This time: Walking in dreams and saying things he'll regret, Naruto forges onwards...
Disclaimer: I own absolutely
nothing of the Naruto series.
Warnings: unresolved angst.
Breaking heads. Poetry/contemporary writing section.
Note:
This section features a rather confused Naruto, whose narration thus leaves out bits of coherence. Let the words flow over you, and you'll get the gist—details (to Naruto) aren't what matter so much here.
Oh, and I hate Kishimoto's color choice for Sasori's hair...so it's not red in this story. --Smiles brightly-- so for this story, it's a pale blond. --Sticks out tongue at Kishimoto-- call it creative license.
Recap. ('cause I know this is a long story, updated at odd intervals.)
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.
Thus done, Naruto takes Sasuke to his work, they play around, and Naruto gets depressed. He wanders around for a while, meets up with a mysterious Sasori...and faints.
Things at work become more complicated for Naruto. He spends time with Gaara over Christmas, meets up with Sasuke and recalls a strange memory where Itachi gives Sasuke a rose.
Over the New Year's holiday, Naruto volunteers his time at the mental institution, where he unexpectedly runs into Sasuke's parents. Later, Naruto tells Sasuke the English fairy tale, Mister Fox.
Naruto returns to Gaara to fall into a curious experience of losing time.
Naruto sees strange things as Valentine's Day draws closer, and he fights (yet again) with people of all walks. He cracks his head open. While visiting Ino and Shikamaru, Naruto wonders about dreams. He comes to realize that—like the Sasuke of old—his dreams are all in the past.
My Sasuke (Chapter 9), cast in light.
The clawed paw of a fox
is cast down.
So I die, so I die, Mister Fox breathes, but
not
for ever,
doll. Not for all ways.
"Goodbye..." Ino calls, her short pink hair seems too bright. It's hard to believe she was ever that young, prissy brat who tried and sell flowers at school...who worked part time at her parents' shop. My head swirls around the old English fairytale, turning this young artist into the 'heroine' of the tale.
I raise one arm, but don't look back...
...I shalln't find answers in the liars and blame-givers...
I fumble for the keys—can't remember when Shikamaru gave 'em to me, but I'm damn grateful they're here...I wouldn't want to go back in and bother them more. They don't need the likes of me getting in the way and—
—my eyes fall upon the evidence cast before us...that old car, paint peeling, but still running, apparently. It's strange, to board again, when I could trace so much pain back to a vehicle not so different from it—
But it isn't the same, it isn't that hunk of metal that fell down—farther and farther—into the black.
Shoving my hands in my pockets, and trying to leave all remnants of that old tale behind me, I take a small step towards it. My smile has returned a little, awkward and stilted though it may be. It's all just me...and I open the door. Get in.
It's strange to be driving again...the pedals beneath my sore feet go down too quick. It's like my hands know better 'n my head, the way they keep me moving, keep me going. It's all too quick for my lousy brain to follow, it is.
My head's throbbing by the time I get to the hospital. My eyes don't wanna stay put, much less focused, my head won't stop shaking, my hands trembling as I try and get out. The whole ride was too harsh, too edgy for me.
My knees hurt...my breath shakes.
Blink.
Inside.
Breathe.
Knock once—pthhd.
Sasuke.
Smiling at me...a half sort of a smile that lets me know he's more there than here, really, so I'm holding on
sigh.
Take the kid? Why?
Out again...back in a minute, don't you worry, ma'am, I'll get him home just fine.
Heave. cream..." the kid mewls.
My lips, dry, cracking, "...maybe next time..."
Hopeful eyes stare at me, so I pull the car over—when we got in, Sasuke started humming, and I started wondering, what if they find out? In the meanwhile, we unboard, little feet going ptt. those shoes...sandals...flower-donned and cold. From so many months ago; from me.
Does he remember?
Thrust hands—mine—into jean-pockets of orange. Patched over with sunflowers an' old shirts from age. Time given and bought, loved, like me. Like him, with his coal black eyes and pink little tongue.
Walk.
See the trees, forget the hum of engine and pulse of the rhythm of the road...breathe and forget.
Smile.
Clothes, new. "Sasuke," I call, pointing to the boutique. "C'mere, I wanna show you how high these are—"
No kid.
No smile, just for me.
Hiss.
of
breath from me, head aches from tension and stress. My mind
splits, creaks, slow. "Sasuke?"
Panic, slow and soft. Nothing for it but to open eyes farther and seek him out...my Sasuke in disguise. I reach out an arm to grab someone on the street.
"Listen," I exhale the world slowly, my eyes darting about. "Have you seen a kid about this," gesture "tall? Asian, black hair, black eyes...he was with me—"
The woman shakes her head, eyes sympathetic but mouth straight. "No, I'm sorry. You should retrace your steps. He's probably waiting for you somewhere." She gently removes herself from my grasp. "Good luck." She calls, dry eyed.
My breath comes in shaky gasps, it's like I've just run forever, waken from a terrible dream.
"Sasuke!" I call, my hands tremble. "Oi!" my heart is so fast it could burst. "Oh, god..." I can feel someone's presence behind me, familiar and somehow dark. I whirl around to
catch
a glimpse of ice-blue eyes and soft, pale blond hair. Un-aging master of puppets and dance.
"Sa..." swallow. "Sasori..." mouth dry, eyes close. Open.
Gone.
Back up slowly, carefully. Doge a few people and spring into a store to mislead wary eyes.
How do I know his name?
How?
I can feel my eyes closing again, but I can't. Shove my hands in my hair and pull gently to wake up--
—and my eyes are rewarded with a glimpse of white skin and black hair. He's standing under a pool of light at a wide counter. A girl stands before him, behind a register as Sasuke stares intently at the machine. There's not a single clear emotion on his sweet face.
"Credit or debit?" the girl asks, while I'm rushing in.
Sasuke ignores her and punches four digits into the number pad, reaching for two ice-cream cones...the girls shakes her head and gestures back to the machine. Sasuke prods a few more buttons, and—miraculously—a receipt prints.
"Sasuke!" I call. "Hey..." and push through a few groups of people to reach the counter. I ignore their irate jibes. "Why'd you run off?" heart in throat. "Sasuke..." look at the cones.
Laugh...so hard I'm crying.
"...don't run off, kid..."
He smiles at me, innocent and sweet as only a child can be. Child. Not my Sasuke...just a kid in disguise.
"Naruto," he murmurs, soft and mild. "Ai-su!"
...he taught me that...years ago. It's a cognate, a Japanese word for ice-cream...but they only kept the first part of the English word...rather like the Europeans, I think. Ai...su. Nothing too hard.
I pull him to a table, and we sit down. I take my card back, asking, "how'd you get that, huh?"
I gently knock his forehead with my fingers,
"...Sasuke?"
Then I know it; something's not right.
He laughs low. Dark. Something glints in black eyes to reveal a shadow of red. A cocky little smile adorns his classically beautiful face. "Naruto..." he breathes, not a child at all. "You're an idiot."
I stare. "Sa—"
"You ought to change your fucking PIN."
Everything comes crashing down. Head swimming, eyes unblinking and wide. You idiot. I can't stand people like you! You don't understand the American way! Black hair, black eyes, Asian tilt there, but she doesn't speak a lick of a foreign language. It's like when you go to McDonalds, ask for ketch up and they give you one packet! She's talking more to her cell-phone than to me.
Ma'am, my head ached all over again. I can't change prices.
It's got a goddamn stain on it! Let me tell you one, thing, buddy. Leave your morals at home; unless it's your store, a couple of dollars won't matter. Just change the fucking price!
"...thanks for the ice-cream..." I mumble, and nibble at the cone. "...you remembered." I sigh. "Sasuke? What's wrong?"
Blank, staring eyes, lax mouth, tight breathing. He can't hear me at all.
I sigh, and get up. Go back to the register and wait for the girl to notice me. She doesn't seem to know whether or not to help the couple—they were waiting to pay—or me.
I save her the choice. "Can I get a plastic cup?"
Her eyes dart from me to the couple, then back to the blankly staring Sasuke. "Sir," she breathes.
The guy next to me clears his throat. "Hey, we were in line, buddy—" he takes a step closer. "Go wait in the back."
I smile tightly, looking at the girl behind the counter. "No. Sasuke needs to get back to the institute within fifteen minutes...you do not wanna be responsible for a panic attack when he wakes up," I turn my gaze on the man directly, "now do you?"
The guy glances at Sasuke, who's slumped in his chair...someone rushes past his chair. The kid neither blinks nor watches.
The cashier's buddy, a cute coworker of chocolate-colored skin and a smiling mouth, hands me two plastic cups. He winks.
I nod, toss a coin in the air and bat it his way with a smooth changing of arms. The coin hits the counter and bops into his lax hand.
The guy laughs, and tips his hat to me.
...Itachi taught me that. I remember practicing for hours on end, trying to get it right, when Itachi did it so easy...that just about killed me as a kid of twelve.
I drape my arms around Sasuke, dangling the cups and grinning like he's a little kid. "Sasuke-babe," I begin, taking the two cones from his hands, "Sacchan."
The kid stiffens as I drop the now-filled cups on the table. His head tilts upwards vaguely, and his breathing ceases to fill my ears. "Nanda to." the words slip past my ears, but don't comprehend.
I blink, and reach beneath his arms to pull him up...Neji taught me this. It's a massage of sorts that usually forces the taught muscles in the arms and shoulders to relax, easing a near unending thread of pain for all of two minutes...but today?
His elbow rams into my gut without so much as a blink; he's skidded to the side and reached to pull me off balance,
but too late
moved right, ducked down and kicked his legs out from beneath—
—jumped up? Gone.
Behind me, grab so close, one arm is pinned tight. I've got to loosen his grip, but no—
Caught. Trapped and pulled close to him.
"Naruto," his voice is deeper than I remember, his breath shaky on my neck.
Shouts from behind, calling for a cease in action, crowding my ears—
—something
of a deadlock, my hands tied in his grip. I force him to fall
down,
throw
his weight over mine—
—my arms crack uncomfortably as I pull different muscles and stretch bones.
Cry...my Sasuke...poor—
—foot in my face, my stomach.
Skid back, crouched, him glaring at me, me looking at him.
Blink.
Breathe.
"Naruto?" Sasuke breathes, back in his chair, sitting, perfectly at ease. There's a flick of oatmeal-cookie-flavored ice-cream on his tongue. white-gold and wet. He swallows.
I'm leaned against something—a wall, it turns out—with aching arms and a splitting head.
Someone calls out to me, "you okay?" the black kid from behind the counter. He looks concerned...the expression seems suited to his kind, open features.
"...yeah..." I reply, smoothing my hair with one hand.
We leave, Sasuke clutching two cones and me...not knowing if any of it's real or fake.
On our way back to the car, sweet black eyes turn to me pleadingly. "Na," he chortles, like a round little bird, "tell me a story." This last statement could have come from an earlier friend, the Uchiha I'd come to adore...his face is blank. Not at all childish.
My mouth opens of its own accord. "Once upon a time..."
His head drops a little, so far bellow that his shoulders seem as wings. My Sasuke offers no comment.
"There was a young fox. He was clever and quick, bright-eyed and well-groomed...most startling of all, however, was the brilliant color of his eyes."
A small voice is thrown from my companion, "a gift of the fox-keeper, Inari-sama...eyes of blue. Like yours." He pauses.
Smiling a little, I nod. The docs always said to encourage creative thought...especially if it makes sense.
"Are you a fox, Naruto?" he asks quizzically.
"No," my smile fades. "No I'm not."
He reaches out to touch my face, with the six mirrored stripes on two cheeks.
I step away, pretending not to notice his movements. "So the fox—"
Sasuke pouts from behind, like a little bird too stuffed with sweets. He rushes forward and stops suddenly, sitting down exactly where he was. "Noooooo," he wails, burying his head in his arms.
"...the ice-cream is in danger," I go forward, reaching to touch his shoulders-that-would-be wings.
He lurches away, sobbing without tears.
"...do you want to name the fox?" I ask slowly.
Minutes pass without him replying. Eventually, he lies down entirely, back on the sidewalk and eyes too wide, but facing the sky. The ice-cream (thankfully in cups) is saved from being spoiled.
I reach for one, and ease closer. Take a dramatic bite of the gooey-stuff, and say, "mmm...to bad Sasuke isn't eating with me...I bet he'd like cookie-flavored ice-cream."
No answer.
"It's soft, fluffy and—"
"Naru."
"Huh?"
"Naru." he repeats.
I cock my head quizzically, ice-cream halfway to my mouth. "What are you talking about?"
Sasuke sulks. "Naru!"
Realization dawns on me like a low-rising star. "...the fox's name...?"
A smile starts in his eyes.
I grin. "The fox's name is Naru?"
The kid's little tilt of lips blossoms into a full smile. Blissful and wide, his eyes seem brighter.
I laugh. "Okay, Naru is really hungry one day...so, being a fox of good thinking and great skill—"
"No Mama."
"N-no," I stutter. "No mama?"
"No papa."
"...so he's an orphan..." this does not sound good...
Sasuke nods solemnly as he takes an ice-cone from me.
"Ohhhkay..." I sigh. "So the orphan fox is really hungry, and no one's gonna give him food. So like any good fox, he takes himself to the riverside, to see what he might find.
"And lo!"
Sasuke's sitting on his knees now, looking at me with the curiosity of a small child.
"He finds the most delicate of things...a slithering, slimy basket of eels, a well-liked treat for young, newly teethed babes."
Sasuke smiles, and daintily licks his ice-cream.
I laugh, lift my cup to him, and seize the 'ai-su' quickly. "Slp! Gulp! Gone in seconds." Id o the same with a good bit of my treat, "and the little fox sneaks away...but to his dismay, there is a man there, close to the side of the bank."
Sasuke's expression falls to a grim line. "And the fisherman smells the eel on his breath and finds him. The fox is pelted with river rocks—smooth—and driven from the banks. The fox is wounded."
I blink, and try and go on, "so the little Naru makes his way to the man-village, intent on making things right. So in he slips, with a round nut in his jaws, to deposit on the shrine of the fisherman.
"Naru is very well pleased with idea, and continues to do this for many days...but alas, he is caught!"
I look to the streets, miming, a scared, just-revealed fox's actions. My eyes wide, my shoulders up, I give a great gasp.
Sasuke makes no response.
Across from us, on the other side of the street, a glimpse of black-and-red...something of clouds.
My lips open ,but I don't know what I've said until it's done.
Sasuke's crying, now. "Naru, Naru," ice forgotten and cast to the dirt. "No, no...not Naru too, no, no!"
"...Sasuke..." I murmur.
"No!" he weeps. "Naru don't die!"
"Sasuke." I repeat.
"He didn't."
"Sasuke, Naru isn't real." I go forward.
"No!"
"I made him up...it's just a story.
"Nooooo," he wails.
"Sasuke," I repeat, "let's go, babe. Time to go home.
But Sasuke won't move. His knees are locked, his weight thrown down...nothing but real force will move him.
...and I won't touch him like that. "Sasuke!" still nothing, "get up, get up. It's not real! No one ever tells real stories."
A long cry, that gains us more stares from afar. Several people have paused to watch the drama.
"Liar..." Sasuke mutters.
"Yes!" I leap for it. "All story-tellers are liars, Sasuke. No one ever tells the truth unless they have too...not for a story. Not even me."
Sasuke's eyes are dim. "Naruto..." the shaking, the sobbing, it could have been awful. Could have been the old Sasuke. "Don't lie to me..."
I pull on his arm gently.
He stands.
Pressed into an embrace so tight it hurts. "...then don't ever ask me to tell stories, Sasuke...'cause that's all a story is...a lie to make things sound all right..."
Sasuke sniffles. "I want..."
"Let's go."
And we do.
The car is so far away, with my Sasuke all stuck here...with me, without himself. It's all the same, all old and strangely familiar to my head. Walk, shuffle, pull along with an old flame while everything else claims only shadows.
My head swims as we get into the car. Just like before, just like that time, when we fell, fell, fell down—
click. seatbelts fastened.
fwpp. Doors closed.
the
jingle of keys
in my hands but
not
his, as a quiet
little
purr fills my ears and
head.
Nothing to it,
nothing
for it
stop
before you
start
(the car.)
All
right.
keep me, keep you, listen
as we go,
the slightly
growling machine
of a thing sweeping over us
as everything
sweeps
over
all.
Take a right,
Lights on, when did it
start
to rain?
all alone in my
head,
the only vehicle and
then—
—lights
on me, in me
too bright to stand.
Jerk
to sa stop,
Head heavy
Blood high.
What do I do?
what do
I do?
everything sweeps
me over and in
to the
side,
stop.
"Sa..." I breathe,
A low, disturbed
mewl
Breaks the silence
stop!
Everything
tears together
Except for me...
help me
stop me...
out,
out, out
and then it's all over
no more speed between
my
foot and that awful
thing.
Get.
Out.
(of
my head)
of the car.
Stop dawdling,
Take my hand
(take
me away)
And let's go.
"...the storyteller always lies."
Keep him safe, please.
Keep him but not me
I'm
gone, back again
Into the quiet darkness
Of the once-rusted
over
(now birth orange, loud even to my eyes)
Car where I've
no
choice
but to board again
drive
just drive
and get
there before another panic attack
bites my head
and
splits it in two.
Breathe.
breathe
J0ust
take me home and
take me quick, me
deep
alone in
my—
—pou...r.i.ng... ...rain—
i...n my ears.
help me
There's a figure in the
street
tall.
White.
Ice-blue eyes on me
(on
you).
Stop
s...t.op.
just get out
get out and
go
away from
everything
and
just
stop
Sorry, Gaara...
...Sasuke.
I
can't
do
it.
park and
lock
and run in the
rain
breathe.
Breathe.
Just. don't stop.
A hand, on my shoulder...blue eyes, not watered down, but frozen over.
"Naruto." He says, a tilted smile on his mannequin's face. "You need to talk to me."
I stop, shake my head, but there's water in my eyes, tears?
No. Just rain.
the storyteller always lies
"Where's the truth?" Sasori demands, his wooden fingers on my arm.
I start to fling him away, but he's gone, behind me now, not at all to my side.
"Naruto," he repeats. "I need to know..." lean forward, "do I need you for more than
"vengeance?" a strange
and silky
smile.
"leave. me. alone."
"No." he raises his hand—that of a doll—and gestures.
My knees give in. "I don't know anything—"
Quiet laughter. "You were there."
"No I wasn't!" I howl, weeping—the sky is—all around.
The wind blows.
...the teller
knows
best.
Sometimes...just sometimes...
lies are
better.
Sasori takes my face in his cold, porcelain hands. "Naruto." My name, my name, why does he take it so? "tell me what Sasuke did."
"Naruto!"
lightly
against my cheek—ears—it all comes and goes. "What weapon
id he take, my lovely marionette?" he makes another motion.
I fall, lying in the rain, crying (the sky is).
"...I don't know..."
Cold hands on my cheeks.
I can't help but choke.
"Naruto?" worried voice, scared green eyes.
this isn't Sasori's voice.
"...Temari?" I ask, quietly.
my world
is of teal blue
and a dark cerulean that
bleeds
to black.
only he is cast in light.
Shaky laughter fills my mind. "Yeah, it's me...it's Temari." She sounds scared.
I choke on water. "Great." I'm cold all over...
She's quiet for a minute, and then, "...come inside...you can drop by my place...we live maybe fifteen minutes—"
"No!" I sputter. "I don't want him to—" stop. "I can't."
Her eyes are wide and clear as crystal. "...then..." desperate tones, "come inot Dairy Queen. I'll get Gaara to come and—"
Laughter is the only response I have. "...I don't think I'm ready..."
She gives a scared laugh. "Ready for what?"
My lips twitch. "for"
the
real world
"driving," I reply quietly.
She pulls me to my feet, and white water fills what's left of me. Just because it can. We walk, her beneath an umbrella an din a plastic coat—what a woman, to walk for exercise in the rain—and me dripping wet.
I'll probably get a cold from all this...
Great.
"...my feet hurt." Lying again, but she doesn't notice.
"Just a little farther," she murmurs, and it's true. I can see the door, just as she opens it.
Just by the look on all their faces as we enter is enough to let me know it. I look like hell. My hair is wet, my clothes soaked from lying on the cold stone...I look like scrap and feel worse.
"My head's breaking in two..." I mutter, so low that no one can hear me.
Hold me, the voice in my head—it sounds like a dream, wet and mist-like as the stars aren't—the voice begs. But my lips can't even form the words...
From the front, "...can I..." swallow "help you?"
Temari squeezes my shoulders, and takes her 'strong woman' attitude on like a girl of two minds. "Yeah. Coffee...two of them, please, and none of that crap you gave me last time."
"I'm sorry, you'll have to wait fifteen—"
Her eyes harden like emeralds. "You have a break room."
"Yes, but—"
"And someone drinks coffee."
"But that one's not for sale—"
"Here's two dollars." Her white hands dig it out so quickly it's almost magic, "so get me two mugs, okay?" her voice leaves no room for argument.
"Yes ma'am..." and that's the last I see of her, 'cause my feet've gone and given out on me...those workers are gonna be pissed, having to clean up my water-trail...
I must've drifted off, 'cause when I next open my eyes, I see another clear, cream-colored face looking down on me, sea-green eyes calm, even now.
His red hair looks like blood.
"Gaara..." I mumble, try and crack a smile. "Hey..."
"Hey." He returns, and there's a lot of meaning in that word. He leans down, trying to pick me up, despite the table—
—a cup of steaming coffee is waiting on the table, right there for me, I can see it now.
The cashier is watching with wide eyes, and she fingers the two dollar bills nervously, thinking she ought to give it to her manager. Her eyes flit to us.
Gaara's strong arms—
"don't touch me"
He stops, frowns. "I'm going to get you warm—"
"I don't want to be touched," I insist, scotching backwards with a loud squeak—my head hits the booth.
His hands close around my chest, and he drags me forward to shift my weight on his capable forearms. Temari moves, as though to help, but Gaara only frowns. She withdraws quickly.
I start to laugh, like a babe in a great hammock, and smile like the stars really are in my eyes.
Gaara stops, looking at me in a strange, confused sort of way. Then he leans in, all the sudden, and kisses me tightly, fiercely.
My eyes roll into my head...and my boyfriend gets a heavy fist to his jaw—
—or would have, if he hadn't'a moved.
I scowl, and let him move me to a sitting position. "...don't push me around, Gaara..." I mutter. "I'm not a toy."
But what does he care? "You need to be taken care of."
Making a face that could have suited a demon, I grab the coffee. "Fuck you, Gaara," throwing the words at him like so much ammunition. My pride ahs shrunk so much I can't find the heart to really be angry.
"...I'm just tired is all..."
With a n expression of nothing to rival the old Sasuke's, Gaara lowers himself next to me. "You're not strong enough."
I shoot him a glare. "Fuck. you."
Gaara looks at me with exasperation. "So let me—"
"No! I can take care of myself—"
Pulling at my still-wet hair with a sharp tug, Gaara watches the rain drip down. "Yeah?" he challenges, sea-eyes hard. "So you want me to stop caring—"
I choke, and bring the cup of coffee to my lips. It's hot; the black, bitter taste fills my mouth with an acrid burning almost welcome. Soon, I can't taste the darkness.
"...you need help, Naruto—"
"Gaara?" I ask quietly.
This seems enough to calm him, if only a little. "Yeah?"
"...I can't d—"cough, "can you, uh, take me home?" I can't bring myself to look him in the eyes.
Temari puts a hand on my shoulder. "Do you want me to drive your car to—"
I nod. "Your place. I'll...later."
Her face seems strangely cast, as though whoever painted her colors had too little red...she's ghastly pale, and her eyes are full of—
A warm hand snakes its way around my shoulder. "Let's go." Pulling me forward even when I'd rather not move...
This time, I don't have the energy to resist.
In that fat, tittering girl of a cashier, I see some amount of anxiety...and a wooden hand touches her chest from behind—
my eyes remain on her, eliciting a nervous laugh. She turns as I call, "hey!" to Temari.
The girl jumps.
"Keys." And I toss the jingling set of metal-on-rings. "Thanks."
She shrugs, saying nothing. Her beautiful eyes let me know it...she's scared. For me, of me, I don't know...
Gaara pulls my hand, as though I'm nothing more than a doll. I don't know whether or not I should find strength in this.
He opens the door, pushes me in when I won't sit, and buckles the belt just like I'm helpless. But I can't find the words, so he gets in after me, and starts the car.
My heart jolts, and my breath comes in humiliating jitters of small, harsh gasps.
I want to be asleep.
But Gaara brings me back. "You had an ok time with Sasuke?"
I bark a little laugh. "What?" stop to gather my strewn, broken thoughts. "What makes you—"
"You're always more...like this...when you've seen Sasuke."
I don't know what to say. "Oh," I settle, and hastily look away.
There's silence for a while, then he clears his throat. "...why—"
I laugh, high and loud. Even to my own ears, I sound like I've lost it. "He's my—"
"—responsibility." Gaara concludes, not wanting to here the word love from me. "But why can't he go with his own parents—?"
I shuffle, unsure. "...partially 'cause they suck...maybe another part has to do with..." I curl my legs closer to my body, and hug them close. "...he can't take care of himself." I run a hand through my damp hair. "He'd break. Crack under pressure...thing's'd get...ugly...real fast."
Gaara is silent awhile. "...he'd break, huh?" musing a silent little though. Time passes in silence, while he makes all the right turns. "...you wanna stay with me tonight?"
I smile. "Yeah." There'll be no more mysterious figures for me, now... "Oh, and Gaara?"
"Mm?"
"I'm all yours, Tuesday..." I close my eyes. "For St. V-day, you know?"
Gaara's laughter is surprisingly soft. "Okay...it's a date."
Tuesday morning, seven A.M. I roll over in bed unexpectedly, my eyes curiously open despite the early hour. I smile to myself, and launch outta bed. Time to get up, shower and shave...then breakfast for an insomniac who's likely to be awake...
Le'see, maybe pancakes and a mango yogurt drink, hmm...I'm turning through his pantry mentally under a shower of warm water, then mine. I run my fingers experimentally over my chin, but not any stubble there...the white blond hair's are all around the center of my neck. Grinning into the mirror, I say, "and who knows what comes to sweet-smelling me on Valentine's Day, hmm?" with a laugh and dab of lathered shampoo—I've forgotten new shaving cream for a week—I get to work.
Valentine's... I muse.
...maybe I'll make 'im a card...
a twinge of something sharp and hot—
shit.
Blood running into the crevices of my skin, going sideways in a twin line of surprising red—cheap razors never really work too well...my eyes trained on that ribbon, and for a second ,I wonder...is that what it'd look like?
Red on golden skin, framed by sunlit locks of that deeper hue...my eyes bluer...
If I ever really put the knife to my throat...
I shake my head to and fro quickly. Can't be doing that, today...
Get dressed—something nice...that outfit Temari picked for Christmas—grab wallet with my bus pass and run for the time, for the sweet smile awaiting me...
A half hour and a convenience store later, I'm at his door with a plastic bag in tow...some yogurt, mango juice—brought from home—and a bright smile on my face...I've got the whole day off...and just for him. I can't help but laugh—
—sullen black eyes and a soft, rebuking smile—
Nope. Nuh-uh. Not today.
The door opens.
"Gaara—" I grin even wider, eyes shut.
Wordlessly, something light and feathery is forced towards me, my arms.
I open my eyes—shining—
a sweet,
soft
bouquet...
he was waiting
for me.
"...you smell like these..." he notes, a small, shy smile on perfect lips.
Laughing, I snatch the bundle from him, drop the plastic bag and push him inside. My arms tight around his waist, my smile big enough for the two of us. Spontaneously, gloriously, I put my lips to his. Soft, smooth...tasting of dry, desert air, and me of water...
A nice combination, don't you think?
His green eyes—not black—meet mine, and we draw apart. I'm smiling, while only a slight tug at the corner of his mouth shows his amusement. We share a silent laugh, and I pull him along to the kitchen...
Breakfast is filled with teasing laughter and pleased smiles, almost as though I've touched part of him no one else has...and he's reached me...or.
is that just the ghost of a
memory
of a
kiss?
of a love...
my laughter spins us around and around, 'till he's got to go—his work isn't as lenient as mine for random days off. So I settle down on his bed to nap the day away...dreaming of demons and seeing faces of lostlings...dreaming the dream that died in me more than a year ago.
Chiiiii, chiiii, chiiiii. The alarm goes off just in time.
So, mustering a grin from somewhere tight, I pull out my supplies. Just a few candles, lit all around, and allow myself just a touch of melancholy...
...the Uchiha family...
...has a bit to do
with fire...
Wash that away with thoughts of night wind and desert heat, strong arms and a smile few know so well as me...fire-topped and emerald bidden, yeah?
Right.
'till the air with flower scents—coming from his gift at the bedside—and quickly, quickly, I get things I need. Lotions and oils and all sorts of things for the skin, smelling all of vanilla or flowers...I'll have us feeling new within minutes, fresh and soft as a newly bloomed petal...
The thought makes me smile...
So what's there to do, love, but pretend I'm not in love with your midnight hair and deep eyes? What'm I to do?
I wait, smile, and hope Gaara won't mind the intimate little gestures I'll be showing him,
tonight.
My head swims, my stomach clenches, is he coming now or later? Just a little longer, open the curtains to let in some of that fading, ed-of-flame light called sunset...just think. Only a little longer, now...only a very little longer...
The door opens.
Hey, he says to me, in such a way there are no words...and I reply in similar fashion. The candlelight seems soft on his features...not harsh at all...it's...nice, really...his whole complexion—cast in that light—seems to match mine on normal days...while I, to be sure, drenched in blo—
candlelight.
I pull him, all sweaty from a long day of work, through the room and into the shower, stripping playfully as I walk. Our clothes fall quickly, and as I turn on the water—warm—he removes the difficulties while I...help.
His hands on me, mine on his... quickly gliding as we mingle briefly under the rain-like fall of water...
I can't help but laugh, can't but hold him close despite the heat and massage his shoulder-lades, letting my lips trail across his brow, shoulder...he's big enough to hold me—like those old days, when Sasuke was...
...normal...
Can't stop and think about that, though, gotta keep movin' on, can't lose someone important to me now for a dream of the past...
God.
Were
it not a dream
then I could
fall—fly—backwards
into a one-time lover's arms.
I kiss him of red and green, smiling softly and hope that I'm enough. That he won't want more—vengeance?—than I can give...
I smile into him, hoping for a sweet respite from loneliness...
Just hoping.
Sasuke smiles at me as though he's not seeing.
His eyes are wider than they should be, and his lips are parted in such a way that—oh!—makes me wonder, what was he like as a child?
I take his hands in mine, and press a warm and loving red card between two praying palms. My smile isn't as innocent as his, but I can try. "Happy Valentine's." I say. "So, who d'ya wanna make cards for?"
No reply. He looks blankly at the red paper.
"I brought doilies... and lotsa glue, sparkles and lace. All kinds'a stuff. Even a brush, with some paint...d'you remember how your mom taught you?"
I press the brush—it's meant for calligraphy, but I only have paint—into lax fingers. Form a loose grip around his hands, and write in glistening white paint-- love.
"Valentine's," I breathe, "is a day to say 'I love you,' to everyone important...it's a day to...to be loved."
Sasuke's smile drops a little. "Naruto." His voice is so...distant...
"I still..." I swallow. "Sasuke, I still love you..."
He takes the red paper from my hands, and folds it. Minutes—maybe only one—pass, and he hands it to me...a folded paper heart...
I smile.
Maybe he was listening after all...
I take his hand, put the brush back in place, and guide him through the motions...
I love you
and hope
quietly
that
it's really
true.
tbc...when I have more ideas...
Sorry for the delay in this story...life...is complicated. Do you have anything to say to me? Asks hopefully
More importantly...
Happy
Birthday, Taise!
This isn't your b-day present, but...I
wanted to post it today, anyways, 'cause it's been exactly a year
since I started it...
In celebration of you, (and me) let's make today special. Says with a grin I'll make you a cup of coffee.
