Summary: Should anyone ever look up the word paragon in the dictionary, they'd find a definition similar to: a model of perfection. Right next to that particular definition, they would also undoubtedly find a picture of Sasuke Uchiha. [NaruSasu
Warnings: NaruSasu, which means yaoi. You have been warned. Other than that, the same warnings apply.
A/N: So, um…. I don't have much to say. I've kind of hit a roadblock at the moment. Just so everyone knows, I make up this story as I go, and nothing is pre-planned, so I'm always open to ideas (coughcoughwinkwinkhinthint).
Paragon
Chapter Nine
Author: Alley-Oop
I lay on the floor, not the couch, when I get home. The couch still smells like him, after all. So does my bed. It's weird how the sense of smell can connect to memories so well. Every time I walk past my room, I can smell that crisp, masculine aroma that is purely Sasuke, and it brings an image of his face- and sometimes images of what we did in that room- into my mind so quickly that I'm surprised my eyes don't pop out of their sockets. It's like a hearty slap to the back of the head that also snatches my breath away.
I sigh and, sick of avoiding the thought of how I'm supposed to talk to Sasuke, snatch a pillow off the couch, placing it over my face. I inhale deeply, and the head-exploding, gut-wrenching feeling hits home. The first few times, his face in my mind's eye is overwhelming, but after I inhale a few more times, it becomes a little less overpowering. But God, does Sasuke smell delicious. And he's gorgeous. And smart. And he's a great dancer.
I curse silently to myself before getting to my feet. Lying here doing nothing isn't going to bring Sasuke back to me. In fact, I'm not sure anything will, but I have to try. I snatch a jacket on my way out the door, taking a moment to pause by my bedroom for one last whiff of what was Sasuke. I don't know how I've managed to screw up so hugely this time, but what's done is done, and now I have to fix it.
I hesitate for a moment at the door. If Sasuke's and my relationship is always going to be like this- up and down and just plain ridiculous-, then is it worth chasing after him for? Is it worth the risk that I'm running? After all, I could end up like Kiba by the end of this. That would be awful.
Then, immediately after the thought, I mentally beat myself up. You've been waiting for Sasuke for as long as you can remember, and you're not going to let him get away now. You won't end up like Kiba because you love Sasuke, and you're going to make him love you back.
The matter is resolved in my head for the moment, so I exit the apartment and lock the door behind me. I promise myself that I won't rest until I've had a chat with Sasuke. That promise is echoed by the firm click of the door, which causes my heart to jump with trepidation and, hopefully, the potential of a second chance.
If I were a runaway Uchiha, where would I be hiding? I don't know where to start. Ambling the streets aimlessly hasn't gotten me very far, and I've really got no clues to go from. I've already stopped at Sasuke's house once, and that was more than a smidge awkward.
"Hi, is Sasuke home?" I ask a tall, pale man. He actually looks exactly like Sasuke, only older with longer hair. His eyes are colder, too, like he would rather rip me apart than look at me for two more seconds. I instantly feel sorry for Sasuke for having to be associated with this man, although I don't even know him.
"No," is the firm, straightforward answer. His voice is like ice, and it feels like that ice is trying to dig its way into my skin, the way he says it. I sense I'm being dismissed with that simple word.
"Oh… Um, well, could you tell him that Naruto wants to talk to him?" Just being in front of this man, whoever he is, is enough to put me on edge, and I would like nothing more than to just leave and never come back. However, if I ever want to talk to Sasuke again, then I need to make sure that he gets this message.
"Yes, I could." His tone isn't promising.
"Will you? It's really, really important." I'm practically begging, even though I'd rather shoot myself in the foot than beg for something. I've got some pride, after all. But I have no choice. If Sasuke won't talk to me, then how am I supposed to fix things?
"I'll tell him."
The door is closing on me fast, and before it can shut me out entirely, I put a hand up to stop it. The man's face doesn't betray anything, but he glares at me so intensely that I momentarily forgot why I stopped the door.
"Uh…err…" I blink a few times before I recall what I wanted to say. "Do you have any idea where I could find him?"
"No." Then the door is slammed in my face so suddenly and forcefully that I stumble back a few steps.
That experience was pleasant. So pleasant, in fact, that I hope I won't need to go back any time soon.
The streets are nearly empty, seeing as it's a school night and it's getting dark out. Curfews are approaching, and the hustle and bustle of the night, which is equivalent to nothing, is taking over. There's no noise other than the clomping of my shoes on the dark cement of the sidewalk. I pull my jacket more tightly around me, trying fruitlessly to block out the chill of the oncoming night.
Things just haven't turned out for me today, but then again, do they ever? I shouldn't be so surprised- I should've been expecting this. Spotting the park a block away, I head toward it. I've got nothing better to do, anyway. Because I didn't go to school, I don't have any homework or other assignments to deal with.
The swings groan eerily, reminding me of how alone I truly am. I have no parents, no other family to speak of, and nobody to claim as mine. I sigh. I don't know where my life is going, or what'll happen to me. And everybody knows that the worst thing about not knowing is knowing that you don't know.
I sit on the swing, and it protests in a long, ear-piercing squeal, as if it were crying or something. But I don't blame it. If I had little kids jumping, swinging, twirling, and yanking on me all day, I think I might cry too. Poor swings. Of course, I don't feel bad enough to get up, but I decide to go easy on it and just sit there rather than actually swing on it.
"What a miserable day," I say to no one in particular. It's the truth, too. Today has been nothing but miserable, and I would like nothing more than for it to finally be over. In fact, I just want this week to be over.
Tomorrow is Wednesday, so that's got to be a start right. It's half way through the week- a hump day. I bet Sasuke would have smiled if I had told him that tomorrow is hump day. He most likely would have taken it literally. I hope he would have taken it literally.
I think back to two nights ago, recalling how awesome everything had been. The sucky school day turned into a not-quite movie, with a side of the best sex session I've ever had, or ever dreamed of having.
I suddenly sit bolt upright in the swing. I can't let Sasuke slip away. We were made to be together. Sure, there might be some ups and downs, but whoever said that it would be easy? All I can say now is that it'll all (probably) be worth it one day.
You're such a fucking sap, I tell myself as I dash home, ignoring the cold that had been nipping at me. And it's true. I am a sap. But sometimes being a sap isn't always a bad thing. Hopefully it'll help me win Sasuke back.
I sit on my bed, my ballpoint pen hovering over the paper, awaiting further instruction from my brain… or my portion of a brain, anyway. I try to urge my sparse brain cells to group up and create something spell bounding to write across the paper. Something that will steal away Sasuke's breath as he reads it. Something that doesn't sound as sappy as my own thoughts.
I start in on the letter, deciding that I can just write it as I go along.
Dear Sasuke…
No, that will never work. I crumple the paper and start again with a fresh piece.
Love…
Uh…. Right, I think not.
I start several other ways, but none of them sound right. I need something that's not going to make Sasuke read the first line, roll his eyes, throw the letter out, and say, "Naruto's such a faggot." That's not exactly my goal.
"Oh, gees," I sigh to myself. I decide to try something new. Some new form of guidance other than my lazy half-brain. "What wouldn't Kiba do?" I ask myself. I barely have to think to know what I should do. Slouching over the paper, I begin to write. When I'm finished, I look back over the piece. The handwriting is barely legible and could be identified as nothing more than chicken scratch. I consider rewriting it, but I want it to seem genuine, and nothing is more authentic than the real, original thing, right?
The first thing I think of
When I think of you,
Is your wonderful smile.
The second would be your adorable laugh.
I could go on and on,
But the list would never end.
When I think of the short time
That we've been together
And of all of the happy memories we've already shared
It amazes me to no end
And I know that we were meant to be together.
I look at you and see overflowing love, hope, and joy
As well as charm, strength, happiness and dignity.
With all of these wonderful qualities
It's no wonder I love you so.
It sounds good to me. It doesn't rhyme, but I don't think Sasuke will mind. I certainly hope he won't, anyway.
With as much care as I possess, I fold the poem and set it on my bed while I get up and spend ten minutes trying to scrounge up an envelope. Finally, I find one buried under a stack of forever-old magazines on my kitchen counter. I crawl back onto my bed and slip the poem into the envelope. I seal it, then, in the neatest writing I've ever had in my entire life, I write Sasuke's name on the front.
I try to imagine what Sasuke's reaction will be when he reads it, if he even does. Just in case he happens to throw it out, I copy the poem onto another piece of paper. If he throws the original away, then at least I'll have a copy as a reminder that I tried.
I slip the envelope into my book bag so that I won't forget it tomorrow. Flipping on my alarm, I settle uneasily into bed, wondering how exactly Sasuke is going to react. I play different, plausible scenarios in my head over and over until I finally drift off into a, thankfully, dreamless sleep.
A/N: I know, I know, don't tell me. It took forever to update, and it sucked, and I should be shot in the hand for such a crappy chapter. Trust me, I know. In fact, I agree. But I lack a proper firearm for such a task. I'm disappointed, too, don't worry.
So, I redid this about 3 times, and this is what I got. Oh, I almost forgot. The poem is by Ashley Mclean. I was going to write one myself, but I'm too down in the dumps to come up with a love poem. So, um, I googled "love poems", and that's what I got.
Um… Yeah. Hopefully the next chapter isn't so shitty. I have a plan, actually, for the fist time in about five chapters! And I haven't forgotten about Sasuke's question. Or Naruto's past (which I'm still accepting ideas for). I'm getting there. And the plan might fall through, so don't expect anything extravagant.
