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: About that plan I was talking about last chapter… I'm not quite sure I've worked out all the kinks (the bad kind of kinks ;P ) in it.

And I know it's been a trillion years since I've updated, but I've got no excuses. I could say it's been school, finals, family, friends, and lack of motivation, but I have had the time to update. I just haven't.


Paragon
Chapter Ten

Author: Alley-Oop


School is the same as always: crowded, smelly, and boring. But I'm here for something so much more important than World Geography (if that's even what it's called) or Chemistry. I'm here to get Sasuke back, and I'm not going to give up until he's officially mine.

I wait until just after the five-minute (a.k.a. the "get your ass to class now") bell to sneak over to Sasuke's locker. I pay no attention to the other stragglers in the hallway as I slip the poem discreetly into my future boyfriend's locker. Sasuke will love it. I don't know how I know, but I do.


All through first block, my palms keep sweating. I constantly wipe them on my jeans, but I'm just too nervous to will my sweat glands to settle down. It isn't until about the twentieth time that I wipe my hands that I realize that something is very, very, seriously, gravely, extremely wrong.

I try to repress my panic as I pat my pockets numerous times.

No!

Finally, I force my mind to believe what it already knows. The poem is gone. I tucked the spare one into my pocket before I left for school this morning. For some reason, the knowledge that I had it on my person made me feel better. I guess it was because, if by any freak chance, Sasuke didn't get his copy, I had mine to give him. But now it's gone. I check every one of my pant's pockets, I look in all of my English textbooks, and I even look to see if I had- for some ridiculous reason- tucked it into one of my shoes (a stupid thing to assume, but I'm desperate).

I finally let reality squeeze itself into my brain. The poem is gone.

Were I a sane person, I wouldn't care so much. Anyone else would say, "Oh well," and get on with life. But to me, that poem is- was- a representation of something really important to me. Really, it's my one shot at reclaiming Sasuke. And I gave the only other copy to Sasuke.

I'm such a loser.


By the end of English, I'm ready to pull my hair out by the fistfuls. I don't know how that could possibly help, but it would make me feel better. I dash out of the room and straight to Sasuke's locker. I want to see him open it. I watch from around the corner of the hallway, desperately trying to gauge his reaction.

Could he put in his combination any slower? I wonder to myself as I watch his hand deftly twist the dial, anticipation scorching my veins as it washes through me. Finally, finally, when Sasuke gets the locker open, the poem floats from its perch on the top shelf of his locker. For just an instant, I see confusion flash across his face. I see him turn his head to the side, looking for whoever might be responsible. I duck behind the corner. For a few moments, I expect Sasuke to come walking up to me, anger marring his face, demanding an explanation. But he doesn't come.

I take a deep breath and peek around the corner again, expecting to see anything but what's there.

Kiba. And Sasuke. Together. Talking civilly. Both holding papers. Both holding poems. The same poems. Comparing.

Sasuke looks even more confused than before. He keeps looking from Kiba to the poem, then looking around. He doesn't spot me, but Kiba does. Our eyes lock for a split second, then he's grinning at me.

"I win," he mouths. When Sasuke turns back to him, he says something, and Kiba responds. I can't hear over the din of everything: lockers creaking open and slamming shut, friends yelling and shouting, papers rustling, books falling, announcements blaring over the loudspeaker. Sasuke is facing away from me, so I can't even try and read his lips. Kiba nods and speaks again.

Sasuke smiles sincerely at Kiba for a moment. I can feel my heart crumbling in my chest. It hurts. Badly. I turn away from the scene and slide down the wall, out of sight of Kiba and Sasuke. I clutch the left side of my chest, feeling pangs of emotions I've never felt before. Pangs… I scoff at myself. These aren't pangs- they're tidal waves.

I take another deep breath before turning back to the spectacle. In fact, I look just in time to see Sasuke snatch Kiba's copy of the poem right out of his hands. The stunned brunette gapes and watches as Sasuke crumples it into a ball. In one swift motion, Sasuke stuffs it into Kiba's open mouth.

Okay. I don't really register what just happened until I reply it in my mind a few times. After about the third reply, it sinks in. And it's hilarious.

I can't help myself. I laugh. Hysterically. I laugh so hard that I don't hear the bell ring. I hadn't noticed that everyone had gone to class, I was so enthralled by the spectacle of Kiba and Sasuke. However, now I notice, but it's too late to care. I'm laughing so hard that tears pour from my eyes and I feel an insistent pressure on my bladder. I've never wet myself from laughing too hard, but I'm sure that it could happen.

"What the fuck?" Kiba yells (I'm assuming after he spits out the paper wad. I'm laughing too hard to look). I can't figure out if he's wondering why Sasuke shoved the paper into his mouth to begin with, or if he's wondering why I'm laughing so hard, and I can't bring myself to care. I wrap my arms around my stomach, holding my sides. It feels like I'm splitting open, I'm laughing so hysterically.

"Kiba. I've got nothing to say to you," Sasuke responds, a smile in his voice. I can tell that he's trying oh so hard to hold back laughter of his own. In fact, his eyes are twinkling to match his grin as he turns to look at me.

Even through my hysterics and tears, I can tell that Sasuke looks absolutely gorgeous today (but when doesn't he look gorgeous?). His hair is shiny and luscious, his skin is radiant, and he's dressed to kill.

"Naruto," he says, and comes over to me, leaving Kiba to fume by his locker.

I finally manage to pull myself together, wondering if it was worth revealing myself to laugh at Kiba. I guess I'll find out.

"Sasuke," I answer. My face has transitioned from playful to serious as quickly as Shakespeare's Romeo and Juliet goes from happily-ever-after to dead-end tragedy. Great metaphor to use right not, Naruto, I reprimand myself. I'm such a twat sometimes, I swear.

"You found me," I say, forcing a smile to lips, which are trembling. It's strange, how nervous I am. Sasuke shouldn't make me nervous- I've fucked him, for God's sake- but he does. Maybe it's his glorious perfection, or his intense stare, or just my attraction to him in general, but I feel like I'm either going to come out of this on "cloud nine" or be shot. It feels like those are my only, if not my most desirable, options.

"I guess so," Sasuke says. The atmosphere is something clinging between awkward and just… awesome. Like that feeling that you get when you're surrounded by friends and all you can do is laugh and joke around. The mood is almost like that, but part of still hasn't shifted from just pure discomfiture.

Sasuke and I keep trying to catch glimpses of each other, but when he tried to look and me, I turn my head, and when I look at him, he averts his face, too. I realize that one of us needs to say something, just to, you know, break the ice a bit.

"Sasuke…" I start, and finally our gazes meet, as Sasuke's eyes snap up to me.

"Naruto, don't apologize. You needed to know. I overreacted. It was a mistake," Sasuke tells me before I can say anything. Al righty, then, I think. That was easier than I thought it would be.

"But I still shouldn't have… mmmm…" I practically fall over when Sasuke kisses me, but then my brain reconstructs itself from the mush it had melted into and I pull away. "We're in school!" I tell him. He looks like he hasn't a care in the world.

"Obviously. No where else on the entire planet could possibly smell like hundreds of unhygienic teenagers that were baking in the sun for too long…"

I snigger. "True enough."

"Naruto, I just don't really care anymore. So what if people know? What are they going to do?" Sasuke tells me.

Then someone clears their throat from behind Sasuke, where I hadn't even thought to look.

"I believe they'll give you Thursday night school," said a particular teacher that everyone- no joke, absolutely everyone- despises. "Unless you two get to class immediately," he quickly adds. Sasuke and I both sigh in relief. That teacher is now officially my favorite teacher ever. Ever. Even though I'm sure having Thursday night school with Sasuke wouldn't have been so bad.

"See ya, Naruto," Sasuke says, slipping something into my pocket as he brushes by. I smile brightly.

"See ya, Sasuke," I say, giving the teacher one more grateful glance before I dash off to my locker, a joy unlike anything I've ever known creeping into me from God knows where. After all, the walls at school are like giant sponges designed to suck out every last drop of fun, joy, and enthusiasm from every good-spirited person that steps foot inside. But not today; not from me, because I've finally gotten Sasuke back…


The thing that Sasuke slipped into my pocket was nothing other than the poem- the one and only copy of it. The original. Maybe one day I'll be as famous as Edgar Allen Poe or Shakespeare all because of this little poem that I'm holding in my hands.

World Geography (which is apparently not World Geography at all, according to the sign above the door that I've just noticed for the first time, but actually World History) flies by like nothing as I sit there and read my already-memorized poem. Yet, at the same time, it's irritatingly slow. After all, I'm dying for fourth block to come around. Sasuke, Kiba, and I, all in the same room with the most non-strict teacher in the entire universe and beyond… I can't even begin to imagine where this could possibly lead, but I know it'll be great… For once, I feel like I'm actually beating fate at its own game, and this isn't something that's going to backfire; I can feel it.


A/N: I'm tired of apologizing and making up excuses for lame, long-awaited updates. I will say this for the crap-factor of this particular chapter, though: when I feel pressured, my writing sucks like no other (and I was too lazy to redo this chapter for the fourth time).

And, unfortunately, I sense the end of this story is drawing near. However, if memory serves, there is still the matter of Sasuke's question. I want to know what you guys think he should ask. As you can see, my ideas usually fall through, so your ideas might be better.

Oh! One more thing. Sorry for spelling mistakes. I know that there a bajillion and five in here, but the only sleep I got was in Biology class, so please forgive me.

Thank you all so much for REVIEWING. Please have a wonderful day.