try something…different.

Naruto didn't even let him get to the gate.

"Sasuke," he said, and it was a breath. Sasuke wanted to cry at the sight of him. He wanted to drop to his knees and sob. But Naruto laughed and ran forwards and Sasuke settled on stopping himself before he closed the distance—the space stayed between them, but it was full, overflowing with happiness and relief and unspoken words—

"What the hell are you doing here, you asshole?!"

Naruto shoved him in the shoulder and he was brilliant. He was so bright. Sasuke hadn't realized he'd forgotten until the sting hit his eyes—

"You look amazing," Naruto said, and Sasuke thought he must be talking to himself. His hair was longer and loose, longer than Sasuke had ever seen it before, framing his face in something messy and golden, chaotic rays of the sun—

"I—" Sasuke said, and it stuttered. It paused and broke and it wasn't really an answer at all, but Naruto smiled and breathed and wiped his sleeve on his face as he looked behind him—

"Here," he said. "I'll—we can go somewhere nobody will bug us. Um."

And Naruto looked to him, as if for permission. Whatever it was, Sasuke gave it. He gave it without a word, and Naruto's smile softened as he understood.

"Come on."

He led them to the office. His office, now. Sasuke knew the steps, knew the walls and knew what to expect—even if he hadn't read the news, he would have known Naruto held the title. It was an old truth, but he only tasted the reality truly now—and he expected himself to lash back in response. He expected the hostility to simmer, the rage to take control, the knife to stab into him and twist, but Naruto walked in white and red, and when Sasuke looked at his back—

All he felt was a strange…out of place.

Naruto closed the door behind them.

"There," he said, and it sounded like a sigh. "Sorry. How did you—when did you—"

He turned, and all of his questions pressed to Sasuke in a piercing, aching silence.

He stepped back, and tried to pick which one to answer.

None of his answers felt good enough.

"I'm sorry I didn't write," he gave in offering, and Naruto took it with a flinch. It touched him somewhere deep and painful, and Sasuke could see the wound was still open. Sasuke wanted to bandage it, to put his hand over it, to put his hand over Naruto's heart and his smile and tell them not to lie. Tell them they didn't have to. Tell them they never had to—

Naruto laughed, and stumbled back.

"It's okay! I stopped too. Sort of, so…" He rubbed the back of his neck and turned around, grabbing at papers on his desk with a newfound…urgency. Sasuke stepped forward.

Naruto glanced up, and froze.

Sasuke said nothing.

Naruto's laugh was earnest, that time. The loud, hollow humour faded, replaced by the sheepish acceptance that Sasuke was still…Sasuke. He knew him. Didn't he? He knew Naruto.

"I didn't stop writing, asshole," he muttered, and he was piling papers in his hands again. One old, one new again. "I don't have the self-control for that. I just didn't send them."

He flicked the pages up before he tucked them into a box. Sasuke barely got a chance to even see the writing—

"It's full," Naruto told him. "It's a good thing I stopped sending them—you would've never been able to get anywhere, lugging this thing around."

He laughed and heaved the box back to put it away, and Sasuke fought the urge to snap forwards and say no—no, those were written for him. Those were the years Sasuke had wandered lost and wondered if Naruto was lost, too—those were his answers, and they were meant for him—

But Naruto put the box away, and Sasuke ached after it. His eyes stayed locked, even when Naruto straightened again—

"I'm bad at that stuff, y'know." Naruto laughed, and one look at Sasuke had him laughing again. "You would know. Can't leave shit alone, even when somebody asks me a million times."

Sasuke coughed out an echo of something painful and nostalgic in his chest. It wasn't a reply, but Naruto ducked his head anyway, as if he'd realized his filter had failed him once again—

"Here, uh. D'you." Naruto hovered awkwardly. "D'you want—want some tea or something?"

Sasuke blinked.

"…Sure."

It was a strange hospitality. Sasuke didn't know what he'd been expecting. Something more informal. Something that wasn't in the most prestigious room in the village. But Naruto was a man developed now—a man who had set his sights high, and reached even higher.

The kettle whistled, and Sasuke stepped back.

He didn't know where to sit. He didn't know where to stand.

"Oh, uh—"

Naruto looked around.

"D'you—let's just—we can sit on the floor. Right?"

Sasuke's relief was low and hidden. This room was too formal. Too stilted. Too contained and clean—there was never meant to be a desk between them. At least they could be equal in height, if not in status. Sasuke wasn't sure Naruto could feel that part, but Sasuke could. It coated all the bare skin it could find.

Naruto poured the tea, but when he sat, it was at a distance.

His cloak pooled onto the floor. There was so much more red than Sasuke remembered.

"How is it?" Sasuke asked, staring at it. "Being Hokage."

Naruto pulled his foot back to him. The pause was long and lingering, it mixed and filled the room with the same taste as the cleanliness, the distance, the space between them. There was something thick and raw, and Sasuke wanted to reach past it. He wanted to step into it. But he…

"Weird," Naruto settled on, finally. "Busy. I don't think I'll be too much longer."

Something in Sasuke's back straightened.

"No?" he asked.

Naruto glanced back at him, but didn't reply. The blue of his eyes was a knife, and it pinned Sasuke's clothes to the wall.

"All my news is boring paperwork. Ignore me," he said, and it was a deflection. Sasuke saw the fake in that smile before it even graced his face—

"What about you?!" Naruto asked, with light, false interest. "You've been travelling for ages—where'd you go? What'd you see?"

…

There was that hurt again.

"I meant to write," Sasuke insisted. It wasn't an explanation. He knew that. But he—

Naruto clammed up.

"Don't worry about it," he said, cutting Sasuke off. It was something curt and cold, and Naruto might have been a lot of things, but cold was never one of them—

"Naruto."

"Don't," Naruto said, and the word was light. Airy. Carefully…unoffending. "You don't need to. I get that you—why d'you think I stopped writing, too?"

Naruto felt as contained as the files in this room. Sasuke's eyes narrowed.

"You didn't," he pointed out. Naruto rolled his eyes.

"Yeah, I didn't," he said, "'cause I take ages to get a hint, and then once I got it I still—wanted to tell you—whatever. You know. But I got that you needed—me not to send them and stuff."

He rested his elbow on his knee and combed his hand through his hair. It was a motion that took longer than Sasuke remembered.

"I didn't need that," Sasuke said quietly, and Naruto's hand stuck. But he—he was trying to—it hadn't been a mistake, not exactly, but it had been a lesson. Sasuke had wanted space and he'd got it, but what he'd needed—it wasn't what he—

"...Okay," Naruto said, turning his stubborn eyes away, "that—anyway. I should show you—you know how much cool shit is in here? I had no idea as a kid. Hang on, I'll—-"

Naruto stood, and Sasuke scowled at his back.

That was twice, now. Naruto never made this easy.

"—and this seal back here—"

Sasuke pretended to listen. He seethed instead. Naruto spoke to him, but Sasuke was stuck somewhere between the dishonest cheer in his voice and refusal to look back at him—if Naruto would only look back at him, he would know—

"You're angry with me."

"What?" Naruto said, turning back. It was just enough surprise to trigger the action. "No."

Sasuke stared at him until he was visibly uncomfortable.

Naruto heaved a sigh and ran a hand through his hair, looking somewhere away again.

"That's—" He let out his frustration through his teeth. "That's not—"

"Naruto," he said, and it was a reminder. It was a quote. It was a question and an answer and a look at me. Look at me, Naruto. Naruto. Naruto.

…

Naruto looked at him.

"I'm not mad," he said quietly. "But this is weird, and you know I didn't like the way you left. I get it, but it fucking sucked. And then I got to relive that every day for the past three years…so."

He shrugged and looked away.

"I dunno what you expected."

Something in Sasuke's heart twisted.

"I'm here now, aren't I?" he asked—

"Yeah," Naruto said, and he still wasn't looking back. "For how long? I know you're not gonna stay."

It was Sasuke's turn to look away. He scanned the soft grooves of the wood underneath him, searching for an answer that wouldn't be…

"I didn't want to fight," Naruto said. "We can just—let's not talk about this. It's fine."

He was lying again.

Sasuke ground his teeth so hard they hurt.

"Is it?" Sasuke asked, and it was a deadly quiet. "Let me read your letters, then."

Naruto flinched.

"No," he said, and Sasuke was set ablaze.

"Let me read them."

"No—"

"They're addressed to me—"

"You don't even want them!" Naruto snapped, and he flinched back before he set his jaw. "You know what's in there? Konoha. Konoha's in there. I stopped sending them the day I was inaugurated. I get it, okay? I'm not your Naruto anymore. I'm the Hokage. I'm Konoha, and you—you don't want—"

Naruto's voice strained and stopped.

Sasuke felt the oil in the air between them. Thick and clinging, it stuck to Sasuke as he stood—weighed him down, the same as Naruto's tension, his wariness, his readiness for a blow—

Sasuke reached out, but he didn't touch. Their eyes made the connection for them.

It was a quick okay. A panicked consent. But Naruto let him in, and Sasuke stained his vision red to weave them together. He should have done this from the start.

He still didn't know how to put this into words.

The ache pulsed like a heartbeat, and Sasuke let it flood the both of them. The lonely nights. The lonelier days. Naruto's letters had been a lifeline, but Sasuke hadn't known how to hold on. He hadn't known if he should. And Sasuke was no longer the man who desperately tried to cut all ties, no longer the man who desperately wanted nothing, who wanted to be nothing, who wanted to exist as a shell, a soulless purpose—but whatever he was now, Sasuke didn't know how to be it. He didn't even know where to begin. What parts of himself were left. He knew people lived happily with themselves. He knew it was possible—for them, it was possible. But for him?

If there was a way, he hadn't found it.

Not out there, anyway.

There was something here. There was someone, and Sasuke knew Naruto knew all of this, but he showed him anyway—the way he felt, the way he knew he had to feel—he couldn't keep relying on Naruto to bring him back. Could he? Not if they had to be apart. Not if Naruto's place was here, and Sasuke's could never be, but then, Naruto had always had so much hope, and Sasuke was only trying to find his own—

Sasuke pulled back, and Naruto gasped for air.

"Fuck," he breathed out. "You couldn't have gone any slower?"

Sasuke gave him a wane smile.

Naruto laughed and blinked and tripped and blinked again. He was trying not to cry. He cried anyway.

"Here, um," he said, stumbling back, "I'll get them."

He ducked his head under the desk, as if it would be enough to hide him. Sasuke pretended to give him the privacy, but a part of him was always over there. A part of him was…

"They, uh," Naruto said, sniffing. "Let me—I never put dates or anything, so they might be sort of…"

He kicked the box over to them, and Sasuke felt something in him tighten, as if afraid something would be broken.

The letters felt like china in his hands.

"The—um. Sorry. There's a lot of them."

Sasuke met his eyes for just long enough for Naruto to know the apology wasn't needed. Naruto settled with the motion, but sat back on his heels—like a spring pressed down, ready to burst back up—

Sasuke was sure he would try it.

He broke the seal. Not all of the envelopes were closed. Not even all the letters were in envelopes. If Sasuke had to guess, then Naruto had done less and less, over time, to prepare them to actually be…sent.

He unfolded the page, and read about Naruto's inauguration. It wasn't anything new. It wasn't anything extreme. It did ache, though—being in Naruto's head, the day he realized his letters shouldn't be sent. He could practically see the way his smile was forced, as he told Sasuke about the dream he'd finally achieved. The dream that he should have been happy about. The dream that…

"It didn't feel right," Naruto said softly, hovering halfway up. "I mean, I—I got more used to it, now, but I…"

Naruto trailed off, but Sasuke understood. There was a part of Naruto that had done it. There was a part of Naruto that was ecstatic, relieved, ready to be the person he'd always wanted to be—and that part, that happy, brilliant part, wanted to tell his best friend. Wanted to celebrate with him. Wanted to see him there, at the ceremony.

The rest of him knew better.

Sasuke traced his thumb over the words.

He'd spent that day frozen. Stiff and stuck in place, unable to move forwards and unable to go back. He'd wanted to go. He'd thought that he should. But he couldn't. He'd stood there, and known he couldn't.

He met Naruto's eyes.

"Don't," Naruto said, and it knew the apology that was on Sasuke's lips. "I know you tried. You just showed me."

Sasuke breathed out and reached back into the box.

The next letter wasn't even signed. Wasn't even finished. It was only the next day, and if the last letter had been on the edge, this one was where the ground had broken.

Naruto's handwriting had changed.

In fact, as Sasuke continued to read, he could pick out exactly when these letters were written, even if Naruto never said so. Letters that were written by day were neat and normal—singularly, piercingly, peacefully mundane—but the nights…these were uniquely Naruto, and yet Sasuke knew he would never hear them in his voice—the loneliness, the sadness, the selfish frustration that things couldn't be different. That things couldn't be perfect. These were the thoughts Naruto never said out loud.

Sasuke flipped the page.

Naruto made a noise, but didn't stop him.

The writing was messy and messier, like these were written in the dark, filled with smudged ink and stained pages. They reminded Sasuke a bit of the letters he'd tried to write. He supposed Naruto would have never sent these either.

"Um," Naruto said, reaching out. "If that's—"

Sasuke flicked his ankle up to rest on his opposite thigh, and kicked Naruto's hand out of the way in the process.

Whoops.

Naruto let out a soft snort, and Sasuke hid his smile behind the paper.

"Ow," Naruto said, unhurt. "Asshole."

Sasuke tilted his head and felt the warmth in his chest—the gentle contrast against the cold letters in his hands. He'd known, on some level, that Naruto would miss him. He'd known he would hurt. But that hollow, aching sort of pain…

It felt the same as Sasuke's.

Sasuke let the page fall into his lap.

"Are you happy here?" he asked, and it was low. It was quiet. And Naruto breathed in with his impulsive, automatic response, but Sasuke caught his eyes and stopped it before it could come and lie to them both—

Naruto looked down, and didn't reply.

Sasuke turned back to the walls.

What a pair they were. Naruto, miserable within the village. Sasuke, miserable on the outside. Naruto could never leave this place behind, and Sasuke had thought he could never return, but…

Maybe it was time to try.

At least for a day. At least for a night. He didn't know what else to…

"Being away didn't help?" Naruto asked, and it was soft. It was hushed and down-turned—like Naruto asked the words of the floorboards, and Sasuke answered for them.

"It didn't make things worse," Sasuke offered, and Naruto looked up. "Maybe I expected too much of myself."

Of time. Of being alone, with his own thoughts and own feet and weapons and pain. It didn't really matter where he was if he was still only with himself, did it?

"Feels like I'm getting worse," Naruto muttered, and Sasuke looked back at him. Naruto met his eyes for a quick, repressed moment.

"I don't know," he said, and it sounded like a sigh. "I'm getting mad at stuff I used to not. I dealt with so much shit at the beginning. I kept thinking I just had to—just get through it, get through the worst of—of being Hokage, and Konoha, and all the—the people in it that didn't want to hear the shit they really needed to hear—and then—"

He let out a breath.

"And now I'm—supposed to be there. I'm supposed to be happy."

Naruto pressed his lips together until they turned white. Sasuke breathed in as his eyes didn't blink, as his brows grew furrowed, as he swallowed once, and then again, trying to free his throat of the emotion that grew within it—

"I just miss you," he said, and a tear broke free. "I just don't want to be here anymore."

Sasuke stared.

"And I know—" Naruto sniffed and sat up and cleared his throat, "I know this is something you have to do alone. I know you said—when you left, you said that you didn't want the only part of you that's alive to be the one that's part of me, and I get that, but I—"

He shook his head and looked down.

Sasuke let the silence fill the air. Let it coat them both, the oil back once again. Naruto's words pounded in his head and they latched his vision to the clasp on Naruto's cloak—the one that held it to his shoulders—

He reached out, and undid it.

The cloak fell to the ground. It pooled in white and red, and Naruto looked up with the question in his eyes.

Sasuke took the hat in answer. It didn't suit him. It didn't suit him at all. Naruto's head had never been meant to be hidden. He tossed it onto the desk, leaving only the headband between them—Sasuke's own weighed heavy in his pocket—

"What—" Naruto started, but he had no finish. He swallowed the words with the lump in his throat—

"The only thing stopping you was me," Sasuke asked, "was it?"

Naruto breathed in.

"But if you don't—you said you needed to—"

"Do I look like a man who knows what he's doing?" he said, and Naruto coughed out a surprised laugh. "You've never listened to me before."

Naruto ducked his head.

"Well, I—I mean," he said. "You're usually making way less sense."

"Go fuck yourself."

Naruto laughed. It softened after a minute, back to that restrained, hesitant question—

"I don't want you to regret taking me with you," he said, and Sasuke inclined his head.

"You're more likely to regret leaving," he said, and Naruto looked up with the protest already ready— "Don't argue. You have everything here. And this was not an offer you made before."

"I didn't even know it was an option," Naruto said, and Sasuke's head snapped to him.

"What?" Naruto said. "I didn't. You didn't want me with you."

Sasuke stared at him.

"Or—sorry, I know that that's—not really—" Naruto stuttered out, and Sasuke felt his gaze turn withering.

"That easy?" he finished with a scoff. "I didn't want you there."

As if he'd even ever successfully left him behind. As if Naruto hadn't been haunting his steps every second of every day. He wasn't the only soul to be his shadow, but he was certainly Sasuke's kindest ghost.

"Sorry," Naruto said again, and Sasuke snorted again. "I don't…"

He heaved out a breath and sat up straighter—looking over at the door, and at his desk, and back at Sasuke—

He laughed.

"Fuck this," he said, shaking his head. "Let's go."

Sasuke felt the smile spread across his face.

"Let's go?" he asked, slow and testing—

"Let's go," Naruto said. "I—here."

He ducked his head down, and pulled at the back of his headband until it fell free.

"There," he said. "Let's go."

Sasuke's smile widened.

He snatched the headband out of Naruto's lap.

"You can have this back later," he said, and Naruto laughed.

"Wh—hey! I gotta—I still gotta resign, y'know!"

"Not my problem," Sasuke told him, getting to his feet. "Find me when you're free."

Sasuke turned, but he kept his eyes on Naruto as he reached the door.

It felt like a promise.

"Bring my letters."

Naruto's laugh followed him through the door.

A/N: Grab me by the shoulders and shake and tell me this isn't going to be bite me again. This will not be years! No! Noo!

...

We'll see TT_TT

See you in April,

- Kinomi