Warnings: angst. Ambiguous parts. Some trips down memory lane...possibly confusing, I dunno...not edited.
Disclaimer: I own no Naruto...


For those of you who forgot...
The Story So Far: Naruto crashes his car when he and Sasuke argue over something pointless. As far as Naruto's concerned, this drives his lover to madness, and the young blond must learn to cope with the new situation. Sasuke is admitted into a mental facility. One summer, Naruto takes Sasuke to see fireworks. When Sasuke's transferred to the adult ward, Naruto is forced to take a break from seeing his old flame, and meets Gaara...the two hook up, and Naruto muses about life.


My Sasuke.
everything goes black...by Taes

Sometimes, I seriously wonder why I even bother…Every time I try and do something nice for someone, it backfires like nobody's business.

You see, I'd finally gotten the nurses and docs at the adult ward to go on and let me an' Sasuke go someplace, ya know? It was a hell of a headache, convincing them—not to mention keeping it secret from the poor kid's parents, or they'd'a gone ballistic—and you know what? Shit happens.

I'm usually the unlucky fool who's standing under the fan when it does, too.

See, I'd come up with this great idea to take Sasuke around the city, yeah? Going to fun places like the zoo—we took a fieldtrip there when we were kids, I bet he'd'a remembered some of it—and the docks to go fishing, shopping for a new comforter for his bed and a hard pillow. Sasuke doesn't like the soft, downy ones I've given 'im before, I found out…he likes rice pillows, the hard kind that supports your neck all night long.

The silly things give me a splitting headache.

That, and I thought it'd be fun to get some ice cream, despite the chilly weather…a little bit of vanilla here and there might eventually cure the kid of his taste aversion—his dislike for sweets. See, every kid needs his lollipops and licorice, I think…and hot chocolate on a winter day's the best medicine for wanderlust.

All of that, I got by the nurses, and the docs even suggested I take 'im to McDonalds 'r someplace with a kid-zone, just to play around with bright, stimulative stuff…things that might make 'im a little more responsive…

…I wish takin' 'im places were less like babysitting, but fuck…I'd rather have him than be stuck alone…

Sweet, adorable, fucking Sasuke…he's always alone.

In his head?

Yeah. But I guess we all are, come to think of it…

…makes a guy wonder if the schizos are better off 'n me, ya know? I bet it'd be nice, always having someone to talk or listen to…

Anyways, I'm getting sidetracked. Where were we?

Ah, yes…

Shit and fans.

So I've got this perfect plan set up, all ready and rarin' to go. It's supposed ta be the perfect Sunday for my sweetie, and I've been telling him about it for a good month now. Then, see, the absolutely wonderful idea goes ta pieces.

I work at a thrift store, have I told you that? We're all pretty close knit, the workin' class of America and pretty damn generous, to work like we do for next ta nothin'…unlike Sakura an' her trainin' ta be a A-class nurse, I'm just kinda goin' at my own pace, working while I get my head in order.

So, usually it's me an' Carrol and her sis on Sundays, but I called off a good while ago…so they'd known about my little break for the better part of a month.

Then the other sister of theirs, a gal I've never even met, goes and dies on us.

See what I'm talkin' about, with all my plans and stuff?

Shit.

So, seeing that everyone else's a hell've a lot harder to push over than me—why wouldn't I be, when sitting at home just makes me think of times way outta reach?—I get called in.

Fans.

So, I'm either stuck calling the whole thing off—and disappointing Sasuke—or making due with what the hell's left for me.

What the fuck do you think I do, huh? Do I strike you as the kinda guy who'd give up so easy?

Gaara, I called 'im up on 'is lunch break, and I could hear the smile in his voice.

Naruto…he returns, shuffling around a bit to get in a better position. In my mind's eye, I see him sitting on a large steel ledge, the base part of some huge ol' building he and his coworkers've been workin' on lately.

I can almost see the wind ruffling his hair, showin' everyone the heartbreaking Ai on his forehead.

We still up for tomorrow? he asks, low and smooth as the desert sands.

…reminds me of similar conversations with other stoic, angel-faced guys…I pushed the image outta my head, and talk to m'boyfriend for a while, just grinnin' and lettin' him relax from the irritations of work…

…see, workin' with people drives Gaara up a wall. The desert-man's just on a different level than everyone else, ya see? So, he's tried to go an' get a new job, but I'm really good at convincing pig-headed, selfish jerks to doin' what's best for them. I've gotta lotta practice, see?

But Gaara's no ass. He knows I want something from him, and he can guess that he won't like it. Naruto, he says again, a hint of a smile in his almost-green voice. What'd you call me for?

I laugh, full and hard and relieved. He's saved me the trouble of bringin' it up. Listen, I said, twirling the phone cord and wishing I had enough for a cell phone.

He was silent as he waited for me to get on with it.

You know I was planning on taking Sasuke out for the day on Sunday, yeah? I mumbled, fast as a flame and soft so my coworkers couldn't hear me.

So that's how I got the antisocial Gaara to help me out, him and me and the sweetest, most kid-like Sasuke I've ever known.

…I remember when we were little, I took Sasuke thrifting once…'cause he asked me where I got my weird clothes. I remember grinning and laughing and pulling on his white, white hand, waiting for the small scowl on his porcelain face to go away while I tugged.

He was less than impressed, I think, being a kid of wealth and reputation and all. But he didn't complain…he was all stoic—as ever—and conveniently lost in his own world while I chatted with clerks and amused the high-school kids with my ability ta get around the city, despite my being in middle-school and licenseless-ness.

The bratty Uchiha kid took my hand, then, just for a second, to measure my then-smaller wrist. And he got me this funky, expensive thing (for a thrift shop) that looks like a snake eating its tongue…it's a weird bracelet.

When we finally graduated, he got me a matching necklace thing…he said it's called a 'torque.'

I was surprised he even remembered getting the first one for me...

So Gaara's being a true friend and bringing my one-time lover to work for me, so we can all three spend some time together and finally get something done.

Ohhh, shit, that was such a bad idea...

So, I get there before anyone else, naturally, seeing that I'm supposed to be there at ten, and never get in 'till fifteen after...except for that day. Waiting for someone does those kinds'a things to you, see...?

So, anyways, I'm already there when the dude comes by, holding Sasuke's hand lightly in his bigger fist. My Sasuke's looking a little dazed—like he always does—and sweetly confused by the dim lights and yellowish floors.

His smile, I might add, is nothing at all like the old Sasuke's.

I hail the two with a hearty grin and a big wave, and we talk for a little bit, me leaning on the broom I'm supposed to be using, and Sasuke trying to wander off...like a little kid, bored of his parents' conversation...

"Hey, hey, Sasuke?" I wave my hand in front of his face, a brilliant grin to distract his gaze from the necklaces behind me. "You remember this place?" I prod gently, and reach for his hand.

Sasuke watches me dully, a quiet and amused smile on his charming face. He doesn't bother to reply...he usually doesn't...

"We went here, or somewhere like this, and you got me this bracelet." I push my wrist at him, the little snake proudly worn on my right hand.

My boss tells me most right handed people wear their stuff on their left wrist, but hey...when have I ever been normal? I like it better on my right.

Sasuke reaches for the silver thing, his mouth a soft oh of delight. His eyes practically glow when he shows Gaara.

I smile, and let the two go.

Business picks up a little, with me running sales and running around the store all the time, pushing along a z-rack (so called 'cause it's a rack on wheels, in the shape of the alphabet letter 'z') to get some clothes in order.

At the isle opposite me, Sasuke and Gaara push through ladies blouses. "Mostly," I tell them, "it's to keep your eyes from getting bored while I put stuff back in order..." but I grin mischievously and wink a little. "But if you find any cute ones, send 'em this way, eh?" I laugh, long and loud.

Gaara smiles a little, but doesn't honor my statement with a reply.

We must've gotten about half way through the isle of clothes when I come across this little tank top, a black little shirt with pink cherries on it, yeah? So I pass it under the isle, letting Sasuke and Gaara see it while I talk. "Cute, ain't it?" I grin, shaking my hair from my eyes.

The redhead just rolls his eyes affectionately, more amused than anything. Sasuke doesn't seem interested at all...

I glance down at him more closely, and realize he's gone and sat on the floor. I wince. He's found a little collection of dust, a string of hair with god-knows what attached to it, and he's poking at it with a little finger, smiling and well amused.

I sigh.

"Sasuke, leave that alone..." when Gaara hands my shirt back, I absently put it on the rack behind me, making a mental note to get it later. "It's dirty. Come on, get up..." I bend down, offering a hand to him.

Behind me, two chattering girls—twins?—pass the z-rack, pause not even a second and move on. But they've pushed me a little more into the clothes than I'd like, giving me a mouthful of dusty old blouses. I glance wearily at the two, and catch a glimmer of their words.

"Oh, wow, these are really hard to find here..."

The other giggles a little, and says, "Get it...c'mon, let's ask dad..."

I brush their words off, just as Sasuke pulls on my hand.

He's heavier than I remember.

We both fall down, then, him laughing quietly—soft and smooth, just like he used to—and me smiling just a little as my head hits the bars. I hardly notice the bruising pain.

His hair's spread all over the floor, like an arrangement of precious thread. He smiles up at me, sweet and soft and all too happy with this newfound game.

It takes a grinning and playfully teasing me to get him to budge. When we finally do rise, I catch it in an instant. You got me, hey? It's just natural for my Sasuke...

The dust-ball he'd been playing with is fluffing next to Sasuke's ear.

I have to laugh.

Gaara quietly removes the offending piece of rubbish, and a puzzled Sasuke climbs under the isle of clothes—promptly knocking off three garments and distilling several others.

"Sasuke—" I sigh, annoyed now. "Don't do that, okay? I have to tell all the little kids not to crawl under isles, so it'd be really nice if you didn't—"

I stop.

Look at the demur expression across the way, and it hits me...

...he's not really an adult, anymore...

...he's not really my Sasuke.

Gaara comes around the proper way and takes Sasuke's hand. "Hey, Naruto?" he ask, quiet. "You didn't want that shirt, did you?" his voice holds a note of amusement.

I blink. "Huh? The cherry one?"

He nods.

I grin, real wide. "Duh. Wouldn't that be a perfect little thing for summer—?"

Gaara's laughing now, shaking his head. "Those two girls, when they passed behind you—"

I blink. "The twins?"

He shrugs. "They took it when they went by."

I stop. Stare. "No fuck."

Gaara's reproving stare mighta scared others into helpless shudders of terror, but not me. "Don't curse." His glance adds the rest of the phrase... not in front of Sasuke.

At the front of the store, the bell rings. I make my way through the isle, calling, "Yeah, yeah, I hear ya!" and more quietly, "So quit it, already..."

My manager'd kill me if she heard me being so rude, but I really don't care.

It's the two twins, I see, and their Dad's with 'em...they're giggling, playing with their new outfits and happily discussing the weather. I quickly note they're a bit more, uh, full than me, a bit more round and a size or three bigger, to boot...

The bell rings again, sharp and high in my ears.

"How can I help you?" I mumble, and the guy grins devilishly at me, pretending to be a good ol' comedian. I put a hand over his, scowl a little, and push the note attached to the ringer. "Dude, I'm here." I nod at the note. "See, if we're not here you can ring it—"

The twins look at me, challenging.

I groan. "Sir—"

"But it makes me happy." The guy's grinning all the wider, a regular clown.

I frown. "—sir—"

"You're not gonna make me quit if I like it, right?"

Without another word, I take the bright little bell and put it beneath the counter. I look at them all reprovingly. "Dude, are you ready to check out?" my eyes are on the black and pink shirt in one of the girls' hands, a little wad of fabric.

"Excuse me." That voice, I realize, is Gaara's.

I groan again.

"You've taken my friend's shirt."

This is so not my day...

The first of the two twins laughs a little. "What? We didn't take anything—"

Gaara's voice is low. Smooth. "That shirt." He gestures to the one I liked. It occurs to me that his unconcerned visage probably scared the poor girl.

Now the father's eyes are narrowed. "No, they didn't. My girls would never—"

"—it was on the rack! We just got it from there!" she, like all high school kids, thinks that outraged squeaks will win her an argument.

I swear, I'm gonna die of embarrassment.

"—his rack." Gaara nods smoothly at me.

Repeat earlier statement.

The girl sputters. "Yeah, well, customers first."

Her twin giggles. Her nose, I note, is a little higher set than the other's. I wonder if they're twins after all, or just really close sisters... "But he's a boy."

I'm red as a tomato. "Forget it, Gaara..." and then it hits me. "Shit, where's Sasuke?"

Gaara blinks. He looks to the back briefly...and shrugs.

My mouth goes dry. I lean over the counter, grab some of the guy's clothes, and start taking off hangers with one hand, balancing the stuff on my hips and agile as can be, I get the things off as I type up the price. I ignore all their comments at 'rude clerks,' and tap my fingers impatiently when I have to wait for them to decide what they do and don't want.

Finally, I'm free to go look around the store.

As they leave, the kids are chattering—loudly—about their new additions to an overfull (I'm sure) wardrobe. I ignore it.

"Sasuke!" I call. It never seemed like the place was so big, before...

...the racks of clothes and isles full of people swirl around me as I turn this way and that, looking for a streak of black hair and white, white skin.

When I find him, it's not his face that cues me in. It's a little but, a black pair of jeans bent through an isle—

"Sasuke!" I laugh, pleased and annoyed and...who knows what else...

But my voice must have startled him. He topples like a toddler new on his feet, and his head hits the floor hard.

I wince, and skid forward, pulling him into my arms. "Shhh, shh...it's okay, baby..."

...he's not looking at me.

Just staring.

Staring at the ceiling...like he's counting the holes in the dry plaster, ready to fly off.

It was a long, long day after that...my boss is a good lady; she lets me off early...to get my crew outta there.

I think Gaara was happy, all in all...but I don't know about Sasuke.


The busy day's gone.

It's just me, now, alone at my apartment...having sent Sasuke-babe home again with a pretty bouquet of lilies and shit...my breath catches in my throat, I can only hear so far, and my hands are so, so cold...

I keep seeing the stuff from earlier, keep eyeing the door or my hands, like one or the other'll open, and there I'll be again, ready to react and ready to get on with it.

It's all normal stuff, see, all normal, all right and not at all stupid or lost or anything like that...

I keep thinking of what Sasuke said, about wanting to give me—of all things—that kiss, the chocolate candy in the shape of a tear, hitting the floor...I remember taking it, shoving it in my jacket pocket...

I take that out, now, and stare at the silver tinfoil, eyes heavy and head spinning with the images of today. The clothes, the people, the management being all bent out of shape as usual, the way Gaara looked at me, the way Sasuke held his hand—not mine—the way we all ate ice cream together and laughed and laughed...

I tear the foil off the kiss, first a little, then the rest. It crumples underneath my hand, it bulges and folds and finally is free of the chocolate. It's a little warm, a little lopsided, not the perfect dropped tear, after all...I smile a little, wanting to taste Sasuke's kiss in my mouth...

I put it on the center of my tongue, a tiny piece of candy amidst white boulders for teeth.

It melts, projecting a sweet, bitter taste only chocolate can provide.

I realize then, I'm smiling, and with a rueful laugh, my lips twitch.

I can feel it. I can feel the muscles in my shoulders tensing and relaxing, the shifting in my lungs as I breathe and the utter heaviness of my head while I try and keep awake, try and keep sound and free of the goddamned thoughts of today.

Thoughts.

They're memories now, you know? After it's done, it's just a memory. Can't touch it, can't feel it—

—can't taste the kiss on my tongue.

I bite down on the chocolate and open the door of my apartment. My shoes, I admit, are still by the door—a habit that'll never leave me, that one...taking off my shoes when I get home—and I make no move to retrieve them.

The feel of the tile, cold and smooth and glossy, is heaven to my feet.

Underexposed, that's what kind of damn life we live. None of us feel the dirt beneath our feet, the gravel or the pebbles or the grass or whatever shit we trod on.

I want out.

It occurs to me, as I head down the stairs and out the building's metal doors, that I've left my door open. Unlocked.

Just begging for a robbery...

...like hell I care...

The night is cool. Not yet cold enough for a coat, but good enough for a light jacket. I left mine in doors. It's not cloudless, like some dreamy poets describe the perfect night, but it's crisp and clear like it's supposed to be. It alights my lungs, brings color to my cheeks and puts a leap in my step.

I clasp my hands in front of me, all the sudden lost in thought like a poor little bird in a forest of leaves...

Naruto, Sasuke told me, when we were just kids. Come walk with me. He had called me up, called me out in the middle of the night, scared or lonely or bored or like fuck I know...

And I said, sure.

Beneath my feet, the sidewalk turns to grass. The slender strands are strong and sturdy, wet and tall. They cut at my feet, and the sting of them breaks the thought, the memory.

I walk on, anyways.

What'd you want? I ask, when I get there. I didn't bother asking over the wire; Sasuke wouldn't have told me then. He's just that kind of prick.

Instead of answering—like a normal person—my best friend just smiles, a knowing little grin like nothing you've ever seen. He just shakes his head and pulls at my hand—smaller, then, like mine's bigger 'n his, now—and drags me down the path.

His family had a garden.

Now, the streetlamps are back. I'm back on a road, dirty with old rocks and pebbles and shit from construction.

I walk on, drifting along my thoughts.

I knew the air would help clear my head.

Look at this, Sasuke said, perfectly devious and not caring.

We'd gone past the gardener's shed, past the koi pond and down into the maze of spindly trees. Towards the grapevine.

Sasuke toed the cask lightly, his pretty little foot all too eager to explore.

I looked at him, strange and unimpressed. So?

He just laughed, and pulled two cups—wooden—from out of nowhere to my young eyes. Come on, don't you know what this is? He prods, poking and pulling and laughing at me still.

I shook my head, scowling and ready to knock his face in if he pushes it too much.

Underneath the lamplight, far down the road from my apartment, I find myself imitating that expression. I dance away from the thoughts of earlier, ready to explore something altogether new.

Sasuke's grin was catching. He opened a tab, pushed down and let some dark, thick liquid spill out. Haven't you ever heard of a winery? The little brat scoffs, the perfect Uchiha in. Every. Fucking. Way.

It can't be! I say, aghast and grinning now. Isn't it illegal to make alcohol--?

Sasuke smirked, pleased and amused and all too like his brother. His father. D'ya wanna try it? He teases, pushing the sharp and pungent thing under my nose.

I make a face, covering the sensitive opening. It smells weird, Sasuke... I say, laughing.

In front of me in the dim, cloudy night with crisp, crisp air, a bug flies. I bring my hands together in a loud, smacking klp! to kill it. My hands sting with the impact, and immediately I wipe what's left of the thing on my jeans. My skin crawls.

I scratch at it, and keep walking.

Come on, try it... a coaxing grin, a lilting laugh, and I'm taken. Done in and over and out again while we laugh and get ourselves sick on premature, molding wine...

Sometimes I wonder if you can get drunk just by thinking about drinking...

...shit...

Someone's calling me. I hear my name fly down the wind, into my ear and out through my eyes.

I don't turn.

I don't smile.

The construction ahead of me is a bit more crowded, a bit more dense...some kid's gone and broken a window, I find...I've stepped on some of the glass.

My footprints are red.

I blink, and stop.

Listen.

Naruto, Sasuke said, far in the past and never to repeat, you know we're best friends, right? He giggled and snorted. His breath stunk.

Mine did, too. Yeah. I said, grinning and laughing and holding my head too damn high.

He brushed his lips on mine—

"Naruto!"

—a sweet and heavenly kiss—

Cold hands grab my shoulders, shake me too and fro. There's a loud voice in my ear, too close for me to make it out.

You know I like you, don't you? I asked, bold and brazen and smirking like only I can.

His eyes are barely slits on his face, he's so close to unconsciousness. He shrugs and laughs and laughs and laughs...

"—Naruto!" the voice is back again.

I asked Sasuke about it, days later.

He said I dreamt up the whole thing...

...see, the Uchiha family doesn't have grapevines.

The hands are warm on my cheeks, wiping away something that's gotten there, rubbing slow and gentle circles in my tender, raw skin. "—what are you doing here?"

I blink, and realize my face is wet.

It hasn't rained, has it?

The brilliant, bold hands are bigger than mine. For an instant, I wonder if I'm here or there, old or young. It's, Sasuke, isn't it?

"—why didn't you answer me?"

I recognize the voice now.

Gaara.

I let out a stiff and saddened sob, unbidden and against all my mental rules. I can't be soft. I can't be sad, I can't. Who'd take care of him?

Why isn't he in the fucking hospital, and my Sasuke—

—my Sasuke—

—here with me?

But he isn't, Gaara is...he's with me, he's holding me to his broad and strong chest, running his too-hot hands through my hair and wrapping himself around my frigid body. "Naruto, what's wrong?"

I shake my head, listening to the voices of the past.

Naruto, Sasuke said, once. I love you.

I love you, too... I said, I say it...

say it

loud and clear.

"I love you, too..." I mumble, laughing and bright and dark and all too lost in my head.

Gaara's still, now. His hands haven't moved and his eyes have undoubtedly gone wide.

I remember, too late...

...Gaara's never said he loved me...

I hope he never will.

I push away from him, trod forward and cry out—my feet hurt—they're raw

and

bleeding?

Naruto, fuck it all, you've gone and cut yourself again? Sasuke asked, annoyed and unsympathetic as anything.

I was trying to shave...

...trying...

"It's nothing," I said, I say. "The razor slipped...I think I need a new one..." I mumble.

Gaara stares at me, is sea-green eyes wide and unbelieving. "Naruto..." he calls. "Wake up."

I look at him, finally.

He's wearing a heavy coat, like a robe...the hood's fallen back to reveal cream-and-honey colored skin and brilliant, blood-hued hair...with amber highlights in the light. His mouth is a perfect little oh, his eyes are lined with coal and seem too bright to my senses.

He'd been offering me a hand, but it falls, now.

I blink. "Gaara?" I ask.

My boyfriend just stares. "Naruto...your feet..."

I look down.

They're plastered with old, dead grass and strong, stringy weeds and dirt. My toes are covered in a watered down solution of blood and dewdrops, caked with dirt and little tiny pebbles caught between the open skin.

It hurts.

Gaara takes a step towards me, his mouth drawn firm and his eyes set. "I'm taking you home."

I can tell it's not an offer.

Gaara takes another couple of steps forward, and the glass crunches and spreads from the road, a perfect little mirage of a mosaic. He doesn't smile, but he doesn't frown, either. He comes for me, ready to take me into his arms, if necessary.

The wind calls my name.

I turn to it, and there, I see it.

The darkness has almost swallowed him, this tall and elongated figure. The dark wraps itself around his fair and beautiful form, a sweet and elegant cape of charcoal and deep amethyst...no, I realize soon, it's not purple, but red... red like the blood on my feet, like the eyes of two

brothers

too similar and too different for amends.

This figure, this slight and slender waif of a man, he's old. Far older than me or mine, older than anyone I've seen in a long time...but his skin is young...his eyes, clear, but watered down. Long, fair and smooth hair frames his doll-like features, and a twisted, tilted

smile

adorns the humorless mask he passes for a face.

He lifts a hand, and gestures for me to go to him. On his finger, a ring glistens. I think it has a symbol on it, and if I squint, I can almost make it out...

...virgin...

I look over the androgynous beauty, unamused. "What do you want." It isn't a question.

He smiles, but makes no move towards us. "Naruto," his voice is soft, silky and reminiscent of days past. "You knew Itachi."

In a flash, I'm back there again.

He's sitting on the trunk—lounging, really—and he smiles a little. Pulls me up, and for a second we're almost embracing. But Itachi isn't—wasn't—a man for showing feelings or anything like that. He just is, and I only see the other stuff 'cause it's

a

reflection

of

him.

Sasuke

in my head.

"Itachi's dead." I call to him.

Lips flakey with blood and mouth full of spit and more blood and eyes wide, wide and staring. His mouth was stretched into a horrible grin that spoke of nothing but hurt and madness and a hunger for...

The man comes forward, graceful and light on his feet...but all the same, the wearisome dance seems somewhat...stilted...

...as though a master puppeteer pulled on invisible strings...

"I know." He laughs, gentle and sweet and...

...utterly insane...

...shit...

"You," he's in front of me, now, his long fingers and tilted smile seem unsuited for such wide, wide—staring—eyes. "Naruto," my name shouldn't come from that pale and thinly stretched mouth, "You are responsible for his death."

Gaara steps forward, as though he would place himself between me and the graceful blond.

His smile doesn't shake, doesn't tumble from soft lips. "I am to make certain, Naruto, that you realize how...important...Itachi was to us.

"To me."

And that's when everything goes black.


(tbc...)

Someone tell me if I need to make something clear, so I'll at least address it in the next chapter...

More, whenver my twin makes me write on this. (Grinning cheezily now...)