(Author's Note: If you're reading, please remember to review! Warnings and disclaimers apply to all chapters.)

And the Beat Goes On
Chapter 31: In Retrospect

Things were awkward, to say the very least. Itachi didn't seem. . .ready. Or something along those lines. But then again, he was never ready, and had never been ready when it came to Orochimaru. It amused Orochimaru to know that. He knew very well that he had taken the uppity, snobby Itachi by storm back when he was a stupid freshman. ..ah, that had been fun.

Itachi had. . .bothered him, when he first met him. He was a genius, a true, blue genius, but somehow, it had occurred to him, that not everything came so naturally to Itachi. It still amazed him just how right he was.

Itachi was not natural, but clumsy and unlearned, which somehow came as a great surprise to Orochimaru. Surely such a pretty person was not a first timer, a shy little virgin? But he was. It confused Orochimaru - how had Itachi scraped by without being thrown to the ground and brutally fucked? All the other people Orochimaru knew, some who weren't even half as pretty as Itachi was, weren't virginal, for one reason or another. Orochimaru had never really asked, and never really bothered caring about the other people he knew.

He knew how it was done, but he wasn't sure anymore where he'd learned it from. When it came down to things like sex, it was all about experience. Never mind natural talent, or instinct, or anything silly of that sort. It was all in confidence, in knowing what you were doing and having confidence in that knowledge. At least, that was how it was for him.

He hated Itachi at first. It wasn't hard to do. The boy thought he knew everything, and he didn't, and he was snobby, and pretty. It wasn't hard to hate him, wasn't hard to want to teach him a lesson for acting like he was better than everybody. So, devious Orochimaru devised a plan to cure the Uchiha bitch of his superiority complex once and for all. It hadn't really worked, as they were always trying to be one-up on each other, and often fought, but he had managed to get Itachi tangled up in the mess of a life he had.

He hadn't wanted Itachi after the first time, because the boy's inexperience shone through. Oh, he had natural talent, and he caught on quick, but it wasn't enough. He had no experience, no confidence in what he was doing. He was nervous and scared, and his entire body showed that, tensing up, and he was submissive, letting Orochimaru take the lead. That submissiveness made Orochimaru mad - where was the obnoxious little prick he had known from language class?

He'd just rediscovered said prick, Orochimaru realized rather belatedly, looking at Itachi, who was still sitting in the hospital chair. What devotion. Itachi wasn't looking at him though, staring steadfastly at the tiles on the floor. "You're up," he said, blandly.
"Yes," Orochimaru replied, combing out his hair with his fingers.

"Hn," Itachi said, and the room fell silent. Somehow, the dark-haired boy knew just how to kill a budding conversation. Orochimaru sighed, and leaned forward, stretching to touch his toes. His back muscles groaned in protest.

"So. . ."

"Hn."

Orochimaru sighed and settled himself against the lumpy hospital pillows. He looked at Itachi, and just sat there, meditating. He wondered how he'd come to be there, in the hospital, surviving whatever had been thrown at him this time. He wondered how it was that he just kept surviving, and going on. Every time something bad happened, he'd wake up in the hospital, which was gleaming white, and he'd wonder if he was dead. Then, he realized that no, he wasn't, that he'd survived again, and was going on.

Breathe in, breathe out, and just keep going. It was strange. By all rights, he should have been very, very dead at that point. But he wasn't. So, he took it for what it was, and made it nothing more, and just kept going.

He looked at Itachi, then frowned. "Hey. . ."

The dark one looked at him. "What?"

"What do you make of it?" he asked, looking away, toward the window.

"Of what?" Itachi asked, his voice bordering on annoyed, a subtle hint telling the other so, so subtle that hardly anyone could detect the change.

"Of this! I'm still here. What do you make of it?"

Itachi snorted. "I don't make much of it. I'd make more of it if you were dead."

The younger boy looked away, and Orochimaru pulled a face. "Oh-ho, snarly are we?"

Itachi glared. Orochimaru looked away thoughtfully. "Though I suppose hours on end in a hospital chair will do that to you!"

Itachi just glared some more. Orochimaru didn't dare look back at him, just in case. When Itachi wasn't in good humour, nobody else should be.

Orochimaru sighed and looked away from the weasel, who was now glaring at him steadily.
Orochimaru had never lived the high life. He had been born to a dysfunctional family - a mother who was too young, a father who was not there, or abusive, and both were drug addicts. His mother had been just newly sixteen when he was brought into the world, and his father had been doing jail time for drug possession and statutory rape.

For the first five years of his life, Orochimaru had lived with his mother, in a run-down slum, in a dank, drafty apartment, but he hadn't really minded, because he'd never known anything else. It had been just fine, until the man he was to call 'father' came home.

How he found them, he didn't know, nor did he care. He knew only that he had wished the man would go away. His mother acted strangely when the man came back, stranger still when he stayed with them. She sported lots of bruises, and cuts, and when he asked, in his stupid, childish way, she had just said that she was being clumsy and careless.

She wasn't clumsy and careless physically, but she was clumsy and careless with her words - she always had been - and he hurt her for it. He hit her, he swore at her and degraded her . He would grab her by the arm and twist it back, until she shrilled her apology to him, sobbing, and then, he'd slap her twice, hard enough to bruise and let her fall to the kitchenette floor. Orochimaru remembered asking her why she put up with him, why she let him stay if he did that to her, and he got a variety of excuses.

Where else could she go? Besides, she loved him. He needed a father figure in his life. He brought her drugs, and that was the one reason Orochimaru established as true. They were both crackheads, and he could remember sitting in the living room, watching the ancient television, as they sat behind him, snorting the white powder off the table, giggling together.

He'd stood up to the man once, for his mother, because he'd thought she was just weak, not stupid. He'd thought of heroism in his childish little mind, and he'd found her somewhere there to be the damsel in distress, and he stood up to that man to save her. He'd been struck down, and nearly killed, and nothing had come from his little act of bravado but his mother's cold shoulder.

He'd been bitter then, and he rebelled against his father, hating the man. How could such a dirty, low-down man tell him what to do! He wasn't going to lie down and take it like his mother did, because he wasn't stupid like she was. He wasn't blind like she was.

He knew it was wrong.

When the man came back, something else dramatically changed in Orochimaru's life. When he was six, he'd obtained a sibling, a little brother, who was sick and weak - because of their mother's bad habits. The younger boy was always feeble, always weak and snivelling, a crybaby almost blind in his left eye, with half the intelligence of a rock. Orochimaru hated the boy, because he was clingy and obedient to their father, and he was always scared.

But Orochimaru protected him, because he knew what was wrong, and he knew that none of this was right, and he felt it his duty to protect the blind. And then, there had been three of them, with a little girl, more feeble than his brother, and this time, blind in both her eyes, destined never to see the outside world.

She was quiet, and obedient, and she did not cry like their brother did, so she earned a bit of Orochimaru's grudging respect that way, but she lost it through her blind following of orders. And so, Orochimaru protected her too. He was her eyes, and he tried to lead her through the dark, to the light, but she would have none of it.

"Orochimaru, big brother, listen to Father."

She always said that to him, but he'd have none of it, because what Father did wasn't right. He knew that he'd hit the blind children, the disabled, because did not Father hit his pregnant wife, and beat her to the floor, while she was heavy with child?

Where was the righteousness in that? He'd rebel, and he'd keep rebelling until it killed him, because it was what he believed in. Sure the rebelliousness landed him at the hands of their father's violence, but the other two stayed safe, never at his wrath, and they never sported bruises like he did.

And then, there were five of them, the three of them joined by premature, sickly twins who fought for every breath they ever took, battling with weak lungs, weak hearts and a prenatal addiction to cocaine. They were born fighters and Orochimaru thought that maybe they would fight with him, but when they were old enough, strong enough to live day to day without fear, their spirit had somehow fizzled and they just wanted to live without the fight. Orochimaru remained the rebellious older child, the only one on the battle field, because he knew this wasn't right!

Then, there was a sixth child, his second sister, and then, a seventh, another sister. Neither wanted to fight for his cause either, and he was left alone to confront everything. By this time, he was ten, and he was on the verge, or so he thought, of becoming an adult.

Then, one day, he'd woke up and everything was quiet. Silent. There was a sort of peace over the apartment, something that hadn't been there for a long, long time. He could no longer remember whether or not it had ever been there before.

They were gone. Both of his parents had up and left during the night, and he never met them again, though he was unsure of whether or not to be grateful for this. They were gone, and he was not. He had no money, no job, rent to pay and suddenly, six other children to support. He knew of no other relatives, no friends of his parents that he could turn to and in dire need, he had searched everywhere.

He promised that he'd take care of them, because he was the oldest, because he knew it was right. They all looked up to him, they all needed him to take care of them. The second oldest child was only four. He couldn't leave them to fend for themselves.
He'd made some bad choices then, some stupid choices. He wasn't a pretty boy, he knew, not like Itachi was, but he was fair enough, and he got himself into trouble once or twice, on the cold pavement. When he'd come home to the other children, smeared in blood and nearly howling in pain from the walk, and they'd asked him what had happened, he told them he simply got into a brawl. They understood - he was always fighting.

He'd met Kabuto then. Kabuto was roughly the same age as him - younger than him, really, by a good deal, but closer to his age than any of his siblings were. Kabuto's parents were dopeheads too, but they weren't home half the time. Kabuto had given him some of the stuff he'd stolen from their stash once, and told him to sell it.

Kabuto, he thought, didn't have a mean bone in his body. He was interested in medicine, in healing and helping people, and he wanted to help. Orochimaru admired the younger boy for his caring attitude, but couldn't relate, for his help had always gone unwanted. Kabuto, he knew, paid his rent and bills by selling what he could of his parents' stash, without getting caught, working at his uncle's antique shop downtown, and treating minor injuries from street fights.

Kabuto was cruel, Orochimaru later found out, and crafty. He laced the stitches he used with poison instead of antiseptic, and then, the wound would fester and get worse, driving the injured back to his doctor. He'd give his patients heroin, or cocaine, or anything he could find and pass it off as "painkillers", and drive them into the spiral of addiction, with him as their dealer, until they could no longer pay.

Kabuto was double-dealing and sly, yes, but with Orochimaru, he was always perfectly honest. The boy had never lied to him - as if he couldn't. Kabuto gave him money if he wasn't going to make the rent, and he never asked for it back. All he asked was Orochimaru's company - not even for friendship, just company.

It had never really occurred to Orochimaru, not until recently at least, that Kabuto was in love with him. But it made perfect sense. In the time and place they'd been, however, love was a far off thing, and Orochimaru had all but forgotten love.

Kabuto inherited his uncle's shop when he turned thirteen, because the man had died of a heart attack. Kabuto had been stricken with grief, and then, only a few weeks later, Orochimaru had given up on his siblings, finally sick and tired of being the pillar of support and moving away, running away.

He'd never lost touch with Kabuto, though they might have been out of contact for months at a time. In the end, he always came back to the silver-haired boy, to let him know that he was still surviving. But to him, that wasn't love. Devotion, maybe, concern perhaps, but not love.

Love, to Orochimaru, was what he shared with Itachi, the never being able to see eye-to-eye, the fighting and the way they could somehow, always patch everything up and say that it was all right.
- - - - - - - - -

"Lower, . . .lower. No, Naruto, you're not doing it right," Sasuke whined.

Naruto gritted his teeth and growled. "You're a brat, you know that?" he spat at Sasuke, who whimpered suddenly in delight.

"That's the spot," the dark-haired boy practically purred, arching his back into Naruto's touch.

Naruto sighed, and continued to scratch, rather ruthlessly now because he was mad, at Sasuke's back, his hand moving underneath the boy's pyjama shirt. "Better now?" he asked, pausing and leaning forward.

Sasuke nodded and curled himself up in a ball, seemingly intent on going to sleep. Naruto sighed and slumped back onto the bed, petting Sasuke's soft hair. He glanced at the clock, noting it was well after four o'clock and maybe, they should see about dinner, or something, because Sasuke probably hadn't hauled himself from bed all day.

"Ready for dinner?" he asked the other boy, brushing back his bangs.

"No," Sasuke groaned in reply, as if the mere mention of food was horrific.

Naruto sighed. Three days had passed, and Sasuke was getting worse, and worse, instead of better and better. Any semblance of strength had left his body, and he was frail, weak and nauseous, most of the time. Naruto had been over everyday after school, giving Sasuke his homework, and administering some care. It surprised him that Sasuke said nobody was allowed in his room but him. Damn Uchihas and their independent ways.

Naruto grabbed Sasuke around the waist and hauled him up, into a sitting position, noting that the boy got lighter every time he had to do it. "You're getting thinner," he murmured in a taunting tone.

Sasuke said nothing but sagged into him, sighing heavily. "I wish you wouldn't do this," he murmured.

"Do what?" Naruto asked, rubbing his fingers unconsciously over the bony protrusions of Sasuke's ribs.

Sasuke said nothing, but slid out of Naruto's grasp. It scared Naruto how easily he let him go. Sasuke straightened out the folds in his shirt, and tried very hard to keep his balance. He was getting worse, even if he didn't care to admit it.

"Let's go get dinner," he muttered in annoyance. He really didn't feel like eating. The thought of food just made him feel more sick than he already did. He padded over to the door, slowly, the sick feeling rising up inside him from the movement.
Naruto rolled his eyes at him, and Sasuke paused, leaning against the door, swallowing bile. Naruto touched his cheek gently, and he turned away. "Changed my mind," he murmured. "I don't wanna eat."

Naruto pressed his hand to Sasuke's forehead, frowning. "You're burning up again," he murmured, softly.

Sasuke sank to his knees, groaning, feeling as if he was going to die. Naruto followed him down and wrapped him up in a blanket and his arms, and held him close as he shivered and whimpered. This just sucked. It really did.

He closed his eyes, lightly, just planning on resting until the wave of nausea passed and he could crawl back to bed and hide under the covers, but he kept going, falling deeper into sleep, until he was fast asleep, deep in slumber that he probably needed. Naruto sighed and dragged the other boy back to bed, tucking him in firmly.

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

Naruto trudged home in the lamplight, shuffling his way through the snow and ice that still lay on the sidewalks. He wished it would go away soon. Winter seemed so long this year, somehow, and he thought that maybe, summer weather would help Sasuke feel better.

He threw off his shoes when he walked inside the house, the cold concrete of the foyer floor leeching heat from his socked feet. He shut the door behind him and avoided stepping in the cold, wet puddles left by Konohamaru and Iruka's shoes when they'd come in. He skipped into the kitchen.

He stopped dead.

There, sitting in his kitchen, staring right at him with huge green eyes was Gaara. Naruto swallowed nervously. "What are you doing here?" he asked, quietly, taking a cautious step into the kitchen.

Gaara just looked at him, his gaze saying, "You should know why I'm here."

Silence owned the kitchen for a moment or two, before Gaara spoke in a low, even tone. It perplexed Naruto how calm Gaara could be, even in this place, somewhere he'd never been before.

"Uzumaki, you still want to get out of here?"

Naruto bit his tongue, and thought about it. Yeah, he still did want to leave. He wanted to stop hurting the people he loved, and he wanted to get away from them. But, he couldn't leave Sasuke, could he? Not in the condition he was in, not right at that moment. But then again, Sasuke's bitter words to him rung between his ears, repeating over, and over, "I wish you wouldn't do this." What didn't Sasuke want him to do?

"I don't know," he said at last, unable to come to a firm decision.

Gaara seemed to have noticed that it had taken Naruto too long to respond. "I . . .think I get it. It's that Uchiha bitch, isn't it?"

The way Gaara spat the name brought up none-too fond memories and Naruto nearly winced. He'd forgotten entirely, and suddenly, the whole thing was put into a new light, because now, Gaara was his half-brother. His half-brother, his half-brother that had raped -

It was Gaara's fault that Sasuke was in the mess he was, it was Gaara's fault he was sick. It was. . .Gaara, who had fucked everything up.

But still, Gaara wasn't so bad, at least, not to him anyways, and Gaara had only hurt him remotely, through Sasuke. He was staring at the floor, he realized, in deep thought. "Gaara," he said, suddenly looking up.

Cool green eyes were turned in his direction. Naruto frowned. "Why? Why did you do that to him?"

Gaara sneered, a storm cloud breaking over his features. "Bitch deserved it, didn't he? He thought he was all that, treated you like you were his - "

"I am his," the blond interrupted, his voice sounding impertinent in the kitchen.

Gaara looked almost angry, then shrugged. "That's none of my business, I suppose. But, you and I could be friends. We're more alike than you think."

Naruto had noticed that, disturbingly enough, and he remembered now that Sasuke had tried very hard to be a barrier between them. Gaara had been trying to take that barrier out. Naruto licked his suddenly dry lips. He looked at Gaara. "Why don't you come upstairs? It's more private than here."

Gaara shrugged, as if the whole thing didn't matter to him, and Naruto supposed it didn't. He walked out of the room, and the redhead followed him. Silently, they went upstairs together, and Naruto shut the door to his bedroom, locking them both inside.

He turned to face Gaara, and suddenly, everything was awkward. Why was it so hard to talk to the other boy? He, Naruto, never had a problem talking, but now, he was silent, and could think of nothing to say.

"So. . ."
Gaara said nothing, and it struck him that Gaara was just like Sasuke - quiet to the point of being scary, stuck up and haughty. Maybe that was why the two had fought. Maybe they simply couldn't see eye to eye because they were too much alike not to butt heads. Naruto sighed and glanced at the floor of his room, noting how his feet were starting to sink into the carpet.

"I wanna get out of here," he said, softly, thoughtfully.

"Then you should leave."

Gaara glanced at the clock on Naruto's bedside table, then frowned. "It's too late now to catch the bus, but the trains run all night long."

Naruto sighed and hugged his elbows. He really. . .just wanted to go. To leave everything behind him, to start anew and just forget everything. Maybe he could get a job, an apartment, find somebody - a girl - and just. . .live a normal life.

Gaara was looking at him intently now. "You'd like to get out of Konoha altogether, wouldn't you?"

Naruto started. It was as if Gaara had read his mind. He did want to get out of Konoha. Lately, the city had just been too busy, too rushed for him. He wanted to go out to the middle of nowhere, and just. . .just.

Stop.

He sighed heavily. He could hear Iruka and Konohamaru moving around downstairs. He thought the telephone might have been ringing. He wasn't sure. He wanted to cry. "Are you going?" he asked, moving his bright gaze up to meet with Gaara's.

The redhead snarled. "Yes, I am. By all means, I can't spend another day with that damn Temari -"

"What's wrong with her?" the blond boy asked, curiosity glancing in his eyes.

Gaara's expression became nastier. "Her and that Ino person, always in the house. It's crowded enough as it is."

"Ino? And Temari?"

Gaara nodded, looking only slightly disconcerted by Naruto's vague expression of horror. "But. . .but Ino's with Sakura!"

Gaara snorted. "And Temari as well. Girls are all the same, Naruto. Lying, cheating bitches."

Naruto said nothing. He could only say that there was one girl who had truly been nice to him and that had been Hinata. Ino had always hated him, and Sakura had hurt him, many times. His mother had hurt him worst of all.

Gaara had stood up now, while he was in deep thought. The redhead brushed by him, placing his hand on the doorknob. "Naruto, I'm leaving. If you're going, meet me at the train junction in half an hour. The last train for tonight to Kiri leaves then."

The door opened and Gaara stepped out into the hall. Just as the door was about to close, Naruto spun around, grabbing his half-brother by the arm. Gaara turned about to face the blond. Naruto squinted, trying to read the other boy's eyes in the darkness of the hall. "Will you go without me?"

Gaara sighed and closed his eyes. "Yes," he said finally. "I'll go without you."

He turned around again, shaking Naruto's grasp from him. "You're nobody to stop me."

The redhead started down the stairs. Naruto frowned, then sighed, and followed his half-brother. His mind was in turmoil - hadn't he decided this weeks ago? Why was he still thinking about it then?

He paused at the bottom of the stairs, but Gaara kept walking, never once looking back at him. He could hear Iruka on the telephone, talking, as if talking to himself, but it made no sense to Naruto's ears.

He followed Gaara into the kitchen and he stood by the open door, looking into the foyer, watching the redhead put on his shoes and grab his coat. Gaara glanced at him, as if uncertain of him, then nodded once and opened the door. Naruto lingered a while longer, after hearing the door close, then turned back to the kitchen.

Iruka had just hung up the telephone, and the brunet now turned to look at him. His expression was so serious that it almost hurt to look at, and most certainly had to hurt to wear. Naruto frowned, and did his best to look grumpy. He was almost sure this was about his unexpected visitor.

"What?" he snarled, and Iruka sighed and shook his head.

"Sasuke's in the hospital. I was going to ask you if you wanted to see him, but- "

"What!" the blond shrilled, shooting across the kitchen and latching onto Iruka;s shoulders, so hard that his knuckles turned white. "Sasuke's - Oh, no! Not now!"

He felt like he was going to cry. He'd been working so hard, but. . .but! He'd tried so hard, but Sasuke had just got worse and worse, hadn't he! That dumb bastard, he'd been trying to hide it too, but. . .
But. What could he do about it? Even if he hadn't left Sasuke, what could he have done? He had no medicine, he had no idea what to do to treat something like that -

He hiccuped, and buried his face in Iruka's sweater, trying to stay his shaking shoulders, trying to stay his tears. He wasn't going to cry!

Iruka wrapped his arms about the shaking blond boy, unable to offer much more than that small gesture of 'I'm here.' He had only ever lost his father, and that was due to divorce, not death. He didn't know, yet, what it was to have someone you cared about lying on their deathbed.

There had been Naruto's near incident, but somehow, he'd never imagined that Naruto was that sick, that Naruto would be taken from him. Oh, he worried, yes, and he was concerned, but somehow, the idea of Naruto being dead never really sunk in. Then, Naruto had come back to him, and it was all right. He didn't need to think about it anymore.

"I want to see him," Naruto sniffled, loudly, pressing himself harder into Iruka, as if trying to make himself disappear.

"I thought you would. Get your coat, and your shoes."

Iruka let go of the teenager, patting him on the shoulder, trying his best to be reassuring. He managed a piteous smile, which prompted Naruto to return his own, shaky smile. Iruka guided Naruto into the other room, and handed him the car keys. "Get ready and go warm up the car, okay?"

The blond nodded, and Iruka turned back, heading into the house to call Kakashi. He didn't want to take Konohamaru with him, and he had no idea how long Naruto might be. He didn't fancy leaving his nephew alone.

He felt bad for Naruto, he really did. There was so much pain and suffering the boy had endured in his young life already, emotionally, and Iruka didn't think that it could really be absolved at this point. The scarring was probably there forever.

Konohamaru glanced up from the television, and the blocks he was playing with as Iruka walked into the room. "Uncle?" he asked, his voice small in the room.

"Naruto and I are going to the hospital. Kakashi will be here in a few minutes, so you be good until he gets here, okay?"

Konohamaru nodded and looked at the floor. "Is Naruto sick?" he asked, quietly.

Iruka managed a small smile. "No, Naruto's not sick."

"Are you sick?" Konohamaru asked, looking at him with worried eyes.
Iruka's smile got a little wider, but also, a little shakier. "No, I'm not sick either. One of Naruto's friends is."

"Oh," Konohamaru said, then looked at his blocks. "Sasuke?"

The intuition of children amazed him every time he encountered it. Yes, they were innocents, and yes, they weren't very worldly, but they knew when something bad happened, and they weren't oblivious to adults' intentions and emotions. He heard the thrum of the car engine, and turned about. "I have to go now. Bye Konohamaru! Don't let anybody but Kakashi in!"

Iruka started back toward the door, with a little wave at his nephew. He opened the door, still trying to put his left foot in his shoe, when Naruto ran by him. He gave the blond a questioning look. Naruto grinned at him. "I forgot something," he said.

He kicked off his shoes and ran out of the kitchen, probably upstairs. Iruka shut the door, shivering because of the cold air and shook his head. Honestly, Naruto was the biggest idiot sometimes.

The blond boy returned a few moments later, holding a rather battered and worn teddy. He grinned widely at Iruka. "He won't like it, the bastard, but yanno."

Iruka sighed. "Honestly, Naruto. We could have bought something -"

Naruto shook his head, frowning. "Something new might look nice, Iruka, but this -" He indicated the scruffy bear. "This, has sentimental value. Mr. Teddy saw me through all my sick days when I was little."

He offered his caretaker a weaker smile. "This is something dear to me, and so. . .is Sasuke. They've both taken care of me, so. . ."

The blond lost his train of thought then, and looked up at Iruka, smiling. "Okay! Let's go! We're wasting gas!"

The blond wonder shot out the door again, into the cold night, leaving Iruka to be bewildered, and then, to shake his head and follow.

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

The telephone was ringing, and Ino glared at it, as she tied her hair back and looked for her house keys. Nobody was home yet, and she didn't want them to be home yet. It was harder to lie to someone's face. When you spoke to someone, your voice could tremble, your face could reveal all you meant, and that you were lying to them. In a note, the words could express no insincerity.

The phone was still ringing, and she felt her resolve to let it ring until the other person should hangup weaken and collapse altogether. She grabbed the receiver and pressed it to her ear, muttering, "Hello?" as she scrawled some words to her parents across the page.

"Ino, I called to apologize."

The blonde girl froze. Sakura's voice barely scraped her numbing hearing. Not now, why now! Why would the pink-haired girl call her now? She'd forgotten about Sakura, and she didn't want to remember.

"It wasn't me, or you who told. It was Lee."

"So what?" Ino snapped.

She didn't care who had told. She just wanted Sakura to leave her alone. They were through now, with everything, so Sakura should just leave her alone.

"You're still mad at me, then?" the pink-haired one's voice whimpered through the phone connection.

Ino found her eyes wandering to the kitchen clock. If she didn't hurry, she'd be late. "Goodbye Sakura," she huffed shortly, and hung up the phone.

It served Sakura right. She shouldn't have called her. They were over, and that was all that mattered. Right and wrong didn't matter, who had done what, or said what no longer mattered. All Ino cared was that she got out of the house, and nobody but herself knew where she was going then.

She hated to admit it, but Temari was increasingly like a drug addiction to her. Seeing the other girl seemed to be the only thing she looked forward to, being with the other girl seemed to be her only source of joy. She hadn't meant to get in this deep. She hadn't meant for it to go so far. She'd thought that, maybe, after a couple of times, she'd stop, feeling better, because she could still get someone. Sakura wasn't the only person who wanted her.

Where had it become so much more? Where had she lost that vengeful line of thinking and let it become purely for herself, that she was with Temari? She couldn't remember when it had changed over, or why she'd changed her thoughts to think like this.

It didn't matter now. She was going to see Temari, and that was all that mattered. She didn't care if her mother thought she was dating Shikamaru, as her notes always said she was going somewhere with him, or if her mother thought she was lying, or thought she was doing drugs or whatever else. She could think all she wanted, but as long as she didn't know. . .

Ino could have her guilty little pleasure, as long as nobody knew what she really did. As long as nobody knew about Temari, Ino could have her. Some people had food, or clothes, or shoes, or shopping as little pleasures that they enjoyed, but weren't really supposed to. Ino had Temari.
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Hinata had almost forgotten Neji's intense dislike for both herself and Kiba. She couldn't really understand though, how he hated them both, for they were both so different. Kiba was loud and obnoxious, which Neji hated. Kiba was poor, and unrefined, which Neji hated.

But Hinata was the exact opposite of what Neji hated about Kiba, and yet, he still hated her. She was shy, and quiet, and rich, but Neji somehow still found a way to hate her.

It was uncomfortable, sitting in a room with such hatred, and Neji did nothing to try and stop it, as he sat there, his arms crossed, his eyes dull and unreadable. Hinata wanted to shy away from that gaze, to hide from it. Kiba was seemingly undisturbed by it, however, but his mood was sour and his normally loud demeanor had dropped into non-existence. He was disturbed by it, upset by it, though he didn't want to show it.

TenTen was trying to be the proverbial peacekeeper, but there was only so much she could do to try and break the thick tension in the room. Questions to Neji were answered with a "hn" or "hm, and questions to Kiba were utterly ignored, as he was engrossed in his staring contest with the older Hyuuga. Hinata only answered her shyly and softly, and neither of the boys paid them much mind.

Hinata very much wanted to talk to TenTen, and to ask her what had made her change her mind about the baby, but now was not the time or place. Neji would undoubtedly butt into the conversation and tell her that it was not her business nor her place to know. Hinata was also afraid of an all-out war between her cousin and her boyfriend - it seemed odd to think she had one - and so she kept a close, nervous eye on them, waiting, and hoping that the first blow would not come.

TenTen's soft, conversational tone eventually fell silent, and her river of questions dried up, and stopped flowing. The clock in the sitting room counted down the seconds, but it seemed to echo in the silent room. No one dared to breathe.

"So. . ."

TenTen folded her hands in her lap and her eyes darted from person to person, even as her words fell flat in the silence. Neji stood up rather abruptly, and turning about, saying rather bluntly, "I suppose one must just accept this."

Hinata lowered her head, as if in gratitude. Kiba sneered at the older boy's back, as if wondering why on earth they'd had to clear it by him first. Neji shut the door to the room as he left, never once looking back, although Hinata knew for sure that he had been looking at them.

She was grateful. Neji's words, though blunt and stiff, had pledged his (grudging) support to her, and Kiba's cause against her father. She knew she had a fight on her hands, a fight she perhaps was not quite ready for. She wanted Kiba, however, to be by her side, and the only way she could do so was to clear the match with her father. She knew he would object, but perhaps, Neji could sway him a bit more than she could. Neji had always been slightly closer to her father than she had ever, though he said he resented the man. She knew it was simply because her father was head of the main house, and therefore, head of the clan business. Hinata was heir to that, though she did not have the willpower or the smarts to do so, and Neji did. She sighed and looked down at the floor.

She heard the rustling of cloth, and then, TenTten was kneeled in front of her, smiling up at her with her bright, brown eyes. "If it helps any, Hinata, I think you and Kiba make a very cute couple."

Hinata blushed, and beside her, Kiba gave a startled, "Eh!" and went red. Hinata clasped her hands in front of her and smiled at the floor, keeping her head bowed. "Thank you, TenTen," she said, though it was more of a whisper than anything more.

"No problem," the older girl said, smiling.

TenTen left the room, leaving Hinata and Kiba to themselves. They were silent for a long, long time, but this time, the silence wasn't as tense.

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