a/n:

This is probably the only series I won't approach as 'simple fics', but more as a book, sort of.

So.

This is a story that centers around grief.
Please remember that. If you have any expectations whatsoever, pummel them to ground zero and below―that way you won't be disappointed!

Also, it's very, very Slow Build - the connection between Sasuke/Naruto is where the focus falls on, but it's definitely more about the bonding rather than a 'relationship' in every sense of the word. Honestly though, I think writing about grieving characters jumping into a relationship can end up not only being spectacularly unhealthy, but downright toxic too (I've read and seen a few fics, fimls, shows like that and...big yikes), so there's that.

This follows the Five Stages Of Grief by Elisabeth Kübler-Ross and David Kessler, but it's not meant as a guideline to follow religiously nor should it be; grief might be a universal experience, but everyone experiences grief differently.

That said, this is a story about healing too.


TRIGGER WARNINGS:

this will eventually contain

(somewhat) Graphic Depictions of Violence

Unhealthy Coping Mechanisms

Past/Implied Child Abuse

Suicidal Thoughts

Heavy Angst

to summarize

It Gets Worse Before It Gets Better

. . .

{fam always keep in mind this is canon divergence!}


The Beginning Of The End (Of The Beginning) (Act I)


Summary of the chapter:

After trying to re-build life as it was before Pain's attack while pretending the aftershock is not still hanging over him, news of his ex-teammate's looming fate falls on short notice since Naruto started slowly spiraling down a path of inner self-destruction.

That is... until Sasuke makes his appearance.

. . .


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Stage I: Denial

'Denial helps us to pace our feelings of grief. There is a grace in denial.

It is nature's way of letting in only as much as we can handle.'

-Elizabeth-Kubler Ross and David Kessler From 'On Grief and Grieving'

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Naruto wears exhaustion like the precious air rhythmically expanding his lungs, again and again. And it's something he can't get rid of, even if he wants to.

He wears pain like a punch to the gut; it doesn't leave bruises, being hardly visible at all—but the hurt, he can feel it burning down to his core, feels it bruising the inside of his chest, where his heart should be beating instead.

Not for the first time, an infinitesimal part of him wonders just how long will he be able to keep up with this facade, when he already can feel himself falling behind his footsteps, a slip through the cracks.

Konoha's restoration is well under way, he hasn't been keeping count (he can't, he can't, because if he starts counting he will know for sure what he lost is real), but it's definitely been days, definitely been weeks. His fast recovery had not accounted for much, given that he hasn't been sent on particularly essential missions yet. He's also pretty much never on his own, hanging around Team Seven more often than not, lately consisting of him, Sakura and Sai. At first he thought Yamato's presence was required for more pressing matters other than carrying out missives to nearby villages, mostly asking for help or supplies, but maybe he just finds these boring—Naruto wouldn't blame him, he himself certainly does.

They're never even sent too far off the village, perhaps as a way to let their vitality and strength bleed back into their systems after the tremendous raid, and all the effort it's taken to build their homes back. The effort of everyone's labour keeps yielding results, it could be said that few of the village's restored areas are better off now than what they used to be—but the encompassing feeling of having lost something that will never grow back as it once was gets too overwhelming, at times.

The new routine has been wearing him thin, too, like everything else seems to do. Go on missions, which usually last no longer than three days—and even that is a stretch—and once back, aid the rest of the shinobi in the rehabilitation. But even so, he doesn't complain, he can't, because at the end of the day whilst not ideal by any mean of the word, it is incredibly effective as a way to keep his mind busy. And, lately more than ever, he needs the distraction. Anything to never stop and think things through.

And as the rebuilding after the raze proceeds, the rest falls flat. Life is...stale, to say the least; his life, at least.

In a way, it's almost as if someone chose to put the whole world on pause, but he feels like too much of a coward to pause, too. Because if he does, because if he stops to think about it, sooner or later he'll have to dig in. (And he's too frightened by the prospect of coming up with bloodied fingers, all the words left unsaid lying broken in shattered shards of glass, heart a pulsing mess of cut up pieces. He doesn't want to know what he might find underneath all this pretence.)

Although this day starts in a similar way all the others recently have, it doesn't end with the same irritating structure they all do. And his mood quickly plummets, turning sour, hitting a new and dangerous low after being on the receiving end of certain news. The wrong kind.

It all started with one of the easier missions, it had only taken a few hours for its completion and the three of them had even found the time to hang back for a late lunch. Afterwards, Sakura had gone to help at the hospital, and Sai...well, no one really knew where Sai went most of the time and Naruto wasn't interested in finding out either way.

Being by himself, he'd decided to aimlessly wander around the forest, to simply take in the view, let his thoughts soak inside his surroundings. Thinking of the smallest, most useless things he could to keep himself engrossed while enjoying the slight breeze and the blinding rays, managing to shine through even the verdant, copious leaves.

And until then everything is normal, as of recent standards the new definition of 'normal' has set in place. But a brief encounter with one of the anbu members suddenly changes this, turning the day upside on its head.

He is given a scroll and the instructions on how to open the seal, before being left on his own once more. Naruto eyes the lightweight of it in his palm with constrained sparks of curiosity, at first. Wonders for a moment of its contents, maybe a slightly more difficult, exciting job on its way, it surely would help in keeping him busier for longer.

Finally, he performs the required jutsu, and carefully unrolls the thick paper. Once he starts reading, however, his expectations (he never learns, does he, should never even had those in the first place) get stumped, stepped on, crushed to pieces and just beaten within an inch of their short-lived lifespan. This could not have been further from what he had supposed he'd find, and to think with everything that's occurred already...

For a moment it feels like the world as a whole draws to a halt.

Then, the more the words start making sense in his head, the worse he starts feeling.

If he's being honest with himself, completely and utterly so—an actual feat he hasn't recently been able to succeed in, or ever for that matter—he isn't exactly surprised by the fact in and of itself. What leaves him shocked, enough to knock the breath from out his dry throat, is the array of names.

In pure charcoal ink on the chalky white starkness of the paper, the name Uchiha Sasuke is glaring at him from the top of the list.

Naruto doesn't even notice he isn't breathing anymore. His view wanes slightly, goes out of focus because the world's edges are chipping away, crumbling apart. Unconsciously, he's lowering the scroll, eyes fixed on the sight of the rough, damaged bark of a lonely tree standing in the general direction of his vision, but in truth he isn't seeing anything.

Anything except his name.

The scroll sits heavy between his two shaking hands. So, so heavy, even if it's nothing more than a breakable, flimsy piece of paper.

And to think a damned piece of paper could wield such power...the choice of life from death.

Naruto has no idea how long he actually remains, stays out here. With the passing of time, his breaths come out a little too laboured, stuttered, he can feel it in the way his chest constricts, can feel it in the way his throat closes up, but can't find it in himself to care. He can't explain what's going inside him, but there is this very distinct, familiar feeling he can't seem to shake off any longer.

He feels...powerless. For what has already come, for what will come in the future—he can't seem to get away from it, it's...everywhere.

It's in everything.

He dips his head low, the blond shock of his fringe falling over in a way that conceals his expression, hides him. His whiting fingers tighten over the scroll, almost trembling. In a moment of barely subdued anger, he quickly seals the scroll back, but doesn't put it away. For some reason he keeps the oppressing weight of it stuck to his palm, as if it's glued on, as if it'll hurt if he lets go of it, even if he'd much rather do anything to forget the reminder of it pressed against his hand.

Suddenly, he starts to walk, fast, faster, until his feet lift noisily up off the ground and the treelines and the underbush and the specks of vibrant color and the sage greens all become just a blur for him to leave behind.

He knows with a roaring clarity Sakura doesn't know about this. Hell, he knows even Kakashi isn't aware of their decision yet. Leaving him to ponder who else, besides the Kages themselves, actually knows.

Which is what begs forth the questions:

Why him? Why did Tsunade have to let him know first? How did she think he would react to it? What does she think will actually happen now that he knows about it—

...That's right. What's going to happen now?

How is he going to face Sakura, knowing what fate is awaiting their...old teammate? How is he going to hide this from her? Will he even be able to? Guilt was already crashing in around the seams of his soul before this new discovery, and now...

Just...just what is he supposed to do in this situation, exactly?

He knows he is supposed to fight back, he knows he's supposed to, that it's expected of him to. It's the right thing to do...isn't it? But, somewhere along the line...his priorities have shifted, changing alongside him. And so has his determination, his sense of justice, the strong will he seems to possess at the most desperate of times...it all has began wavering.

It feels like he's dangerously balancing himself over a thin tightrope, somehow, with no safe net beneath to break his fall. It is nothing new, either, feeling this way, it's most definitely not a last-minute or a last few days occurrence. It has been...a while, already.

As much as he tries to convince himself otherwise, everything enwreathing him, coiled inside of him, seems so blank, lifeless, so void, bleak and just unclear, and...useless. Because whatever he does just never proves to be enough. And how can he live with that, knowing that even his best efforts are not worth the ending.

In a moment of almost disorienting panic that clutches him, he comes to an abrupt halt in his steps, raises his head towards the stretch of infinite vastness that is the sky. When he started heading for the village, the afternoon was tinted deep shades of apricot, golden and crimson melting into each other as the hours flew past, blurry and fair enough to color the clouds. And now the sky is painted an azure hue, slowly bleeding toward darkness, most of the dense clouds have vanished from sight. It's getting colder.

His other hand encloses in a fist as he picks up the pace. Naruto is on autopilot, now, one foot in front of the other, careful enough not to bump into anyone but uncaring enough to ignore everyone. He doesn't have the peace of mind for mindless conversation, not today (not since...).

When he sees his apartment complex taking shape in the distance, it's almost a relief, he almost feels better, he almost starts running towards it, he almost stops thinking about things he should not be thinking of.

Almost.

Because all he has been thinking about lately is what he can do to help. From every waking minute to the mostly sleepless hours of the nighttime, everything he's done is trying to find any way he can to help. He has done everything in his power to help. But...is that not nearly enough? Is it all truly for naught in the end?

The questions sound harsh inside his head, as harsh as the heart pounding inside of him, where he can feel its unrelenting hammering hit the inside of his chest, again, and again, while he tries to pry open the door in his haste to get inside, because perhaps, once inside the blandness of these four walls, he might be able to put a stop to the rumination, or feeling, or something, or anything. Anything.

He doesn't stop until he gets into the safety of his own room, uses his body to block the door shut, almost as if someone is chasing him on the other side of it, and all he can feel is the kickdrum of his heart now pounding away inside his head, across his temples, into his ears, bringing a wave of dizziness as he turns and leans into the wood, his forehead warm against the smooth coldness of the surface.

He breathes in the way Sakura taught him years ago, holds it in until it borders on too much, until his lungs start burning with it, and then slowly, slowly lets the air out. He does it again, and again, until he loses count of the repeating process.

But he can't halt the headrush of his thoughts and that's not right.

He starts thinking about what to do, what can he do, again, but maybe, perhaps, he should...just...stop. Simply stop. Because maybe there is no specific reason as to why the Hokage would let him know first, right? And, perhaps, there is no reason to question himself about it? And maybe there is no reason to keep asking himself queries he has no answers to?

...and perhaps he should just stop thinking altogether.

He opens his eyes−when had he even closed them?—and, hesitating, he lifts the scroll. Slowly detaching himself from the door, Naruto stares at the roll of paper in his hand as if he could burn right through it. And...maybe...

...there is just no point after all...

Naruto lowers the scroll back down again, and exhales. The breath is punched out of him. Letting his other hand slide down the flat surface he'd just been attached to, he takes a minute, tentative step back. His breathing begins returning to almost acceptable levels of normalcy, and his brain, his head is mushed, but less messed up than before (at least, this is what he tells himself).

Right when he's starting to seek refuge in the fallacious, maybe darkest thoughts he has, a new voice suddenly breaks the silence. And breaks him out of his own spell.

"And what are you going to do about that?"

It takes a moment for Naruto to register it, fifteen seconds, more specifically. Fifteen dragging beats in which he understands that, as much as he has been thinking of impossible inquiries, he isn't the one to have uttered this particular one. No, that was not him, but someone else. Someone else asked him this, someone...

His world comes abruptly, suddenly crashing.

Almost in slow motion, the words are filtered through his brain, his eyes are slow to widen, lips part in disbelief, lungs stutter the airflow of oxygen.

Naruto freezes up from the shock.

He can't move. He can't breathe. He can't speak. He can't do anything. Because, he suddenly recognizes it, that voice.

He knows that voice.

And, suddenly, he's turning around so fast his neck aches, but he's unable to feel the physical discomfort of his straining muscles with this brand, unseen pressure weighing down his torso, so heavily he thinks his ribs might crack from the sheer force behind it, but he can't even focus on that.

Because the last person Naruto thought he would ever see is now before him.

The last person Naruto thought he'd ever see is now here, right here, in his apartment, inside his room, sitting on his bed and looking at him as if nothing could even remotely be out of place.

Even if he is the one that doesn't belong in the first place.

The scroll falls from his slackened grip. The dull thud it makes once it hits the floor going unregistered. How could he even begin to register anything around him, now, except for...

"...Sasuke?"

The name gets pushed out of his throat like bile and fresh relief simultaneously in light of the news he's still wrapping his head around of.

He doesn't even remember when was the last time he said his name.

A light tremble drives up his pulse, his legs might give out beneath him any minute now, and—this is not happening.

It's not—it's not possible. Sasuke is not here. Naruto knows with extreme certainty that Sasuke is currently staying with Orochimaru, so how could he even...how—?

This is...this is not him.

It's not.

There's a small, almost playful smirk hanging to his lips when Sasuke answers. "In flesh and bones."

Sasuke never averts his eyes, and Naruto himself doesn't even feel like he has the will to try.

There is something, hidden in there, concealed, somewhere deep, and he cannot even begin to hope comprehending what in his frazzled state.

Sasuke tilts his head to the side, almost curiously so, and his eyes, while as focused and attentive as ever, are still showing that unfamiliar something Naruto can't quite put a name to. Sasuke's smirk slowly wanes into something milder and more subdued, and then he's speaking once more, and by this point in time it's like the walls won't ever stop spinning around them.

"Guess we still have some unfinished business left to sort through."


. . .

a/n:

I honestly don't know what I'm even hoping to achieve with this, but something's bound to come out of this.

Something definitely will.