A/N: I always get carried away so easily with these two. This might actually be a five part fic, who knows? We'll see how the next part goes, but we'll have some Sasuke POV for sure!

The events of ten years previously they keep mentioning is the ones taking place in the fic 'Love's Illusions'.

A big thank you to loveandallthat for doing such a fast and amazing job at revising this chapter.

Disclaimer: They're not mine. Kishimoto Masashi owns them, and he better start making it worth it or else! *shakes angry fist in the air*

Recycling Hearts

Part Two: Moment for Us

I remember that we fucked twelve times before we actually kissed. How we managed to do that I have no idea. In fact, I have no idea how anyone cannot kiss during sex at all, but it happened to us. It wasn't for lack of persistence on my part, but you always rejected it no matter how many times I took the initiative, and it didn't help that you always seemed to anticipate those moments I thought about kissing you when I thought you weren't expecting. I couldn't understand why you were okay with sex but not kissing. Sure, you always talked about how you didn't want to add unnecessary complications to our relationship as it was, and yet I genuinely didn't think it could get any more complicated than us being childhood friends with benefits.

Of course, I had been very wrong while you, being the genius you always were, were absolutely right.

I have to admit that, at first, I didn't really delve much on the reason why we started having sex in the first place. My body reacted to you, your body reacted to me, and it seemed normal that we'd both want to act upon it. We were teenagers, so we fucked each other senseless when we had to, and it was all very natural because it felt right, and good, mostly because we no longer used our fists every time we got angry at each other. Well, sometimes we still , details…

When not kissing you became an issue, I also failed to see that something was definitely wrong. I became quickly obsessed with your mouth, wondering over and over again why was it that you didn't want to kiss me, angry beyond belief at your blatant rejection every time I tried to kiss you. Still, the image of you while we fucked and the ecstasy I felt were always enough to make me forget I wanted to kiss you in the first place.

However, when we weren't having sex, my mind tricked me with a weird curiosity of how your lips might feel and how your tongue might taste. It didn't take much for me to think about kissing you every single time I looked at your mouth, and it had nothing to do with sex, or the sexual attraction we had, which was something that really confused me. The impulse became strong, and you were aware of it, because you'd always choose a sexual position in which we weren't facing each other.

I became so frustrated that, one day at school, after the day's classes were over, I grabbed your arm and stopped you from the leaving the classroom until every single one of our classmates had left and the place was empty. You snarled at me, cursed at me under your breath, but I could sense a panicked aura coming from you, and it was maddening because I didn't know what was it about me that scared you so much that made you fear such a simple thing as kissing.

I remember pushing you against one of the desks and you glaring me with such animosity that I was sure you were more than ready to attack me with everything you had. Then again, I was determined to settle things once and for all and a punch or kick from you would definitely not be enough to dissuade me. I think you saw it in my eyes because, as I moved closer, you pressed your hands against my chest as if to stop me, but they were shaking. I remember you hissing a venomous 'don't you dare'.

We struggled for a bit before your wrist was pressed against my Adam's apple to prevent me from leaning in, me trying to shove your hands away and hissing at you.

It was the weirdest, most absurd semi-fight we ever had, because I wanted to immobilize you without hurting you, and even though you were trying to keep me away, there was a feebleness in your gestures that was so very unlike you that it took me by surprise.

I ended up somehow pushing you back, forcing you to sit on the desk so that your body lost some of its strength, managing to restrain both your wrists behind your back with my hands as I settled myself between your legs. The position was highly uncomfortable, causing our chests to collide as I had to trust the edge of the desk to keep my own balance so I wouldn't fall on top of you. We were both panting furiously, our faces close like they had never been before. The way my heart started beating, so loudly in my ears, was different from anything I had ever felt. We were both still, staring into each other's eyes unblinkingly. Then, you breathed in and your eyes lowered to my mouth before your head tilted to the side slightly, the gesture creating small explosions of arousal and excitement in my brain. Vaguely I registered, not for the first time, how stupidly good-looking you were before tilting my own head to the opposite and leaning forward, licking my lips just as yours parted slightly.

When our mouths crashed, everything became clear to me and I understood you like I never had, not since that night when we first had sex in that angry hormonal frenzy.

It was like I didn't know what real kissing felt like until that very moment, like every kiss I had ever shared with other people had been savorless, bland and meaningless.

For someone who had rejected me so determinedly, you became impressively compliant and slightly desperate, as if, in the middle of your internal denial, you had also wanted this as much as I had. Your lips rubbed over mine, with mine, and the experimental aspect of it – not really taking the intensity away from it – was like nothing I had expected.

Your chest pressed forward against mine, the action probably hurting your wrists because you whimpered. I actually gasped when your tongue lashed out to meet mine, curious and eager, teasingly luring mine into a noisy and slippery dance I quickly became addicted to. You seemed to taste differently from others, too, better.

I released your wrists to hug your waist, and you immediately swung your arms around my neck, taking advantage of the new proximity to intensify the kiss, your legs linking around my thighs and pulling me so close it was as if you were trying to merge us together.

"I don't want this…" you hissed angrily against my mouth. "I don't…" you reinforced, without, however, doing anything to stop the kiss, your fingers curling painfully around the hair in my skull. Your words sounded distant to me, and in spite of the conviction in them, your actions didn't match them at all.

Still, I realized I didn't want any of that either. Or I did, but it was so wrong on so many levels, and so right but so, so unbelievably dangerous all of a sudden.

I regretted ever having wanted to kiss you in the first place because, yes, apparently things could become more complicated between us.

I realized why I had wanted to kiss you so much. I realized I was probably in love with you, and that, also probably, you might feel the same way about me and feel as horrified and as scared as I was. And, as if that hadn't been enough of a shock already, I realized that, even as my mind was panicking and wanting to let go of you and stop, my body seemed to ignore it altogether and just kept holding you, needing you. Your presence – everything about you had become suddenly overwhelming.

I had thought all that crazy kissing would lead to sex, but even though we were touching each other in an eager but cautious way, it never happened.

We kissed for so long my mouth became numb. I couldn't seem to get enough of you, even if it was becoming increasingly hard to breathe, even if I could hear your low grunts of affliction. Only when the sound of footsteps echoed in the halls outside the classroom did we break apart, gasping for air. You immediately pushed me away with that brute force I thought you had forgotten you possessed, not meeting my eyes, before you quickly grabbed your things and left without even looking at me.

It took days before we spoke to each other again. I needed to collect my thoughts, to understand what exactly was happening between us, and you seemed to be in equal need to have your own space and time for yourself, away from me.

It didn't take long for me to realize that I was, indeed, pretty much infatuated with you. I didn't know where it came from, if it was recent or if I had always felt that way about you, but I knew I wanted you, I knew how much you meant to me and how much losing you wasn't an option in my book.

From the way you looked at me when you thought I wasn't looking, and the visible stiffness in your body when I walked by, it became very clear to me that it was mutual.

So, even though it was scary, I came to terms with myself that I wanted you, and I wanted to make sure you came to terms with yourself, as well. We were in this together and we needed each other.

When I suggested we talked, a few days later, you surprised me by accepting.

That talk was the first serious one we ever had, the first one where neither was thinking about insulting the other or trying to come out on top – we simply discussed our friendship, what it meant to the both of us, and if those weird feelings of lust and longing we were having towards each other – not that we had phrased it quite like that, nor used these overly romantic words – were worth pursuing by trying out for something more than just sex.

I had never felt that way for anyone, so in my teenage brain, something so intense would always be worth it, definitely, and I wanted you to acknowledge that I was choosing you over girls, over anyone. Not only that, I wanted you to choose me as well, because I didn't think I'd be able to live with wanting you and not having you. Going back to being friends seemed impossible to me.

Of course, your reasoning wasn't as impulsive as mine. To my infinite joy, you actually admitted to having feelings for me, but kept on throwing the what ifs and whatnots in my face, and to me, it all seemed trivial. If something this big was happening to us after so long of being friends, it just had to be meant to be. My reasoning was stupid, you said, there was no such thing as 'meant to be' and we were both guys, what exactly did I expect to accomplish with it? You didn't want to be seen as a gay kid in high school, and what would our friends say? Your parents were going to kill you. We already had sex, I reminded you, and so it was just a matter of keeping things behind doors like before.

It was weird, the face you made at the suggestion, as if you hated the idea but couldn't work with anything else. In the end, we agreed to start a serious relationship while keeping it a secret for the time being.

We won't last a month. Those were your exact words. Deep inside, I was scared that you might be right once more. But I was in love, and I was focused on proving our fears wrong because love, they say, conquers all.

It was hard from the very beginning. Missing you when you were right beside me was more painful than I thought, and even the sex became a frustrating experience when I couldn't find complete satisfaction in the usual quickies in hidden places at the most absurd times. We fought a lot because I wanted more of this and you wanted more of that, because you didn't do this when I needed you to, and because you didn't like the way I spoke to you on that particular day, and hell, did I have to be so serious in pretending or was I just being a jerk to you because…?

Still, when we actually managed a few hours to ourselves, when it was just the two of us, the world became a better place and all that seemed meaningless. Days turned to weeks, weeks turned to months, months turned to years and we were still together because we were both worth it in each other's eyes. I will never know the exact moment when I started to truly love you so desperately I couldn't imagine my life without you in it, and loving you like that was just that easy because I knew you felt the same way about me.

And then we started college and started living together. I'm not sure if we were more mature than before, but the truth was, by then we were far too tired of hiding to keep doing it. Today, I wonder if I should've just kidnapped you and moved to the North Pole, because it sure would've been easier than facing the bullshit we had had to take from friends and family.

It's not like I blame them for what happened, but I can't help but to think that it was always better when it was just the two of us without people from the outside interfering, telling on me, telling on you, badmouthing, advising, criticizing…

But then again, this is just the teenager in me talking, the one who's never really grown up, the one who wanted to bask in everything we were and keep living in that oblivious world of our own for the rest of our lives.

There was nothing healthy about what we had, I know that now. I do.

Yet the thought that those unhealthy feelings were the very things that brought us together haunts me every single day.

000

Dinner with your family is far noisier than I recall. Itachi and Mikoto-san do most of the talking, but Alice intervenes here and there once in a while, clearly feeling more at ease since, apparently, she has bonded quite a lot with Itachi and Toshi. I can bet on her fascination for your older brother turning into a crush soon – a healthy one, hopefully – even though I would probably prefer her fancying your nephew instead, since he's close to her age. On second thought, I hope she doesn't fancy anyone for at least another decade or two. Adolescence is something that scares and creeps me out enough as is.

To my infinite horror, I notice that my eyes seem very fond of your figure, because I can't seem to look at anything else, especially when I'm not talking. It's the con of sitting across from you. Alice is sitting beside me and has been struggling with her chopsticks for a while now – it's her own fault, because Mikoto-san wanted to give her normal cutlery – so before I can even start to help her, you silently show her how to correctly use them by demonstrating with your own chopsticks, and she tries to imitate what you do, her cheeks a bit red – I certainly hope she stops blushing around you Uchihas, otherwise I'll have to start worrying pretty soon – but she's very attentive, clearly trying her best. You shake your head gently when she doesn't do it properly and she nods, correcting her fingers before looking at you with anticipation, as if she wants to impress you and is eager to win your approval.

This confuses me, in a way, because I don't know how seeing you two interact makes me feel. In my life since we broke up and I got divorced, it has always been Alice and me, because she has no part whatsoever of the past we shared together, just like you were no part of our life while she was growing up.

It's not like I hadn't dreamed of the day when you two would meet (many times, to be honest) and questioned myself about how it would be and so on, but even if, in my heart, I had wanted to see you again, Sasuke, reality kept throwing me off, telling me that it might not ever happen.

Now that it has, I don't know what to do. Do you even understand that it's not just about you and me anymore? Do you understand that, no matter what becomes of us from now on, there will always be Alice, above anything else, someone whom you have to respect and whose presence you'll have to acknowledge?

I can't imagine you being hostile to such an angelical creature like her, but then again, it's not like it's your obligation to love her and care about her, even if she's mine.

Now that we've made it this far, I don't want to impose anything on you, but some facts cannot be pushed to the side. I do hope you're aware of this, because I'm sure that you carry some baggage with you as well, and I'm ready to deal with it, whatever it is.

It's weird; your presence is the same as I remember, and yet, there is a calmer, considerably more laid back aura about you that makes me drop my defenses slightly. You are still stoic and well-mannered, but you seem less...I don't know, cold? Less…impenetrable?

It feels better. I know it'll be okay. We have both matured a lot during these past seventeen years, and somehow, it truly feels like we can go back to those days when our interactions were as smooth and as easy as breathing.

All I know is that I find it hard to look away from you. I'm sure you notice it, Sasuke, but prefer to ignore me and focus on something else, and I'm thankful.

I feel so damn embarrassed I'm actually praying for the floor to swallow me up, but I can't stop, I just want to take in as much of you as I can, and God, embarrassing or not, just seeing you feels more amazing than anything I ever felt in the last few years.

Is it weird that I feel sixteen all over again?

000

I finish unrolling the fluffy white futon in my wide but simple room just as Alice steps in through the open sliding door, barefooted and already wearing her baby blue PJ's, her hair still wet from the shower.

I sit on the futon Indian style and she smiles at me as she comes closer, extending me a comb and a pink hair band. "Could you braid my hair for me?"

I roll my eyes a bit and smile back, grabbing the objects and gesturing for her to position herself. She immediately slumps down gracelessly on the futon with her back to me, throwing her long strands of hair over her shoulders.

"You don't usually braid you hair at night," I notice, gathering her hair in both my hands.

"I want it to be all wavy tomorrow," she explains simply. "It'll be pretty, I think."

I smirk a little. "Trying to impress someone?"

She jumps a bit and tenses defensively. "No, dad!" she exclaims, as if the thought is absurd, but I can tell from her tone that it's exactly the opposite. "I'm just…They're all so good-looking in this family, and tomorrow there's a lot of people coming, right? I just want to look good."

I hum disbelievingly. "You always look good, Ali; you're naturally beautiful."

She doesn't answer, letting her muscles relax.

As I carefully run the comb through her golden locks, I can't help but to think about how silly it is that she is so clumsy, sometimes even tom-boyish in her demeanor, but so annoyingly girly where it matters. Twenty years ago I would never see myself raising a girl (or any children, for that matter), and yet, here I am, loving every minute of it.

"I bumped into Sasuke a minute ago," she says after a while. "He asked me if I needed anything, and said to go to him if I did."

I make a sound with the back of my throat, not really knowing how to reply.

"He seems really nice," she adds. I snort.

"Itachi and Mikoto-san are nice; Sasuke is…" I think about it for a while, trying to find the right word for it. "Well-bred, I guess. Most of the time, at least."

Alice laughs, softly.

"That's not a nice way to talk about your boyfriend," she teases, as I set the comb down over my thigh and separate her hair into three identical parts.

"First, he's not my boyfriend," I say, pulling her hair slightly in a warning way that makes her whine a bit. "So don't ever refer to him like that here, because he might have a real boyfriend who would definitely not be happy about hearing it. Secondly, I know Sasuke better than anyone else, so I know exactly how much of a bastard he can be, and also how much of an amazing person he is."

She is silent for a while, and then asks "What if he does have a boyfriend?"

It's my turn to tense. "What of it?"

"Don't you want to be with him?"

Of course she would have to be blunt like that, she always is.

"I don't know," I reply, braiding her hair slowly – the task is always hard for my hands, no matter how many times I perform it. "I just want us to be in each other's lives if possible. The rest, only time will tell. And it's not about what I want at all, so… I just want to make it right, that's all."

She makes an affirmative sound and sighs.

"I hope you can have it, whatever it is that you want," she mumbles, just as I finish braiding her hair and start tying it with the band. "I want you to be happy."

"All done," I say.

She rolls her bottom on the futon until she's on her knees, looking at me with a determined and hopeful expression. I quirk my eyebrows up at her questioningly.

"Since we came all the way here, you do what you have to do," Alice retorts, almost demandingly, big blue eyes not even blinking. "You don't have to worry about me at all, I'll be fine. I have Itachi and Toshi, and Mikoto-san, they're all really nice, so…"

I smile at her and shake my head from side to side, my heart swelling with pride and love for my little girl.

"We're here on vacation," I say to her, reaching out to caress her cheek. "You and me. Sasuke is just an extra. A very attractive extra, but an extra nonetheless."

She doesn't smile back, instead frowning at me as if she is not pleased with me joking. "I'm serious, Dad! We'll have time for vacations; you should focus on fixing things with him! That's what you've been wanting for so long, right? That's why you've always been unhappy."

Once more, Alice is way too perceptive – way more perceptive of me than myself – and I find the need to refute her words, because, really, that's not true at all, is it? I was happy. I am happy. Am I one hundred happy? Perhaps not, but who in the world is?

Just as I was going to tell her exactly this, a soft knock on the door makes us both jump. Alice looks over her shoulder with her mouth hanging slightly open, and I look up and see your head peaking inside. It takes only a second for this burning heat to fill me from head to toe.

"Is this a bad time?" you inquire lowly, your expression calm but unreadable.

"No!" Alice exclaims, quickly getting up and stumbling a bit on the process, her sudden awkwardness making me feel amused and exasperated. It's clear she wants to leave us alone as quickly as possible, and while the gesture is cute, I can't help but to think that she could've been a little less obvious. "No, we were just…I was just…I'm heading to bed now."

"You do that," I mutter, waving her off with my hand as a slight nervousness makes the other hand rub my trousers anxiously. "Sleep tight, Ali."

"Yeah, you too, Dad," she replies, blowing a kiss at me and heading for the door. "Goodnight, Sasuke," she adds, grinning widely at you and bowing down.

"Goodnight, Alice," you say, offering her a small smile that is beautiful beyond words, so simple in its honesty. She leaves the room and you watch her for a bit before exposing your whole figure in the entrance. I notice that you're already wearing sleeping clothes, more specifically, black pajama pants and a dark blue t-shirt, and shit, you look at me and I feel my cheeks burning up even more. I really hope you didn't hear the conversation. It's already enough that I am constantly making a fool out of myself for feeling so stupidly fascinated by you, even now.

"You okay?" you inquire, frowning suspiciously at me without making a move to step inside the room.

"I'm fine," I assure you, heaving a frustrated sigh. "We were just having a father and daughter conversation, nothing special."

"Okay." You lift one of your hands for me to see that it's holding a pack of some Japanese brand of cigarettes and what looks like a small silvery ashtray. "I'm going to have smoke outside, and was wondering if you wanted to keep me company? If you're not too tired, that is."

It's stupid, the way my heart beats faster in excitement at the offer.

"I'm not tired at all," I reply at once, not without adding a more subdued, "Especially not for you."

You quirk one eyebrow up at me but refrain from commenting. I feel like banging my head against the nearest wall but stare at you instead, fully aware that I'm still blushing like a fucking school girl. What the fuck is wrong with me?

I can do this, I know I can. As Alice said, I do want to be with you, beside you, so we can talk, laugh, cry, yell, hang out… whatever it is that we have to do together, and that's what turns me into this absurd mess of clumsiness.

"Can I come in?" you ask simply.

"You don't even have to ask."

You enter the room and slide the door shut behind you, which makes me feel a bit uncomfortable since it's the first time in years that we've been completely alone somewhere with privacy and in such a convenient place for…sleeping… and…doing things in a horizontal position.

"You're not going to smoke here, are you?"

Your naked feet – I had almost forgotten how perfect your feet were, and still are – land on the futon and I watch them move, one after the other as you head for the wall opposite the door.

"I just told you I was going outside, didn't I?" you retort, and before I can really understand what is happening, all I see is you pressing your hand to the supposed wall, making it slide to the side and revealing the night outside.

"Oh…" is all I can say, feeling surprised and stupid.

"The rooms on this side all have access to the central garden," you explain easily while I move on my hands and knees and go take a peak outside. "It's kind of like the house is a big square that surrounds it. There's the porch, too, that follows the structure of it. That arch over there leads to the temple, with the Dojo, and the main garden."

When my head reaches the warm night air, my shoulder bumps into your leg. I take a deep breath, inhaling the flowery scents and for a moment, the feel of your body against mine reminds me that once we were close and that touching you was as natural as blinking. It feels natural now, and the fact calms me down considerably.

I see the dark and polished wooden floors of the porch beneath me. Relaxing yellow lights illuminate the wide area and I can see a lovely well-tended Zen garden, with lots of exotic plants and a path made of grey pebbles for people to walk through, very typically Japanese. I'm sure it's colorful, but I can't tell in the dim lighting. It's quiet outside, apart from the distant sound the cicadas make, even though I can see lights on over the other side of the house on the rooms across from mine.

"So…peaceful," I breathe out.

"I love this porch," you confess softly. "It's my favorite place in the house."

"I can see why."

I feel something heavy but comforting landing on the top of my head – your hand – so I look up at you and you look down at me, and for a few seconds, we simply stare at each other in silence. Your fingers comb through my hair gently, and you look calm, as usual, but apart from that, I can't tell what you're thinking at all. I used to hate it when you hid your emotions like that, but right now, I know that, like me, you're probably just basking in how easy it is to fall back into that old habit of touching without fearing the outcome.

I remember that night, ten years ago, when I was scared of my leg even touching yours. I was so terrified that my whole body wanted to spasm when I so much as poked you, because I knew what was going to happen, I knew I would lose control and completely disregard the reason why I left you in the first place. I remember that, as soon as I allowed myself to touch you like it was nothing, the complete opposite happened and I couldn't help myself anymore. I didn't even notice the moment I started reminiscing, or the moment I started missing you all over again. Next thing I knew, I was flirting with you, my hands lingering on your arm, on your knee, and then we were outside and I was pulling you close for a kiss – just one, for old times' sake – and then another, and another, until I simply had to have you. You made yourself such an easy prey for me to attack, too. I still hate myself for it.

I don't understand why it feels different now. I am still very attracted to you, but I know I can't act upon it. I know that, if you wanted to, I wouldn't say no to you. Do I want to kiss you? Do I want to just stare at you for the rest the night – the rest of the week? Do I want to hug you close again and listen to your voice until no other sound makes sense to me anymore?

Do I still want to kidnap you and take you away to a place as far as I can?

A thousand times, yes. I want everything of yours; I want it all. God, Sasuke, I want you. But I know that it's too much to ask, so right now, I'll only take as much as you're willing to give, because, after what I've done to you, I have no right to be selfish.

It was my fault we got in this mess in the first place

If only I hadn't…

If only…

But, aren't I being a bit of a hypocrite? Would I really take everything back? Would I really accept a past without having you like that? Would I throw everything we had away just for the sake of an easier life?

"Naruto," you mutter serenely, your hand sliding down to my cheek before rubbing it with a soft thumb. "I'm going outside."

I breathe in through my nose and close my eyes, letting my head fall to the side so it's resting against your thigh – I can feel your heat through the fabric.

"Okay," I murmur, with a nod. "Just gimme a second to change into something more comfortable. You and your PJ's are making me envious."

You make a sound that resembles a low chuckle.

"You'll have to start by getting your face away from my leg so we can both move, moron."

I groan in displeasure, but re-open my eyes and move away from you, sitting down on my heels.

Before I can tell you that you don't have to leave, you're already stepping out and out of sight, and I all but sigh. Being near you drains me, and yet I feel good in too many ways.

I quickly crawl over to my suitcase and fish out a pair of white sweatpants and a green t-shirt. I know you won't be peeking on me, so I don't bother to close the door to the porch as I change.

I hear the sound of a lighter clicking, followed by the distinct scent of something familiar but that's not exactly tobacco.

I go outside and see you already sitting down with your back leaning against the door, both legs stretched out before you, crossed at the ankles. You're looking up, at the starry sky, one had over your stomach, the other holding what looks like a cigarette but not really.

"I knew something smelt familiar," I tease, slumping down next to you, noticing the ashtray and the pack of cigarettes resting between us. You smirk at me – God, that smirk couldn't be more sinful if you tried – and I force myself to look away from you and eye the joint instead. "I didn't know you were still into that."

"I'm not, really," you say, shrugging elegantly. "But I'm on my first long vacation in years. It's my right to be a little reckless."

"I'm not even going to ask where you got that," I say, smiling. I fall silent, biting my lower lip before asking "Will you share it with me?"

You quirk a not-so-surprised eyebrow up at me. "What would Alice say if she knew?" The tone is mocking, so I punch your arm without using a lot of force, but you still make an annoyed noise of protest.

"What Alice doesn't know can't hurt her, so give it here." I say.

And then, completely out of the blue, you snort and start laughing out loud, and all I can do is stare, my stomach flipping pleasantly at the sound.

"What are you laughing about?" I inquire stupidly. I don't know if I should be horrified or marveled and that incessant laughter coming from you. "Oh my God, you're already high, aren't you?"

This makes you laugh even harder which is... pretty amazing, because I haven't seen you like this since we were teenagers, and even then, seldom did you show this side of you. It's an unfortunate fact, because your laughter is something akin to beautiful, free but not hysterical, not loud enough to attract attention, but clear and pure like a crystalline spring.

"You're seriously creeping me out," I joke with a chuckle, not able to prevent being infected by you. "You're so weird."

"Sh-shut up," you manage to blurt out between cackles, wiping the tears away from your eyes with your free hand. You take a few shaky breaths that fail to stabilize your mood. "You're the weird one, always looking at me like you're afraid I'll vanish if you so much as blink. Fucking moron."

Ah, you know me far too well. Then again, I'm not that subtle, am I? My bad.

"It's not like I can help it!" I defend, punching your arm again and being punched by you in return, good-naturedly. You snort yet again and resume laughing.

I snatch the joint from your hand, and take a long, slow drag without looking away from you. This kind of brings back memories, good ones, I muse, expelling the smoke and instantly feeling a bit lightheaded. My head falls back and the back of it hits the wooden door as I watch you. It takes a while for you to calm down, but I let you work yourself through this on your own, because, somehow, I have the feeling that you'll never stop if I keep talking.

You're probably making fun of me for some reason, and it's alright if you are; I don't mind what you think about me, right now, as long as it makes you laugh like this. I would make a fool out of myself over and over again just to see this side of you every day.

Vaguely, I wonder why this is happening to you. You always dealt with things differently from other people, as if your own body is awkward and doesn't know how to properly react to emotional stimulus, and it gets me wondering if this is your alternative reaction to something else entirely.

Are you laughing because you feel like crying instead? Do you feel resented, in some way?

Are you genuinely happy or you simply don't know what to do with your feelings and ended up resorting to this?

I do know you better than anyone else, and yet, figuring you out is still too much of a challenge.

Eventually, your laughter slowly dies out and you wipe at your eyes again, breathing in as if to make sure you are done. You gesture for me to hand the joint over, and I do, still watching you shamelessly as you inhale, perfectly calm, now, your eyes trained somewhere in front of you.

"Better?" I inquire.

"All better," you assure, confidently.

We sit quietly, listening to the song of the cicadas. It's such a wonderful windless night. You move the ashtray and set it on your thigh, and we share the joint in quiet companionship, and when you hand it over to me and I hand it over to you, your eyes meet and our fingers touch, and there's always something that seems to fall perceptively in place, pieces of some shattered bits of our past selves coming together bit by bit, slowly re-constructing what seemed to impossible to put back together.

Sometimes, you smile a bit, just a bit, as if to reassure me of something. I'm still not sure what it is, but I feel relieved all the same. You presence soothes me. This silence is intimate and comfortable, and it feels good, casual and safe. It's been far too long since I've last smoked something other than normal tobacco and my head becomes slightly fuzzy fairly quickly, but that only makes me feel even more relaxed.

For the first time ever, I realize that we've both been carrying these shattered pieces around throughout the years, not wanting to let go of them even if they seemed impossible to put back together. I realize that it's not only shattered bits of ourselves we've been carrying, but also bits of each other. I couldn't fix myself alone if I tried. I can see that now.

"Why do you do it?" you ask gently after a while, smashing the remains of the stick on the ashtray before grabbing the pack of cigarettes and setting everything on your other side so they're no longer between us. I vaguely wonder if that's some kind of invitation for me to move closer, but I don't want to read too much into it.

"Do what?"

"Look at me like that."

You pull your knees to your chest and hug them, resting your cheek over one of them as you look at me with that weird contemplative simplicity that still drives me crazy. You were always stoic and composed, but most of the times, when you were really angry, sad or happy, your eyes would fire up and show so much emotion it was breathtaking and extremely intimidating. In spite of that, I found it easier to deal with you when I knew what you were feeling.

I guess being like this, hiding yourself behind that mask, is supposed to put me at ease, or maybe it's just a shield you're using to protect yourself from me. I don't mind it, I can't expect you to be like me – I don't want you to – and you have every right to keep your heart hidden if you want. I know what this moment means, because we share so many things that can't be forgotten, our link strong enough for me to simply know how you feel, even if you don't show it.

I lick my suddenly dry lips and cross my arms over my chest.

"I suppose I'm still…drawn to you, even now," I confess, feeling that stupid blush ascending my cheeks. It's not like I'm embarrassed about speaking my mind, it's just the way I react to you, lately, for some reason. "I can't help it. I've always felt this way, and probably always will. Running away from it doesn't make it disappear, you know."

Your mouth makes a small pout at my blatant admission and your eyes narrow, reminding me of a cat. "How ironic," you mutter, not without a hint of sarcasm that makes me grin.

"Does it bother you?"

"Not particularly," you say, shrugging. "It's kind of familiar. You're older, but your eyes are the same, expressive and open. It feels good to know that some things never change. I always know what I can count on, when it comes to you."

I feel my grin becoming wider.

"Is that a compliment, Uchiha?"

"Maybe."

I elbow you and you frown but don't protest. We look at each other for a few seconds, during which my smile fades effectively as I ponder on all the things I want to tell you and ask you about. I don't know where to start. I wonder if you have questions, too, but you never make it easy for me. The ball is in my court, now, and I feel like you're just standing on the other end of it, watching me play with it and having no intention of joining for the time being.

But I can't keep thinking about all of this, I can't stay here, with you, being agonized by all the things I should've said and done when all I want is for this weight to be lifted from our shoulders and for this wall between us to be torn down.

"I'm sorry," I blurt out, before I can even stop myself. Seventeen years ago, it wouldn't have been honest because I genuinely thought that you owed me as much as I owed you, but now I know that it's not true at all. "I really am, Sasuke."

You lift your head up, frowning yet again even though you look like you might've been expecting my words and ask "What, exactly, are you sorry about?"

"Everything," I say, twisting my body so I'm facing you. I need you to know that I'm serious and that I feel differently than I did back then, when all I could feel was the love, and the constant sadness, frustration and bitterness that came along with it. "It was my fault to begin with. I was the one who started it all, and I was the one who ended it for good. I was always so scared of losing you that I almost made you lose your family and your friends, and…that's inexcusable, I know that. I don't want you to hate me, I never did, but now I see that you had so much more to lose than I did, and I was always so selfish; I couldn't see that you were hurting more than I was, and…"

"You were always a bit of a hypocrite like that," you interrupt, heaving a sigh. It's like the topic is boring you already. "I always tried to tell you, but I should've known that, with that thick head of yours, you'd need seventeen years to figure things out for yourself."

I press my lips together, preventing myself from flinching at the accusation, especially because I know you're right.

"I'm being serious," I press on, my voice lowering but not losing its firmness. "I know I was a prick. You weren't easy, either, but I should've done things differently. And then, ten years ago…I wasn't ready for you yet, even though I thought I was…all I did was hurt you with my selfishness, and I felt like shit for imposing myself on you…"

"Naruto…"

"I did it because I knew you would be easy," I confess, desperately needing you to understand what I'm trying to say, and your face changes to one of resentment, if at me or at the memory of yourself, I don't know, but I won't let it slow me down. "Just like you know about me now, I knew about you back then, I saw it in your eyes that all I had to was to lure you in and you'd give me exactly what I wanted. Maybe we both wanted it, and maybe we both wanted to be strong and prove ourselves wrong, but it wasn't the right time, it didn't…it didn't do us any good. I felt like shit and couldn't even think about facing you again. I can't take it back, Sasuke. I can't take any of it back, but I need you to know that I never meant to hurt you, and that, if I did, it was because I loved you and needed you…in some way…."

I don't know the exact moment my voice started to shake, but my words die slowly in my throat as the sentence finishes.

You're still looking at me with that reproachful frown that makes me feel as though I'm being silently scolded. What was I expecting by apologizing, you melting and throwing yourself at me with tears in your eyes? Nope.

"You know," you begin, your voice dropping a few clearly non-intentional degrees and becoming cold. "That was always the big issue, wasn't it? It was always about this whole 'I-love-you-so-much-I-hate-you-and-I-do-this and-that-to-hurt-you-because-I-need-you-too-much' bullshit. It wasn't just you; I know I was like that, as well. Still, knowing it doesn't make it any easier to forgive."

My heart drops, but I nod.

"But I forgave you," I whisper. "I think that moment was the one when I accepted within myself that I also needed forgiveness. Still…" I add "…even if I want you to forgive me, I can't possibly make you. I have already come to terms that I will accept whatever it is that you choose do to where it concerns me. I know that, once again, I'm imposing myself on you just by being here. I'm always doing it…"

You look genuinely annoyed now.

"Do you think you'd be here if I didn't want you here?" you hiss coldly, and this time, I do cringe. "You think Itachi didn't talk to me first before inviting you?"

"I don't know…"

"Then know this," you snap. "Seeing you still hurts. I do think about all the shit we both did wrong, the horrible things you said, the times we hurt each other…but I also think about the friendship we had and how close we used to be, and how…fucking happy we were in spite of everything. Right now, I understand what we did wrong, and because of that, I'm able to actually feel happy that you're here."

I swallow hard. My lungs inevitably stop functioning in my need to listen to every single word coming out of your mouth. My chest hurts because of it, but when your features soften to one of impatient exasperation, hope fills me and I feel small while clinging to your acceptance so strongly.

"Naruto," you reply, shaking your head from side to side, looking tired all of a sudden. "It doesn't matter anymore. What is done is done, and there's no way we can go back and re-do it. I wish we had done things differently, yes, but it's pointless to agonize about it. I don't care anymore. What the fuck is forgiveness good for if there's nothing to back it up? It's pointless if we don't find a way, in this blank future ahead, to make it up to each other."

I almost feel like crying, or whimpering like a lost child who's just found the comfort of a relative's warmth on a scary night. What you're offering lets me know what you want, what you are willing to offer and to have from me. Our wishes are blurry, neither of us really knowing what to expect, but just the fact that we do possess this will towards each other is enough.

"You're right," I mutter, my body moving on its own to move closer to you until our arms are touching, and you observe my approach without a word. I touch your arm carefully, a simple gesture lacking any particular intention. "Thank you. I...if you want me back in your life as much as I want you in mine I'll...I'll find a way to make it worth it."

Your eyes roll down to my hand and stare at it like it's foreign, as if you're not exactly sure what to do with it. Then, you place your own hand over mine.

"We'll both have to figure it out. Together. There's no way we can do it individually," you say, in a solemn way. I don't remember you being this wise before, but you were always surprising like that.

"Yeah, I know."

You watch our hands for a while, absently running your thumb over the back of mine, and I watch you, resisting the urge to just lean closer and kiss your cheek.

"And one more thing," you reply, pinching my skin only enough for it to hurt a little bit, causing me to snatch my hand away. "Don't apologize for the past ever again. To me, that's the same as saying you're sorry for what we had. It pisses me off."

"I didn't mean it like that!" I exclaim, rubbing the ache in my hand and making a displeased face at you, who all but smirk at me. "I never once regretted giving us a chance, Sasuke. I wouldn't hesitate to do it all over again."

And it's true. I would give everything to be able to go back, knowing what I know today, so I could make it work like it should have.

Your eyebrow quirks upwards as if you weren't expecting me to admit something like that at this point.

Heaving a sigh, you stretch your legs out again and grab my hurt hand back. I let you, thankful for the contact, a silly kind of childish happiness filling me – I was always the happiest when you took the initiative to touch me of you own free will. You look at me, and I look back, but I feel your fingers moving, slowly – almost as if you want me to feel every inch of our skin brushing against each other – to intertwine them with mine, and I wet my lips, the contact making tiny jolts of energy run up my arm in a small sample of the adrenaline you always created in me. I can't seem to ignore the fact that we're so close, even if not on a level that is supposed to be flirty in any way. I feel high and it has nothing to do with that joint.

"I never regretted it either," you declare.

I know that. We were everything to each other, back then. No human being should ever neglect feeling so deeply, loving and hating so strongly, needing someone as desperately as one needs to breathe.

Sasuke, how can I make it happen? What can I do to have you again, for good, this time?

I adjust myself and sit normally again, imitating your position. I don't need your permission, so I lean my head on your shoulder, feeling your cheek coming into contact with the top of my head.

This feels nicer than…anything. Sex with the latest lovers I had could never complete me as much as this simple moment does. Your body is so different than what I remember, and yet, it still compliments mine. I don't understand how something like this is possible. How can a single human being have such an impact on another? It is unworldly. I don't understand it at all.

"In many ways, you were the best thing that happened to me," I mutter, nuzzling my own cheek against your shoulder, enjoying the clean smell of you. "Well, apart from Alice. I never wanted to lose you, and yet, I did."

"It was the choice you made," you point out, mercilessly, as it's so typical of you.

"It had to be done."

"Yes," you agree simply.

"It still makes me sad that we didn't...make it work. At a certain point, I did think that we'd be together forever."

I hear you humming thoughtfully. There is a playfulness in the way our fingers move together that, once more, reminds me of our adolescence, in those days where it wasn't all about sex and we could entertain ourselves with the silliest things just to enjoy each other's company. Your hand is perfect in mine, different from what I remember, but still, it fits, like the perfect puzzle piece.

I want to stay like this forever, if possible. I wouldn't ask for anything else, really.

"What do you think is going to happen to us?" you inquire.

"That depends; it can either go one way or another," I reply, and since I feel a bit daring after all this emotional cleansing and innocent intimacy, I don't hesitate to add "I'm single. Do you have someone?"

I feel your muscles tense at that, but I know it's not because of my question, or because being approached like this by me is uncomfortable to you – we both know how we feel about each other. We don't act upon it because our lives are different now, and so are we, and our goals, and being impulsive, as we know, will never get us anywhere.

"Not anymore," is your answer, and I move my head to look at you, but you're looking away, once more hiding your face from me.

Of course. Of course there had to have been someone, I should've known that. Oddly enough, the thought doesn't upset me as much as I thought it would just a few hours ago. Ten years ago, when you told me you had a not-really-lover, you looked at me easily and talked about it easily, too. Now, you're all stiff, so I know that this person (but obviously not the one from back then) is important to you.

It fascinates me to no end. You? Caring about someone else? Someone aside from me and your family? It must have hit you hard, and I want to know all about it, all about this person who just has to be someone amazing, surely.

"What happened?"

"He died."

My chin drops at the heartbreaking emptiness in your voice before I shut my mouth noisily.

"I…I'm really sorry, Sasuke," I whisper, softly. Your hand begins to sweat in mine, your muscles still rigid. Stubbornly, you refuse to show your face to me, so I use my other hand to reach out and cautiously make you turn your head to me, and you let me. You look painfully impassive, but there's a sadness in your eyes that takes me by surprise, and I just have to know. "What happened?"

You swallow hard and bite your lower lip before bringing your own free hand to the inside of the collar of your t-shirt, fishing out a silvery chain that is linked around your neck that I hadn't noticed before, with something round pending from it. I move closer instinctively to see that what's pending is nothing more than a ring. A thick, golden ring. Clearly, a golden wedding ring.

A wedding ring.

You?

Seriously?

I find myself wanting to cry again, but I don't give in to the temptation, because… Is this big, or what? What kind of story is this, that makes you look so sad and that was significant enough for you to still carry something like that around?

Helplessly, my chin falls again. Your mouth twitches in a bitter smile.

"I don't talk about it, ever," you say, letting the chain go so it falls over the fabric of your t-shirt, the ring hitting your chest soundlessly. "Good memories are also terribly painful sometimes. But I'll tell you if you really want to know."

I want to know, but I don't know if I'm ready to listen to something like this. But you listened to my story with Jessica when you were definitely not ready for me at all, and I know that, even if it upsets me and makes me jealous, I need to know this important detail of your life because it belongs to you, and I want – need – to know you all over again if I want to be there for you; if I want to be deserving of my place beside you.

"Of course I want to know," I say, squeezing your fingers emphatically. "I want to know everything about you. Itachi never told me anything, you know? He was always saying that, if I wanted to know stuff about you, I should ask you myself."

"He had a point," you point out, squeezing back. "He's so faithful to me; that's why I love him."

"I love him, too," I joke, managing a small, teasing grin. "Best almost-brother-in-law ever. I kind of fancied him a bit before we got together."

"There are some things I wish I didn't know, Naruto, seriously." You make a disgusted face, but smile all the same. "Fine, I'll tell you my story, but just…not today. I'm still processing…well, you. Let me enjoy this for a while, okay? I'll tell you tomorrow. Also, I'll need you to do something for me. Something you can't refuse."

For some reason, I feel relieved that you're not going to talk about you lover yet. We should have the right to have time for ourselves, just the two of us, right?

"Anything you need."

You smile becomes less stiff and your eyes lose that impeding sadness-.

"Well, you can start by putting your head on my shoulder again."

I beam at you.

"Gladly."

I let my head fall to your shoulder again, making sure I move a bit closer to you so that my side is completely glued to yours, and you're deliciously warm and comfortable I can barely stand it. I just want to snuggle with you. I feel like such a child it seems impossible that I'm almost 45.

I feel your lips being pressed to the top of my head again, making me heave a contented sigh.

"Hey, Sasuke, do you remember our first kiss?"

"How could I forget?" You say, mouth against my hair. You inhale gently as if you're trying to sniff me and proceed. "Best kiss ever."

I snort, throwing one leg over yours in a playful way, just so I can have more contact, casual as it is.

"We kissed so many times in all those years, how can you be sure it was the best?"

"It was," the certainty makes me sniffle again. "It was probably the only time since we started doing stuff that I was focused on just kissing. I remember I could feel everything. I was thinking about you and only you and I wanted it so badly that I took in every single detail of it. To me, it was my real first kiss, and I wasn't even thinking about getting in your pants, so…"

It's funny, I was thinking about our first kiss just a few hours ago. It was pretty good, especially because it was, as you said, probably the only time we ever kissed so passionately without any sexual intent.

I snort again. Why do you say these things that just fatten up my ego? You can be so breathtakingly honest in the most inconvenient times.

"You were so head over heels for me," I can't help but to brag, turning my head to the side. Since you feel that it's okay to be affectionate, I might as well take advantage, which I do, pressing my lips to your jaw. They linger over your skin for a while.

"Look who's talking, you were the one who became obsessed with my mouth." My kiss was simple, and yet your voice has dropped a few octaves, and I can swear it's a bit husky now, or maybe it's just you testing me, luring me in.

"You are a pretty good kisser," I praise, against your jaw. "But it takes two to tango, as they say."

"It takes two to do a lot of things."

"There are some things one can do by oneself."

"But it's so much better when you do it with someone else."

I move away from you only enough to be able to look you in the eye, but we're so close our noses practically brush, and I know that, if I wanted to, I could just lean in and kiss you, but I won't do that because, if something like that ever happens again, it has to have some kind of meaning that doesn't involve us wanting to screw each other senseless just because we can. But, damn, I can't stand the way you're looking at me - calm but with the sparkle of fire in those dark orbs and that devilish smirk that is still too sexy, even now.

It's almost baffling that even now, I manage to please your eyes just a little.

"Don't flirt with me, Uchiha, I'm too old for this and lacking in action for far too long to take it lightly."

"You started it. You kissed my jaw like that, what did you expect?"

"It was an innocent kiss," I contradict, even if I'm already letting go of your hand so I can use it to touch your face. It kills me that you're still so fucking good-looking. It kills me that someone else had you like I did. I should wonder if this is healthy at all considering that, but I can't find a reason to care, not right now, when it's all about you and me. "And you kissed my head first."

"It was all innocence. Besides…" I don't really notice you moving closer, I only feel your mouth in the curve of neck, slightly open, pressing once, your lips brushing the path upwards before kissing again. "I don't have to flirt with you to turn you into a blabbering mess," you lick seductively on a spot right below my ear and I shiver so violently I think my body might fall apart. I know you're just being mischievous, I know it, but I missed this so much, and fuck, why do I always, always have to be helpless to you. "See?"

I move my hand to your hair and grab a fistful of your bangs. I'm not shy about being evil, either, so I pull at them viciously, just enough to hurt, but not too much, and you groan. Revenge doesn't take long to come – I fell your teeth, sharp and precise sink just below my ear, and bloody hell, you still know how to inflict that perfect amount of pain so it borders just on the edge of being pleasurable. I don't want to give you victory, but the hiss of pain slides between my teeth all the same.

I hate you for being like this. For still knowing me all too well, for toying with me just as much as I toy with you, to the point where I want to scream for you to just do whatever you want with me. I'm a grown man, though, and we're going to do this right, so I can't. If I fail to pass this test, you'll never trust me again.

You're so evil it's unfair, and I'm so weak for you it's disgusting. Nevertheless, I still pull your face closer to my neck, silently requesting your kisses without stopping myself from pressing my mouth to your temple, to your cheek, delighted by the proximity, thrilled by the familiar rush of it all.

I want you so much it sickens me. I hate it, yet I love it because I know it's exclusive to us, this fire, and that you wouldn't give to anyone else, just like I didn't, even though we have given our bodies and our hearts to someone else.

It burns. It anguishes me. When I lick my lips I can taste the remnants of your skin.

"You're such a fucking bastard…" I pant, somehow managing to find a way to hold you close, both arms around you as I breathe, breathe and breathe everything that is you.

"You love me, bastardly traits and all that," you gasp back, you voice now as raspy as mine, and please, please, someone just take us away to another world, a different one, where I can just drown in everything about you…

And now I don't know if this feeling is happiness or despair. I hope I can figure it out in the next few days, Sasuke, so I know what to do the next time we're in each other's arms like this, so I don't feel lost anymore.

"Just my luck…"

TBC...

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