Archive of Our Own ^beta

My heart woke up my head 

like a thunderstorm 

This is the fifth and last time Sakura is going to ask Sasuke out. 

She only decides this when she spots him; just seeing him has far too often been enough to reduce all the complex aspects of her personality down to a selfish type of foolishness that is telling her right now that one more time couldn't hurt. Especially since he's right in front of her, leaned up against the outside of the shop she's about to enter to buy groceries, a cigarette perched between two fingers and- 

When did he pick that up?  

The thought enters through her mind- just a flicker- that she doesn't really know this person standing before her, that perhaps she never actually did. 

But then he notices her, actually looks at her like he never did before the war ended, and the idea that had been kindling in the recesses of Sakura’s head (that perhaps four times in a year is enough) is extinguished like the cigarette that Sasuke snubs out against the bricks behind him. And yes, it is pathetic enough that Sakura is aware of how silly, how hopeless she's being- when that old childish heart she won't let go of, a heart that has already died a thousand deaths, begins to flutter for the first time in a long time. When she tells herself, maybe we can get to know each other, and actually halfway believes it. 

“Hey,” she says, then when Sasuke doesn't respond beyond barely lifting his eyebrows, “I haven't seen you in a few days.” It's been longer than that- a week or two most likely- and even then, it was only in passing. 

“I don't get out much.” 

He isn't really looking at her anymore, more like past her, as if he's getting ready to make a quick escape. Sakura takes a deep breath, bracing more for any chance of acceptance than the rejection and disappointment that at this point have become old friends. 

“I was planning to buy some stuff to cook with. Do you want to come over for dinner?” 

“Sakura, I…” Sasuke drops his eyes, frustration creeping onto his face. Sakura’s child heart stills once more. 

“Just as friends!” Sakura rushes out, pivoting quickly because she does miss him- this former comrade, this almost stranger. She doesn't want to lose him over a crush, even if it's one that never goes away. “As teammates…” 

There's a moment of hesitation, of smothering silence as if they're both trapped in a bubble, of held breath. Then Sasuke says, “fine,” and Sakura’s smile feels brighter than a spotlight as she walks in front of him into the store. 

They don't talk- not as Sakura hurries through picking out ingredients, not as they walk to her apartment, not as she starts prepping vegetables in her tiny corner of a kitchen and throws glances over to where Sasuke sits on her couch. 

Some things haven't changed; she's always had to speak first, and so she does. “How are you doing?” 

“Alright… You?” Sasuke is whiter than the paint on the walls, paler than Sakura remembers and obviously exhausted, obviously lying. She remembers the smug arrogance on his face at age twelve, the furious and mad determination at sixteen, the relaxed smile he wore right after his last fight with Naruto despite having had his arm blown off. Now there is nothing but blank apathy, never changing. “Sakura.” 

She startles but doesn't jump, returning to the vegetables as her mouth starts rambling about the hospital and how she’s glad to finally have moved out of her parents’ house and into her own place and that she got lunch with Naruto the day before yesterday. 

For the second time, Sasuke looks directly at her and so she continues, “Have you seen him lately?” 

“Not really.” 

Sakura thinks about the despondency, visible and heavy, in every cell of Naruto's body when he'd explained that he was still trying to visit every day, and that the door hadn't even opened in the past eleven. She's worried about him too. 

“Maybe you should stop by his apartment,” Sakura says carefully. “You know Naruto would be so happy to see you.” 

She doesn't know what to do with the way that Sasuke's scoff sounds nothing like it used to, an empty, brittle sound now, holding less than a whisper of derision. 

“Maybe,” he says, and then falls into a silence that Sakura tries to fill with a few minutes of empty chatter before eventually lapsing, focusing in on her thoughts. She wants to help but doesn't know how; she’s never known how with Sasuke. Her dream had always been to be with him, and she'd hoped the rest would just follow if she got the chance. 

It's embarrassing to think of how foolish and desperate she's been- that she still is, even now. It's upsetting that the moment she decided to accept him as only a friend is the first time he's agreed to spend any time alone with her since he was let out on probation. That she's been pushing him away this whole time by trying to shape herself into what she hoped he wanted, by letting love- infatuation - blind her. 

If you love someone, let them go, Sakura recites to herself, but still she wonders. She turns a question over in her mind like a tumbling stone as she stirs a mixture of tofu and vegetables and prepares rice in the cooker and heats water for tea in the kettle. By the time the food is on the table and Sasuke is sitting down across from her, the question is starting to work its way across her tongue. For now, she pushes it back. 

“You really should see Naruto though. Especially after everything...” Everything you did. Everything he went through to get you to come back, Sakura wants to say but doesn't; she knows they both know. 

There's a hum of acknowledgement, a second of eye contact. Sasuke is only half eating his food, half pushing it around. 

“Anyway, how are you liking your new place?” Sakura has only seen the interior once, many months ago and with Naruto, when they stopped by to drop off a housewarming gift that had been her idea. The apartment had appeared pretty decent- recently constructed, like most everything in Konoha is after the destruction Pain brought upon the village. Sakura doubts she was inside any longer than five minutes. 

“It's fine,” Sasuke says, then, with notable hesitation, “How is he?” 

Sakura chews, swallows. “Huh?” 

“Naruto.” 

Sasuke is watching her, something nearly impossible to interpret hidden in the depths of his one black eye. Sakura can't help thinking that he really is still too handsome for his own good, even with the mismatching purple of the rinnegan, even though he looks a little too thin and like he hasn't slept properly in days. A part of her wants desperately to ask what is wrong with him, what he needs to be ok here in Leaf, what terrible thing happened while he was incarcerated to turn him into this shell of a person sitting at her table. She wants to beg him to talk to her, but he never has and she has no expectation that he'll start now. 

Instead she says, “Naruto is… Well, there aren't many missions coming in right now so he's pretty bored and he… He misses you. He doesn't get why you refuse to see him, now that you've been back all this time.” 

“I don't-” Sasuke starts but then he interrupts himself with a sigh, more sadness than anger in the scowl on his face. “It's complicated,” he says, barely louder than a whisper. 

“It's always been complicated between you two,” Sakura replies, unable to fully keep the exasperation out of her voice. “I don't get why things can't just… be. I mean, you're best friends.” 

“Friends…” Sasuke huffs and sets his mouth in a bitter line, eyes cast to the side and suddenly Sakura feels the weight of realization come crashing down on her head. 

Realization that her two teammates have never really been friends, that they never could just be friends- with the way Naruto spent years chasing after Sasuke, begging him to come back to the village; the way Sasuke never would have returned if not for Naruto. The way they look at each other… 

Sakura’s stomach hurts: she feels as if cold is radiating from her spine and there is an achy lump in her throat, and she hates this. She hates the fact that she's been so utterly blind, that she's spent so many years loving a boy who could never be hers- not in a world in which Naruto exists. It's always been Sasuke and Naruto, and no room for a single soul between them; not even her, as though she may be the person closest to their mutual orbit, she's still just as much on the outside as everyone else. 

For so long she's thought about the day, fresh out of the Academy, in which Sasuke had declared to the rest of the newly formed Team Seven his intentions to restore his clan. In Sakura's mind, those words had revealed a potential way in for her. Among her many reasons for asking to train under Tsunade- to feel as if she could hold her own alongside her teammates, to protect them the way they'd protected her- she'd wanted to prove herself as worthy to someone who she knew valued strength above all else. 

And now she's… Well, she's certainly strong enough to admit that it’s past time to fall out of love. She's strong enough to ask, “It's because of Naruto, isn't it? He's the reason you could never see me like that.” It isn't exactly the question she's been mulling over but it's close enough. Even before Sasuke opens his mouth to reply she knows the answer, just like she knows he won’t give it to her. 

“It doesn't matter, Sakura.” 

“And why not?” 

Sasuke’s eyes never lift from the table. “It just doesn't.” 

/

Sasuke lights a cigarette as soon as he steps outside of Sakura's apartment and tries to steady his hand, his nerves. That had… not at all been what he was expecting. He'd expected some pushing from Sakura, even with her assurances that they were just hanging out as friends; he can see the way she looks at him. It's not the same as when they were genin- hardened in a way and almost skeptical- but she still looks longingly. She still stares. 

And she's still been asking him out. 

The first time had been the day Konoha let him out of the prison cell that'd served as his home for three months and Sasuke thought he'd been extremely clear when he told her that he couldn't return her romantic feelings. But maybe he hadn't. Maybe he'd used some qualifier like, “probably,” or “right now” in a misguided attempt to soften the blow, because then Sakura had shown up again and again. 

He isn't keeping count when once was more than enough.

The last time, she'd actually shown up at his front door, asking if they could talk. Sasuke had quickly made up an excuse about being busy before slamming the door shut and going back to lying on his bed, staring at the ceiling. He thought that would be the end of it. For weeks, over a month, his only contact with Sakura has been polite acknowledgements if they saw each other in public. And now this. 

This situation where she knows because he couldn't keep his fucking mouth shut. This issue that he should have been more than prepared to avoid after all the work he did to keep himself from even getting to this point. These are feelings he's not supposed to have, that for so long he didn't allow himself to have, that he should have been able to smother out before they consumed him.

But he's weak- painfully, shamefully aware of it. Learning to live with it. 

Despite that Sasuke has spent every agonizing breath in his entire miserable life trying to be everything, anything but… He is weak, and he knew it when he was seven and when he first defected from the village and after the war- after his last fight- when he admitted defeat and felt content to die. And fourteen days ago, when, sitting close- too close- on the floor in Sasuke’s barren living room and holding the neck of a beer bottle between his fingers, Naruto had announced without a hint of hesitation that he was thinking of asking out Hinata. Perhaps if not in that exact moment (Sasuke had hummed out a monosyllabic non-response and pretended he didn't feel like throwing up) then every day since in which he hasn't opened his door. 

He's weak now, thinking not about where he's allowing his feet to take him but about Sakura saying, “he misses you,” and, “especially after everything…” Sasuke knows that she's right, that the very least he owes Naruto is to be there as a stable and dependable friend- not a burden, not a twisting thorn in the side, not a dying star doomed to a catastrophic explosion of rage and fire. 

Sasuke tells himself that he's fine with all of it. He supposes that he's a liar now too. It certainly isn't the worst thing he's ever been. 

/ 

He ends up in front of Naruto’s door before he has even the slightest clue of what to say or what could possibly be a good excuse for being here in the first place. It's only the second time Sasuke has stopped by since he's been free, given the way that Naruto has so eagerly been coming to him every damn day. 

The first visit had been… maybe a week after the council had finally decided to unseal his eyes and unbind his chakra and release him out onto the village streets. That first conversation had been painful, born out of all the burning thoughts and biting questions that Sasuke had been consumed with since nearly bleeding out in a demolished valley and the whole time he spent locked in solitary confinement. It had ended with Naruto’s arms wrapped around his torso and whispered pleas to stay and with Sasuke feeling like at that moment he couldn't have left if he wanted to. That he couldn't have wanted to. 

What he'd said was that he didn't have a choice, given the terms of his probation. Not that it was a lie, but they both knew that outside of imprisonment, Konoha had no way of actually keeping him here if he didn't want to be. 

Now Sasuke wants to run as far as his legs will take him- to the other side of the world- and bury himself under meter after meter of soil and loneliness. He wants to grab Naruto by the collar and shake him with all the strength in his one remaining arm and ask, What  is this? Us. What are we? He's been asking for years now, just never using those words, and always receiving the same answer. 

He wonders if the answer would change along with the question. 

Perhaps even more so, he wonders if maybe Naruto has changed his mind about dating the Hyuga girl. Wonders if whatever sort-of-actual-friendship they had been building prior to that conversation is still stable enough that Sasuke can slip back into his role within it just long enough to buy some time until he's actually ready to face this. If he wasn't the type of weak individual who tries to lie to himself, he might confess that he's hoping. 

Sasuke is hoping for a lot of things- and trying not to admit it- as he finally works up the nerve to knock, to count his breaths as he forces himself to wait. To knock again, even though at this point, despite the lights being on inside, he can already sense that no one is home. 

Fuck it.  

To pull himself away from the door, drag himself down the stairs and start off in the direction of his own apartment. Walking through the mostly empty lamp lit streets, Sasuke feels something chilly and suffocating roll over him from his scalp to his toes, seeping into his pores and needling at every nerve ending. By the time he makes it home he's convinced himself to call the feeling relief instead of dread. 

The ache in his chest he doesn't dare name as he lets himself in and removes his shoes but nothing else before going into his room and pitching his body onto his bed. At this point Sasuke considers himself familiar with the pain, a tenderness between his heart and lungs that seems to grow at some points and shrink at others but has been there for almost as long as he can remember. Since before he even realized its cause, or that the only solution seems too impossible to strive for. 

Sasuke doesn't want to be selfish, but he knows that's what it is when he wants any more than he's already been given, when he wants. And he does, so badly that sometimes there isn't room for anything else inside him but longing and shame, entwined and unfurling like storm clouds. 

He was always going to end up here. All those years of living and breathing only hatred and vengeance only served to postpone the inevitable. The fact that once he remembered what it was like to have Naruto’s eyes trained on him- bright and joyful- he would never want them to look away again. 

But Sasuke knows that he doesn't deserve that, that it's too much for him to even ask when he has nothing to give and is nothing more than… terrible, lost, empty. He's tired, too tired to push down the pain rising up past his sternum and into his throat as he turns his face into his pillow and feels tears begin to sting the corners of his tightly shut eyes and does not cry. 

/

In another part of the village, with moonlight on his face and strands of long black hair woven between his fingers, Naruto leans in to kiss Hinata and wonders why he feels nothing. 

/

The next day no one comes to Sasuke’s door, so he doesn't open it at all. He stays in his bed, curled into himself, watching the shifting angle of the sunlight that paints the wall in front of him. He ignores the pangs of hunger echoing around his stomach because there's nothing in his kitchen anyway. He'd meant to get groceries yesterday, but then… Sakura…

So he lays still and thinks about all the lies and bloodshed that got him here. About his brother and betrayal and the feeling of his hand passing through another’s ribcage- flesh and blood and bone disintegrating beneath the electricity in his fingers. For a few hours here and there, he sleeps and dreams about the same and wakes up choking on the very air he tries to inhale. In between, he waits and refuses to acknowledge that he's doing so. 

/

The day after that Sasuke actually gets up. For good this time, he tells himself, and he goes into the bathroom to turn on the shower so he can be sure he means it. The person reflected back in the mirror looks weary and haggard- the person with Itachi’s eyes and a face he was once told looks like his mother's though he barely even remembers her features anymore. Not for the first time he itches to put his fist through the glass, to shatter his reflection and himself into pieces too small to put back together. 

But he wouldn't break, not when he's just this shade of himself, when he doesn't feel quite solid enough to fight the darkness snaking through his mind with his normal repetition of excuses. He's too exhausted to channel his despair into anger, into anything else, and he calls himself, failure, and monster, as he turns away from the mirror and undresses to get in the shower. The water is too hot, but he doesn't adjust it, roughly scrubbing soap over his skin and wishing shame was something that could be washed away. 

Sasuke is still in the shower, standing with his head bowed underneath a spray that has since gone lukewarm, when he feels the approaching presence of a chakra as familiar to him as his own, hears loud banging on his front door. For a second he freezes, hand on the shower knob, not certain if he can handle this, absolutely certain that he has to. 

He turns off the water. Rushes through a haphazard attempt at drying off and throwing on some sweatpants and a t-shirt because even though every day prior the knocking has taken a couple minutes to cease, he doesn't want to risk it. He's not even thinking, really, just doing- just ignoring the way that his feet are moving too fast as they carry him from the bedroom to the entryway and how his hand shakes as it unlocks and opens the door. 

How now Naruto is right in front of him, with bags in his hands, and a smile that looks somewhat timid on his face and suddenly Sasuke’s heart is in his throat, compressing his airway so that he has to remind himself to breathe. 

“Uh… Hey,” Naruto says. 

“Hey.” 

“I- I didn't know if you were gonna open the door and…” He holds up the bags, looks away for a second. “I brought food.” 

It sounds like an apology and Sasuke can't stand that but he's too uncertain, too fucking drained to think of something to say, so he just opens the door wider and backs up to let Naruto inside. 

“Oh shit,” Naruto says, kicking off his sandals, “you finally got a table.” 

“Yeah, like a week ago.” It's still the only furniture in the apartment besides the bed but at least it's… something. Sasuke frowns down at the shoes carelessly discarded a foot away from each other on his floor and dismisses the urge to pick them up. Instead, he follows his friend into the living room, trailing behind a bit, and watches him kneel in front of the table to pull the boxes of take-out from the bags. Finally he realizes. “You didn't know if I would open the door, but you brought food.” 

“Yeah, I guess, I mean… I probably could've just broken in if you didn't answer.” Naruto shrugs and separates his chopsticks, looking up in time to see black eyes narrow at him. “Kidding, I'm kidding, bastard.” He laughs but it's just as tight as his smile had been. Tight as Sasuke's ribcage feels as he goes to sit at the low table. 

The food isn't ramen, surprisingly, but he's too starved to have minded if it was. They eat in silence. Naruto doesn't bring up all the times the door wasn't answered in the past two weeks and Sasuke doesn't mention how he didn't come by the day before, and as the sun sets, the leaves outside are tinted gold with the slanted rays of light. 

It has been quiet before, since being back in the village, Sasuke reminds himself- rare times of simply existing wordlessly in each other's company. But never quiet like this, quiet like the calm before a typhoon hits, like a dam fissured with spider-web cracks before it bursts. Quiet like the words hanging unsaid between them are about to come crashing down. 

Or maybe that's just me, he thinks, and that's fine, it's fine, because Sasuke has spent a year… at least a year, (longer, so much longer) not saying so many of the things he wants to. So it shouldn't- it fucking doesn't- matter that he wants to ask what happened with that girl Naruto had been intending to ask out and what kind of friend could possibly be worth almost throwing away one's entire future to die not for but with. 

And it's utterly ridiculous- that these, of all things, have become important enough to turn Sasuke’s stomach. Suddenly, he's not so hungry anymore and he sets down his chopsticks, looking up from what remains of his rice… to find that- despite still being bent forward to stuff his face with an urgency that would be alarming were it anyone else- Naruto is watching him intently, eyes pellucid and focused behind pale lashes. 

Sasuke falters, glancing away before he can stop himself. He wipes his mouth with the back of his hand, wonders if perhaps there is something on his face, and fixes what he hopes is a glare on the other boy. “What?” 

Naruto’s eyes widen, only for a second. “Nothing…” He sits up straight, fingering the neck of his shirt, flashing the sharp ridge of a collarbone and Sasuke forces himself to swallow, as if the dryness of his mouth could possibly quell the heat swirling to life low in his belly. “Just… Your hair- it looks cool, it's… longer.” 

It is, but no more noticeably so than the last time they saw each other, brushing against Sasuke’s shoulders and still wet and unpleasantly cold against his neck. He leans into that particular discomfort and inhales. Exhales. 

“So is yours.” 

“Yeah, I guess.” Naruto smiles a bit and rubs at the back of his head. “The old hag says it- that it makes me look like my dad, so I don't know if I want to cut it again. Hinata said that she could, but I don't know if she was joking and either way, that was before…” He says it all in a rush before trailing off and letting out a loud huff. 

Receiving no response he continues, “We, uh, went out for dinner the other night. We got ramen and then went to the park.” 

I don't want to hear about your date, Naruto, Sasuke wants to say, doesn't say. Anything he refuses to listen to now is just going to become something he has to learn about later and this is a matter he refuses to torture himself with any more than his twisting thoughts seem to consider necessary. Personal experience- with Orochimaru, and then again at the hands of T&I- has taught him that anticipation only makes the pain worse. 

He manages a grunt that he hopes conveys something like, ‘go on’ because this needs to be said and gotten over with and…

“And it was weird.” Naruto fidgets, his bandaged hand clenching into a fist before he flattens it out on the table, eyes focused somewhere up near the ceiling and Sasuke hopes it isn't noticeable that he's barely breathing. “I mean, I thought it was going ok and all but then… I was going to kiss her because she looked like she wanted me to, but I just, uh… couldn't.” 

The relief is- it feels like a sudden wave in a quiet sea, Sasuke realizes- absurd and unexpected. “You couldn't kiss the girl you wanted to go on a date with,” he says, deadpan so it doesn't sound like a question, but it is: it is sticky-sick apprehension; it is a fear of loss he'll never admit to; it is the tension returning to his fingers. 

Naruto narrows his eyes. “Fuck, Sasuke, you can't stop being an asshole for five seconds?” After a moment he sighs. “I don't know. I just thought… Anyway, after that, Hinata told me I shouldn't date her if I'm just doing it because I feel bad.” 

“Do you?” 

“Do I… I already talked to you about that the last time I came over.” 

Sasuke blinks; he doesn't remember this. He recalls his friend talking about how the Hyuga girl was cute, how she was nice, how she had confessed her feelings more than once. Then again, he knows it isn't unlikely that at some point he started tuning it all out.

“I need a drink,” Naruto groans, throwing his head back dramatically. “Do you have any sake?” 

Probably. “No,” Sasuke says, the word coming out nowhere near as sharp as he intended. A tiny voice in his head laments to his blackened conscience his prior determination to be a better friend. A louder one reminds him that he isn't that- he can't be; he doesn't know how. After all he's done, what's another failure, another broken promise? “And if you're gonna keep whining about the date then go find Sakura.” 

Naruto looks hurt. He doesn't wear it so openly on his face like he did when they were genin but it's there all the same- a shadow, a solar eclipse, a stiffness to his mouth and disappointment in his eyes. “I already talked to Sakura yesterday, and she said I should come see you.” 

Well. Fuck. Sasuke says nothing; his tongue feels as if it's sewn to the roof of his mouth. Instead, he gets up, going into the kitchen to make tea because he needs to do something, anything. Naruto follows because of course he does- quiet and frowning, observing. Sasuke just counts backwards from 100, over and over, until the tea is ready and poured into two cups. 

He pushes one across the countertop in Naruto's direction and takes the other, grabbing his cigarettes on the way to the door that opens to his small balcony. 

“You're really still smoking?” Naruto grumbles, already right beside him. “You and Shikamaru, fucking geniuses.” 

“Get the door, loser,” Sasuke says because his hand is full and he might as well. Outside he sits cross-legged on the floor and sets his tea down in front of him. Naruto follows suit, sitting so close that their knees touch and Sasuke can't help the way his whole body tenses up, statue still. He clears his throat, tips out two cigarettes and holds one out. “Don't be a hypocrite. You smoke when you come over here.” 

“Only sometimes,” Naruto mutters under his breath but he takes the cigarette anyway. 

Sasuke lights them both, then leans his head back against the wall and takes a long drag- nervous, nervous. “What did Sakura tell you?”

“Well, she said you went over to her place, but she wouldn't tell me why you weren't letting me in.” Naruto shoots him a look that he pretends not to notice. “I dunno, we talked about a lot of stuff.” There's a pause, seconds ticking towards a minute. “Do you… Are you interested in Sakura?” 

“No. And she knows that.”

Another pause. Sasuke starts to count down from 200. He makes it to 47.

“I mean, you still want to revive your clan, right? So-” 

“Naruto,” Sasuke says, interrupting. It isn't as if he hasn't thought about it; he has, a lot. The more he considers it the more he thinks about himself, about Itachi, about all the things they had to live through and do. He can't picture having a child without imagining the legacy of pain in their swirling red eyes, without seeing a road paved with blood and sorrow stretched out in front of them. “When was the last time I even mentioned that?”

Naruto shrugs, tapping the ash off the end of his cigarette. The wind carries two small grey flecks into his half-empty teacup. When he speaks it's with a hesitance as heavy as the air before a thunderstorm, “But do you think you might be interested in anyone?” 

“What do you think?” They've never talked about this before, at least not in such an open ended, probing way. Other than that conversation about Hinata, Naruto has brought up Sakura's feelings and Sasuke has acknowledged being aware of them. 

“You haven't actually answered my questions.” 

“Because they're stupid questions.” 

Silence- Sasuke aches with it. Anxiety churns inside of his head, his chest, his stomach, trickling down into his fingertips and he stubs his cigarette butt out with a little more force than necessary. 

“Sasuke,” Naruto practically breathes his name- slow, soft- features caught in expression that is almost familiar but altogether new. “I… You-” 

“I'm going back in,” Sasuke says, because this is far more than his tenuous grasp on sanity can withstand. He's just shifting to get up when Naruto grabs his arm just above the elbow, firm but a grip they both know he could easily get out of. He doesn't. 

Naruto’s eyes are searching but clear- like the ocean, something hiding under the surface like a riptide and Sasuke doesn't even notice as he starts to lean in. Doesn't have time to because then Naruto is surging forward and a warm mouth is against his own and something in his head that's been winding around itself for years unravels all at once. 

Sasuke has claimed before that his body moved by itself and he thinks that must be what's happening now as his lips part and his hand tangles in tousled blonde hair. If there is an edge, a cliffside where reason and restraint crumble away, then he is falling over it. 

He is afraid. He is unwilling to brace himself. And Naruto is kissing him. 

And then pulling away, too soon; Sasuke’s hand clenches around nothing. His tea, previously untouched, has been knocked over, soaking into his pant leg, nearly cool against his skin which may as well be on fire. 

“Wow, um… I kinda- I thought you might hit me,” Naruto stammers, sounding almost out of breath, but his face is bright and beautiful, as if all the daylight that has been leached from the sky was simply poured into him instead of disappearing behind the horizon. 

“Moron,” Sasuke says because it's easy, then, “Inside?”

Naruto nods and grins and pulls Sasuke up with him when he stands, pulls him into the apartment- their teacups forgotten, closing the balcony door barely remembered. Sasuke, in turn, shoves Naruto against the nearest wall, his hand trembling because this is not want, this is need. It is his self-control blown away in a desert gust; kissing Naruto again is like dying of thirst and stumbling face first into an oasis.  

It’s not nice, not chaste or sweet; it's caution released like ashes to the wind. It's tongues and biting teeth and it’s beautiful and painful, just as everything they’ve done together has always been. Naruto tastes like strong tea and bitter smoke, like sunlight refracting off mist, like a kind of bliss that is somewhat greedy and wholly desperate. 

A hand slides up under Sasuke’s shirt, warm and real where it comes to rest in the middle of his chest, and he shivers with his whole body because no one has touched him like this since he was still in Sound. Because in Sound he never liked it; it never felt like this.  

Naruto pulls back again, just to look at Sasuke’s face for a moment before leaning forward, resting his head on a bony shoulder. Then he lets out a soft chuckle and Sasuke stiffens, both at the laugh and the whisper of hot breath across his throat. This is real- the taste of blood on his lower lip, the heat of Naruto's body- but it can't be, it…

He drops his hand to his side, says in a voice that's barely there, “You'd better not be fucking with me.” 

“Never,” Naruto murmurs against his neck, “I just… I can't believe it took me so long to figure out it was you.” 

Sasuke sighs, clenching and unclenching his fingers, stepping away and turning to walk towards his room. 

“Sasuke?” 

He pauses at the doorway to glance back. “You coming or what?” 

In an instant, Naruto is in front of him, kissing him with a mouth that is wet and soft and eager, pushing him down onto the bed before Sasuke has a chance to wrap his head around the fact that they're actually doing this. That they both want this. That he was wrong, yet again. He wonders if he'll ever get used to the way that this one person has shown him to be a fool over and over. 

And he wishes, not for the first, second, or hundredth time that he could just turn his mind off for once, as lips press against his jaw, as hands push his shirt up and out of the way, edacious fingers wandering over the goosebumps covering his ribs. Fingers that hook into the waistband of his pants, pulling them down below one hip. 

Naruto stills when a hand grabs his wrist. 

“If you change your mind about this later, I'll actually kill you,” Sasuke says even though it's a lie; at this point he knows he'll never try to do such a thing again. No, he'll leave Konoha at the first chance he gets; he'll never look back and he'll crush everything he's feeling right now into tiny, unrecognizable shards and… 

Nuzzling his face against bare skin, Naruto shifts slightly, teeth nipping at the spot directly to the left of Sasuke’s right nipple. “You won't.” he says, “I won't.” 

Sasuke hisses through his teeth but doesn't protest when the fingers that had been gripping his hip move lower. 

He's so hard it almost hurts but his head is still too loud, telling him that he doesn't deserve this: not the way that Naruto is looking at him, not the implicit trust in this level of closeness, not the way the friction of the hand stroking him through the fabric of his pants has him wanting more and more and everything. This is selfishness and he knows that, but still, it consumes him like the unholy fire he unleashes with amaterasu as he pulls the other boy down until their bodies are flush against one another’s. 

Make me forget, Sasuke thinks, pushing up with his hips, every sound he isn't able to restrain smothered by the lips that cover his own. Make me feel something else, because I hate this village, and I hate myself. I hate everything so make me forget, please. Make me forget. 

“Sasuke,” Naruto whispers, reverent, as if he isn't speaking the name of a traitor, a murderer. “Sasuke .”

And that is enough to shrink the world down to just the two of them panting and grinding against each other. The entire universe could disappear, leaving nothing but this apartment, this room, and Sasuke would be fine with it. He's been lost for so long; he's ok with being lost here, with Naruto’s teeth and breath against his neck, pain and pleasure and the building need for release. 

He shoves his hand up under the other boy’s shirt, truly wishing for the first time that he still had both of them, hips thrusting up, and so very gone. 

“Shit, shit… Sasuke, fuck-” Naruto shudders and moans, loud and perfect, just before Sasuke tips into oblivion. He sees stars, brilliant dancing stars, behind his eyelids when he comes. Their glow is dim compared to the smile that greets him when he opens his eyes. “Damn, that… Damn.” 

“Dumbass.”

“Maybe, but you are too.” The smile splits into a wide grin for just a second before turning soft again. “You're so beautiful.” 

“Thank you,” Sasuke says, unable to form any other words, still somewhat breathless, mostly thoughtless, completely boneless. He thinks, so are you, but keeps his mouth shut. He'll say it at some point, eventually… 

Naruto just laughs on top of him, heavy, soothing weight and pressure. Then he pushes himself up and over to the side, sitting up a bit before glancing down at his lap and flopping back on the bed. “Ugh.” 

“You did this to yourself,” Sasuke says, failing to suppress the smirk that tugs at his lips, earning an elbow jab to the ribs. 

“Jackass. Don't even try to pretend you didn't like it.” 

“I'm not.” Despite his eyes fluttering shut he can feel the way Naruto is beaming at him. 

“Can I stay the night?” 

“If you want.” 

“Then, uh… I'm gonna need to borrow some pants.” 

“Sure, whatever,” Sasuke says, lifting his arm to drape it over his face only to have his hand grabbed, fingers interlacing with his own, lips pressing against his knuckles. He could fall asleep right now, like this, his exhaustion more overwhelming than the sticky mess between his legs. He could fall asleep with Naruto's safe warmth curled up beside him. Maybe he could sleep for days, for forever; maybe he could never wake up. But… “You still haven't told me what Sakura said.” 

“Nothing about you, well, not really. It was mostly about me,” Naruto lets out a soft breathy laugh. “She said I was an idiot and she… She said that I was obviously in love with you, and I needed to pull my head out of my ass.” 

Sasuke opens his eyes, blinking up at nothing, unsure of what to say and grateful when Naruto spares him by continuing, 

“She did tell me that you wouldn't punch me if I came over here and- I guess she knew how you felt before me, huh?” 

“She only learned two days ago.” 

“You told her?” 

“Not exactly, but she still figured it out.” Sasuke inwardly winces at the recollection of that exchange, then considers that it's likely that conversation is what led to this. He never thought that Sakura would help, just as he never thought he and Naruto would stop circling around each other, arms only half outstretched, afraid to truly reach out. Maybe he'll thank her, one day. “Since you're staying here you can use the shower.” 

“Yeah, ok,” Naruto says before briefly pressing his mouth against Sasuke's and this time it is sweet; it is gentle, it is happiness, it is home. “But you're gonna join me.” 

I'll go anywhere with you. Take me anywhere. 

Sasuke nods, staring into eyes that- in the moonlight filtering through the window- are deep and endlessly blue, and says, “of course.”

/

Sakura isn't used to getting off work early- not this early at least, when the sun is low but still present in the sky. Then again, she should have known that working as much as she has these past few days would make her colleagues concerned. She estimates that in the past seventy-two hours, perhaps twenty of them have been spent outside of the hospital. She's needed to keep occupied, to wear herself down to nothing but numbing exhaustion just to sleep at night. Any time that she's awake and not busy she's thinking, her thoughts spiraling, replaying instance after instance of interactions between her two genin teammates and reassessing them in a different light. How, she often wonders, did she completely miss the way that Sasuke's eyes have always, always, lingered on Naruto? How could she have ever thought that Naruto was fighting to bring Sasuke home for her? 

Realizing, Sakura decides, can feel a lot like mourning.  

And perhaps she is mourning- not a death, not a true loss, but a loss nonetheless of the thing (or at least the idea of it) she wanted most. That she thought she wanted most… Now though, Sakura just wants to be happy, even if it's on her own. She wants her friends to be happy too, and she thinks that maybe she’s finally ready to handle hearing about what happened after she insisted that Naruto go speak to Sasuke. 

It's with anxiety curdling in her gut that Sakura walks the familiar route to Naruto's apartment, taking the stairs slowly, both hoping and not hoping that he's home. He's the more likely of the two boys to provide her with the details she wants. He won't be made uncomfortable by her invading his space, and they're more used to each other's presence. But mostly, she knows that she's not ready to face Sasuke yet. 

Sakura reaches Naruto’s floor and is just rounding the final corner when she hears his voice, catches sight of two figures standing in his open doorway. 

“Wait a second, bastard.” 

“What?” 

She watches as Naruto grabs a fistful of Sasuke’s shirt, yanking him close. She watches as their lips meet, as some of the ever-present tension melts from Sasuke’s shoulders, as tan fingers weave through black hair. Then she steps back, turns around, and walks back the way she came, a tiny smile curving her mouth despite the tears that well in her eyes. It hurts, just like Sakura knew it would. But she's strong now, even by herself. She's healing. She's going to move on, to support her friends, to love herself.

And her child heart is going to grow up.