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Warnings and disclaimers apply to all chapters.)
And the Beat Goes On
Chapter 3: Forte
Why? Why had he done such a stupid thing! He'd kissed somebody. He'd kissed a boy. He'd kissed a boy he didn't even like, a boy he hated with a passion. He'd kissed Naruto, he'd kissed that freak that he'd vowed he'd never, ever associate himself with.
But why! He couldn't figure it out. It just didn't make sense. Why did you kiss someone you hated? You kissed people when you loved them, and you spat at them and sneered at them when you hated them.
But then again, he spat and sneered at Itachi, and he loved him, in some odd, twisted way. But that was different. They were family. And family loved you, no matter what. Some days he hated Itachi; some days he loved him infinitely. Was he walking along the same line with Naruto?
He tried to tell himself he wasn't. He hated Naruto, had always hated Naruto, and would always hate Naruto. It was like the law of gravity. You couldn't change simply by wanting it to change. He slammed the brakes on his thought process. Had he just implied that he had wanted to change the fact he hated Naruto?
Outwardly, Sasuke was cool, calm and composed. His face showed no signs of the inner turmoil, of the confusion that had him forcing down the nausea bubbling up in the pit of his stomach. It was such a normal thing for him to do, the daily facade, that he didn't bother to drop it then.
It was probably his greatest fear. He didn't want to be caught out in the open, vulnerable, weak and helpless. Emotions made him weak and destroyed rational thought. Emotions, the very epitome of what it meant to be human, destroyed him from the inside out. He had killed his feelings at an early age, so long ago he couldn't remember.
But back to the current problem. He wasn't quite sure how he felt about Naruto. He knew that at one point, he had hated him and now, that hate seemed to have turned around. There was no other logical conclusion as to why he'd kissed the blond like that, so impulsively. He had never been prone to impulses before, so why now?
Maybe it was hormones. And even if that was the case, why Naruto? Because he was the closest thing to act out the desire to kiss something on? No. He vaguely remembered making the conscious decision that he wanted to kiss Naruto, and nobody but Naruto.
Maybe. . .maybe he sought comfort in the fact that the other boy had never been kissed either, though for different reasons. Perhaps it was a relief to know that the other had no experience, no expectations. Maybe it was a comfort thing and nothing more.
At least, he hoped it was nothing more.
His eyes darted back and forth between the door and the back of the room, where Naruto's desk remained steadfastly vacant. He became increasingly worried when the five to nine bell rang, heralding the five-minutes-to-start time. Still, the blond made no entrance.
The final bell rang and class started. Sasuke wondered what had happened to Naruto. The blond had been perfectly okay before. . .well. . .
Okay, so he wasn't exactly calm after that. He could only imagine how confused Naruto was. After all, the blond must have been wondering what on earth had possessed him, Sasuke, the coldest, most arrogant jerk on the face of the earth, to kiss him. The answer to that question evaded even Sasuke himself.
He snapped back to reality, hearing Tsuande-sensei rap out his name in a menacing tone. "Sasuke, are you even paying attention?"
He felt shame creep up on him. He was letting emotions, something he hated, he despised, drag him away from his studies. That wasn't acceptable. "No," he said, blandly, as if it didn't matter.
Tsunade-sensei looked exasperated and slightly disappointed. "I suggest you pay attention, Sasuke."
A few of the boys in the class snickered, amused at finding Sasuke knocked down off the pedestal the girls had set him on. He didn't look so great now. The girls were currently glaring at the teacher, disproving of her reproach to Sasuke.
Sasuke spent the rest of the lesson zoning in and out of deep thought. He caught bits and pieces of Tsunade's lesson, and the rest was lost. He was too deep, wading about in the quagmire of his feelings, about to be dragged down to the murkiest depths at any given second.
The bell finally rang and the lesson ended, freeing Sasuke from the prison, if only temporarily. He resolved that he'd go see if Iruka knew what had happened to a certain blond student.
- - - - - - - - - - - -
Iruka glanced up as somebody slammed something down on his desk. He came face to face with a seething Tsunade. She'd slammed her hands down on the desk in rage. "I swear," she started, "If that little heathen of yours skips my class once more, I'll have his head!"
Iruka blinked. "What are you talking about, Tsunade?"
"Uzumaki Naruto, that's what I'm talking about! That little brat cut class again! I'm trying to make him pass, but by God -"
"I'll talk to him," Iruka said, calmly.
Tsunade threw her hands up in the air. "Talk to him all you like! I'm going to fail him!"
"Tsunade, please, calm down -"
Both teachers stopped abruptly, looking at Sasuke who was standing in the doorway. The dark-
haired boy cleared his throat. "I was wondering if you'd seen Naruto, Iruka-sensei," he said, his voice not belying the worry or confusion that he felt.
Iruka shook his head. "I don't know where he is."
The brunet teacher looked Sasuke straight in the eye, as if trying to read his mind, scanning him for intentions. And then Sasuke remembered that Iruka was currently under the delusion that he and Naruto were. . .
"Why?" Iruka asked finally, being unable to decipher the teenage boy before him.
"Some. . .stuff. . .happened," he started, feeling a bit silly, a bit shy. "And I. . .kinda. . .needed to talk to him. To make sure he was okay," he finished meekly, feeling so mushy and sentimental it made him want to puke.
Iruka seemed to brighten a bit at the thought of Sasuke being concerned about Naruto. "Well, I haven't seen him, but I'll let him know you're looking for him if I do."
"Uh. . .okay. . .thanks," Sasuke muttered, and then beat a hasty retreat to his next class.
Tsunade glanced at Iruka curiously. "What was that all about?" she asked.
Iruka shrugged, not wishing to disclose any information if the boys weren't ready to share. He didn't want to jeopardize the fact Naruto seemed to have found someone to take care of him. The boys would tell when they were good and ready.
- - - - - - - - - - - -
The library was small, dusty and dim. But it was quiet and that was all that mattered to Sasuke right then. He sat, hidden in one of the corners, deep in thought. He had closed his eyes in concentration, trying to form a logical solution to the mess at hand.
So, he hated Naruto. He had hated Naruto the first time he'd ever seen the blond. He knew, by instinct, that he hated him. Naruto was loud and obnoxious and everything that Sasuke wasn't. It seemed natural that their personalities would conflict.
Now, he had seemingly gone and turned that hatred upside down by impulse. He had decided that the decision to kiss Naruto had been conscious. He had decided to kiss Naruto because of the level of comfort he took in knowing the other boy had never been kissed either.
But that still didn't explain why he'd felt the urge to kiss him in the first the place. Of course, he could chalk that up to hormones and being a teenager, but he had a feeling that it wasn't the truth.
He sighed in frustrated confusion. This wasn't helping. For all his logic, there was that tiny piece of illogical stupidity that kept laughing at him. It was driving him mad. He had the sudden urge to dash his head repeatedly on the desk. Perhaps it would knock some sense into him, or at least, knock the answer out of its hiding place in the shadows of his mind.
He decided against the action, as it would draw the attention of the librarian, who was already giving him a funny look. She'd walked by several times, glancing at him warily each time. He wondered if she knew that he was cutting class. He wouldn't doubt that she did.
He leaned back in his chair and stared at the light fixture in the cracked ceiling. He rolled his eyes. This building was going to hell in a handbasket. The sad part was that, even with all the extra money the government and fundraising was putting into the school system, nobody could be bothered to fix the actual facility. He half suspected that most of the money went into the board executives' and the teachers' pockets.
He contemplated the light. It was bright and it hurt his eyes and he knew that he should have looked away, but there was an idea tugging at the back of his mind, inspired by that light. By the light, of all the stupid things in the world.
A fly buzzed about the ceiling, landing on the light, then lighting again. It buzzed around in circles, then landed on the light again. 'Stupid fly,' he thought as the insect repeated the process half a dozen times.
The fly was attracted to the source of light. Even if it had been a fire, that stupidest of all creatures would have willingly thrown itself into the inferno.
Perhaps a similar situation could apply to himself currently. He was. . .attracted (he hesitated to even think the word) to Naruto, because the blond was so different than himself. Naruto, however annoying he was, was also undeniably entertaining. It was quite the amusing thing to see Naruto annoyed, or angry, all worked up about something as he ran his mouth off, ranting and raving, his eyes snapping with irritation.
That was why Sasuke hated him. The boy was so different from himself that he couldn't connect with what the other was thinking, feeling, saying, doing. It made no sense to him, and what he did was encrypted to Naruto's logic as well. In an odd sort of way, that difference also made Sasuke admit that he. . .almost. . .admired the blond boy, in a way. Naruto, though ever the outcast, wore his heart on his sleeve, told the world what he thought and was strongly opinionated.
He himself, on the other hand, never said what he thought and shielded his supposedly-dead-but-
seemingly-not-so-dead emotions from the world, forcing them down behind a mask of indifference. He didn't care what anyone thought. He had no opinion. They could do as they liked.
There were, in some ways, some parallels that connected them. He was alone in this world; and Naruto was too. Oh, but of course, he had Itachi, but somehow, he felt detached from him and he couldn't truly say he held the other dear. Naruto had Iruka, but did the blond really see him as more than a brother? He knew that neither Naruto nor Iruka regarded their relationship as that of a father and son. So, in a sense, they were alone.
Neither he nor Naruto cared what the world thought. Naruto had his own opinions and wouldn't change them for the world. Sasuke couldn't care less what the world thought. It didn't matter to him.
Sasuke snorted as he realized that he'd just managed to make a mental comparative essay. The librarian walked by again, looking at him.
He glared at her. He didn't care what she thought.
- - - - - - - - - - - -
"I just don't understand," Iruka complained loudly.
Kakashi just shrugged. "It's Naruto. What's so weird about him skipping class?"
"He normally doesn't cut all his classes!" Iruka near shouted, almost enraged by Kakashi's calm demeanor. How could he be calm? What if something had happened to Naruto? Something bad?
Kakashi shrugged yet again. "I'm sure he's fine, Iruka. You're just overreacting."
"I am not overreacting," Iruka grumbled, giving the gym teacher a dark glare.
Kakashi smiled at him. "You are so. Naruto's fine, I'm sure of it. Just calm down, okay?"
He lay a hand on the shorter man's shoulder, as if trying to comfort him. Iruka pulled away, afraid to stay under that hand for too long. "You listen here, Hatake Kakashi," he started.
Kakashi rolled his eyes. "Iruka. . .Simmer," he said, smirking when he saw the younger teacher's look of confusion.
"Simmer?" Iruka asked, puzzled by this new phrase.
Kakashi grinned stupidly to himself. His students' slang was good for something after all. "In other words, chill out, or calm down and stop worrying about it."
He tucked his arms behind his head and continued to keep pace with Iruka as they walked through the deserted after-school hallways. They walked in silence for a moment or two, before Kakashi looked at his shorter companion, his eyes smiling with amusement. "We need to take your mind off this. How's about you and I go for dinner tonight?" he suggested casually, watching Iruka stop dead in his tracks.
Iruka blushed and tried to stammer an answer. Kakashi just continued smiling. Iruka's silly crush on him was no secret to him, and he planned to use the other's affection for him to his full advantage. If Iruka was willing, why not?
That wasn't to say, of course, that he disliked Iruka in anyway or had any intention of deliberately trying to hurt Iruka. Keeping his company and sharing a meal or two wasn't really any grounds for a serious relationship, anyway. Besides, Iruka would get over it eventually.
He watched with passive amusement as Iruka tried to answer him with either a decisive 'yes' or 'no'. It was obviously a hard choice for the other to make, with part of him wanting to go home and make sure Naruto was okay and safe, et cetera, et cetera. The other half of him, obviously, wanted nothing more than to throw all responsibility and duty to the wind and go with Kakashi.
Finally, he sighed and said, "I'd love to go, Kakashi, but I've got to make sure Naruto's okay."
He looked at Kakashi with remorse and the silver-haired man smiled gently. "Okay. We'll go check up on Naruto and make sure he's okay. And once you know everything is okay, we'll head off to dinner. Agreed?"
Kakashi posed a question at the end of his statement, as if to give Iruka the idea he had some choice in the matter. He didn't bother to wait for a reply to it, though, grabbing Iruka by the arm and dragging him off.
- - - - - - - - - - - -
Naruto, at some point in the day, had seemingly found the will to die somewhere soft and comfortable. He'd dragged himself up off the ground, into the house and upstairs to bed. He'd managed to nestle himself under the covers, but the elusive Angel of Death had yet to console him.
He truly believed, at that moment, he would die. He was cold, he was freezing, he was colder than ice and no matter how many blankets were on the bed, he couldn't get warm. His head throbbed and his eyes ached, longing to close in eternal sleep. He felt sore, as if he'd been beaten, as if he was bruised and battered everywhere. His throat was raw from crying. He was exhausted, mentally, physically and emotionally. He'd done nothing all day, but it had taken all his energy, all his strength.
He groaned and rolled over, hating the persisting feeling that he had been run over with an eighteen-wheeler truck. Pushing straggling strands of blond out of his eyes, he wondered if this were some belated form of shock.
It was in this hellish state that Iruka found him.
It was quite the unpleasant shock to see the normally vivid blond so lurid. Iruka was at his side in mere seconds, his mind abuzz with a thousand questions. "Naruto! What happened! Naruto!"
His immediate thought was that the boy was dead (which was highly unlikely), a foolish fear which was soon eased by the uneven, shallow breathing. He shook the teenager, only to find him ice cold. Panic fluttered in his chest. What had happened to his Naruto!
"What's wrong?" he demanded.
Blank blue eyes were turned upon him and he had the distinct feeling that Naruto wasn't actually seeing him. "Nothing's wrong," was his answer, delivered in a raspy whisper.
A soft smile played on the blond's lips for a second, before he said, "Everything's all right now, isn't it?"
"You've gone crazy, haven't you?" Iruka asked, wary of this sudden change. Was this even Naruto he was talking to? He wasn't so sure anymore.
Naruto laughed bitterly. "I wish," he muttered darkly. "If I was insane, none of this would matter."
"None of what would matter?" Iruka asked.
Again, he received no answer. He stood up and fled downstairs.
Kakashi glanced up at him from the kitchen table. "Ready to go?" he asked cheerfully.
"No," Iruka snarled, picking up the telephone.
Kakashi stared, taken back by gentle Iruka's manner. "Who are you calling?" he asked, careful to sound uninterested. He didn't know what would invoke another snapped reply.
"Doctor," Iruka said shortly.
"Is Naruto okay?" Kakashi asked, letting genuine concern seep into his voice.
"No!" Iruka cried. "I don't know what's wrong with him! It's like. . .it's like he's a whole other person!"
"Does he have a fever?"
"No, he doesn't! I don't know what's wrong with him!"
And with that, Iruka slammed the phone down and collapsed into one of the chairs, on the very verge of crying. Kakashi glanced about, feeling uncomfortable and unsure of what to do. "Hey, now," he started, only to wind up quiet because he didn't know how to continue. They sat there in awkward silence.
- - - - - - - - - - -
Sasuke slammed the door shut, walking into the house. He was agitated and tormented, so the last person he wanted to see was. . .well, anybody.
Lo and behold, who was sitting on the living room couch, flipping channels, but his brother's unfamed friend, Orochimaru? Sasuke glared at him. He waved cheerfully to the younger teen and smirked. "Hello, Short Stuff," he said cheerfully, waving slightly.
For some reason, Orochimaru had always reminded Sasuke of a snake. Perhaps that was because he'd always felt that he viewed the other as the dividing force between himself and his brother; the snake slithering its way between them, then wrapping Itachi up and swallowing him whole. Sasuke didn't like Orochimaru; he never had.
"How was your day?"
Orochimaru always went on like this, as if they were friends. Sasuke grunted and ascended the stairs. "You could at least say hello!" Orochimaru called after him.
Sasuke stormed upstairs, ignoring the request to be civil. He was vexed and he wasn't civil at the best of times, so why should he be now? Orochimaru watched Sasuke go, then sighed and shook his head. "Ya know, sometimes, I really think he doesn't like me," he complained, seemingly to thin air.
Itachi, who had been standing in the doorframe of the kitchen, smirked slightly. "He doesn't like you."
The boy rolled his eyes and pulled a face. "That's what you say about everybody. Do you think the entire world hates me or something?"
Itachi shrugged. "If they do, it means I get to keep you to myself."
"Possessive, are we?"
Itachi's eyes flashed dangerously as he glanced at Orochimaru, who was sprawled out on the couch, smiling coyly at him. "Not at all," he said, the flicker of amusement evident in his voice.
"Would you really keep me all to yourself? Wouldn't you like to share me?"
Itachi shook his head and mouthed a 'no'.
"Selfish bastard," Orochimaru chided. "You'd keep me separated from the world if you could."
Itachi fixed his gaze on him. "I wouldn't want them to hurt you," he said, his voice becoming softly serious.
Orochimaru snorted and turned his attention back to the television. "You're terrible, you know? You treat me like some sort of helpless child."
Itachi joined him on the sofa, pushing his face into the other's neck. He somehow found it comforting to feel the blood rushing to and fro in the veins of his lover. It signalled to him that he was alive, and as long as he was alive, Itachi could care less about anything else.
"You are a child," he murmured, nuzzling his cheek against the flesh of the other.
"Hmph," was his reply.
He knew Orochimaru was right. He would have locked the other away if he thought it would shield him from the world. He'd already learned that the world was a cruel place to be and he knew pain and suffering intimately. He would have done anything to spare the other from those intolerable feelings. Thus, he spoiled him without reason, trying to shield the eyes he believed to be naive and innocent from the dangers that he'd encountered.
He could have focussed that sentiment on his younger brother. He should have focussed that sentiment on Sasuke. But somehow, he couldn't bring himself to try and shield the younger boy. Sasuke had suffered at the hands of the world, just as he had, and shared in the same pain of the loss. While they should have grieved together and consoled each other, they had drifted apart. Itachi felt like a failure, being unable to keep Sasuke safe and concealed in blissful ignorance. He fancied that if Sasuke had not encountered grief, they would have been closer.
He opened his eyes and lay against Orochimaru, listening to the dull thud of the blood beneath the skin, feeling the heat that radiated from the other boy. All these things pointed to the obvious - Orochimaru was alive. He moved, he talked, he walked, he breathed. He was warm and his heartbeat was strong. And when he was alive, Itachi felt alive too.
He had lived a long time, separated from the world, separated from normal feeling. He often woke in the middle of the night, woken by the death-like silence of the room, desperately trying to find a pulse, to hear the reassuring thud of his heartbeat, only to find they had ceased. His hands were icy cold at those times and he felt like some sort of reanimated corpse. It scared him.
Panic attacks were what the medical authorities had informed him they were. He'd never had them before his parents had died; then as frequently as every night afterwards and sometimes even during the middle of the day. It probably had originally been caused by the overwhelming idea that his parents were really gone and never going to walk in that damn door again. And from there, it had created a deep-rooted fear of dying and the fear that he was already dead.
A hand tangled in his tresses and he pushed his head up against that caress, like a cat, wishing for more of it. "You're cold," Orochimaru mumbled, absently stroking his partner's hair.
"I'm always cold," Itachi mumbled, his voice muffled by the other's neck. The feeling of breath on his skin tickled Orochimaru and he shivered. They stayed like that for a long time, each unwilling to move from the other's presence, for reasons they preferred to keep to themselves.
The television droned on, somehow holding their eyes, but not their minds.
- - - - - - - - - -
The night passed into morning. Naruto shifted and his eyes flickered open. Early sunlight streamed into the room. He glanced to his left. Iruka was sitting in a chair, dozing lightly. He looked tired, the colour drained from his face and black circles encompassing his eyes.
Naruto sat up, his eyes moving about the room. He stretched and yawned. This seemingly woke Iruka, who stirred, then glanced at the blond. "Oh. . ."
The brunet forced him to lay back down, worriedly checking him over, talking rapidly. "Are you okay? Lie still. You were awful last night, you didn't even have a fever, but oh, gods! I thought you'd gone crazy! It was terrible! Do you feel better now?"
Iruka paused, stopping for both breath and an answer. Naruto stared at him, waiting to process what his guardian had just said. "Umm. . .I feel fine," Naruto said, sitting up a bit, only to be shoved back down again.
"You should rest! By moving around, you could trigger another bout of it, or something! You might feel fine, but you're probably not right as rain, yet," Iruka continued.
Naruto managed to sit up, pushing Iruka off him. "I'm fine. Really, I am."
Iruka sat back, looking relieved. "You little brat!" he laughed. "You gave me such a scare!"
Somehow, Naruto managed to convince Iruka that he was well enough to go to school. Iruka had firmly believed that Naruto should stay home and rest, but with some begging and some cleverly delivered lines, the blond won over Iruka's resolve.
He wasn't quite himself, not yet at least, but he'd recovered most of his stability. He was unusually quiet, seemingly in deep thought, or completely zoned out, Iruka noted. Somehow, in a mere instance, the loud-mouthed blond had be quite transformed.
They headed to school.
Naruto was silent all the way there. He was thinking. He didn't remember anything of yesterday, except vague images, which he could make no sense of. There was the piano, the music room, Sasuke, and seemingly some more Sasuke, but that was all that came to him.
When they arrived in the music room, Iruka set him to organizing the music books. The teacher was intent on keeping an eye on the blond. Naruto set about his task without question.
And as he did, things seemed to start to fall into place in his memory. He remembered running. He remembered crying. He remembered feeling sick and horrid and disgusted. He remembered lying under the oak tree in the backyard. Then, everything blurred again until he woke up.
The event that had evoked the fit still remained a mystery. The shadowy answer finally had some light shed upon it, when a certain dark-haired boy wandered into the music room. He remembered.
- - - - - - - - - - - -
Sasuke was little more than surprised to see Naruto in the music room. He had thought that maybe the blond had dropped off the face of the earth.
Immediately, he discerned that something had changed. Naruto seemed oddly quiet, oddly co-ordinated. An air of grace and tranquillity seemed to have fallen on the normally disruptive boy.
"Naruto," he hissed, his breath catching, before he could check himself.
The blond turned about face him. He stared into the changed face, his eyes widening in shock. The colour had drained away, leaving only a faint residue to herald the fact it had been there to begin with, and the eyes were devoid of emotion. They held his gaze, and studied him for a moment. Then, they flared up, anger igniting them and bringing them back to the realm of the living.
"You!" he near shrieked, jabbing a finger in Sasuke's direction.
"Naruto. . .what happened?" He was transfixed by those eyes, by their wild transformation from deathly serenity to savage livelihood.
"You!" he screeched again. "Look what you've done to me!"
"What I did?" Sasuke retorted, feeling his contempt for the boy arising in his throat. So this was why he hated Naruto in the first place. Ah, yes, he remembered the feeling well now.
Naruto curled his lip in distaste. "Yes, you! You. . .you. . freak! I hate you! Look at what you've made me!"
Anger had flushed those pallid cheeks and Sasuke felt relieved to see colour return. Still, he felt his own temper rising. "What! I did nothing to you! Whatever you did, you brought it on yourself!"
Naruto seemed to snap again, changing his mood again. He covered his eyes with his hand, bowing his head. He was making some terrible broken noise, which Sasuke realized to be weeping. The blond was shaking and crying. He was leaning on the bookshelf. "It's true!" he howled. "And they're all going to hate me now!"
Sasuke backed away, scared beyond belief. Had Naruto finally flipped? Had all those years of taunts and hatred ate away at his sanity until now and he'd just. . .snapped?
He could only stare in confusion as Naruto continued his cryptic lamenting, until Iruka swooped into the room. The brunet teacher somehow managed to restrain Naruto, who had swung from grief to a murderous rage. "I'll kill you, Sasuke! I swear I will! You're not going to get away with this! I hate you!" he shrieked, his voice rising to a terrible pitch.
Iruka ushered him into the music office, shutting the door tightly. He turned to Sasuke. "What did you do to him?" the teacher growled, the dark circles about his eyes adding a menacing tone to his glare.
"I didn't do anything," Sasuke said, pondering what in seven hells had just happened.
Iruka sighed and shook his head. "I just don't know," he muttered. "I went home and I found him like that. The doctor said it was emotional distress."
He glanced pointedly at Sasuke. "He was fine and. . ."
Outwardly, Sasuke appeared merely confused. Inwardly, he was reeling. Was Naruto's current state really his fault? It could have very well been - that stupid kiss had proved to be stressful enough for himself. But he hadn't. . .he hadn't thought Naruto was that. . .that. . .vulnerable, that weak.
Iruka was speaking again. ". . .don't know why I brought him here. But I couldn't leave him alone. He'd kill himself, I'm sure he would."
Silently, Sasuke agreed with Iruka. Naruto had gone from depression to violent anger in mere seconds. He was a danger to himself in that condition. And every time he closed his eyes, he could see those damn eyes again, glaring at him, blaming him, screaming at him.
- - - - - - - - - - - -
Two had days passed since the incident.
Sasuke was almost sure now that the boundless happiness and annoying loud-mouth personality was just a cleverly thought out guise to conceal the true Naruto from the peers who didn't want to know him. And while that guise was obvious to him now, Sasuke admired Naruto with a new respect.
The blond's disguise was so much more intricate than his own mask of cold indifference. For himself, he had to merely cut himself off from the world. But Naruto. . .Naruto had sought to wrap himself more deeply in the world and in doing so, a single inconsistency in the way he acted, the way he talked, would spoil the costume. A single step out of line would send the entire masquerade crashing to the floor.
Currently, said blond was glaring up at him through partially closed eyes. They were practising the play again. This counted for thirty per cent of their final mark, mental breakdown or no mental breakdown. They were pretending that the kiss had never happened. They had both resumed their masks, after dropping them for only a fraction of a second.
And still, that time span had been enough to let Sasuke see that Naruto really was suffering because he'd been shunned. He was suffering so much more than he let on. It wasn't Naruto's everlasting happiness that bothered him now - it was those eyes, the sad, dead eyes that had haunted his nightmares for the past two nights.
He really was dreading the kiss scene this time around. He wasn't sure of himself. Could they pull this off? Could they brush lips quickly and continue to pretend that they had never shared another contact like that, willingly, without being directed by words written on a page?
When the time came, he hesitated, unsure. Firming his resolve, he swooped in and captured Naruto's lips with his own. What was intended as a quick, gentle action suddenly became prolonged and more intense. Open mouth met open mouth; tongue met tongue.
Naruto wrapped his arms about Sasuke's neck, dragging him down. They broke the kiss, having toppled over into a compromising position, Sasuke lying on top of Naruto, pinning the smaller boy to the bed.
Naruto's eyes were narrowed in anger. "Do you like me or something?" he sneered.
"I hate you," Sasuke returned, narrowing his gaze as well.
Naruto squirmed against him in an effort to get free. "Good. . .'cause I hate you too."
"Then. . .why do we keep doing this?" Sasuke asked, sitting up.
Naruto got up as well. "I don't know. Why would I know? It was you who started all of this!"
"Me? It was you -"
Sasuke fell silent. Naruto stared at the floor. "I think I'll be going now," the blond mumbled, taking his leave of the bed.
"Fine. Whatever," Sasuke muttered.
He heard the door close. Naruto's footsteps sounded on the stairs and then he heard voices - Itachi bidding Naruto goodnight. The front door closed.
Biting back a cry of rage, he tore everything off the bed - sheets, pillows, everything - and flung them across the room. He flung himself against the mattress, beating it with his fists, dashing his head against it. Tears of frustration burned at the corners of his eyes.
Why! Why did Naruto have that effect on him! It made no sense - he hated Naruto, he shouldn't have felt so helpless, so weak! Naruto made him go weak in the knees. What the hell was wrong with him!
He lay still then, feeling childish for his outburst. He glanced across the room, noting he'd managed to knock a picture off the desk when he'd flung the bedding. It's frame lay shattered on the floor now.
Vaguely, he thought he heard footsteps. Of course, that could have just been the pounding of his temples. The door creaked opened. "Hey, Short Stuff, you okay?"
Oh, superb. Just who he wanted to see. "Get out," he mumbled.
Orochimaru ignored him, in typical Orochimaru fashion. "Hey, are you crying?"
"Get out!"
Sasuke leapt up and lunged at the door, shoving Orochimaru back out into the hall and slamming the door shut. "Stay out!"
He slumped against the door, sinking into a sitting position. He buried his face in his hands.
In the hallway, Orochimaru blinked and stared blankly at the door. "Okay. . ," he muttered.
He glanced over the landing. Itachi had just ascended the stairs. "What's up?" he asked, glancing at the closed door.
Orochimaru shook his head. "Your brother's gone crazy or something."
Itachi knocked lightly on the door. "Go away," was the muffled reply.
Itachi sighed. "Sasuke, it's me. What's wrong?"
The door was flung open and Sasuke came hurtling out of the room. He ran straight to his brother, burying his face in his chest. Itachi sighed again and wrapped his arms about Sasuke, running a hand through the dishevelled black locks. "There now, Sasuke. What's wrong?"
Sasuke shook his head, indicating he wasn't going to talk. "Sasuke," Itachi growled. He was quickly losing his patience.
Sasuke remained silent, happy to be receiving some attention from the older boy, who he considered to be a weakening last stronghold of support.
Orochimaru stood there, watching the display of brotherly love jealously. His eyes were narrowed and his lip was curled in distaste. Itachi happened to glance over at him. Catching the other boy's disgust, he stuck his tongue out.
Sasuke suddenly disentangled himself from Itachi, then beat a hasty retreat to his room. Orochimaru glared at Itachi. "What was that all about?"
Itachi shrugged. "Heck if I know."
- - - - - - - - - - -
Orochimaru lay in the dark, staring at the ceiling, watching the occasional set of headlights flicker across it, cast by a passing car. Beside him, Itachi was curled up, sound asleep. The other boy shifted in his sleep and snuggled closer.
Orochimaru had been re-enacting the scene in the hallway mentally all evening. He was incredibly jealous of it. Sasuke had someone to turn to. Orochimaru hated the idea. He'd never had anyone to turn to in a time of need.
As the oldest child, his desires had been ignored and all his younger siblings had leaned on him, burdening him with their problems when he had more than enough to deal with on his own. He had been their support, but he himself had no pillar to fall back on. His mother had been a crack-head; his father, he didn't know. His mother had either died or been arrested by the police, because she'd just never come back. Orochimaru had tried to hold the "family" of sorts together for a short time before he couldn't stand it anymore. He had run, he'd run away from them.
He didn't know what had become of his siblings (or half-siblings, really). He suspected social services had found them and done something with them and gods knew where they were now. He really couldn't care less.
- - - - - - - - - -
Sakura sat in her dark room, listening to the rising voices and the clang of pots being banged about, of dishes being shattered. Her parents were fighting again. It was becoming a nightly performance.
Outwardly, her mother and father appeared to be the perfect couple. The fights were getting worse though.
She sat in her room, trying to forget the yelling and remember happier times. This was her fault. Somehow, she knew it was. It was always her fault. She hugged her knees to her chest and wiped away her tears. "Stop yelling," she whispered to the darkness.
The voices got louder. She wanted to scream at them to shut up, but her voice would only add to the melee that was giving her a headache.
When she grew up, she wasn't going to fight with her husband. No, she wouldn't. Her house would be happy and peaceful, the complete opposite of the mess she was living in now. Her life would be perfect when she grew up.
- - - - - - - - - -
Naruto trudged in the door, his mind reeling. He kept his eyes on the ground, making sure he was moving forward, rather than backward. He could feel himself slipping back into the scrimmage of his emotions.
Iruka glanced up from the table to greet him. He smiled. "You're home early," he said cheerfully, then noted the blond's dejected demeanor and drawn, wan features. "What's up? Things not go as planned?"
When Naruto didn't answer him, he nearly panicked, fearing a relapse into the delirious state of two days prior. Naruto answered him finally, shaking his head. "Everything's fine. Some. . .stuff happened," he muttered, not removing his gaze from the floor. He felt like breaking down on that floor.
"Oh," Iruka said softly, not wanting to pry. Then he brightened as he remembered something. "Hinata called you."
Naruto glanced up. "Huh? Hinata? Why?"
Iruka scratched his head in thought. "Well, I couldn't hear her too well, but I think she said something about a dance. I think maybe she wanted to know if you were going."
Naruto didn't reply. Iruka took his silence as confusion. "You know, she really likes you. She's just really shy. Why don't you -"
"Leave me alone. Just leave me alone," Naruto interrupted, his voice dead and even.
Iruka sat back in surprise. "Naruto? What. . .what happened? Did Sasuke -"
"No!" Naruto snapped. "Sasuke didn't do anything!"
And he stormed out of the kitchen. Iruka blinked. "Naruto. . ."
- - - - - - - - - - -
Naruto flung himself onto his bed. Why did his life have to be such a mess? He didn't like Sasuke and yet every time. . .
He felt so funny: light-headed, weak and wobbly. Why? Why did he feel like that? It made absolutely no sense to him. He shouldn't have liked that feeling, as it usually meant he had a cold, but for some reason, now it felt good.
He muffled a cry in his pillow. Maybe he should ask Hinata to the dance. If she really did like him, what was the loss? He needed, somehow, to forget this entire mess. Hinata wasn't so bad. As Iruka had said, she was just shy.
A little sheepishly, he admitted to himself that perhaps he had other feelings for Sasuke aside from hate and jealousy. In a way, he supposed he admired the other boy, and was in awe of him, for he seemed to have everything Naruto wanted for himself.
And if his emotions did run a little deeper than he was ready to admit, he was sure Sasuke wouldn't give a damn. After all, he had all those fan girls falling over him and he had yet to even acknowledge them. He doubted he'd fare much better.
- - - - - - - - - - -
Sasuke was up and about, even though his mind told him he needed to sleep. He paced up and down the length of his room, thinking rapidly.
He wanted to ask somebody for advice. He was too confused and inexperienced with his feelings to work this out for himself. He doubted Itachi knew much more, but he felt he had no one else to turn to.
He sighed and exited his room, intent on asking Itachi for advice. He crept down the hall. Itachi's door was closed, signalling he'd gone to bed. He knocked lightly once, and received no reply. "Oh well. I'll just have to wake him up."
He shuddered at the thought of waking Itachi up. A cranky Itachi was not a pleasant thing, especially not one who's sleep had just been disrupted. He opened the door. He nearly screamed. He clasped a hand to his mouth to keep from doing so.
Itachi was lying under Orochimaru, in what seemed to be a rather precarious position. Both were flushed and slick with sweat. Itachi had his arms wrapped about Orochimaru's neck. They were intensely focussed on each other. They never even noticed Sasuke.
"I love you," Itachi whispered, reaching up to tuck a lock of hair behind Orochimaru's ear.
At that point, Sasuke bolted. He locked himself into his own room, feeling sick. "Oh gods, oh gods, oh gods," he panted, squeezing his eyes shut.
Unfortunately for him, the images were burned behind his eyes and he kept hearing the words he longed to hear fall from his brother's lips, given to the wrong person.
Well, at least that fixed his mess. He didn't want to think of Naruto in that context anymore, oh hell no. Every time he so much as thought of Naruto (at least, in a more-than-a-friend context), that. . .that. . .
He shuddered. He couldn't believe he'd just witnessed that. He was going to need psychiatric help now, for sure. It was bound to haunt his dreams now. He dragged a blanket off his bed and wrapped it about himself, then sat down on the floor. He just knew he wasn't going to sleep that night. He just knew it.
- - - - - - - - - -