(* ˘⌣˘)◞Kenny-chan Cant Spelllヽ(•‿• )
A/N: KyaKyaKya heyyo my pretties ＼（＠￣∇￣＠）／ the reviews made me so happy thank you everyone (｡◕‿◕｡) Plz enjoi 。(⌒∇⌒。)
Disclaimer: My main man Kishimotto owns Naruto. Pce （ｖ＾＿＾）ｖ
愛してる
Naruto awoke in a pool of bubbling sweat. His lips lacked that vital liquid; blurry eyes stinging with the intensity of a sticky swat of magma. His childish torso swung into his knees with groans ripping from the bottom of his belly, a blearing headache became apparent.
There was no memory of Naruto slipping into sleep's syrup, yet judging from the salt infused liquid dripping from his hairline, the constricting residue around his lids and his grounded body position, there was no denying the past state.
The dream must have been wicked.
Naruto shook his head against the ground, the moving pressure giving some awareness, as a hot breath circled into his lungs. A very hot breath. Too hot a breath.
He rolled to his back, belly up as he began taking in more, and more of the air. No, it was steam at this point, and that definitly brought a sense of frantic confusion. Now Naruto pushed himself up, pupils wide in wonder.
Maybe there wasn't a nightmare after all… maybe he just overheated…
There were a total of infinite reasons that Naruto came up with in the short period for as to why the place was becoming a not-so soothing sauna:
A heating pipe broke from underneath the closet.
Some idiot, possible himself in his sleep, hit a strangely, or not strangely, placed thermostat.
Menopause?
He slept all the way into summer break.
This was all a virtual simulation.
A fire had started somewhere.
He was having a heatstroke.
He could have continued if there didn't come a point, in his ponderings, when his brain stops questioning, because his lungs stop filtering and blood stops flowing regularly, when the body just gets too hot.
He didn't need to know how, what, or who caused the room to heat up like the inside of the devils mouth, but he needed to get out.
In outrageous violence, Naruto pushed himself into the door. Multiply. His body wore down as he repeatedly banged against the unmoving solid. His rapid actions slowed, his head pulsing as he breathed intensely while resting his chest against the door, blue half-lidded eyes filled with disappointment.
"I can't even…"
It was true.
With a simple kick, most heroes can break a door down instantly.
But Naruto, this is reality.
A painful layer of muck infiltrated the blonde's lungs. His eyes awoken as his body began forcing the poising out through violent fits; that is coughing.
His shaky sight caught the gray haze riding up the light that separated the door from the rest of the boiling flooring. He could make it out by the difference in light and thickness. The absolute presents of smoke.
His jaw split, rash breaths traveling down his quivering figure.
Stop-drop-and-roll would not help in this situation.
There would only so many minutes until a small-enclosed place became one of a toxic gas chamber.
And that is when there can be no escape of the creeping crack.
The crack, which divides reality and deterioration.
And Naruto, you are resting upon this crack.
But Naruto, you will not be for much longer.
Again he banged his body against the door, his head, ears, and taste buds bursting, leaking invisible anxious goo.
Naruto's system skipped past the law of limitations, the oxygen at a point of negativity yet he still powered forward. He didn't give up easily.
Now he was just tossing his head against the door, the rest of him limp.
With one final pound of skull to substance, he broke.
Too much smoke.
Too little of a chance.
It made his mind play tricks.
It made him see hope.
It made him believe that perhaps he could find a way, a starlight path that let him slip out of a pit of the unspeakable.
But Naruto, there is no starlight path.
But Naruto, you are going to die.
As his hair, coated with storm, salt, and rose straggled across the vertical surface, his ears picked up a sound coming from the other side. Out there, there was hissing, crackling… screams of burning world.
Now, he crept back.
They said they wanted something like this.
They wanted him to die.
They wanted him to so badly…
"They'll kill the world for me."
That was the sentence that took the last bit of oxygen from his system. His last clean and clear C02 submission that followed the laws of nature. The words were formulated perfectly, though no one would hear them. No one would know those words were spoken, because he would give them what they wanted.
But Naruto, you are wrong.
But Naruto, if you die here you will never know…
He would die without knowing.
Knowing: how much one person wanted him.
Without knowing how simply incorrect he was, and how important the life he bore held over someone.
And how much this person would give to be with him.
How they would go through this hell, just to get to him.
To die or to live, this person was out there, and needed to be with him.
He would have never known how much this person loved him, if right then and there, he were to disappear.
But Naruto, you will last, because this person is so close to you, and they are thinking of you in such a wondrous light, your lungs can last you a short while longer. Your head is cleared, you heart is beating and a serge of vivacity is traveling through your blood and up your veins.
"Help," You say, in a whisper the last thing you can muster, a gift this light has given to you.
You don't know whom the plea was for, but perhaps you had unconsciously been trying to reach this person as well
You yourself will not be able to find your way out of this.
But Naruto, you will be filled with happiness.
You felt that last light, and it gave you the proof you needed.
Naruto's head hit the back shelf, his orbs rolling forward. His mind was at peace as his being began bouncing from this earth and that.
It wasn't what he wanted, but wanting doesn't bring a rhythm to the wrist.
When someone dies, its said their life flashes before them: small segments of their existence playing as one grand cinemax. Maybe he was just thinking in extreme vibrancy, but it seemed the very image of this mother and father took over his vision.
They where smiling, his ruby-haired mother with a plush animal in her right hand. It was a fox she had bought him a while back, but kept in the closet to save it for the perfect moment. He was only one, but he remembered that moment to the smallest detail. That was the first gift he had ever gotten.
Now his forth birthday: his father handed him the biggest piece of vanilla cake. It tasted delicious. There was a gleaming light in his family's eyes as his grandfather told strange jokes that Naruto had yet to understand. His mother's cheeks were flowery, covering her mouth as a laugh broke from her lips. His dad was using scolding words against his own father, a white haired elder man with a far-out way of speaking, yet it could be evident the blonde man found humor in the geezer's antics. It was the scene of perfection and dazzling light.
That blur of warmth and affection only lasted so long, as their joyous faces shifted into a more vulgar setting.
His mother, with glowing red hair, and father, whose smile could have set the sun a-blaze now laid lifeless at the bottom of the earth, piles of ash and soot burning up a line of their existence.
Naruto lost his parents that year. Their bodies were engulfed in a fire much like the one that tapped on the walls surrounding the male this very moment.
He was young at the time, so their faces didn't pull apart at his heartstrings as regularly as they had the potential to… but the hot burn of fire, the very thing that left him so alone, cut the organ.
Naruto found it a sick way to end.
Fire destroys.
It demolishes and crushes.
It turns trees to dust.
It turns books to dust.
It turns chairs to dust.
It turns tables to dust.
It turns homes to dust.
It turns mothers to dust.
It turns fathers to dust.
It turns life to nothing but dust.
No pile of dust is any prettier then the last. No matter if the dust was once a tree or bush, an apple or a pear, a horse or a mouse, a baby or a dictator. Dust is dust.
And soon Naruto too will be dust.
Now this presentation took a different route. It showed his grandfather, now more jagged and torn raising Naruto through his childhood. He was an older man, and money was tight. This is why a small 9-year-old boy cleaned dishes and floors scrapping for twelve dollars a day.
And every year he grew, now he was washing cars and cleaning close: five dollars an hour at ten years old. He was emptying garbage disposals and delivering newspapers: six dollars an hour at twelve years old. Cleaning toilets, serving food: eight dollars an hour at fourteen years old.
At this point, the money wasn't going to new clothing for the boy, whom wore the same ratty jacket to school every week, it didn't go to food for the boy who slept with an empty belly most nights. Instead it went to bills, endless pools of bills piling at the pale feet of his grandfather, whose shaking hands could no longer grasp them. He was old and sick. He would have died years ago, if no for the measly paycheck Naruto brought to the table. He told him to stop. He told his grandson it was pointless and death was something all people fell into. It didn't stop him though, and Naruto worked until the other's very end.
He died peacefully at seventy-three years old. Naruto was sixteen.
There was only one year left in Naruto's time line.
He made good money; he lived alone in the small empty apartment. There were no more deaths. No one he had to look after. It should have been the most restful stage in Naruto's difficult life. This inevitably was not the case. This was in fact the hardest year Naruto had yet to see.
He had fought sadness and sorrow, fear and nightmares, illness and poverty but never had he fought hatred. He learned quickly that this was the most horrid villain.
Naruto had many enemies. That was why he was here, running along death's string. Many of them didn't start this way. They weren't always like this.
Kiba and Naruto both teamed up on a reading project in first grade. They had similar marks and it was the teacher's goal to have them both improve their comprehension… she had little faith though. Somehow the two of them, both competitive as they where, where awarded the highest grade of the class. Wearing wolfish grins, the two children slapped hands. That was Naruto's fondest image of Kiba.
Neji never talked to him. He never seemed to even notice his existence. Neither had ever exchanged an unnecessary word. They were fine with this. Then one day of 9th grade, Neji Hyuga became very interested in Naruto. Not in means of affection or attraction. His glassy eyes would seem to follow Naruto's every motion. He would constantly appear by his side or miraculously be placed at his partner. Now Naruto now thought his stoic classmate was looking to befriend him, so he went out of his way to welcome the relation with flapping gums and twirling lips. But Neji never spoke friendly. He would ask a question from time to time. As if he was conducting a study. Then something shifted…
Every morning at the sound of the first bell, Sakura would meet Naruto in front of the fourth grade swings. She would pull open her 'Hello Kitty' bag and lay out a plate of onigiri and sweet plumbs. Her delicate fingers would clap together, her girlish giggle blooming as she looked over at her companion. They would share this lunch as they had many others before. She 'grew out' of this phase long ago.
Ino was more popular then Naruto, but when popularity didn't exist; the two second graders once drew a picture together. The image was gibberish to the eyes, but both Naruto and Ino convinced themselves that there was magic by Picasso between those red and orange scribbles. Only blonde haired, blue eyed, and cool people, such as themselves, could see it, they told their teacher, and anyone else who would question its visual. This picture now rests in Ino's garage. Out of sight, out of mind. It was really out of mind.
The seventh grader Choji was still a hungry Choji, and he had been complaining to the soccer team about his hunger all day. When practice ended, the group of young boys chased a passing ice-cream truck till the end of the road. The truck pulled over of course, happy to encounter such business. After Choi fell to his knees, wailing on about how his "selfish mother" didn't pack him a snack, Naruto pulled the last two dollars from his pocket and bought the boy an ice pop. Choji's grateful eyes pointed more towards the frozen treat in Naruto's hand then at child himself.
In fifth grade Naruto's class began studying fractions for a duration of a day. Naturally Naruto was several steps behind the typical learning curve. He required a tutor for the unit, and Shikamaru was assigned this position; he wasn't happy about it. There was no exemplarity moment, nor exchange that could be set as the staring scene, but when witnessing the appreciation dancing across Naruto's mouth, Shikamaru couldn't help but stop slouching in his seat.
Yet all of these memories; deteriorate in the acidic bolded brand.
They said he was gay.
Was he?
He never thought to consider it, nor did he think it held any sort of importance. Clearly, he was off by a mile. It meant the world, quite literally.
He must be. That's why he was dying after all. It's a shame. Maybe he could have fixed himself.
Now Naruto was peering into another past memory. It was a face-off between two very different people each standing a mere six feet from each other. The moment didn't give enough insight as to why Sasuke Uchiha was staring him down, but the instigation was reoccurring and this exact scene had happened many times before.
Except there was a difference that separated this time from another, there was no self-promoting smirk holding the Uchiha's lips to the side. Instead he looked dumbstruck, totally taken back. Neji was at his side, ushering for the brunette to follow his lead. Sasuke was entirely nonplused by Neji's motions, his entire attention suffocated into this one thing.
Oh right, Naruto remembered this.
This was the first time they had met. Or actually, seen each other.
It was the first day of freshman year, the first day of high school, when the two middle schools would combine together to create one mass of fourteen to eighteen year olds. It was the time when the teachers would step away and let the kids mingle on the courtyard, in hopes of new friends. It was normal for Naruto to want to make a good impression here.
When you catch a guy, you have never seen before, a guy you could just sense was one of those cool kids, one of those guys you would love to be, staring at you like you were a malfunctioning roach, carrying negative brain cells and contracting numerous diseases; it sets something off.
Naruto didn't want to be stepped on. He didn't want to be lower. He wanted to be at this person's level. Someone of equal standing wouldn't look away from this. They would question.
"What's with your eyes, asshole?"
He should have taken a different approach. He knew it the second the words left his lips. He honestly wanted why it was he was being looked down on. It didn't come out that way.
Neji groaned giving up as a strange emotion overtook Sasuke's features, so quick it was hardly noticed but then wrapping instantly into a face of arrogance.
Naruto would learn this face well. He would know where the brim of Sasuke's thin lips swerved, how his jaw muscles would tighten slightly, as his obedient orbs would become lightly squinted, a dangerous sort of playful expression just praying to pounce.
"Just looking at this little fucker and wondering if his birth certificate is an apology from the condom factory."
Naruto's stomach dropped as a few students around them laughed, soon attracted to the scene. This person was looking down on him. Even though he was a stranger for some reason it hurt. It hurt a lot.
"Well, if you really have such a problem with this apology," Naruto hissed, his throat tightening as he could swear against feeling his eyes blur, "Then fucking do something about it."
That was the first fistfight Naruto had ever gotten into, and it didn't seem necessary to anyone but the two. Naruto would have lost within the first ten minutes if not for Sasuke stopping and telling the now hollering crowed which circled them that Naruto wasn't "Worth being scraped off the street."
The crowed booed, then found something else to interest themselves with leaving Sasuke to brush himself off as the other laid silently.
With a fat lip, twisted knee and fractured elbow there wasn't much hope for Naruto to defend himself, that is if those words didn't bite his skin and cause a pinching tug in his chest. They really did hurt more then his wounds, and because of this he was up, immediately crashing into the raven's turned back.
This time they fought for much longer. No matter how many punches either one would throw, there was never more then a moment of lapse.
In the end, Naruto and Sasuke both laid belly up on the pavement, each breathing raggedly with a scatter of injuries.
"What's your name anyway?" Naruto panted, looking over at the male next to him.
"Sasuke Uchiha." He said bluntly, himself looking into the sky.
"Yeah?" Naruto said, raising himself up on an arm, "Well then, fuck you Sasuke Uchiha."
They tied. They were equal.
"Someday shithead, someday."
That was it.
"Hey, what is that suppose to mean?"
His first memory of Sasuke Uchiha,
"Guess,"
Who was neither his enemy nor his friend.
"I… I don't wanna say."
Sasuke Uchiha was his opponent.
"I think your thinking about this too much."
And something in the back of Naruto's brain told him he didn't care if he was gay.
That made him smile.
And as the his eyes drew closer and closer together,
The door and its surrounding surface became further and further apart,
Because now, between its hinges stood someone who was not Naruto's enemy. Smoke rose around the sturdy body, arms black, red, and inflamed. Someone who was not his friend.
He was not his opponent either. The lights began dimming, his lids falling shut.
"Sasuke…"
Sasuke Uchiha was the knight with the shiniest fucking armor Naruto would ever see.
But he is not a life saver.
It is a known fact,
Reality is more wicked then any dream.
And this was no a dream.
No,
This was reality.
It is a sick world.
愛してる
A/N: so sad so sad .·´¯`(▂)´¯`·. review so i feel loved (´ヮ`)