Title: Silent Strangers
Author: Essyllus
Genre: General
Rating: K+
A/N: Nothing new, nothing breakaway. Mostly written for aesthetic purposes, but I hope that you enjoy it. I know that I'm not very good nor experienced, but please review and tell me what you think. It helps a lot. Thank you!
I used to know a boy named Uchiha Sasuke.
From the moment you came in my bedroom, stealthily, silently- deadly, I knew. It was a loaded question. I saw your eyes, eyes clouded by hate, but carved with tears of the past, and I remembered back then when those tomoes weren't there. When my hair was a tribute of my affection and when I watched from behind as you attained each tear, step by step.
I hated that. I hated being behind you and Naruto all the time, and I hated my weakness. If it weren't for you and Naruto, and Rock Lee and Chouji, Shikamaru, and Ino, I wouldn't be here. I owe her that much. But some days, I wished that things could have turned out differently, that she and I were never friends. Then maybe she wouldn't have jumped out to save me, and I would have died there protecting you two.
Do you remember how angry you were when you saw me? When you woke up and the curse seal took over your body and you vowed to kill the person for hurting me? I cried for you that day, that was the first time you ever felt bloodthirsty lust, and it was all my fault. If only I was stronger, if only I set a better trap, if only I didn't just stand there when you fought Orochimaru single-handedly, would you be standing over me with that same bloodthirsty lust like you are right now?
I'm scared, Sasuke, I truly am. I wish I could see that familiar round fan again, protecting me from harm. Instead, your kunai glistens on my cheek, and I am compelled to obey you. It used to be a comforting thought whenever you drew a weapon, and now I am the enemy. Is a well-aimed poke in the neck not enough to suppress me, or would killing me have to do?
I'm not surprised that you would. I see the blue aura licking at your sides, and how your body has changed from the pale, skinny boy years before. I slowly place my hand over yours, holding the kunai in my cheek and rising to meet your gaze. So many dreams and fantasies I had waited for this, to look into your black eyes and know that you are still you. I finally look and they're red, clouded with hate, carved with tears of pain and self-loathing and regret.
I don't know you.
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