Disclaimer: All characters belong to Kishimoto
Mini Warning: Fluffy musings
The season I was with you was the most dazzling one
Everything we saw was full of brilliance
I'm still here alone and thinking over whether it was good
Like one who can hardly resign oneself
-Hamasaki Ayumi
(taken from divineayu)
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A boy buried his chin into the collar of his shirt, stretched his clothed arms out, tensed the muscles, and then relaxed them again.
"Mmh," He squeezed a groan of satisfaction out from his throat.
Dropping his arms back down, he pressed his bare palms onto the cement to support his sitting body, wincing a bit at the sudden cold of the contact. He then dropped his neck backwards so that he was facing the sky.
Today it was a dull, soft pale blue, with large areas of clouds painted over. Autumn had passed not too long ago, so the grey would appear later to send snowdrops down, and more importantly, snowflakes. They held no special meaning for him; no sentimental memories or girlish beliefs, he liked them just because. Pretty and literally crystal clear.
He loved every season for their own little gifts they always came with, like the red leaves of autumn, the blossoms of spring, and the warmth of summer. He remembered that this year's summer was warmer than usual.
He could recall the subtle tingling sensation of heat underneath his skin, and the sliding drops of sweat that left their damp, sticky trail along his forehead, neck, back, and chest. He could vision the thin wispy clouds swept over a vibrant blue, and imagine the feel of the soft breezes that blew into his hair to cool off his scalp. He could hear the gentle wind that abruptly brushed pass his ears, carrying a most familiar voice.
'Usuratonkachi.'
The boy let his eyelids droop down in a daze as he savoured the voice ringing in his ears. When that word was first uttered, he was insulted, yet grateful. He was grateful towards him for acknowledging him, he was grateful towards him for recognizing his worth, that he was good enough for something special from someone. He was happy, just plain happy.
'Usuratonkachi.' He would mumble as a morning greeting.
'Usuratonkachi.' He would tease him when he made a little mistake or an embarrassing fumble.
'Usuratonkachi!' He would shout in anger when he had hurt himself.
'Usuratonkachi…' He had rasped out after their last fight.
He shot his eyes open and stared, straight up ahead, piercing his vision as far as possible into the vast space that hung above him. If he stared hard enough and long enough, maybe he would be catch a glimpse of heaven's view, and then maybe he would be able to find that bastard.
"Sasuke…" He whispered roughly through his teeth, jaws clenched together.
This summer had come with Uchiha Sasuke, and it had gone away with him, leaving 'Usuratonkachi' behind, as cold as the weather. He shivered slightly, snuggling his chin deeper into the hard fabric, keeping his sensitive neck safe from the biting cold. He began to wonder about why he was even on the school rooftop.
After half a minute of scrambled sentences in his head, he concluded, rather hesitantly, that he obviously did know any other answer aside from running away from lessons. After all, he had always been one to act on impulses; like those countless times when he had sent punches straight into the bastard's body (mostly the head). But he reasoned with himself that those were most absolutely well deserved.
He absent-mindedly rubbed his cheek against the collar fabric, in an attempt to bring back the sensation of the swell of the bruise that had once been there, by courtesy of Uchiha Sasuke. As he moved his head gently, harder into the fabric, he could feel the scratching, and a small amount of heat caused by the friction. Rubbing and rubbing, his eyes began to close again as he recreated the touch of a hand that brushed across his face. He suddenly froze in his movement. Another unexplainable impulse. Unexplainable, he reminded himself. Unexplainable, he reinforced.
The season in which they met, the place where they met, and the way they met. No one could really explain how everything had turned out the way it had. Stars could not predict the day they had first seen the other in the eye, silently challenging the other to a bike race, and neither could quantum mechanics reveal why they were on the same road at the same time. The beginning was all mere coincidence and pure luck, void of practical meaning, but the ending had to have a reason. He knew the reason and could tell the story, but he did not understand, so he could not explain.
Somehow he had ended up sitting here, overcome with a terrible ache that people had labelled as 'nostalgia'. He had, up till now, been in blatant refusal to accept such a term. Initially, it was because of pride. 'Hah! There's no way I would miss him, ever!' was what he kept repeating to himself every other hour of the day until he grew tired of the mental strain. Now, he brushed the word away because he found it unfitting, because it sounded too sweet, and probably too mild.
All the summer evenings and mornings where they raced each other to work, the moments when they exchanged their strings of insults or an occasional sly smile, and the nights where they rode side by side in a one-sided conversation were unusually hard for him to comprehend. He figured that it would undoubtedly be even harder now without the other part of 'them'.
Quiet moments like this, skipping classes and escaping to the rooftop, he wished he could enjoy them like he used to, before they had met. Really, had he not always been alone and independent, free from true human attachment? 'Before we met,' he thought, feeling rather annoyed. Now look at him, a needy, pining wreck. Well, not exactly a wreck, being as physically functional as he had always been. But he had admitted that yes, he needed that guy, and he needed him by his side badly. He frowned deeply and rolled over to his side, bringing his knees up and snuggling into his own body heat, comforting himself.
He had sworn to get over him by autumn, and when that had failed, he had changed the deadline to the next summer. Surely, he was strong enough to throw someone like him out of his mind, no matter how long it would take.
But to listen to his solid voice, to watch that dark stare, and to feel the rough, warm grip of his hands again would be nice, would it not? "No," he quickly murmured into his palm, before turning to lie on his back to look up into the sky again. He saw a snowflake drifting down, along with the watery blur of a pale face.
"By summer," He whispered weakly to the sky. He was tired of crying already.
A/N: Before I say anything else, I shall thank you for reading up till the end, hopefully without skimming through. Though I shall not blame anyone for that XD
If the last sentence sparks anything in your memory, then I have this to say: yes, it is a stolen idea from the mist arc, when Kakashi was talking to the boy (Inari) about Naruto.
Naruto does seem rather needy and desperate here, and a bit of a crybaby too. OOC? Well, I don't know about that, but everyone needs some time to themselves to let all the angsty thoughts run wild after all...that's why he's on the rooftop on a winter day ;)
Oh, and I live in a country that's really near to the equator a.k.a there's only summer here. Sad to say I've never been overseas before either, so what do i know about winter? Almost nothing. Ah, well. Though it should be summer in wherever my dear reader is (in this period), right? Should have held this fic back for one of those December stories instead. Heh.
Oh, and is Sasuke dead? I didn't mean for him to be, but he sure looks like it. So once again, the aggravating 'It's up to you' part. I'd say 'no' though