Naruto © Masashi Kishimoto.

I might start updating a little quicker~

I haven't spoken to Sasuke all week, not that I expected any different. I've been spending a lot of time on the internet. Research isn't my forte, but I've been reading a lot about manic depression... bipolar disorder. It can get really fucking scary. All of the sites kept talking about suicide. Suicide! Sasuke might try to kill himself someday. I don't really want to think about that, but now it's something that won't leave my head. Apparently as many as half of patients with bipolar attempt suicide. For fuck's sake, that's too high.

My parents have been just as awkward, but I'm sure that'll melt away eventually. I know they probably want us to stop screwing around, but they'd never say it. After all, it's my business, right? And if I'm going to do it, they'd prefer I did it in the house.

It's Friday now. After school, I go home and my mother informs me that we are indeed going to the Uchihas for dinner. I called it. Around five, we make our way down the street. This time, my parents bring the dessert. As we near closer, I run the rest of the way, ringing the doorbell. A moment later, Sasuke opens the door. I hold up a hand, "Hey."

"Sasuke, who is it?" I hear a distantly familiar voice call and a moment later, Itachi shows up.

"Itachi!" I exclaim, wide eyed. I'm surprised to see him, but that doesn't stop me from noticing the way Sasuke tenses as his brother draws closer. Well… he did try to kill him. It's pretty understandable.

"Oh, hi, Naruto," Itachi greets. Everything about him looks weary and his tear troughs are looking extra prominent. His hair is little longer, but till kept in a familiar ponytail. He also looks like he got thinner.

"Wow, it's been years," I say.

"They said I was sick," Itachi says vaguely, "but I'm doing better, so they let me come home."

"Oh," I nod. "Well, congratulations."

"Thank you," he says flatly. "You look different."

"So do you," I tell him.

"Not really," he insists.

"Oh… all right…" I say slowly. My parents arrive behind me a minute later and greet Itachi with smiles

After everyone says hi, Mikoto and Fugaku show up and usher me and my parents in through the door. "Honest to God, Sasuke…" Mikoto murmurs. "Where are your manners today?"

Sasuke frowns, but doesn't respond. He steps away from the doorway, allowing me and my parents inside. His mom probably wants to get back into a cycle of normalcy, but everyone else understands that you don't just recover from attempted murder.

"We made a cake this time!" my mom exclaims.

"Oh, wonderful!" Mikoto says, thanking my mom and taking the tray. We all move into the kitchen. I flop into a chair next to my father and across from Fugaku. Itachi stands in the corner of the room, looking like he's ready to withdraw from the world.

"You good?" I ask him.

"I'm good," he says flatly.

A few moments later, we're all seated. Our parents chat as dinner is served, but Sasuke, Itachi and I all remain silent – uncomfortably so.

After dinner, our parents decide to play cards and make me and Sasuke do the dishes. Itachi sits at the kitchen table with them, watching but not joining in the game. "So…" I start quietly as I wash plates, "What's wrong with your brother?"

"I don't know," Sasuke murmurs. "The drugs make him a bit airy."

"Oh," is all I say.

He only nods, looking solemn. I decide not to press the issue since it's clearly a pretty touchy topic. Itachi doesn't seem all that bad… but then again, if they let him out of the hospital, he's probably hopped up on drugs and doing better. Must suck, though.

The doorbell rings shortly after we're finished cleaning. Mikoto asks Sasuke to answer the door. He disappears, returning a moment later with a really large, muscular man with sallow skin and sunken eyes. He looks older – probably in his mid-thirties. He also looks like he's well over six feet tall. He's pretty scary looking, with really prominent cheek bones and dark hair with an almost blue-ish tint.

"Kisame," Fugaku greets him flatly from the table.

The guy called Kisame simply nods at him before turning to Itachi. "Hey," he says, balling a fist and lightly knocking on Itachi's forehead. "Anyone home?"

Itachi forces an insincere smile. "You're so funny, Kisame," he says evenly. "I never knew that about you."

Sasuke steps away from them both, backing into me. "Sorry," he mutters.

"It's cool," I respond, patting his shoulder.

Itachi stands up and, alongside Kisame, leaves the kitchen and enters the living room.

"Why don't you boys join them?" Mikoto asks us. Sasuke nods and the two of us follow Itachi and Kisame into the living room.

Itachi moves groggily, sitting down on the sofa. He takes a cigarette out of his pocket and sticks it between his lips, glancing at Kisame expectantly. Kisame sits down next to him, pulling a lighter out and lighting the cigarette for him. Sasuke sits on the other side of Kisame and I sit down on the arm of the sofa since there's no more room in the small, but quaint living room. For many minutes, everything is quiet. Itachi smokes his cigarette, eyes wandering around the room. "What're you seeing?" Kisame asks the question that's on all our minds.

"They say the stile traps it," Itachi suddenly murmurs, tapping the ash off his cigarette and letting it fall onto the floor. "But it doesn't… children… bikes and cars," he adds. "They're always dying, you know?" He glances over at me.

"Oh… yeah, I know," is all I say, though I have no idea what he means. I wonder if he understands it.

He stares at me for another short moment before turning to Sasuke. He lets out a soft sigh. "I'm sorry, Sasuke," he says, sounding genuinely remorseful.

"I know, Itachi," Sasuke whispers hoarsely.

"I'm sorry," he repeats.

Sasuke's lower lip trembles, but nonetheless he repeats, "I know." Itachi takes one last puff of his cigarette before putting it into a crack between the sofa. "There's an ashtray on the table," Sasuke points out.

"I don't care," Itachi says and Sasuke closes his mouth.

Suddenly Itachi halts. He stops moving. He stares at the wall, looking like he's in a daze. "Itachi?" I say his name questioningly.

"No," Itachi says in a quiet tone, covering his ears. "I can't concentrate on this right now."

"I thought you said he was on a medication?" I whisper to Sasuke

"He is…" Sasuke murmurs. "It's different for everyone… For Itachi, it only spreads his psychotic breaks farther apart. I told you this already. They don't happen as often, but they still happen."

"You're talking about me!" Itachi hisses. "I can hear you…! Why is it so loud in here? Why is everyone being so loud? Stop talking. Stop talking! Stop! STOP! STOP! STOP!"

Kisame doesn't look phased and neither does Sasuke. Mikoto and Fugaku don't come rushing into the room once Itachi starts screaming and I'm wondering if it's become something normal to hear Itachi talk about things that aren't happening. I feel like I'm the only one who's having a hard time taking this in. I wonder what my parents are thinking.

"Stop it," Itachi demands once more in a firm voice. "Why are you staring at me like that? I did what you asked!"

"What's he see?" I whisper to Sasuke.

"Demons and shit," Sasuke tells me, shivering. How creepy… "They tell him to do things… sick things. Sometimes he can't help but listen. If he does what they want, they'll go away… for a while, at least."

And maybe that's why he keeps trying to kill his little brother. Because they tell him to.

"Tell them to stop!" Itachi shouts at Kisame pleadingly.

"There's nothing there, Itachi," Kisame says wearily.

The older Uchiha isn't swayed. "Tell them to stop!"

"Fine… Stop!" Kisame exclaims, looking like he has to try hard to suppress a chuckle. He tosses an arm around Itachi, choosing to humour his hallucinations. I wonder if that's the right thing to do… or if it matters. Poor Itachi… he looks frustrated and upset.

"Does he know we can't see it?" I ask Sasuke.

"I don't know… He forgets most short term things. Mom once told us she was going shopping and an hour later, he asked me where she went. I mean… every case of schizophrenia is different. Everyone sees different things and has different symptoms. Some people have an easier time coping with the illness, but Itachi doesn't. Still, he's better…" If this is better I'd hate to see what he was like before being hospitalized.

"I'm going upstairs," Itachi suddenly announces, standing up. "I can't be around Sasuke. They want me to hurt him."

"Itachi… do you really want to be alone right now?" Kisame asks with a sigh.

"I'm never alone," he says.

Nonetheless, Kisame gets up and follows Itachi upstairs, leaving me with Sasuke.

"Who is that guy anyway?" I wonder aloud.

"Kisame?" he questions. "I don't know, he's one of Itachi's friends. He works in a forensic lab, but I used to think he was a criminal."

"Oh…"

Sasuke wrinkles his nose. "They met in university. Kisame was a TA when he met my brother. He's thirty-three, you know… and Itachi is only twenty-one."

"Ah," I say. Itachi is a genius. So is Sasuke, for that matter… but Itachi is even more so. He graduated high school earlier than everyone else. He's really smart.

Sasuke shrugs. "Even after Itachi was forced to drop out, Kisame stayed in touch. I don't know. I think he's a sociopath. Nonetheless, he's here a lot. My parents weren't really fond of him at first, but they adore him now. He's helped us out a lot… not just with Itachi, but with other things. He helps my mom with maintenance issues and sometimes he even goes shopping with her. He's pretty good at that handy shit. He visited Itachi at the institution a lot. Since he's really big and strong, I think my parents find it relieving. I mean, if Itachi was to really, really snap, Kisame could easily subdue him."

"Wow," I say. He doesn't look like a nice guy, but I guess you can't judge a book by its cover.

Sasuke shrugs. "He wants to get into my brother's pants… so it's not all that altruistic. Then again, it's happened time and time again so maybe he's sticking around because he actually likes Itachi. I don't know."

"Oh," I mutter.

"Itachi doesn't really care about that kind of thing…" he continues. "He's never really showed an interest in anyone in particular. When Kisame came along and wanted to sleep with him, Itachi just kind of let it happen. That's probably why he followed Itachi upstairs."

"Oh," I say again. "That's kind of sad…" But I guess none of us are really strangers to blasé sexual expression.

"I don't fucking know why I'm telling you all this shit," Sasuke admits after a brief pause.

"Because you don't have anyone else to talk with," I tell him. "Plus, I'm a good listener."

Sasuke snorts at that. "I have a therapist."

"Well, I'm not being paid," I point out. "So, uh…" I pause. "Do you have any video games or anything? The night is still young and I'll probably be here for a while yet."

Sasuke shakes his head. "I don't like video games… or any games."

I gape. "Seriously?"

He nods. "Well, I have Scrabble… but that's the only game I have."

"Shit…" I shrug. "I guess we can play… but you'll probably win because I'm, as you constantly remind me, an idiot."

He smirks, standing up. He gestures for me to follow him and we both go upstairs. Come to think of it, I've never been in Sasuke's room. He was never in mine either until last weekend.

We approach a closed door and there's a voice coming from inside. I can't help but assume it's Itachi. Sasuke's jaw tightens at the sound and he stops, opening the door. Itachi is standing in the center of the room, pointing to something. Kisame is on the bed watching with something akin to pity in his eyes. No more laughing.

Sasuke closes the door a moment later and we continue to his room. Dark blue curtains and matching bed sheets along with a set of plain, wooden furniture. Everything is perfectly plain. There are no photographs or posters or anything else. He must keep his personal things hidden. His bed is made, too. If I didn't know any better, I'd assume this was a guest room. I take a seat on the edge of his bed. "Your room is boring," I tell him.

"I don't really care," he responds evenly. He opens his closet and grabs the game from the top shelf before sitting across from me on his bed. Wordlessly, he sets up the board. He sticks his hand in the letter bag and then lets out a groan. "I got a Q," he says, passing the letter bag to me.

I snicker, picking a letter out of the bag. "I got the D," I smile lewdly at my joke. I grab my letters and they're pretty shitty. "Hm," I muse before placing down, "P-H-O-T-O… there, photo."

"Photo is ten but since you went first it's double… so twenty," Sasuke murmurs, writing down my score on note paper before taking his turn. "Okay… L-Y-Z-E-D," he says, adding the letters to the end of my word. "Photolyzed."

"What the fuckin' hell does that mean?" I ask as I pick new letters.

"It's a term in chemistry," he explains vaguely. "I would tell you more, but I doubt you'd understand."

I roll my eyes, not bothering to deny it. "How many points is that?" I ask.

"Twenty-eight," he says, "but I've got a double letter score on the Z so that's thirty-eight."

"Well, fuck," I deadpan before looking down at my letters, looking for a possible word. "Heh…" I snicker to myself. "P-E-N-I-S… there, I spelled penis."

"Lovely," Sasuke says tartly. "Seven points… not much."

"Lame," I sigh.

The game continues and Sasuke beats me brutally, ending the game with almost two hundred points while I only have seventy-eight. Sasuke puts the game away, closing his closet before sitting back down on the mattress.

"By the way, what's your number?" he asks, getting his phone out.

"Why?" I raise an eyebrow.

"You're five," he says with a little smirk.

Right… that damn list of his current fuck buddies. I frown, wondering why he couldn't just put my name instead. Nonetheless, I give him my phone number. He looks satisfied as he types it in. He probably feels like he has one up on me. It's like he needs that bit of control. "How do you remember who is who?"

He shrugs. "I just do. I have a decent memory when I'm not hopped up on too many drugs. I just remember who I started seeing first."

"Right…" I murmur.

He smiles at me, but it's less than genuine.

"Just because you're pretty it doesn't mean you can use it to get what you want," I tell him. "Not from me."

He feigns hurt. "Naruto, I would never do that."

"Liar," I call him out. "What do these guys do for you? Buy you things?"

"Sometimes," he admits. "They take me out… I think some of them are just lonely. What I do isn't harmful, you know. You just don't understand it."

"Yeah, you're right about that," I tell him. "I don't understand it at all."

"Picture this," he starts. "Your wife just passed away alongside your newborn baby. You're thirty-five years old. You have no family. You're introverted. You work a lot, so it's hard to meet people. What do you do? How do you feel?"

"I don't know…" I murmur. "I'd probably be pretty miserable and lonely."

"Exactly," Sasuke says. "I've been doing this kind of things since I turned seventeen. I'll go to a shitty bar, the kind of place that won't ask for ID, and I'll sit down next to the loneliest looking guy. He'll talk. I'll talk. Sometimes I'll go home with him. Sometimes we'll swap numbers and just go on dates. Sometimes people want a fuck and sometimes people want a friend. I lied. I don't sleep with all of them. Sometimes people just want someone to talk to and someone to celebrate their birthday with."

"And you're willing to provide them with what they need, whatever it may be?" I ask.

He nods, staring down at his cuticles as if they're more important than me. "That's what the numbers are, Naruto. If the relationship lasts more than one night, they make the list."

"So…" I start, "You're doing me a favor by being with me? It's a pity fuck?"

He laughs at me. "I'm a friend and I'm a fuck. Right?"

"I guess…" I murmur. At least he admits that we're friends.

"It's not a bad thing," he insists. "You're not needy. Maybe I'm the needy one because I want so much."

"Hm," I muse aloud. It's honestly hard to picture Sasuke doing this kind of thing. It's kind, but in an incredibly sad way. It's kind of heartbreaking.

"So…" I start. "Are the people you have numbered important to you?"

"I suppose some are but not all of them," he says. "Does that make you feel better?"

I scoff lightly, pretending I don't care either way but we both know I'm lying.

"Like I said, I don't sleep with all of them," he says. "Some of them treat me like the child they never had but desperately wanted… or lost."

"Do you put on masks when you're with them?" I wonder.

"Sometimes," he says. "I try to be myself as much as I can."

"Do you put on masks when you're with me?"

"Not at all," he assures. "It's too hard to maintain a façade around you. You piss me off too much."

I chuckle at that. "All right, fair enough."

So… Sasuke technically is like a kind of prostitute… but there's nothing I can do about it, even if he is underaged. I guess it's not really my business what he does with his body anyway. He's his own person. I need to stop being such a clingy, possessive loser. I have no right to be acting so pathetic.

"What are you thinking about?" he asks.

"I dunno," I say. "It's just weird…"

"What is?"

"Everything."

"I suppose so," he agrees, lying back on his mattress.

I lie down next to him and wonder where he will be in five or ten years from now. Will he still be doing shit like this or will he be settled down? "Hey, Sasuke?"

"Hm?" he asks, rolling onto his side. I do the same so we're face to face.

"Do you think about marriage?" I ask.

"Sometimes," he admits. "Though, I'm not sure whether or not I want it. To be tied to someone… I'm not sure how I feel about that."

"Imagine being in love," I start, wanting him to picture it and see it the way I see it. "Have you ever been in love?"

"No," he tells me. "You haven't either, right?"

"Right," I confirm. "But think about it… You meet someone and you fall hard for them and they feel the same way and you're both incredibly happy with one another… You'd want to put a ring on it, huh? People get possessive when they're attached."

He looks contemplative. "I don't know. Maybe. I can't really imagine feeling like that, though. It sounds a little to cliché."

"Yeah," I sigh.

"In the end," he continues, "it would just mean you have more to lose, wouldn't it?"

"Perhaps," I say. "I mean… life sucks and then you die. Everyone dies… but according to my parents, the few good parts in life make it worth living."

"How sage," Sasuke snorts. "I wonder if your mom is feeling tempted to tell my mom what she saw."

I grimace, not wanting to think about Sunday's event. "I haven't yet recovered from that."

"No shit," he says, starting to laugh. This time, there's something different about it. It's the first time I've heard him laugh like this in all my years of knowing him. He looks and sounds lighter. He doesn't seem so emotionally constipated. He presses his face into the mattress until he quiets. "It was so embarrassing!" he exclaims once he sobers.

"I know," I grin stupidly. "At least you got to leave the next day… I had to fuckin' stay and know that when I entered the room they were probably being reminded of the fact that I had your cum on my face."

"At least they walked in when we were finished and not when we were just getting started." He laughs again and I love the sound of it.

"Yeah," I snicker, shaking my head. My erection would have died a swift and painful death.

After a brief pause, he stares at me with a thoughtful gaze. "Why do you do that?" he asks.

"Do what?"

"You got this weird look on your face," he points out.

"Do I?" I wonder. I never noticed it before… "I guess I just like seeing you look happy for a change. Seeing you laugh… it's few and far between seeing you cry or throw a fit."

"Aw," he coos at me in a mocking manner before rolling over. He shifts towards me until our noses are nearly touching and then he pecks me on the lips. "You think I'm cute," he says knowingly.

"Well, yeah," I admit. "I'd be blind not to appreciate the way you look… You're a damn good looking guy."

"But you're not shallow," he notes. "If you were, then maybe we wouldn't have had all those fights. You never cared about the way I looked."

"Yeah," I say. It's true. Perhaps there were even times I felt spite towards him for being so damn pretty. I know I felt that way when I was young. I'll admit it now. He made me feel weird, even then. I suppose it was just a different kind of weird.

"So, thank you," he adds.

I raise a brow. "Why are you thanking me?"

"You saw me for me," he explains, "and you called me on my shit. No one ever did that before."

"Yeah, well, it was high-time someone told you to calm down," I mutter before recalling something. "Hey…"

"What?" he asks.

"You know how you said you don't mind giving lonely people attention?" I start.

"Yes, that is vaguely what I said," he mutters, bemused. "What of it?"

"What about the bio teacher?" I question.

Sasuke rolls onto his back, staring up at the ceiling. "He's different. He's number one… even if I don't want him to be, he always will be."

"Yeah, I assumed as much," I admit. "Let me guess – you don't feel like talking about it right now, so I have to ask you later?"

"I don't know," he says. "It's complicated."

"How?" I ask, perching myself up on my elbows and staring down at him.

"I don't know how to put it in a way that you would understand," he says.

"Well, try to," I urge.

"I go from extremely high to extremely low," he starts. "When I'm having a manic episode, I feel really elated. I feel like I need to be proactive. I'll be recklessly determined. I won't really think about the consequences of what I'm doing, so I'll just fuck around. Dangerous things sound like a great idea, so I'll call him. We'll both get what we want. So, he's number one. He's the first to come to mind when I get like that. He's my first of many things and the person I go to when I want to feel something different. If I'm in a mixed state, I think everything is worse because while I feel all that shit, I also feel depressed, tired, panicked, guilty, suicidal... I'll just feel generally worthless and I won't fucking care anymore."

I shake my head, trying not to act too piteous. "That's so fucking wrong…" None of this is okay. He's seventeen, for fuck's sake. He's still a damn child. We both are.

He scoffs. "Shut up, Naruto. You don't get to say things like that."

"Why don't you go to your parents instead? Ask them for help?" I wonder.

"Doesn't work like that," he murmurs flatly.

"Then come to me?" I reason. "I mean, hell… I wouldn't fucking mind. I'd rather you come to me than some old pervert. Fucking hell, you're seventeen and he's like… older than fifty! He's like older than our parents, dude."

He laughs at that, but it's unlike the happy sounds he was just emitting – this time it's yet again bitter. "It could be worse, Naruto. Really, I've done so much worse. You probably feel like you know me by now, but you don't even know half of the shit I've got buried."

"Tell me," I say. I want to know all there is to know about him.

He makes a humming sound, musing aloud before speaking. "When I was on pills for PTSD, they gave me really bad episodes. They clashed with the medication I was taking for bipolar disorder. I went out and really screwed myself over."

"What happened?" I ask.

"I felt really good and overconfident," he says. "I went out and thought it'd be fun to approach the freakiest looking guys I saw. I ended up getting gang-fucked. I think they thought I was on illegal drugs or something because I was kind of shaking and acting fucking crazy. Anyway, they offered to give me more. I was sober, but not for long. Naturally, I accepted. I think they were dealing. I don't know… Anyway, the drugs made everything worse, if you can imagine. I hung around with them for the next three days until the cops arrested them for some stupid drug-related shit, and in turn, arrested me. Since I was only fifteen, my parents had to pick me up at the police station. They weren't angry, though. They kind of pieced together that I was going off the rails because of how fucking sudden and random the behaviour was. They told me to stop taking the pills and they made another appointment for me. Now instead of more drugs, I do therapy weekly."

"Shit," I whisper. "That's really fucking sad, y'know…"

"I know," he admits. "But there are times I still go out and pull shit like that... It's like I can't fucking help it and I always regret it." He smiles wearily. "But it could be worse, right?"

He's really talkative lately. He's sexually driven, too. Maybe that means he's having an episode. I read that they could last quite a while. I wonder what he's been doing all week. Then again, maybe it just means he trusts me. "Right…" is all I say.

"What's wrong?" he asks.

"Look, I'm not trying to put a leash on you or nothin', but it really pisses me off knowing you're out screwing around with a sick freak like him," I admit.

"Why?" he ask. "Why does it bother you?"

"Because you're my friend," I tell him.

"Aaah," he says slowly. "I never thought I'd be on the receiving end of Naruto Uzumaki's infamously noble and charitable nurturing."

"It's not pity," I insist. "You're my friend and I care about you, yeah?"

"Yeah," he echoes with a sigh.

"Break it off with him," I suggest. "It'll be good for you to push away the bad things in your life. You don't need that shit. It's not worth the trouble it causes, okay?"

"Hn…"

"Come on, Sasuke," I urge.

"Hn…" he repeats himself.

I roll my eyes. "Are we back to that, then?" I ask. "And here I was thinking we made some progress in the communication department."

He cracks a cynical smile before sitting up. I do the same and he turns to me. "How should I do it?"

"Just give him a text and be like 'bye loser', or something," I snort.

"That's not going to work," he admits softly.

"Why?" I ask, trying not to show how irritated and impatient I feel. "Will he beat you up or something?"

"No," Sasuke says. "I've been slapped in the face upon request, but he's never done anything quite that extreme… Well, I've never given him a reason to. That's probably why. I'm sure he's more than capable, though."

"Does he scare you?"

"A bit," he admits.

"How about I come with you, then?" I offer. "I'll, like… stay in the car and if you're not back in a certain amount of time I'll go in after you."

"You'd do that?"

I nod. "Yeah, of course."

"Maybe," he considers it. "I'll think about it."

"Promise?"

"Promise."

I grin at him and he gives a small smile in return.