Boruto woke up to a silent house. He lied there in his bed on his back, eyes on his ceiling. The ceiling was a plain white, a contrast to his blue walls. No marks marred the plain surface. Boruto remembers a small memory from long ago, one that maybe could have been false, of him with little feet running throughout this house, when it was still brand new and empty. No furniture anywhere and the hard wood floor still smelled bitter and pungent. He remembered running from his dad, his shrieks of laughter bouncing off the walls, his father chasing after him in a game of tag. His mother watched them run around, large with Himawari still, his baby sister not having seen the light of day yet. He remembers his father catching up to him and lifting him into his arms and whispering into his ear, "This is our new home. This is where you will feel safe and loved, forever. I promise."
Boruto turned to his side and got out of bed.
He padded down the hall to the bathroom he shared with his sister. He quickly brushed his teeth, hoping the action would breathe some life into him. When he looked at himself in the mirror, he noticed the bags under his eyes and the pale quality of his skin. He spat out the toothpaste foam from his mouth and quickly placed his knotted hair in a bun atop his head using the hair tie he carried on his wrist.
He walked downstairs to the kitchen, his gait slow and sluggish. He was still shrugging the sleep from his body. He grabbed an apple from the bowl of fruit in the center of the kitchen table. His mother was adamant on her children eating fresh fruits and vegetables daily, always stating the nutritional facts of the meals she made. Boruto believed his father would live off of only ramen if he could.
He bit into the skin of the red apple, a loud crunching noise echoing throughout the Uzumaki house. No other noise met his ears. Boruto assumed his mother was out doing something, maybe helping at the Academy or on a mission around Konoha. After Himawari and he both graduated from the Academy, his soft spoken mother became an active shinobi again, but as she was the Hokage's wife, she could not leave Konoha's borders for a mission.
Crunching on his apple, the blond assumed that his father was at the Hokage Tower, as he usually was. Boruto didn't know if he even spent the night last night after the dinner with Shikadai. The younger blond had gone straight to his room to stew in his sadness alone.
His normally bright and bubbly sister, who always woke him up early to train with her whenever they were both free (despite her surpassing him in rank), was nowhere in the house either. His normally overly forgiving sister (a trait she inherited from both their parents; a trait that he didn't) woke up early and left the house on a day she didn't have a mission, just to avoid her piece of shit older brother.
Boruto got up to throw away the apple he had been crunching on. Only half of it had been eaten, but he didn't feel hungry anymore.
A knock from the front door called him to it.
"Comin'," Boruto greeted, voice gruff still from sleep. His socks made him glide over the hardwood in a true Hyuuga manner. When he reached the oak front door that was in front of the stairs, he jerked it open.
"Hey," his genin sensei greeted him with a large smile on his face. Boruto internally debated the pros and cons of just slamming the door in the brunettes face. He was surly here for a reason; not many people came around the Uzumaki house to just hang out, especially when it was only Boruto in the building. Over time, he had noticed a distance between him and the people he was supposed to be close with. It was as if the people he was closest to weren't necessarily there because of him; they were there because of his parents. He couldn't even make friends without his parents influence. Most of his friends were the children of his parents, proving his point.
'"Yo," Boruto greeted his sensei lazily and stepped to the side to let his sensei in. Konohamaru peeled off his blue ninja sandals and left them neatly in the front entryway of the Uzumaki home. He had been there many a times throughout Boruto's life, from when he was still Big Brother Konohamaru to an Academy instructor to Boruto's genin sensei, so he knew how Hinata liked the shoes at the front entrance to be placed.
The blond walked into the kitchen, his sensei silently following him. Bolt quickly grabbed the teapot and filled it with water before setting it on the electric stove. Boruto made himself appear busy, grabbing mugs and green tea leaves and the honey he knew Konohamaru preferred to sweeten in his tea. Konohamaru settled down into one of the wooden chairs at the dining table and watched the young Uzumaki man. Boruto pretended like he couldn't feel his stare drilling holes into his back.
"I want to tell you," Konohmaru started, his voice low and soft, unlike how he usually sounded. Boruto kept grabbing items as if he hadn't heard him. "I wanted to tell you how proud I am of you."
Boruto placed the little compact bags of tea into the stark white mugs. When the kettle started giving out a loud screeching noise, the blond calmly grabbed the handle and poured the hot water into the cups. He stared at the water as the leaves started changing the color slowly.
Boruto doesn't ask what exactly his sensei is proud of because he doesn't want to ruin the moment or the lightness his statement gives him. The previous night had beaten him down too far; he was willing to take anything that would improve his mood. Instead, he mixes in too much honey into his sensei's cup (the way he knows the Sarutobi likes it) and sets the mugs down on the table. He gently slides into the seat across from the brunette and encircles his hands around the white mug. He doesn't drink from the green liquid, just lets it warm his hands.
Boruto doesn't say anything for a while and he stares at the man in front of him, which makes the brunette squirm under the heaviness of his stare. Boruto is suddenly hit with the memory of when Konohamaru-sensei used to just be Big Brother Konohamaru. He remembers being small, barely up to his sensei's waist, and the brunette would throw him up in the air and catch him and Boruto would smile so hard his face would hurt.
Boruto is automatically hit with the thought that that all eventually stopped. When the young Uzumaki joined the Academy, and later became part of Konohamaru's genin team, Konohamaru started distancing himself from him. He became less of an older brother figure and more of any other adult in his life— there, yet distant in some way. Professional.
Boruto drank his tea quietly and wondered why he could never just let himself be happy.
"Is there a reason you stopped by, Konohamaru-sensei?" Boruto asked in an even voice. He watched his normally easygoing sensei tense at such an impolite statement, but Boruto was tired after his fight with Himawari last night and waking up to an empty house. Some things took a toll on your soul.
"I feel like I never see you enough, especially since you have been out on medical leave," Konohamaru stated. He caressed the rim of his white mug with his fingertips to focus on something other than his student's face. "You've always been my hardest student to keep up with. As time has gone on, I feel as if you've pushed me away."
"Sensei," Boruto stated. He opened his mouth to continue on, as if to defend himself from what his sensei was insinuating, but the Sarutobi was correct; Boruto had been pushing him away. Boruto had been pushing most of the people he loved away for years.
"I understand that you're growing up, becoming a man in your own right. I understand that that means you won't be as close to the people you were once close with when you were younger. But don't forget that these people love you. Don't just push people away to preserve your own feelings. I know you, Bolt. I understand that a childhood of your father leaving you behind makes you want to keep most people at arm's length, but please, let us in."
His sensei was right. Boruto knew that he tended to keep those he cared about at arm's length. He let them in, but not too far. He felt like he always was pretending around them; pretending to be better than he really was as a son or a friend or even as a ninja. He felt like he had to pretend in so many aspects of his life. Why did he have to hide himself from everybody?
That was why his connection with Yori was just so weird. He never let anyone in that easily anymore, not since he was younger. His father placing him second (hell, maybe third or even fourth; his mother and Himawari seemed to come before him) after the village creating some long term affects to his mind that he did not believe he could ever truly overcome.
But when he first met Yori there was something that he knew he could trust in the man. Something that he knew would never hurt him. Or maybe it was because he knew it would hurt him. Their situation would not allow them to have a happy ending, no matter how much Boruto tried to ignore it. Yori, even though Bortuo felt he completed him in some way, was not from the Hidden Leaf Village. He wasn't a ninja. He wasn't a woman. Boruto didn't know which aspect of his lover would upset his family and friends more. He refused to let himself think about it.
Boruto jerked to his feet, his chair scraping across the wooden floor boards with a low screech. Konohmaru also jumped to his feet and held out his hands in a defensive manner.
"Boruto, I'm sorry if I upset you. I just wanted to speak to you, man to man. Please—," Konohamaru seemed to plead with his old student, blue eyes desperate. Boruto turned on his heel and walked out of the room, not saying anything to his sensei. The brunette rushed after him and quickly gripped his shoulder to get him to stop walking. "Bolt, please—!"
"Yo, sensei, I was just going to change into some sparring clothes, stop manhandling me," Boruto complained with a pout. The Sarutobi blushed because he had misunderstood the blonds' actions, looking away from his student in the process and focusing on the white mugs of now cold green tea. He tightened his grip on Boruto before letting go.
"Hurry up! You're out of shape! It would do you some good to spar with your trusted sensei," Konohamaru nodded along with his own words, as if it was his idea for them to go and train in the first place. Boruto rolled his blue eyes at the older man's weird words.
"I'm not out of shape!" His voice was hard and defensive. Konohamaru laughed.
"You're always out of shape!"
The teenager stomped up the stairs to his bedroom to change into some older training clothes, the brash laughter of his sensei following after him.
Boruto was tired. He was exhausted. His body hurt in places he never knew could hurt. He cats numerous cuts littering his body. When his mother saw the deep one on his cheek, she was going to flip.
Boruto couldn't keep the smile off his face.
Something about training with his genin sensei made his mood elevate. The day had started off dark and uninviting; now at midday he felt like he could take on anything.
"Hey there, Sunshine," A familiar voice called out to him. Boruto's smile stretched farther across his face, cheeks straining.
"What's up, old man?" The blond teased when he came face to face with the figure of his lover, who had been walking on the sidewalk in the opposite direction of him.
Yori rolled his eyes at the words of his sweetheart. "Hush your mouth before I make it hush in front of god and everyone on this sidewalk," Yori threatened, his voice dropping. Boruto shivered down to his toes.
Yori then noticed exactly what was up with the young man's face. "Boruto, what the fuck did you do?" Yori asked quickly as he reached out his hand to caress the man's scarred cheek. Boruto jerked back a bit at the pain his touch elicited. Yori gripped Boruto's jaw tightly so he wouldn't jerk away from his touch. Boruto ended up melting into it.
"Did you get mugged?" Yori asked, dark eyebrows rose skeptically. Bolt understood that he meant it in a teasing way, but after years of being doubted on his own physical skills by those around him, Yori's words pierced his heart slightly.
"Do you doubt my physical skill?" Boruto asked with a hard edge to his voice. It seemed that the bad mood from the start of the day could come back quickly at any time on anyone, even his Yori. He was tired of so many people insinuating that he wasn't good enough in anything he did. He was tired of people saying that he earned everything from his parents, that he didn't do anything for himself.
Still, he didn't move out of Yori's strong grip.
Yori sighed as if he was disappointed in the teenager in front of him. "I doubt nothing about you," Yori said confidently. "You never have to prove yourself to me." Boruto blushed strongly, not used to people having such confidence in him. His entire face became a bright red and he knew that Yori could feel the heat radiating off his skin. His father used to tell him he blushed like his mother— bright and prominent. Boruto wondered if that's what had attracted his father to his mother. He was pretty sure that wasn't it; he had heard their story in its entire fairy tale glory. He speculated if they ever questioned what life would have been like if they hadn't married each other, if they had married others instead. His father probably wondered what if it he had married Sarada's mother instead, or even Inojin's. He doubted his mother ever imagined a life without his father in it.
Suddenly a man shoulder checked Boruto, agitated that the two men were standing in the middle of the sidewalk. He stomped by, turning around and glaring at the two as he walked away. "Get out of the way, faggots," A deep voice ground out as he passed by.
"Oh, go fuck yourself, you piece of shit," Yori called back. He made a rude hand gesture and grabbed the shoulders of the taller man. Turning toward Boruto, he asked, "Are you alright, Sunshine?" His voice was concerned and his touch was tender, but Boruto felt cold.
Did the guy recognize who he was? Were he and Yori really acting too much like a couple in the middle of the street? What if someone he knew saw him? What if it got out that the son of the Hokage was romantically with an outsider? What if someone told his father? He knew how gossip passed in Konoha; by the end of the day the story would be that he was being penetrated in the middle of the damn road!
Boruto quickly jerked his body away from the warmth of the brunette's. He missed the feeling of the man against him, but he was more concerned with the crushing weight on his chest and the intense paranoia he was feeling.
"Boruto?" Yori asked. He sounded sad and let down, but it also sounded like he expected it in a way. Boruto couldn't think of what he his actions would do to Yori himself, or their relationship.
Yori reached out to touch the young blond. In turn, Boruto slapped his hand away, skin meeting skin with a loud crack. The pale skin on Yori's forearm was painted with a bright red mark.
"Just— just stop," Boruto practically begged, his hands shaking as he ran them through his shoulder length hair. He was anxious that every person around knew that he liked men, that they could tell what he had done last night and with whom. He adjusted the neckline of his white tee shirt to try and cover up the marks Yori had left on his neck the night before. "I-I-I have to go. I gotta go."
Yori clenched his hands, tightening them in themselves until the skin on his knuckles and fingertips turned a solid white. "Why must you keep hiding yourself, Sunshine? Why do you keep doing this to yourself?"
"The world's not ready for this!" Boruto practically yelled, his voice rough and scratchy. At a later point he would be glad that the street was unusually bare. At that moment, he didn't notice anything except the fury inside of him and the man in front of him.
"The world may never be ready for all that you are," Yori said, his voice confident and strong but the expression on his face was one of distress. "Are you going to let them back you into a corner? The world will trample you and everything you are if you let them."
Boruto started running his hands through his hair. When they caught on small tangles, he yanked at them. He had ripped out some hair on accident, but he paid it no mind.
"I gotta go," Boruto said with a wavering voice. This time when the blond tried to leave, Yori didn't try and stop him. Somewhere deep down inside himself, Boruto wished he would have.
Boruto holed himself up in his room and played wall ball. He ignored the concerned voice of his mother from the other side of the door, her quiet voice lightly pleading for him to speak to her or to at least come down for dinner. He heard Himawari's soft footsteps stop in front of his door before continuing on to her own room or down the stairs (she did this multiple times). His father never came to him. He had to be home to realize that there was something wrong.
It had been days since the fight with Yori. It had been longer since his fight with Himawari. He had spoken to neither one of them, choosing to keep to himself in his room than confront the issues that he had inadvertently created.
Boruto passed the time by playing wall ball, even though he knew the rhythmic thumping it caused was probably driving his family insane. When he was hungry or had to use the restroom, he snuck around like some prisoner in his own home under the guise of darkness. When he returned to his self imprisonment, he continued to play wall ball, scared to be alone with his own thoughts and emotions.
He figured out early on that throwing and catching a ball could easily distract him. It would keep the dark thoughts out of reach— though they never really went away. He refused to let himself focus too much on them.
Throw the ball— thunk— catch it easily. Don't think. Roll wrist, throw, hit the wall, catch. Repeat. Repeat. Repeat.
Boruto felt like he was slowly losing his mind. Had he even had it in the first place? Probably not.
Throw, thunk, catch. Throw, clunk—.
The door to Boruto's room swung open with a hard slam. There was now a giant hole where the handle met the wall, marring the slate blue walls. His mother was going to kill him even though he didn't even gash the damn wall. He knew she was going to force him to fix it himself.
"What the fuck?" Boruto called out, jerk up from his slouching position on his bed. The ball he had thrown came back at him, but he didn't move to catch it, instead letting it fly past him and fall behind his bed, never to be found again.
"Your stupid ball throwing is driving me insane!" The angry form of his baby sister was standing in the doorway, thin arms crossed. Himawari had the soft features of their mom paired and she was usually similar to Hinata in temperament, too. Right now she reminded Bolt so much of their father when he was angry— all raging fury. Her whisker marks even seemed to get longer when she was mad, too, but Boruto believed that was a trick of the light. At least he hoped it was a trick of the light.
"Go away," Boruto groaned, throwing an arm over his face. The vision of his sister was bringing forth the thoughts and emotions he was trying to avoid.
Himawari practically vibrated in her skin. "Don't tell me what to do!"
"Real mature, Hima." Boruto spat the words out like lead as he forced himself into a sitting position on the edge of his bed. The soft cotton crinkled under his shifting weight. Boruto rubbed out a crease in the sheet, quietly desperate to not view how his words affected his baby sister.
He barely heard her footsteps as she glided across the room. After being trained in the Hyuuga fighting style for the majority of her life (ever since she awakened her Byakugan at the young age of six, the other Hyuugas treated her as if she was the second coming of the Sage of Six Paths and trained her to the best of their abilities), her steps were as soft as a feather. He felt the bed dip down next to him, the crinkling of the sheets beneath her bottom. He stared at her one yellow one teal socked feet next to his bare ones. She awkwardly wiggled her toes, not used to the silence coming from her brother. Boruto thought about how she had left his door blatantly open; he was too emotionally exhausted to complain to her about it.
"Ask for my forgiveness," Himawari commanded in a strong voice. She reminded Boruto of their father, who always felt as if he was in the right. In this case, Himawari was in the right, but she didn't need to demand an apology from him.
"Are you going to give me forgiveness, even if I ask for it?" Boruto asked tersely, shuffling his naked feet on the hardwood flooring.
A silence blanketed over them, heavy like the old quilt in the living room their mother used to place on them when they fell asleep on the couch for an afternoon nap, years and years ago. A large part of him ached at the absence of their childhood; he shook his head and made himself move on from the memories that felt like a lifetime ago.
Himawari started popping her knuckles, from pointer finger to pinky. Both he and Himawari did that when they felt nervous, though neither of their parents did that. When she spoke, her voice wavered a bit; if he hadn't been raised with her, he would have never noticed it. He didn't comment on it. "I've forgiven Dad every single time he broke a promise, every time he didn't show up to a birthday party or even an evening meal. I have forgiven him for all the days he couldn't be home with his family because he was too busy with work. I feel like I have spent my entire life forgiving him. I am good at forgiveness, Bolt, but I can only forgive someone when they ask to be forgiven. Dad always asks."
Boruto felt an arrow pierce through his heart. He felt anguish unlike any other. In his sister's eyes, he was lower than their good for nothing father. He had become worse than a father who was barely ever there. This was his worst nightmare.
The words started tumbling out of his mouth. "I meant to be there for you, I really did. You're my responsibility, ever since you were born. Everything I do should be for you. I'm sorry I've been distant recently. I am so sorry that I have been pushing you to the side so much. I-I will start making more time for you, like I used to. I'll stop staying out so late. I-I'll—." Boruto was running his hands roughly through his hair, gripping them tightly at the ends. He ignored the stinging pain the action gave him.
Himawari grabbed him by the forearms and forced his hands out of his hair, slightly concerned for his generally well being if this is how he coped with his emotions, just taking it out on his body. "Bolt, I understand that you have a life that doesn't revolve around me and that's okay. When I ask you to do something for me because it was important to me, I expect you to do it. I expect you to do it because you love me, not because you feel like I am your 'responsibility'. And when you fuck up and don't show up to an important family dinner where I introduce you to my boyfriend, I expect you to ask for forgiveness. And when you ask, I will grant you forgiveness. Because I love you."
Boruto leans his head on his sister's slim shoulder, his hair falling all around her. She paid it no mind.
When he spoke, his voice wavered. "Forgive me."
"Forgiven," Is all Himawari said in reply.
He snuck out of his window at midnight that night. Himawari and he spent the evening hanging out together in the living room, playing video games. Himawari, Hinata, and Boruto ate dinner together and laughed loudly to make up for the empty chair on Hinata's left. He believed that their mother was glad she wasn't living in a war zone any more. No one mentioned the absence that weighed down the room.
When it was night time and the women of the family went to sleep after an hour of them playing an old board game from their childhood, Boruto pretended to get ready for bed. When he stopped hearing movements from the rooms beside him, he creaked open his window and scurried out as if he was in the Academy again.
He knew his father knew that he was sneaking out. The ANBU that were always stationed outside their family home (that the Uzumaki family always pretended not to notice) would inform the Hokage. Boruto knew that his father wouldn't do anything to stop him or follow him; he snuck out throughout his childhood and his father never addressed it. His father wasn't a very hands on parent.
Boruto jumped from building to building, scaling the sides when needed. He used his years of ninja training to keep out of civilian view. They never understood why shinobi couldn't just walk around like normal people. Eventually he landed on the balcony he set out to find. The figure of his lover was on it, smoking.
Yori didn't greet him when he softly landed on the concrete flooring next to him. Yori just kept smoking his cigarette, looking off into the distance. Boruto became anxious at this, scared that maybe their fight today made things go a little too far. When Bolt reached out to touch the older man's arm, Yori didn't jerk away from his touch like the blond expected him to. Instead Yori placed his arm around the form of the taller boy and brought him close to his body. Boruto closed his eyes and leaned into his warmth.
"Yori…" Boruto trailed off. Yori didn't even look at him, didn't react to him, he just kept smoking.
Boruto snuggles into his neck with his eyes closed, just enjoying the feeling of skin on skin. An ominous feeling was washing over him, but he didn't know what for. Yori just kept staring into the darkness, slowly smoking.
Eventually he spoke. "You are your own man, Sunshine. I want you to remember that for when I leave. Don't hide yourself away for others."
Boruto jerked away from his older lover. His heart was on the verge of breaking. "What do you mean when you leave? What's going on?" Boruto internally begged for the older man to look at him, but Yori kept looking forward. Instantly, the blond got angry and grabbed Yori's arm and jerked his arm to make him look at him in the eye. Yori accidentally dropped his cigarette over the side of the hotel, the ember quickly dying. When Boruto's blue eyes met Yori's brown ones, he noticed all the sadness hidden under the surface. "What the hell is going on? I thought you loved me!"
A pitying tone took over Yori's voice, but he didn't know if Yori pitied Boruto or himself or the whole situation itself. "Sunshine, baby, I never told you I was staying. I'm here on a work trip, and my three weeks are just about up."
The realization struck Boruto like one of Sarada's punches— fast and quick and powerfully. Somewhere along the line, he had tricked himself into believing that Yori could be the one thing he got to keep out of the whole mess that was his life. Boruto believed that maybe he would have a future with the man standing in front of him. He had tricked himself into thinking this thing with Yori would last a year, ten years, a lifetime. In reality, it lasted about three weeks. Somewhere deep in his mind, he had believed that maybe, when he was ready, he would introduce Yori to his family and come out. Maybe after a while, the laws would change and they would be able to marry. Maybe they could have adopted kids of their own, a sibling to Bunny's daughter. Deep inside the blond, he had imagined a whole lifetime with Yori that he wouldn't allow himself to think of before the moment Yori reminded him that it wouldn't last.
It seemed that they were always doomed to fail. But he always knew that internally. He just didn't want to believe it.
A/N: Hey guys, so sorry it took me so long to update. At least I finally did! Life's been rough recently, and writing this fic made it a little better.
I hope you like the chapter. Tell me what you like or don't like in a review! We have about three chapters left before the story is done. I will be sad when it finally ends, but I will be so happy because that would mean this is the first full length fanfic I have ever completed.