(Author's Notes: Thanks for the reviews! Remember, if you're reading, please review! Warnings and disclaimers apply to all chapters. Again, if anybody remembers the chapter titles for Chapter 33, 34 or 37, please leave a review!)

And the Beat Goes On
Chapter 28: Moonbeams and Cobwebs

The last possible person Gaara wanted to see at three in the afternoon, when the winter sun was starting to wane in its airy domain, was a person who was overly chipper, overly hyper, overly loud, overly obnoxious and a person who shouldn't have known where the hell he lived anyways.

How fitting that Uzumaki Naruto, who was standing on his doorstep, fit that description perfectly.

He really didn't want to see his blond half-brother now, or ever, for as far as he was concerned those links had been severed with the death of their mother. He could vaguely remember the time, not too long ago, though it seemed like a very murky period in his life from where he was standing now, when he had sought to forge a friendship between the two of them, feeling that they had much common ground between them.

That feeling had fleeted a little while ago, when he'd found Naruto's distress at the death of his mother, a person he'd barely known. Gaara, who had known her most of his life, felt little for her.

It puzzled him a little, as to how Uzumaki had managed to get his new address, as he was pretty sure that it wasn't yet listed anywhere at all. Things like that, important things like that, took time, lots and lots of time.

He merely glared down at the overly-exuberant blond, feeling the want to smash his cheery face in, just for bothering him. It wasn't often that he slept, and if he did, it was often uneasily, so he was not impressed that Uzumaki had interrupted the first restful rest he'd had in a long time. Whatever he was there for, it had better have been good.

Forgoing any formalities, he growled, "What do you want?"

"I heard you live here," Naruto returned, nonplussed by Gaara's less-than-friendly tone.

"Yes," the red-head replied, almost angrily. Whatever he was here for, however he'd gotten here, Uzumaki's presence was grating on his nerves.

"I want to move in with you."

Gaara stared at the blond, looking boggled. Naruto shifted uneasily, glancing down at the floor, nervous laughter bubbling in his throat, even as he tried to reign it in. "So, um. . .yeah."

It was a bit bold, a bit forward of him to ask Gaara, a boy he wasn't really friends with, who, a few months ago he would have been mortal enemies with, and somebody he'd just found out was his half-brother through the process of their mother's death.

He wasn't really expecting a positive reply to that, but he could hope now, couldn't he? And hey, he could always get down on his knees and beg, maybe forge some sap story about how Iruka had kicked him out or something that was just as equally impossible.

He wasn't quite out of Konoha, and he knew it. He was on the very verge of it, on the edge of the city, and just a few minutes more and he'd have reached the city limits. He really found it odd how they determined where a city began and ended, because he could never tell which end was supposed to be which. Which end was the beginning and which was the actual end? Why were they both called ends?

He shrugged it off and looked back at Gaara, who had regained his composure, looking calm and cool, just as he had when he'd opened the door about ten minutes ago. "Naruto," he started slowly. "I live here with Temari and Kankuro. Do you know how cramped this place is?"

Naruto said nothing for a second or two, quickly coming back, and whining, "But I haven't got any place to go!"

Gaara looked at him coldly. "Go home, Naruto," he snarled, retreating back into his house, shutting the door in Naruto's face.

Turning away, Naruto swore vehemently under his breath. "Now what?" he growled to the thin air.

He supposed he could go back and feel misplaced, feel depressed, feel as if he didn't belong. He could go back and explain to Iruka that he felt like he didn't belong, and that he had skipped school to go look for a way out of Konoha and have the teacher freak out on him. He could go back and try to sort things out with Sasuke, now that he'd fucked everything up so royally.

Sighing, he dragged the change out of his pocket, and slowly, counted it. Well, he had a long bus ride back to the other side of town to figure out how to explain shit and patch it up again.

He stuffed the change back into his pocket and started down the stairs, still mulling over everything in his head.

He was still brewing and trying to breed answers in his head when he clambered onto the bus, absently paying his fare. He sat in one of the seats, trying to assume a comfy position on the unforgiving seats.

So, what was he going to do now? Things were easily patched up with Iruka, as he would get over the fact he'd skipped school in a day or two, and he would do everything he possibly could to make Naruto feel welcome, and at home and in the right place in Konoha.

He sighed heavily. So, really it was just a matter of patching things up with Sasuke, if he really wanted to. He wasn't really sure he wanted to venture back to that realm, not now at least, not until he had everything with himself sorted out.

He was pretty sure that he wasn't going to find the answers inside himself or inside Konoha for that matter. He needed to travel, to meet people, and finally, to understand how this world worked, and then, he needed to finally understand his role in life and bring himself back to that role and the place that accepted the role.

Sure, it sounded good in theory, but Naruto was more practical than that, and more application-oriented, so he knew that theory never applied to application, and he knew that it was bound not to work out that way. He was on a journey of self-discovery, and who knew what self he might discover.

He shifted uncomfortably in the seat, hating how hard these things were. Where the hell did their tax dollars go when they paid for public transport? To the dogs?

He shifted his gaze to the blurred scenery, to the way it was going by him so fast, leaving him behind. Or was he leaving it behind? He didn't really know, nor did he really care.

Was he ready to go back to Sasuke, to face Sasuke when he had messed them up? Was he willing to force himself to be stable when he was unstable and falling to pieces, because Sasuke needed someone to lean upon? Had he eternally broken the trust between them? Was Sasuke even willing to take him back?

Would things ever be the same between them, now that he'd done this, now that he'd hurt them both? No, he decided with a sigh. Everything would be different after this, more screwed up.

He felt like such a miserable failure. He'd had such a good thing going for him, and no, he couldn't be content with that and fucked it up, like he always did. He really was stupid, when he got right down to the bare bones of it, undeniably idiotic.

Why hadn't he noticed this before?

He was such a failure and everybody had always called him so, and he had yelled back that he wasn't, and told them, promised them that one day they'd see how great he really was - surely better than all the rest of them.

He'd had his chance, had his chance to shine, be stellar with Sasuke, because what kind of failure could catch a prize like that? Only the failure that would let said prize go again. And he'd done just that, proved to everyone that he was just what they'd always said of him. He supposed they'd had more foresight, more insight than him, because they'd been able to see how great of a failure he truly was, how much of an idiot, and how wonderful of a loser he was.

They'd realized his potential years ago, and now, he was merely just realizing it himself. Ha, how ironic it was that he was the last person to see what was clearly right in front of him.

Didn't it just suck to be him? Indeed, it did, and how he wished he was still sucking Sasuke.

- - - - - - - - - - - -

Keep a stiff upper lip, don't show them anything, especially not fear, not anything of that sort.

That was the rule Sasuke was living by at the moment, having been thrown back into the thick of adoring fan girls, and sympathetic teachers, given his recent and rather sudden turning loose from the strings that had held him bonded to his most recent relationship.

Oh, what a shame, they said, and the teachers looked at him with pity, because obviously, he'd just been injured greatly for a second time in his life, and now, they were afraid, he was going to be even harder to reach than the last time.

It was true, he was quickly rebuilding the walls of ice, the walls that kept everything he wanted in, and anything he didn't want out, walls that had taken him years upon years to build and walls that it had only taken a few quick and clever strokes from Naruto to topple.

He'd realized that walls could not hold out forever, and that they couldn't keep everything away, when Naruto had done that to him, but now, it was defence to clam up, to shut up and shut everything else off, to put as much distance between himself and the rest of the world as he could.

And it was because he was scared. He was scared of being hurt again. He had been hurt by the people he'd trusted most and he'd done this once before, and then, someone new had come along and he'd taken a chance and trusted, only to fall flat on his face, and scar himself more, mar his insides with pain and hurt.

But he was proud, and he could never admit weakness, or else, they'd clamber all over him, and swarm him, eat him alive, so he put those walls back, struggling to get them back into place before the mob saw that his fortress was broken and swarmed in to jab him full of spears.

He could barely stand the teachers' sympathetic looks, let alone the girls' annoying fawning over him. They seemed to think that if they 'comforted' him while he was 'hurt', they could get closer to him, even while he was effectively closing the gaps between the smashed stones to keep them out.

He wouldn't admit to them that he was hurt, and so, he didn't need their comfort or their pity and they could keep it all to themselves, for someone who really needed it, like themselves when the time came that the world turned its back on them and sinned against them, made them throb inside with pain and hurt.

Denial, was the first stage of admitting he had a problem, which was exactly the opposite of the direction the step was supposed to take him in. He was denying and denying and denying, to himself, to the girls, to everyone that he was scared and hurt and that this was problematic.

He'd never admit to anything like that. Not even to Gran, even though her prying eyes seemed to know all, even as she posed questions to trap him into admitting that this was trouble. He was cool and clever though, and he lied his way through it, consistently, evenly and though she knew that was not the truth she sought out, she could not pin it to him and force a confession.

The only one who left him alone, not surprisingly, was Itachi. The older boy had never been there when he needed his support, and Itachi knew that he was the only one Sasuke actually trusted enough to admit to, to share his feelings, everything that he hid under his act with.

Don't give in, keep a stiff upper lip, and never, ever let them see your afraid. It was the philosophy he lived by, swore by, even now, as he lay in his room, separated from the world by a bunch of thin walls, which could be knocked over by the next breath.

He wasn't going to cry even now, not alone, not in the sanctity of his own room, in his only, lonely presence. The blinds were draw and the room was about as dark as the night outside his window, pressing in on him from all sides.

He wasn't going to sleep, hadn't slept since Naruto had left him cold, and used that night, because he didn't trust himself not to cry for help, not to cry tears and dream and mourn for his loss. He had to save face here, and if that meant sacrificing every scrap of humanity he had, then so be it. He would not let anyone see how deeply Naruto had injured him.

He had to admit that he felt cheated, played, jaded of the game he'd been playing, tired of the tango he'd been dancing, sick of the balance beam he'd been walking on and a hundred thousand other comparisons that meant that he was worn out, and had fallen as result, hurt himself.

But that was the most he was going to admit, even to the shadows of his room.

Save face, keep a stiff upper lip and never let them see you cry.

- - - - - - - - - - - - - -

Orochimaru had scarce ushered Itachi out of his apartment, when there came a knock on the door. Sighing and annoyed, as Itachi had probably forgotten something like, say, his wallet, or his underwear (he'd done it before), he opened the door, muttering, "What?" in as irritated a tone as he could muster.

"Snake, you and I got something to finish."
The golden-eyed one's gaze shot up from the floor where it had been resting immediately to look Kisame in the face. "You," he practically hissed, and only hoped that Itachi hadn't been apprehended by the shark asshole in the hallway.

Not that Itachi wouldn't have enjoyed that, but. . .

"What the fuck do you want?" he snapped, not in the mood for old gang wars and old fights to come slapping him back in the face. He was still buzzing from the sex, and now, shark-jerk had to show up and completely ruin the after-effects that should have left him dulled and dazed for the rest of the evening (Itachi was amazing at anything and everything he did.).

"We've got a fight to finish, in case you forgot, Snakey," Kisame snarled, clearly not impressed with seeing Orochimaru either.

"Hmph," Orochimaru huffed. "Get the fuck outta here. I've got no reason to kick your ass, other than that you're here."

Kisame snarled, baring his teeth. "Oh, Snakey, we've got a lot to fucking fight about, so get your ass out here, or am I gonna have to come in there and kick your ass?"

Orochimaru snarled right back and took a step into the hall, shutting the apartment door behind him. "I don't know why you're persistent, shark, 'cause you're just gonna get your ass kicked."

- - - - - - - - - - - - -

Itachi paused halfway down the stairs, glancing back over his shoulder as Kisame walked by him. The shark hadn't even glanced his way, but had kept on walking, brushing his hand slightly as he passed. Now that he was gone, he had to wonder why the hell he was in Orochimaru's apartment complex anyways.

Turning back around, he continued down the stairs, hearing his shoes click on the dirty tiles, until the sound was suddenly drowned out by the sound of something breaking, splintering and shattering. He stopped, turning about again.

Half of him told him to just walk away, and see the consequences of a fight later on. The other half of him, was suddenly scared, suddenly making his heart leaping up into his throat and his feet seemed to move of their own accord, forcing him to run back up the stairs, as fast as he could.

The door to Orochimaru's apartment had been bashed in, and splinters lay all over the floor, with pale light flooding out to greet them, to make them cast shadows all over the floor. Blood drops spattered the floor, like tears.

He was nearly sick as he skidded to halt, crashing into the doorframe and pushing his way by the dead wood, inside the dowdy apartment, horrified to find practically everything upturned and the two men with death grips on each other, locked in a stalemate.

He wanted to cry out, to stop them, but he didn't know the words to stop them, didn't have the volume to overpower them and make them cease and desist, as it were. So he stayed there, silent, and when the window shattered, it was like the glass stuck in his throat, because he still wanted to scream, to cry out so badly, but he couldn't say anything at all, and for some unknown reason, it hurt.

Some vague part of him wondered how to grown men could fit out that window, but then again, it wasn't impossible he supposed.

He ran to the window, coming to his senses, finally, slamming his hands down on the broken pane, filling his palms with biting, broken glass, staring down into the street below, half-forcing him out the window, feeling nauseous about the almost dizzying height of the fall. There was glass all over the floor, and it had pricked into the soles of his shoes, crunching and crackling. There was blood everywhere too, more superfluous than in the hall, lying thick and forming puddles, deep stains in the carpet.

He felt weak-kneed, felt weak, just plain weak for the first time in his life. It scared him, even more than the death of his parents had. It rattled him from the top of his head to the very marrow of his bones, to the tip of his toes and every place in between. Somebody he cared about, the one person he actually did find something in himself to feel for, could be dead.

Orochimaru might have been dead.

- - - - - - - - - - - - -

The locker slammed shut, but the noise was nothing to match the screaming of the two girls, who were screaming at each other, making themselves hoarse, trying to explain reason to the other, when they knew they couldn't, not with the rage boiling in their veins like it was.

Sakura's envy-green glare was nothing compared to Ino's icy stare, as the girl's locked gazes and started to try and goad the other into backing down using their eyes. It wasn't working, because they were chasing each other around in circles, yelling and screaming, and getting louder with every passing second. They were so lucky that everyone had cleared out a long time ago, leaving them to argue in peace.

Peace had died, though, and the hallways resounded with their angry words, and their bicker became a feud, a war, and peace was dead.

"You dumb bitch, why can't you just keep your mouth shut!"

"Listen to me, and shut your mouth, you stupid pig!"

"You back-stabber! I trusted you not to say anything and-"
"Would you just shut up and listen! I didn't say a damn thing!"

"You lying whore! Don't lie to my face!"

"Stop being an asshole and listen to what I'm telling you!"

"Do you think I'm stupid!"

"Whore!"

"Bitch!"

The words were suddenly replaced by the sound of a slap that echoed, that made even the hardest of walls shudder under its force. Ino stood there, slowly, shocked, and put her hand to her swelling, red cheek, her eyes wide and unseeing, her head turned to the side, as it had when she was struck.

Sakura, standing beside her, panted with rage, her cheeks flushed in anger, her hand still held out, still tingling from the force that she'd hit her girlfriend with. She wanted to scream, but her breath wouldn't let her, and the air she sucked in clutched raggedly at her abused throat.

"I can't believe I ever fell for you," she hissed, tears burning at her eyes. "It's over, you witch!" she shrieked, and then, tore off down the hall, feeling betrayed and as if she'd been pierced through the heart.

She ran as fast as she could, choking on her tears as she went, a ragged breath escaping her throat in the form of a sob every now and then. Her tears blurred the path in front of her, and she was blinded by them as they stung her, as if they were punishment for the things she'd said.

She felt so heavy, but she kept running anyways, feet flying down the hallway. She wanted to scream out loud, at the top of her lungs, but she had no breath, and she shoved her way out of the building, into the cold winter's air and collapsed into the pure snow, sobbing pitifully.

The sky above her was dull, and grey. It was crying tears of ice, letting the white fall from the heavens and land in her hair, a contrasting pairing, and she sat miserable there, until the end.

Ino, on the other hand, watched her go, and let what she had said sink in and when she had processed it enough times to understand, she had slowly lowered her hand to look at it, as if it might have some sort of answer written on it.

Disappointed, she turned to go, turned her back on the wounded girl, and, wounded herself, had retreated home, through the snow to lick her wounds and rest and meditate on what had happened.
Sakura said she hadn't done it, she said she had been quiet. She claimed she hadn't breathed a word to a soul, living or dead, and who was she not to believe her best friend, her lover?

But if Sakura hadn't done it, who had? Who knew enough of them to tell? Who would want to hurt them?

She didn't know, too dulled and stupid from the activities, from the transpirations of that time for a mystery, to wrap her head around any clues she had and seek out the true culprit so she and Sakura could get back together and put down the perpetrator.

Instead, she went wearily home and skulked about in the shadows all evening, wondering and pondering, and becoming catty and wicked. The shadows fed her and she allowed them to gorge her with ideas of betrayal and foul play, and she was certain, made bold by them, that she could outwit them, that she could play the game a vixen and win.

Lying and cheating was what was to be done, and she revelled in these ideas, let the shadows hold her close and tell her that this was the way of things, and while Sakura was outside, letting the air freeze her rage and becoming pure in the snow, Ino was left to love the shadows who loved her infinitely back, loved her enough to hand her their evil knowledge so that she could make good use of it.

That was the ultimate difference between to girls, this separation of light and dark and together, they made one whole, but separated, they were dangerous to each other, because they were so opposite.

- - - - - - - - - - - - -

To say the New Year's party was a disaster was an understatement to Hinata.

So far, everything that could go wrong had and the night was but young, and nobody was ready to retire, so she couldn't possibly. As heiress to the Hyuuga fortunes, it was her duty to play hostess, and that meant seeing all the guests out at one a.m.

The evening had started out at all right. That had been at seven o'clock, just before it started to go wrong, just before dinner. Kiba had shown up on her doorstep at ten after seven, amongst the throng of guests, who were dressed in finery as the Hyuuga New Year's Party was a formal affair. To put it simply, Kiba had looked like a mutt in the middle of a pack of purebreds.

Kiba had asked her to go out and after a brief, hushed conversation on the doorstep, which had ended with Kiba screaming, "Why the hell not!", her father had lectured her on seeing such a mangy thing and Kiba had screamed some profanities at him, and she had wanted to die with embarrassment. She had been sure the blood rushing to her cheeks was going to make her head explode.

After a long and heated argument, she broke in shyly, softly and asked if Kiba couldn't stay for dinner, to which both initially refused, but at long last, they gave in, for though Hanabi was the favoured daughter, Hinata's father couldn't stand to see either of his daughters distraught enough to cry.

Not that she really was going to cry, but she had become used to forcing herself to tears to get her way. It wasn't as if she did it often, but when her father yelled at her for not getting a test mark above seventy or so, she forced herself to tears, and he immediately consoled her, condoling her with soft phrases, like, "A seventy is fine, Hinata. You did the best you could."

Kiba had stared at her a bit, and shuffled his feet, looking around a bit, completely unsure of what to do if she did end up crying.

And so, the evening had been incredibly strenuous and long, plucking at Hinata's nerves, as if they were the strings on a viola, and she was ready to scream, and had wished the floor to swallow her up more than once.

Kiba was incredibly uncouth, but he couldn't help it, and underneath the dirty exterior, there was a cute and fuzzy puppy. He didn't know which fork or knife or spoon to use, and he was confused about the courses, and said a couple of things that he shouldn't have said in that house, let alone at the table.

Her father had been watching him all night, glaring in his direction every so often, making it perfectly clear to Hinata that he did not trust Kiba, and did not like him either.

Kiba had swore, several times in front of Hanabi, who was only seven, on the verge of turning eight, and that had earned him no points of favour in the eyes of any of the guests, Hinata or her father. The fact Hanabi had started repeating the word had only made it worse, and it had only been rectified when her father had caught her by the arm and told her, rather harshly for speaking to a seven-year-old that the word she was saying was bad and not to say it.

Finally, there had been the incident with TenTen and Neji, Kiba commenting loudly and offensively on the facts presented about TenTen, and congratulating Neji loudly for 'knocking her up'.

Hinata had never wanted to die more than at that moment.

Neji was glaring icily at Kiba, and then at her, his eyes saying something along the lines of, 'This is the type of thing you want to bring into our family? Are you insane, woman?'

TenTen had gone just about as red as Hinata herself, from embarrassment, and from that, it was obvious that she wasn't incredibly comfortable with her newfound size and shape. Hinata had apologized profusely to them as soon as Kiba was out of ear-shot, but she still felt terribly embarrassed, both for them and herself.

And when she'd wandered back to Kiba, she'd sworn he must have known what she'd done, or what she'd said, because he'd asked, rather huffily, with a tell-tale narrowing of the eyes, "Are you ashamed of me?"

Then, he'd stalked away from her, angry and annoyed, and left the house completely. To make matters worse, now that he was gone, everyone was talking about him, angrily, and gossip, rumours and gossip. All the talk made her head spin.

What catty people!

And after a while, her head stopped spinning, but everyone kept talking and she felt so mean. She felt cruel for letting these people say these things about Kiba, even when they didn't know him. She should have defended him, should have said something to them and made the stop, because it wasn't right to speak about another human being that way.

Yes, he was crude, yes he was rude, but underneath that, he was just the same as them. If she could take away their silver polish, they were the same underneath as him, truly cast from the same mould.

Feeling wretched for doing nothing, because her voice, her status, her mind inhibited her, even when her heart knew it was wrong, she ventured outside, and found him outside, in the snow, in the black of the night on her dark porch, looking like something from some sort of movie, the haunted hero, the dark villain. She sat down beside him, silent, and sorrowful, the misled heroine, silent in the snow.

She waited for a long time to speak, but he never did, until he stood up and jammed his hands in his pockets. "I'm sorry I screwed up," he said in a tone so gentle, she almost lost the biting tone it was meant to hide.

She wanted to tell him 'don't be', but her shy voice stuck in her throat and he was gone by the time she whispered the words to the wind.

- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -

Iruka had set three places at the dinner table, and three places were full, but not with those whom were expected to be at his table for dinner.

The first seat was filled by himself, as the master of the household, and so, his seat was always first. The second seat was filled by his nephew, and not his 'son', and Konohamaru sat, his little legs sticking practically straight out from the chair.

The third seat was filled, again, not by Naruto, but by Kakashi, who was becoming a guest more and more often, and though annoying, was more than welcome, especially in times like these.

Naruto hadn't been at school, Naruto hadn't come home, and that scared him. He was worried beyond belief, and he was almost sure that this time, Naruto wasn't going to come home.
And then, he did.

The blond walked in the door, looking sullen and silent. Everyone at the table stopped and looked at him, and he regarded them dully, and then, walked by them, uttering not so much as a word, and went upstairs, shutting the door to his room.

The three occupants of the table looked at each other, confused and bewildered, and most certainly, unnerved by Naruto's uncanny behaviour.

Naruto, however, had better things to think about than how he was freaking everyone out by being so silent.

He needed to think of a way to get out of Konoha, a way to get away from it all, and never turn back. Still, he had to admit, they had him trapped pretty well. He'd almost been sure that Gaara was the answer.

Apparently, sharing half-blood meant nothing, not to anybody. He was more related to Gaara than he was to Iruka, and yet, he was more connected to Iruka, than he was to Gaara, even though he had witnessed death with Gaara, and not with Iruka.

He felt so detached then, looking down on his life, from a sort of god-like view, as he stood back and took stock of everything that had happened. What had happened to him?

He really didn't feel connected to anything at all anymore. His reality was disjointed, and confused, and he no longer belonged here, nor anywhere, or even nowhere as it were. It was almost as if he wanted to walk away from humans, from society altogether and forget all about them, to go away from them and just spend time looking at the sky.

He wanted to be free; free of all the chains that this world had passed to him, the moment he'd been born. He'd heard the phrase 'simpler times' a few times before, but the only time he could ever think anything had been simple was in the past.

It wasn't even in the human past. It was in the past of animals, when all one had to do was eat and reproduce. And even that, when it came down to it, wasn't simple, not at all. Sometimes there was famine, and sometimes, you had to fight to eat, and sometimes, you died, sometimes you starved, which was why there was that silly theory called 'survival of the fittest'.

Not even childhood had been simple, because there had been so much to learn, and his childhood had been complicated by thoughts of being confused and alone and abandoned. He really didn't want to learn anymore, he really didn't want to learn, because somewhere inside his head, it was better if he didn't know.

It was better he didn't know why this always happened to him.
He sighed heavily and flopped onto the bed - he didn't dare call it his, because it didn't really belong to him. He had stolen it from something of Iruka's own blood, a true son of the Umino line and not some haggard half-breed who stumbled into their ranks and pretended, masqueraded as one of their own.

Then there was the matter of Sasuke. He was so tired of how everything always revolved around the other boy - it always had, and he supposed it always would. It was like a law of the universe, like the earth rotated about the sun, making Sasuke the proverbial sun and everyone else, everything else.

Sasuke was anything but a ray of light.

He was dark, depressive and attention-deprived, and he clung and he leeched the life out of Naruto, drained away all his feeling except for anger and annoyance. He wrung out all the attention he could from him, like he'd wring out a wet cloth, and he lapped it up like a kitten with milk.

It wasn't any good to think of Sasuke like this, because it was over now and he didn't feel half as strongly as he had before about him - there was no mystery there between them anymore. Naruto knew Sasuke and Sasuke knew Naruto, more intimately then they had ever dreamt they would.

There wasn't even that carnal lust there that had sparked their relationship in just a few shy touches. Maybe they were growing up, their hormones settling down, and maybe they weren't just incensed like they had been. Maybe they just didn't appeal to each other anymore.

Maybe.

There world was a bunch of maybes, and he couldn't dare answer a single one decisively, not even when it came to himself, because he wasn't truly sure what he was in the grand scheme of things - a pawn, a knight, a king?

Maybe he and Sasuke were like the moon and the sun, with himself being the soleil and the moon being Sasuke, his paler, fainter counterpart, who never quite wore quite the brilliance he himself had, but he shared his luminosity with. It surprised him how mysteriously his moon wore it, how beautiful and gently, whereas he himself was too glaring, too blinding to look at.

But the moon grew dull without the sun, and waned and waxed away, becoming thin and then, sometimes, dying altogether, only to be resurrected in the nighttime sky.

He rolled over and looked up at the ceiling. Yes, the moon had all the stars in the sky as attendants - infinite numbers of them - but grew lonely and died without the sun, so as surrounded as he was by all his fanciers and all his lovers, Sasuke might face the same sort of fading as the luna.

He decided then to wait a day or two before deciding what to do about Sasuke. He had never been a patient sort of person, and Iruka had always scolded him about that, but now - oh ho! Iruka would be proud of him.

He would watch and wait, see what Sasuke did, see what happened to Sasuke without him, and then, he would make an informed decision. But what if Sasuke did not become the moon, broke his metaphor?

Smirking, he supposed he'd just wait and see.

After all, patience is a virtue.

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