Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

How do you keep from losing the one you love, when you can already feel them slipping away?

Sasuke wishes he had the answer. Surrounded by the mess he created in the living room, digging through an almost-forgotten box — the one where they kept their most precious memories — he knows he doesn’t.

He pulls out a small black notebook, theirs alone. Inside, hurriedly scribbled “I love you”s, accounts of ordinary days, arguments diffused with a joke. Each of Naruto’s entries is punctuated by clumsy little doodles, half-erased. The notebook is worn, abandoned halfway. Naruto had never replied to his last note. Back then, Sasuke hadn’t paid it much attention.
But now he realizes it might have already been a sign — one of those tiny details that, once stacked together, eventually shatter a heart.

He keeps digging. A blurry photo where they’re kissing like they can’t breathe, secretly snapped by Sakura. A perfume sample, his favorite one, the scent Naruto had kept just to remember what Sasuke loved.

That box was their treasure. Piled-up proof that their love had once been real, blazing, magnificent. But for weeks now, nothing new had been added.
And that silence weighed heavier than everything else.

Sasuke doesn’t dare tell Naruto what he feels — his greatest flaw, unlike the blond who’s always so open. And yet, it seems like Naruto has stopped making any effort too, as if he’s already given up. Can Sasuke really blame him? Or should he blame himself for not getting better when he had the chance?

Slowly, the light in the room fades. Outside, the sun is nothing but a smudge on the horizon. Naruto should be home soon, but a message arrives: the blond is going out for a drink with Sakura.

The problem is, Sakura had texted Sasuke earlier that afternoon — she’d be spending the weekend at Ino’s. And slowly, doubt begins to swallow him whole.

He gets up. His body feels heavy, his mind restless. He feels pathetic like this: drained and joyless. Tonight, he doesn’t even want to tidy up — him, the one so obsessed with order. Naruto has left him lifeless. With dragging steps, he heads for their bed and collapses into the cold sheets.

The morning after that restless night, Sasuke feels the comforting weight of Naruto’s presence. He’s holding him close, spooning, his warm breath brushing against Sasuke’s neck. A fleeting moment of happiness. Sasuke relaxes, allowing himself the fragile luxury of still believing, if only for a little while.

The sheets stir softly with the rhythm of their waking bodies.

“Good morning, love,” Sasuke whispers gently.
“Did you have a good time with Sakura?”

A knot twists in his stomach. He already knows the answer will be a lie. But he plays along, unable to face a truth he isn’t ready to confront.

“Yeah, it was fine. She says hi.”

It’s like being punched in the face. Sakura, sending greetings? When she had texted him the night before saying she’d be with Ino? His unwavering love for Naruto sometimes frightens him. How can he keep accepting this?

So, as he gets up, he slips back on his mask of the happy, smiling man

“I’ll make breakfast,” he says, as if everything were normal. 

Soon, the kitchen fills with the smell of toast. Light music drifts through the air, but nothing can cover the emptiness settling between them. Conversations that once sparked with laughter have withered into small talk. Naruto stays glued to his phone, eyes locked on the screen like his life depends on it.

Sasuke tries to start a topic. The blond answers with clipped phrases, never expanding. Another doubt creeps in. Their mornings, once full of joy and secrets, have gone dull. And Sasuke can feel it: they’re nearing the point of no return.

“Naruto, we need to buy milk.”
“Okay, I’ll grab some tonight after class.”
“Thanks.”
“Well, I’m off.”
“Oh? You’re not waiting for me?”
“I’ve got to stop by the library to return a book, I’m already late.”
“Alright…”

Naruto stands, grabs his things, presses a fleeting kiss against Sasuke’s lips, and rushes to the door. “Have a good day. See you tonight!” Sasuke calls after him, into the void.

Silence floods the apartment again. Automatically, he clears the mugs, rinses the dishes, and gets himself ready. Every gesture feels mechanical, as if he’s only waiting for the mask to finally break.

Not far from there, just a few streets away, Naruto spots Hinata waiting for him on campus, a wide smile on her face. He hurries toward her, heart light. Sitting beside her, he catches the scent of jasmine and vanilla, and an unexpected shiver runs through him. Deep down, he knows how much people’s scents matter to him, and right now, Hinata’s fragrance feels like it’s filling a void he hadn’t even realized was there.

“Hinata, I dreamed about you last night,” he murmurs, voice soft.

She startles slightly, cheeks tinged pink.
“Oh…? And… what did you dream?”

“Nothing spectacular. We were just talking… you were laughing… I had your hair between my fingers.” He lets a strand slide slowly across his knuckles. “I woke up wishing it hadn’t been just a dream.”

Hinata lowers her eyes, unsettled. Her heart is pounding so hard she’s afraid he might hear it.
“I-it was only a dream,” she whispers, as if trying to convince herself.

“Maybe… but I wish you had really been there.”

The silence that follows feels heavy, yet Naruto finds himself savoring it—the fragile tension between the unknown and the familiar. He notices the way she looks away, and a faint smile tugs at the corner of his lips.

Meanwhile, Sasuke walks across campus, gaze unfocused. The morning chill doesn’t wake him; his mind is elsewhere. The box of memories he dug through last night keeps replaying in his head: sweet words, clumsy doodles, laughter frozen in time… And yet, Naruto already feels like he’s slipping away, even in the simplest of gestures.

Sakura appears at his side, pulling him out of his thoughts.
“You usually look moody, but today it’s on another level,” she teases.
“Hn…” he mutters, half-awake.
“Someone’s cranky, huh?”
“Sakura? I care about you, but… today’s not the day.”

She studies him closely, not letting it go.
“Hey, you know you can tell me anything, right? We’re best friends.”

Sasuke takes a long breath.
“Pff… sorry. I know it’s not your fault.” Then, almost under his breath: “It’s Naruto… he’s drifting away, and I don’t know what to do.”

Sakura lays a hand on his arm, grounding him, as if to remind him he isn’t alone. In that small gesture, Sasuke feels a flicker of comfort, an anchor against the storm of doubts and nostalgia.

At the same moment, Naruto is smiling at Hinata, oblivious to Sasuke’s distress. He leans closer, sharing a laugh, slipping in playful words that make Hinata blush. Every gesture, every word feels like a small victory to him—yet each one is also another brick in the invisible wall rising between him and Sasuke.

The day stretches on, shifting between gray clouds and fleeting bursts of sunlight—like the shifting tide of Sasuke and Naruto’s emotions. The wind carries with it the scent of rain and damp grass, mingling with the laughter and chatter of students slowly trickling off campus. The last bells still ring in Sasuke’s ears, sharp and insistent, while others linger, talking, basking in the fading afternoon light.

Amidst all this bustle, Naruto lingers a few steps from Hinata, a faint smile on his lips, her subtle jasmine fragrance wrapping around them. Sasuke, meanwhile, quickens his pace, heart tight, fingers gripping the weight of the bag bouncing against his hip, his thoughts pulled toward the apartment where he hopes to find Naruto. The hope of a shared moment—a glance, a spark—blends with a dull undercurrent of dread. Each step pounds in his chest, an echo of something fragile he already knows could break.

A rebellious strand of hair slips from beneath a student’s beanie as she crosses the courtyard, and Sasuke’s gaze follows it, almost unconsciously, before he shakes his head and dives back into his thoughts. The world keeps moving around him, yet inside, everything feels suspended, as if every breath and every movement is holding its breath—waiting for something to break, or to heal.

When he gets home, Sasuke glances at the living room: the box is open, memories scattered across the table and the floor. He drops his bag, grabs a beer from the fridge, and sits down in the middle of the mess. His thoughts whirl restlessly.

Outside, the chaos of the street blends with the shouts of their grumpy neighbor and the blare of a truck’s horn. But soon his gaze fixes on a family of blackbirds, busy building their nest. Their quick, nimble movements, the rustle of twigs, the patient way they weave it all together… it feels strangely soothing. As if, despite failures and pain, life insists on continuing—fragile, yet beautiful.

A faint sound draws his attention: keys turning in the lock. Sasuke doesn’t move; his eyes stay fixed on the blackbirds, clinging to the small comfort they bring.

“Sas? What’s with the mess in here?” Naruto asks, surprised.
Sasuke takes a swig of his beer before answering.
“Guess I was feeling nostalgic yesterday…”

Naruto steps closer, grabs the bottle, and finishes it without a word. The small, thoughtless gesture hits Sasuke with a sting.

“Oh yeah… I’d forgotten all this…” Naruto mutters, scratching the back of his neck.
He casts a quick glance at the notebook, says nothing.

“You remember… we used to write in it almost every day…” Sasuke murmurs.
“Yeah… it was kinda childish…” Naruto replies.
“Maybe… but it was us.”

Naruto didn’t respond. Silence settled in, heavy, yet Sasuke continued to watch the blackbirds. In their patient, meticulous work, he sensed a simple message: even amidst chaos, there are reasons to keep going, to rebuild. And for the first time in a long while, he felt a small glimmer of calm within his pain.

Meanwhile, as Sasuke lost himself in thought, Naruto busied himself with putting the boxes away, sliding them into the back of the hallway closet as if burying memories.

“I’ll make dinner.”

Sasuke followed, almost automatically. Naruto handled the meat and sauce, Sasuke chopped the vegetables. As before, their movements intertwined, smoothed by habit. And then Naruto laughed, recounting the day’s events.

“You should have seen Shikamaru’s face!”
“Unimpressed?”
“Oh, totally, haha!”

Sasuke lowered his gaze, a subtle smile forming behind his hair. He let himself be carried by this regained lightness. Tonight, Naruto seemed his again, and he welcomed this fragile semblance of happiness as a blessing.

The evening unfolded as if they were still a happy couple. But that was the cruelty: Naruto’s warmth stood in stark contrast to the silences of recent days.

In the soft heat of their bedroom, their bodies found each other. Sasuke closed his eyes, craving these caresses, the familiar roughness of Naruto’s hands brushing his thighs, his hair tickling his skin. Yet behind the embrace, he sensed emptiness: the connection had frayed. Naruto was there, but not fully.

Sasuke let out a strange breath, a mixture of joy and despair. This moment carried the sweetness of a memory and the bitter taste of farewell, while Naruto, absorbed in his rhythm, saw nothing of the gaping crack in Sasuke’s heart.

And in that feigned silence, Sasuke knew it was their last time.

Chapter Text

As the days went by, things only grew worse. Naruto didn’t even bother pretending anymore.
The little gestures that had once filled their days—an I love you, a morning kiss, an embrace before leaving—had vanished, one after another. It was driving Sasuke insane. They felt like strangers now, prisoners of the same apartment.
Desperation pushed him into searching through Naruto’s things—his shirts, his hoodies. He needed something tangible to hold onto, some proof that his fears were unfounded. But all he found was a different scent, long strands of hair clinging to fabric.
And still, his mind resisted. He must have changed cologne. Maybe it’s from a friend’s hug. He’s just distant, it has to be a phase, maybe stress. Each excuse was a fragile wall against the truth hammering at his chest.
And through all that turmoil, he never once considered the obvious: talking to Naruto.
So, almost desperate, he reached out to the one person he had always trusted.
“Itachi?”
“Hello, little brother.”
That calm voice made his chest tighten. Since childhood, Itachi had been the one he confided in. But this time, Sasuke knew the truth would cut deeper.
“I… need to see you.”
A silence, then his brother’s steady tone.
“Shall I come to you? I’m free later today.”
“No…” a sniffle, almost a sob. “I’ll come. I can’t breathe here. I need to leave.”
“Alright, Sasuke. I’ll be waiting.”
“Thank you, Aniki… I love you.”
“I love you too, Otōto.”
He hung up. His breath still trembled, but something heavy had lifted. He wasn’t alone anymore.
Later that day, with his helmet hooked on his arm and the keys to his motorcycle jingling in his hand, Sasuke still hadn’t heard a word from Naruto. He had chosen not to send any message, just to see if it would worry him—and honestly, he wasn’t surprised by the silence.
Gripping the handlebars, he let the asphalt roll beneath him. The rush of wind against his skin gave him a fleeting sense of strength, a necessary spark in the middle of his turmoil.
When he reached his brother’s place, the bike safely tucked away in the courtyard, the front door was already open, as if waiting for him. Inside, the scent of strong coffee and cinnamon cake lingered in the air. Sasuke dropped his things in the entryway and went straight to Itachi, who pulled him into a hug.
“You had me worried all day. You sounded so down on the phone, your voice was shaking.”
“Itachi… something’s happening with Naruto… I…” He drew a breath, trying to gather his words.

“I think it’s over between us—at least for him. And I don’t want it to be… but a part of me knows I can’t hold on to him.”
Silence settled between them. Not heavy, not suffocating—just Itachi’s way of weighing every word before speaking.
“I see. It’s vague for me… Do you have any signs that make you believe that?”
“Nothing solid… a scent on his clothes I’d never noticed before, his affection disappearing… he’s distant, yet glued to his phone, smiling at it like some lovesick teenager. You don’t see evidence, just these subtle changes.”
“Oh, Sasuke…” Itachi’s voice softened, though it carried its usual firmness. “I hate to say it, but yes—Naruto does seem to be pulling away. And he probably is. You need to talk to him. You can’t keep drowning like this… You’re a beautiful person. You don’t deserve to suffer, not because of Naruto, not because of anyone.”
Sasuke sipped his coffee, the cinnamon cake left untouched. His stomach couldn’t take it.
“You can stay here tonight if you want.”
“Thanks.”
Then came the silence at the edge of their conversation, broken only by the vibration of Sasuke’s phone. The screen lit up. A message from Sakura, short but suffocating.
I saw Naruto… we need to talk.
Sasuke froze, breath caught in his chest. Each word weighed heavy on him, foretelling a turn he already felt deep inside.
And while Sasuke was confiding in his brother, Sakura was crossing the campus, narrowing her eyes, unable to believe what she was seeing. Naruto stood there, close to a girl with long black hair… Hinata, the one he had mentioned to her a few times. She recognized her almost immediately.
Naruto, with his unruly hair, slightly longer than usual, looked radiant. Dressed in his loud colors—orange, yellow, red—he caught everyone’s eye, and yet, for Sakura, there was only him and that girl.
When Naruto and Hinata pulled apart, Sakura saw her face.
Hinata’s quiet beauty, her pale eyes, her sincere smile… each detail squeezed her heart. Sasuke… she whispered inwardly.
Standing beneath the old cherry tree on campus, Naruto leaned closer to Hinata. He cupped her face gently in his hands, gazing into her eyes, and a tender kiss bloomed between them. The kind of kiss that left no doubt: I really like you.
Hinata shivered, feeling all the affection Naruto poured into it. Then she murmured:
“Naruto…”
“Yes?” he replied, smiling wide.
“I… I’ve waited for this moment for so long… but I can’t help thinking about… Sasuke.”
Naruto shook his head lightly, his smile warm, reassuring.
“Don’t think about anything but now. Nothing else exists.”
Hinata lowered her eyes for a moment, torn between her feelings and the injustice it might be for Sasuke. Then she lifted her head, more certain:
“And this kiss… what does it mean to you?”
“A lot.”
“For me too… I don’t know Sasuke, but please, make up your mind soon.”
“It’s already made, my beautiful.”
Sakura stood frozen, breathless. She had seen everything, and she knew there was no going back for Sasuke. A chill of worry and sorrow ran through her body. She pulled out her phone and typed a message: Sasuke… you need to know.
He had stopped by his place before meeting Sakura. The night before had been rough—restless, filled with doubts and anger. His brother had reminded him that he could always crash at his place if things ever got too heavy. Sasuke was grateful. And deep down, he knew he would probably need it.
Walking through the steep streets of the city, he couldn’t stop his mind from conjuring the worst scenarios. What was the point of hoping? Sakura wouldn’t have sent that message if it were something trivial. That wasn’t her style. And she knew him too well—she knew he was the kind to sense disasters before they fully struck.
The café was only a few steps away now, and yet, in the middle of the Saturday crowd, he felt strangely isolated. Around him, people laughed, exchanged stories, lived carelessly. No one could have guessed that, among them, a young man was silently carrying the weight of his first real heartbreak.
Across the lively square, between the noisy terraces, he saw her. Sakura raised her hand in a small wave.
“Hi.”
“Hey, Sas… how are you?” she asked cautiously.
Sasuke only shrugged. Sakura immediately noticed his drawn features, the dark circles under his eyes, his messy, almost greasy hair. He was letting himself go. A bad sign. Her throat tightened—what she had to say would only make things worse.
“I don’t know, Sakura… I’m lost. And I’ve been dreading the worst ever since your message.”
“I know.”
She hesitated, tugging at the sleeve of her sweater, unable to meet his eyes. Then, finally, she let the truth fall:

“I saw Naruto… he was kissing a girl.”
She lifted her gaze to him, bracing herself for anger. But what she found chilled her even more: no rage, just a hollow kind of resignation.
“I knew,” he breathed, running a hand through his hair. “I knew, but I didn’t want to see it.”
He drew in a shaky breath, his fingers trembling around his cup.
“Last Friday, you went out with Ino. He told me he was with you… but I guess he was with…”
“Hinata,” Sakura answered softly. “Her name is Hinata.”
That name—cold, sharp—cut through him like a blade. Hinata. It wasn’t a suspicion anymore. Not an intuition. It was real.
“Alright,” Sasuke murmured.
He had no words left. His little familiar cocoon had finally collapsed for good. Sakura could feel it. There wasn’t much more to say. So she placed her hand over his and laced their fingers together.
“I’m here for you,” she said simply.
And that small gesture, so seemingly insignificant, warmed Sasuke’s soul more than he ever thought it could.
Later that evening, after walking with Sakura for hours, Sasuke finally headed home. Each step had felt like a buildup, a climb toward the moment he dreaded.
Naruto was there, sprawled across the couch, the glow of his phone lighting up his face. His eyes sparkled with a quiet joy. Sasuke didn’t need to wonder who it was for. He already knew.
A bitter taste rose in his throat. Weeks of doubt, of loneliness, of sleepless nights spent waiting for a word, a touch. And in front of him, the man he loved was silently laughing at his screen. As if nothing had ever existed between them.
Anger stirred. A quiet, smoldering anger wrestling with his pride. Sasuke wasn’t the kind to scream. He swallowed. Always. But tonight, he knew that if he didn’t speak, he would break.
“Naruto?”
“Mmh?” the other hummed without looking up.
A burn seared through Sasuke’s chest.
“Seriously? Can you give me two minutes? Just two minutes of your time?”
This time, Naruto lifted his head. Sasuke never spoke like that.
That clipped, almost cracked tone gave too much away.
“What’s wrong?”
Sasuke drew in a shaky breath, his voice faltering.
“What do I even mean to you, Naruto? … You don’t look at me anymore. You don’t touch me anymore. Do you even love me still?”
A silence. Heavy. Suspended.
Naruto’s gaze dropped. A sigh slipped from his lips, as if he had been waiting for this moment.
“… No. I don’t love you anymore, Sasuke.”
Sasuke froze. He wanted to laugh, shrug, play it off with indifference. But his body wouldn’t move. Neither would his heart.
His eyes lingered on Naruto for a moment. That face he had loved—still loved—but that was no longer turned toward him. An invisible wall had fallen between them.
He breathed in deeply, as if to hold back the storm inside. Then, in a low voice:
“… I suspected as much.”
Naruto opened his mouth to add something, but Sasuke raised his hand, sharp, cutting him off.
“No. Not now. I don’t have the strength to hear your explanations.”
He stood, picked up his jacket draped over the chair. Every movement was slow, deliberate, as though clinging to routine to keep from falling apart.
At the door, he gave one last look. His eyes shimmered, but no tear fell.
“Thanks, at least, for being honest.”
Then he left.
The slam of the door echoed in the apartment, leaving Naruto alone with his screen, and Sasuke alone with the void.
Outside, night was slowly settling over the city. The air was heavy, damp, but for Sasuke, it almost felt like a relief—it blurred his thoughts, softened the world around him.
He walked aimlessly, hands shoved into his pockets, breath short. Naruto’s words spun endlessly in his head, simple and brutal: I don’t love you anymore.
No shouting. No scene. Just the hollow ache of a loss he didn’t know if he could recover from.
He passed by couples laughing, shop windows glowing, without seeing any of it. Every step felt like running away, but he had nowhere to go.
Then, almost mechanically, his phone buzzed.
A message.Itachi.
If you want, come stay at my place tonight.
Sasuke stopped. Closed his eyes. Drew in a breath.
It was enough to keep him standing.
This time, when he resumed walking, he had a direction. Not toward the past. Toward a refuge.

Chapter Text

When he steps into his brother’s apartment to collect his things, Itachi is ready. Ready to face Naruto.

The blond is in the kitchen, whistling a familiar tune, carefree. That casual air bubbling off him makes Itachi’s blood boil.

“Naruto?”

The boy jumps, his spoon clattering loudly into the sink.

“Damn, you scared me, Itachi!”

No answer. Just that cold stare, sharp as a blade.

“You’re here for Sasuke’s stuff? How is he—”

“Don’t you dare ask.”

Itachi’s voice snaps like a whip. He turns away immediately, disappearing into the bedroom, the door closing behind him with a harsh thud.

Naruto sighs, trying to shake off the tension, but his heart is racing. Itachi’s presence fills the walls, suffocating, as if the air itself is running out.

Minutes later, the door opens again. Itachi steps out, a box of his brother’s belongings in his arms.

“My brother wants nothing to do with you anymore. He’s leaving you the furniture. You’re lucky… If it were me, believe me, you wouldn’t have kept a thing.”

Naruto stays silent. He knows this is just a bad moment to endure. Once Itachi leaves, he’ll find his comfort again. His bubble. Everything will fall back into place.

“I don’t love him anymore. It’s better this way,” Naruto tries.

“Better? Leaving him in doubt for weeks? If Sakura hadn’t told my brother… what would you have done? Let him waste away? Almost two years, and this is how you end it?” Itachi’s voice shakes with restrained rage. “With all my heart, I hope one day someone makes you suffer the way you made Sasuke suffer.”

Without waiting for a reply, Itachi turns and walks out. He won’t give Naruto the chance to justify himself.

A few miles away, in Itachi’s apartment, Sasuke lies on his bed. Motionless. Empty. His thoughts keep spinning around Naruto.

He replays their moments together, over and over, as if he could find a crack, a precise moment when everything went wrong. When he made a mistake. But nothing fits.

Deep down, he knows the signs were there. A distance slowly creeping in. Yet he refused to believe it. For him, Naruto was serious. Living together was proof. A commitment. At least, that’s what he thought. Apparently, not for everyone. Maybe he’s too naïve. Too conventional.

It’s been several days now that he’s been here, holed up in this room, barely leaving. Sakura sends messages, but he barely responds. Itachi, for now, remains patient. But Sasuke senses it won’t last forever.

Today, like yesterday, and probably like tomorrow, he tells himself he will act. Get up. Take a step. But his body refuses to follow.

Time loses all meaning. He no longer knows if he sleeps during the day or night; the blinds stay stubbornly shut. And he hates himself for being like this. He knows his reaction is disproportionate, that others endure far worse. Yet he cries for everything: for his heartbreak, for his weakness, for this inability to move forward. Everything blends together.

The pillow is soaked with tears, tissues pile up on the floor, and the room suffocates with the smell of stale air and sweat. By reflex, almost by survival, he still keeps a minimal care for his body.

His brother had said he would come by to pick up a few things. Sasuke almost asked him to take the box too—the one with all their memories—but at the last moment he changed his mind. Keeping it would chain him. Letting it go offered a chance to breathe, maybe to move forward. He knows he has to forget Naruto.

So, in an effort that feels almost painful, he sits up. His body feels heavy, stuck to the mattress as if it refuses to let go.

For Itachi, who will be back soon, he wants to at least look presentable. He grabs a pair of jeans, one of his brother’s T-shirts from the rack, clean underwear, then heads to the bathroom. A shower. A simple act, but for him, it’s almost a victory.

When Itachi enters, he hears the shower. A small flicker of hope ignites inside him, and he smiles. He walks to his brother’s room to set the box down.

“My god, what a mess…” he murmurs.

He opens the blinds and the window, strips the bed, fetches clean sheets, and gathers the scattered tissues. The box sits in the center of the room.

“I want to help you, but you need to start pushing yourself too,” he breathes.

Sasuke steps out of the bathroom.

“Hey…”

“Hey… I brought your stuff,” Itachi says, pointing at the box.

“Oh, okay… Did you talk to him?”

“Not really. I didn’t give him the chance. I wished him the worst, took your things, and left.”

“Thanks…”

“Anything for you, Otōto.”

“Sorry for crashing here… I promise—”

“Stop. Don’t say it. We’re family. And like I told you, I’m here for you. Promise me one thing: forget him fast, pull yourself together. Spend time with Sakura, go back to class. Move forward. Don’t let him win.”

Sasuke nods.

“Mmh… I’ll try.”

“No. You will. And you’ll make it.”

“Dinner will be ready in an hour. This time, you’re eating with me.”

Itachi nods, as if sealing their conversation, then leaves him to put away the box before joining him.

The evening goes as normally as possible, even if Sasuke barely touches his plate. Later, they settle in to watch a movie: the story of a missing woman, with all the evidence pointing at her husband. The thriller keeps them on edge, and the ending, unexpected, leaves them speechless.

Itachi makes a cup of tea. The warmth of the drink soothes Sasuke, just a little, and rekindles something faint, almost warm, in his frozen heart.

When the credits roll and Itachi stands, Sasuke murmurs, almost to himself, uncertain:

“Tomorrow… I’ll go back to class.”

Itachi smiles.

“Good. See you in the morning. Good night, little brother.”

“Good night.”

After days of letting himself sink, Sasuke clings to that promise. Step by step, he will learn to mend his sorrow.

The next morning is hard—he took forever to fall asleep. His brother has already left, leaving a small note on the table:

“Have a good day. See you tonight. I love you.”

Sasuke draws on his brother’s energy to motivate himself; he wants Itachi to be proud of him.

He leaves earlier than usual, since the journey is longer now. This morning, rain falls, so he chooses the train.

At the station, the train is already there. He climbs in quickly, slips on his headphones, and lets himself be swallowed by the music.

The words of the song echo inside him, as if they were written for him. Each note vibrates in his chest, awakening a pain he’s trying to hold back.

He sends a message to Sakura. She replies immediately—they’ll meet at their usual spot.

The rest of the ride drifts by to the rhythm of the stops, carried along by the flow of people getting on and off at each station.

Sakura nibbles at the skin on the corner of her thumb, a nasty habit she’s carried since childhood. It gets the better of her when she’s stressed. She waits in front of the campus, her eyes following every passing silhouette, her heart racing. She knows this is going to be difficult. She hopes she can rise to the occasion, be a true friend this time.

When Sasuke finally arrives, she forces a smile. He does the same. And that simple exchange twists her stomach.

“Sas, I’m glad to see you… I… How are you? I mean…”

He smiles slightly. He’s noticed her unease. It makes sense—since his breakup with Naruto, he’s been pushing her away.

“I’m trying to move forward. Seeing you helps. Sorry for the silence.”

“That’s okay. Just don’t ignore me. I’m here—you know that. I keep telling you.”

“Yeah… I tell myself it’s just a rough patch. I try to picture the end of the tunnel. Sometimes I even feel a little hope. And… Itachi’s here too. I don’t know what I’d do without him. Or without you.”

A small sigh of relief escapes Sakura. She straightens, reminding herself of her mission: lift his spirits, give him a little air.

“Okay. No talking about Naruto. I’m here to distract you!”

“With classes?” Sasuke says, teasing, a faint smile tugging at the corner of his lips.

“Why not, dear sir? This morning we have French with Miss Martin. And I know how much you love that language,” Sakura says, proud of her idea.

“You’re right… I do.”

She takes his arm with her manicured hand and leads him inside. The warmth of that touch, so ordinary, almost hurts her. For him, it brings out a more genuine smile.

The morning passes almost normally. The French class had been dense but engaging—they discussed figures of speech, a complicated chapter to absorb, but he enjoyed it. Now he walks through the campus pathways. Sakura has gone off to another class, and he’s getting ready to join his own.

His steps slow without him even realizing it. There they are. His body freezes, as if paralyzed. He watches them, and every smile, every shared gesture steals his breath. The calm on their faces contrasts with the storm raging inside him. A dull nausea tightens his stomach, a vertigo he cannot control.

He wants to disappear, to melt into the crowd flowing past, but his legs refuse to obey. His eyes remain fixed on them, trapped by a scene he was never prepared for. Naruto laughs softly at something Hinata says, his gestures familiar, attentive, yet detached from him. Each spark of their closeness sends a pang of pain he cannot contain.

Heart hammering, he clenches his fists and leans slightly back, seeking refuge in the passing crowd. The scene leaves a bitter, almost burning taste. He knows he can’t stay there forever without something inside him breaking. A part of him begins to prepare to cross limits, to take risks… just to escape this pain.

Sasuke walks away almost silently, his hands buried deep in his pockets. Each step feels heavy, as if Naruto and Hinata’s smiles had been carved into his chest. The world around him fades, replaced by the emptiness they left behind. And then, without even realizing it, he’s standing in front of Itachi’s apartment door.

“Hey.”

That single word is enough to break him. His damp eyes finally give in, and the tears he held back the whole way spill free. Words feel useless—they’ve been spoken too many times lately. What he needs right now is the quiet warmth and comfort only Itachi can provide.

But soon, even that feels overwhelming. He slips into his room, retreating behind four walls. Safe, yes—but lonelier than ever. The solitude clings to him, suffocating. Almost by reflex, almost by survival, he grabs his phone.

He isn’t ready to forget Naruto—not yet. But he needs a breath, a touch, something to remind him he still exists. His fingers glide across the screen: he downloads a dating app.

Of course, it’s purely physical. So he chooses a photo that shows him at his best. He knows he’s attractive. Cruel irony: it was Naruto who took it, one night, laughing as he sent it to him, saying he looked “too damn hot.”

The profile is done in minutes, almost without thinking. An hour online, and requests are already piling up. He scrolls, barely looking, hesitates now and then… then swipes past most of them. Nothing speaks to him.

He sighs, fingers hovering above the screen. Is this really a good idea, meeting strangers like this? But then the memory of that afternoon hits him like a knife.

Ding. A private message.

“Hey, saw you liked my profile. What brings you here?”

Sasuke’s throat tightens. He wants to reply, but he doesn’t really know what he’s looking for.

“Hey, I’m here to… forget.”

Delete.

“Hey, I’m here to…”

Delete again. Three times he rewrites the message.

Finally, he sends:

“Hey, I’m here to meet people.”

It’s bland. Empty. It doesn’t really say anything. At least, that’s what he tells himself.

The reply comes almost immediately:

“Okay, I like that. You’re straightforward.”

Without thinking much, Sasuke agrees to a meeting that same evening. A few quick exchanges on the app are enough to convince him that everything will be fine. He gets ready, tells Itachi he’s going out to see Sakura—he doesn’t want to worry his brother.

The man waits two blocks from the apartment, sitting in a dark car. Sasuke gets in. Immediately, a chill runs down his spine. The guy is more muscular than he expected, his cold eyes revealing nothing.

“You know it’s dangerous to trust strangers.”

A twisted smile crosses his face. Sasuke tries to laugh, but it comes out hollow.

“Ha ha… you should see your face.”

“Uh… not really my kind of humor.”

He tries to relax, in vain. Already, he regrets not telling Sakura.

At the man’s place, unease turns into outright discomfort. He’s left alone in the living room. The silence thickens. Every creak of the floor makes him want to run. What if the guy is preparing something in the next room?

One thought obsesses him: he has to get out. Now.

The floor creaks under his feet as he rises. Too late. A noise comes from the kitchen. Sasuke jumps. The doorknob feels cold under his fingers. His breathing is too loud—he might give himself away.

And then, suddenly, he makes his move: he yanks the door open and bolts into the stairwell.

Chapter Text

He ran, breathless, until he stumbled into a side alley. Pressing his back against the wall, he listened. Nothing. No footsteps, no voice.

“…He didn’t follow me?”

A shaky breath escaped him, almost a nervous laugh. But his heart was still pounding too fast to feel any relief. The streets around him were unfamiliar.

“Damn… what the hell was I thinking? What a stupid idea…”

His vision blurred; a harsh sniff broke the silence.

“Come on, Sasuke. Enough tears for him already.”

He tried to believe his own words, but his legs trembled. Unlocking his phone, he searched for a train station, a bus. Nothing nearby. Walking home would take hours. Panic tightened around his throat. No choice: call Itachi.

His brother’s voice came through on the second ring:

“Sasuke? Are you okay? Are you with Sakura? What’s going on?”

“Uh… yeah, I’m fine… well… no. I’m not with Sakura.”

“Then where are you?”

“…Minoh.”

“Minoh? What the hell are you doing out there?”

“I… I met someone.”

“…Who?”

“Please… just come pick me up.”

A heavy silence pressed on the line. Then Itachi’s voice, sharp but controlled:

“I’m on my way. Wait for me at the station. But you owe me an explanation.”

He knew he was going to get chewed out, but it didn’t matter. The fear had been too real to care.

The screen showed fifteen minutes on foot. Fifteen minutes of tight chest and raw nerves. He walked fast, passing a few silhouettes he avoided like ghosts, silently praying he wouldn’t cross paths with his date.

Then the app guided him toward a park. Sasuke slowed down. The entrance gaped dark and hollow, swallowing the streetlight. Not a single lamp. Bare trees stretched their branches like claws.

He scanned for another way, but the detour would add twenty more minutes. Itachi was waiting. So he breathed in, straightened his back, and stepped inside.

The silence shifted instantly. No longer calm… heavy, suffocating. Every crunch of gravel under his shoes detonated in the air. Dampness clung to his skin, the stench of wet soil and rotting leaves filling his lungs. Shadows moved. Or perhaps… they were watching.

He quickened his pace, eyes locked on the faint glow of the exit ahead. But his steps felt stuck, as if the park were stretching, folding in on him.

A noise behind him. He flinched, turned. Nothing. Only a swing, creaking gently, pushed by the wind… or something else.

His fists clenched tight. Every nerve screamed he wasn’t alone.

At last, the gates appeared in the dark. Crossing them, relief crashed over him… sudden, brutal. Yet dread clung to his neck, stubborn as a shadow refusing to let go.

The station was small, a little worn with age. Sitting on a bench beneath the pale glow of a streetlamp, Sasuke tapped his foot against the ground—less to keep warm than to chase away the nerves. The night air bit at his cheeks. Every minute dragged like an eternity.

At last, a car pulled up, headlights flashing toward him. His brother was here.

“Can you explain to me? What the hell were you thinking? What got into your head?”

“I had a date.”

“With who?!”

“I don’t know.”

“You’re kidding me. You didn’t even know the guy, and you went to meet him without telling me?”

“I was afraid you’d worry.”

“Of course I’d worry, Sas. The whole drive here, I kept imagining the worst—sick, hurt… I… you scare me too much these days.”

Sasuke fell silent, his brother’s words echoing in his mind.

“You’re going too far because of him. You’re losing yourself completely.”

He paused, then softened.

“I’m sorry… that wasn’t the right word.”

“No. You’re right. I am lost.”

Sasuke exhaled, voice breaking.

“Help me, Itachi… I feel like I’m drowning.”

“You’re lucky nothing happened tonight. What would I do without you?”

Silence filled the car. Words couldn’t cover everything, but they both knew this wasn’t over. They’d have to talk again, find a way together to stop the fall.

Soon, the streets they knew so well appeared, the car pulled in, footsteps echoing up the stairs. The night closed in around them at last. And come morning, they’d have to start again.

The alarm went off. For once, Itachi was there, sitting at the table with a cup of coffee in hand.

“I thought about last night,” he said flatly. “About what happened. First of all, how did you even meet that guy?”

“…Dating app.”

“Right. Delete it. Now.”

“I wasn’t planning on going back anyway.”

“Good. And another thing: I want your schedule. From today on, you go straight home after class.”

“What if I want to see Sakura?”

“You’ll see her in class. That’s enough.”

“This is ridiculous, I’m not a kid!”

“Then stop acting like one.”

Itachi’s voice cut sharp, no shouting, no anger—just cold authority. Sasuke froze, fists clenched.

“Conversation’s over.”

The silence that followed was heavy. Sasuke turned away, jaw tight.

“Hn.”

He grabbed his bag and slammed the door on his way out. Beneath the anger, there was a bitter taste: he hated that Itachi might be right.

On campus, Sasuke avoided a place far too risky for him, where he might run into Naruto. He met up with Sakura and told her about his misadventure; of course, she reacted just like his brother. He felt a little cornered by the two people who mattered most to him, but at the same time, it warmed his heart to know they were part of his life.

And maybe it was because he was finally starting to lift his head again that fate, that very morning, decided to reach out a hand.

In French class, excellent news awaited him.

“Sasuke, can you stay after class? I need to talk to you.”

Sasuke’s heart raced; the class felt endless as he eagerly waited for the teacher to approach him.

“Here’s the thing… every year, we offer our top students a one-year program abroad, and I think you have the potential to participate.”

“Wow… I… I don’t know what to say…”

“First, tell me if you’re interested. You’ll need to take a test to assess your level. If you pass, you’ll receive a scholarship for a full year.”

“I… Miss Martin, I really wasn’t expecting this. I’ll discuss it with my brother.”

“Very well. You can give me your answer by the end of the week. I truly believe this program is made for you, Sasuke.”

She smiled at him and gestured for him to join his next class. Sasuke could hardly believe it. Should he accept? He couldn’t wait to talk it over with Sakura at lunch, and later, with his brother in the evening.

Noon came, and Sasuke met Sakura for the break. He walked with a quick, light step, a rare smile on his lips. Each step felt lighter than the last.

“Whoa… who are you and what did you do with Sasuke?”

Sakura blurted the moment she saw him.

Her smile was contagious, and it warmed him to see her happy to find him like this after these dark weeks.

“Pfft, what are you even talking about?” he shot back, feigning indifference.

“Seriously, though—what’s with that smile?”

He exhaled, the excitement simmering just beneath the surface.

“It’s my French teacher…”

Sakura narrowed her eyes, mock jealousy in her voice.

“Don’t tell me… she’s flirting with you?”

“No… She offered me a one-year program abroad. In France.”

“Oh… that’s amazing!”

Her face lit up with an encouraging smile.

“I haven’t said yes yet, so don’t get ahead of yourself. And anyway, it’s only for a year.”

“Or more… just imagine—you fall in love over there. France is romantic, you know.”

Sasuke shook his head, a faint smile tugging at his lips.

“It’s just a cliché, Sakura.”

“Maybe… but it could still happen.”

She shrugged, though her eyes sparkled with enthusiasm.

“Mmh… but that’s not the point. Naruto hurt me too much… I don’t even know if I believe in it anymore.”

Sakura placed a hand on his arm—gentle, yet firm.

“Naruto was your first love, but definitely not the right one. The one who will truly make your heart race… when that moment comes, you’ll realize that what you felt for Naruto will be nothing compared to it.”

Sasuke took a deep breath, his fingers toying with the zipper of his bag.

“Maybe… Anyway, what do you think? Aside from already picturing me with some French guy?”

She let out a soft laugh, a hint of nostalgia in her eyes.

“It sucks to think of you leaving… but honestly, it would be amazing. An experience like that, you only get once.”

For the first time in a while, Sasuke truly smiled, feeling his heart grow a little lighter. The laughter of other students around them faded into a gentle murmur, and he realized that maybe—just maybe—the future could hold something brighter.

The bell signaling the end of class rang, and Sasuke grabbed his bag, a mix of impatience and excitement coursing through him. His footsteps echoed down the hall as he hurried out of the school, his heart beating a little faster. Today, something had changed.

He walked quickly toward Itachi’s place, nervously fidgeting with the zipper of his bag, his mind already on the conversation he was about to have. When he finally arrived, he knocked on the door, fingers trembling slightly.

“Itachi? Are you there?” he whispered to himself.

Itachi opened the door and watched him step inside, a calm smile on his face. “Yes, calm down… you look like a live wire. What’s going on?” He squinted slightly, amused. “You’ve looked happy all morning—what’s the change?”

Sasuke let out a small laugh, his shoulders relaxing a little. “My French teacher told me about a one-year program in France. She thinks I have the skills to pass the test.” He clutched his bag to his chest, torn between excitement and nerves.

Itachi leaned against the doorframe, studying his brother with a mix of seriousness and affection. “That’s great… Are you interested?”

Sasuke nodded, glancing away for a moment. “I think… but I wanted to talk to you first.”

Itachi sighed softly, resting a hand on the back of the sofa. “Well… I won’t lie, that’s big news. Knowing you’d be over a thousand kilometers away, in a foreign country… it worries me. But if it’s something that draws you… you’re 19, you need to live your own experiences.”

Sasuke took a deep breath, his shoulders relaxing a little more. “I’m scared… but it’s a good kind of fear. And we can still message or do video calls. And it’s only for a year.”

Itachi gave a small smile, shaking his head lightly. “Haha… yes, of course. And the test?”

“For now, I don’t know. I have to give my answer by the end of the week.” Sasuke crossed his arms, lost in thought, already imagining the life that awaited him there.

Itachi shook his head gently, a mix of tenderness and mischief in his eyes. “Okay… you still have a little time. Did you talk to Sakura?”

Sasuke laughed softly, a bit embarrassed, his cheeks flushing lightly. “Yes… and she’s completely crazy. She’s already picturing me with some ‘little French guy,’ as she says.”

Itachi laughed too, a gentle smile on his face. “That girl… always ready to overreact. But I understand… it makes you happy, and that’s what matters.”

A silence settled for a few seconds, simple and comfortable. Sasuke let out a soft sigh, a calm smile spreading across his lips. He felt a weight lift from his shoulders, a quiet but deep relief.

He straightened, playing with the strap of his bag. “Thanks, Itachi… I just wanted you to be the first to know.”

Itachi inclined his head, a gleam of pride in his eyes. “Always. And you know what? No matter what happens over there, I’ll be here, like always.”

Sasuke smiled, a gentle warmth filling his chest. He didn’t yet know how it would all turn out, or whether he would pass the test, but for the first time in a long while, he felt ready to face the future. The fear was there, yes, but it was mingled with hope—and just that thought was enough to lighten his heart.

Chapter Text

The week had flown by, and Sasuke could feel his heart beating faster than usual. The test was getting closer, and for the first time in a long while, he actually felt ready. A mix of nerves and excitement pushed him forward as he stepped into the classroom to speak with his teacher.

“Given your level, I’ll sign you up for the DELF exam, aiming for B2,” she said with an encouraging smile. “There are four parts: two oral, two written—comprehension and production. And to help you, I’ve prepared these documents, along with a few links to the official French government website. You’ll find plenty of useful resources there. Sound good?”

Sasuke took the papers, the faint rustle sharp in his hands. His eyes lingered on the words, already imagining the drills, the sentences to repeat, the mistakes waiting to happen… A shiver of anticipation ran through him.

“Yes… thank you, ma’am,” he murmured, a shy smile tugging at his lips.

He left the room, clutching the stack tightly against his chest. Each step echoed down the hallway, his mind buzzing with broken French phrases and dialogues to memorize. He couldn’t wait to dive in. And even though fear still lingered deep inside, a small spark of pride glowed quietly in his chest.

Back home, Sasuke drops onto the couch, a faint smile tugging at his lips. The soft glow of the living room lamp brushes over the papers he’s still clutching, as if he needs to make sure they’re real. His fingers glide across the sheets, skimming each word, each line, like he could absorb them through touch.

“I’m going for the B2 level,” he announces, his voice vibrant with excitement, muffled slightly by the rustle of paper in his hands.

Itachi, settled into the armchair opposite him, arches a brow, pride and mischief glinting in his eyes. The lamplight catches there too, sparking with the quiet confidence he’s always held for his little brother.
“That’s amazing. A serious level—but I know you can do it. How do you plan on getting ready?”

Sasuke fidgets with the papers, turning them over between his fingers, his nails tapping almost soundlessly against the couch. His heartbeat quickens, warmth blooming in his chest and coloring his cheeks.
“Well… she gave me some resources, and I’ll grab a few textbooks from the library too.”

Itachi leans back further, arms crossed, his gaze lingering on Sasuke’s face, catching every twitch, every flicker of emotion.
“You know… I’ve been thinking. If you’re really committed, I could pay for a private tutor.”

Sasuke looks up, startled, a nervous laugh slipping out. The lamp casts a soft shadow across his features, and suddenly he feels how safe this space is.
“Itachi… seriously? But that must cost—”

“Not that much, actually. I spoke with a woman, Sophie. She seems great. We could set up a meeting with her, if you’d like.”

A rush of excitement jolts through Sasuke, and he straightens a little, his hands gripping the papers tightly. His eyes shine with bright curiosity and a dizzying anticipation.
“Uh… yeah, okay. That’s… good.”

Itachi smiles, amused by his brother’s hesitation, the quiet sound of Sasuke’s breathing filling the space between them.
“Nervous?” he teases gently. “Don’t be. She’s there to help you, not fight you.”

Sasuke averts his gaze, fingers brushing absently over the fabric of the couch, his ears catching the low hum of the heater and the steady tick of the clock.
“I… I’ve never spoken to a French woman before. What if I mess up?”

“Then you stop overthinking and just dive in. That’s all. You’ll see—it’ll be fine. You might even enjoy it.”

Sasuke draws in a deep breath, the warm air of the living room filling his lungs. His chest rises higher, every inhale feeding him a little more courage.
“Yeah… YEAH!” he shouts, almost throwing his fists in the air, as if to convince himself.

Itachi bursts out laughing, the sound echoing through the walls, but his smile stays soft, protective.

“There you are. That’s my little brother.”

Sasuke sits for a moment, his heart still racing a little faster than usual. He clutches the sheets to his chest, a smile that refuses to fade playing on his lips. The excitement of his decision and the warmth of Itachi’s support make him want to share the news immediately. He grabs his phone, fingers hovering over the screen, hesitating for just a second before typing:

"I signed up for the test. Itachi is going to pay for private French lessons for me."

Sakura’s reply explodes on the screen a few moments later:

"ARE YOU SERIOUS?? So proud of you, Sas. You’re totally killing it. You’ve got this, no doubt. Let’s meet soon, you have to tell me EVERYTHING!!"

A light laugh escapes him. He puts the phone on his lap, then opens his email to contact Sophie, but a glance at the time makes him realize it’s barely six in the morning in Paris. He hopes that’s not a problem.

A few hours later, a reply pops up:

"Hello Sasuke,
Your brother told me about your project, and I think it’s fantastic. I’m Sophie, a French teacher working online from Paris. Don’t worry—we’ll mostly work in French, and if you get stuck, we can switch to English. I’ll go at your pace, no pressure 😉
If you want, we can start today. Would 6 PM your time work for you?"

Sasuke reads the email, his heart beating a little faster, a thrill of excitement running through him. Finally, everything is starting to feel real.

He spent the morning going through the documents his teacher had given him. He read them quietly, repeating sentences, stumbling over certain words, then starting again, a small, contented smirk appearing despite himself. Each mistake sent a jolt of frustration through him, but also a new thrill—he could feel himself already making progress, his fingers brushing over the lines as if touching them could help him remember.

Around noon, he decided to go out. The sun gently lit the Japanese streets, and the trip to the library was a little pocket of calm. On the train, he watched the faces of other passengers, imagined their lives, and used the moment to mentally rehearse a few French dialogues.

At the library, he picked simple but effective textbooks, leafing through the pages with curiosity, marking a few phrases to remember. Sitting at a table by the window, he pulled out his notebook and wrote down the words that slipped his mind, repeating them over and over, his heart beating a little faster with each small victory.

Time flew by without him noticing. When he looked up, the light had shifted, and he knew his first session with Sophie was approaching. A mix of excitement and nervousness pressed lightly on his chest, but he straightened up, ready to go.

He sat down at his computer, adjusted his chair, and opened the video session. His fingers brushed over the keyboard, silently repeating a few phrases he had learned. Words tumbled in his head, hesitant, but he felt ready.

Finally, the screen came alive, and a figure appeared—eyes sparkling, a mischievous smile lighting up her face.

“Hi Sasuke, I’m Sophie, your French teacher. We’re going to work hard so you can ace your exam.”

“Is it for the end of the year?” Sasuke asked.

“Yes, exactly.”

“Great!” A small, timid smile tugged at his lips. “Will you introduce yourself? In French, of course,” Sophie said playfully.

Sasuke straightened, a little nervous. “Oui… euh… Je m'appelle Sasuke, j’ai 19 ans. J’habite à Osaka. J’ai un grand frère, Itachi, il a 23 ans.”*

“Perfect, Sasuke! Very good, keep going.” Her cheerful tone encouraged him to speak.

“For your exam, we’ll work on simple, everyday situations. For example, talking about your daily life, giving your opinion on easy topics, describing a place or a situation, and answering short questions.”

“Oh… okay… you’re going to help me practice?”

“Of course! We’ll do it together.”

Sasuke listened carefully, whispering the sentences Sophie suggested. He stumbled on some words but started over, a small smile breaking through despite himself. Mistakes sent tiny shocks of frustration and excitement through him—he could feel himself improving already.

“Now, let’s have a little fun…” Sophie said with a wink. “We’ll play a game: I’ll show you a picture or a poster, and you describe what you see.”

Sasuke burst out laughing. “Ah, that’s different!”

“Yes, we don’t just do grammar. The exam isn’t about perfection—it’s about showing you can communicate.”

Over the weeks, he found himself even looking forward to these sessions. And Sophie didn’t hold back on adding little touches of humor.

“Here, I’ll teach you something useful…” she said with a mischievous grin. “Classic French swear words: merde, putain, fais chier*… or the ultimate combo: putain de merde, fais chier!*”

Sasuke laughed out loud. “Wow, you French really are vulgar!”

“Ha ha, true! We’re famous for complaining. But it’s just to make you laugh—the lesson’s been intense today.”

“Yes… grammar is hard,” Sasuke admitted with a sigh.

“I know. But don’t worry, the examiners don’t expect perfection either. The important thing is that you know the basics. The rest will come when you’re in France.” She punctuated her words with a conspiratorial wink.

“And… little mistakes? We find them charming. With your angelic face and accent, you’ll make quite an impression.”

Sasuke flushed to his ears. “Honestly, you have no shame!”

“What? You still haven’t gotten used to it, after all this time we’ve met?” Sophie teased.

He looked away, but a smile slipped out anyway. These lessons weren’t just teaching him a language—they were giving him a breath of fresh air. A lighter, more playful moment. He closed his notebook softly, feeling a little lighter in his chest, ready for whatever came next.

The following weeks fly by. Every session with Sophie is a mix of hard work and laughter. Sasuke repeats his sentences, corrects his mistakes, and every small success sends a thrill of pride through him.

The day of the exam arrives. His heart races as he enters the room, his fingers brushing instinctively over the notebook he brought for reassurance. Sophie has prepared him as best as she can: dialogues, little scenarios, listening exercises. Each practice he’s repeated crowds his mind, but he forces himself to breathe, to focus.

The hours pass in a blur. When he leaves the exam room, a mix of relief and anxiety washes over him—he knows he’s done his best, but the results are still far away. The following days stretch into a strange blend of waiting and extra revision, just to stay in the rhythm.

Then, finally, the email arrives. Sasuke hesitates for a moment before clicking it open. A smile spreads across his face—he’s done it. Joy rises like a wave; all those hours of work, all the effort, suddenly feel rewarded. He sends a message to Sophie, and she replies with enthusiasm, sharing in his pride.

Itachi, for his part, also receives the news with an almost proud smile.

“I knew you could do it, little brother. Now it’s time to get your trip ready,” he says, already listing out the steps for housing, plane tickets, and paperwork.

Sasuke feels ready to take this next step, and at the same time, he’s eager to share this joy with Sakura and Itachi, already imagining the little evening they’ll spend together before his departure.

The following days are devoted to preparations. Itachi guides Sasuke step by step: finding a place to live in Strasbourg, booking the plane ticket, organizing all the administrative paperwork. Every detail feels lighter with him by his side, and sometimes, Itachi’s simple smile is enough to calm his worries.

Sophie, meanwhile, continues to support him from afar, correcting the last bits of grammar and giving practical advice for life in France.

“Stay confident, Sasuke. You’re ready,” she keeps repeating to him.

The night before his departure, Itachi and Sakura come over for dinner. The table is simple, but warm, bathed in the soft glow of the apartment lights. Sasuke, both nervous and excited, can’t help but smile at every word exchanged.

“You know, I’m really proud of you, Sasuke,” Sakura says, placing her hand over his. “You’ve worked so hard, and you deserve this.”

Itachi nods, a faint smile on his lips. “And you won’t be alone over there. We’ll always be here, even from a distance.”

They laugh together, sharing light memories and little anecdotes, as if trying to hold on a little longer to these simple moments before the big departure. Sasuke feels a familiar warmth fill his chest—despite the unknown waiting for him, he is not alone.

As the evening winds down, Sasuke looks at his two loved ones, a genuine smile on his face.

“Thank you… for everything,” he murmurs. His voice trembles with emotion, yet it’s full of confidence.

The morning of his departure arrives faster than he imagined. The air is crisp, almost electrifying, and Sasuke feels his heart beating with a new intensity. His bag is packed, documents in order, and every detail that he and Itachi have arranged seems ready to hold.

Sakura and Itachi accompany him to the airport. The ride is quiet at times, filled with clashing thoughts: excitement, nervousness, fear, joy. Then, a few light words break the silence.

“You’ll see, France is amazing,” Sakura says with a smile. “And you’ll do just fine.”

Itachi casts a protective glance at his brother. “Remember what I told you: every problem has a solution. You’re ready.”

At check-in, Sasuke pauses for a moment, breathes deeply, and feels a wave of emotion wash over him. Reality hits: in just a few moments, he’ll leave everything familiar behind—but with the support of those he loves.

They walk to the boarding gate. Sasuke turns for one last look at Itachi and Sakura, who wave at him. A small smile, a knowing wink from Sakura, and a reassuring gesture from Itachi.

“I’ll see you soon, I promise,” he murmurs, his voice full of gratitude.

The moment arrives. Sasuke pushes his trolley, walks down the jet bridge, and takes his seat on the plane. The engines roar, and the familiar world behind him begins to fade.

As the plane lifts off, he gazes out the window. The city drifts away, but instead of fear, a new energy fills him. He breathes deeply, feeling every beat of his heart. The months of effort, the hours of work with Sophie, Itachi’s guidance, Sakura’s encouragement—everything has brought him to this moment.

And for the first time in a long while, Sasuke feels ready. Ready to face the unknown. Ready to build a new life. Ready to fly toward his future.

Chapter Text

Amid the bustle of Paris’s Charles de Gaulle Airport, Sophie scans the crowd, searching for Sasuke’s arrival. His plane has just landed, and she’s eager to finally meet him—he’s such a kind, hardworking boy. He’ll spend a few days in the capital before heading to Strasbourg. She’s planned a little tour, showing him the city’s main sights.

In the distance, she spots a black head of hair with bluish highlights. She waves enthusiastically.

“Sasuke!” she calls. “Here I am, woohoo!”

He hears his name shouted and sees a small brunette waving her right arm frantically.

A small smile tugs at the corner of his lips. He had pictured her just like this: loud and extravagant.

“Hey.”

“Welcome to France, Sasuke.”

“Thank you, Sophie.”

“How was the trip?”

“Good. I finished the book you recommended.”

“And?”

The Ice People… It’s fascinating, this buried civilization, so advanced, and yet erased from history. But what touched me most were Éléa and Païkan. Their story reminded me that love… sometimes it’s strong enough to save you… or to destroy you.”

Sophie holds his gaze for a moment, as if to acknowledge his words, then simply smiles and grabs her suitcase.

“Tell me all about it while we walk. Come on, I’ll take you home. You need a good meal and a solid night’s sleep. Tomorrow we’ll visit Paris!”

“It’s crazy… I can hardly believe it. I’m so far from home. Everything happened so fast. A few months ago, I never imagined this. Now… I’m just exhausted. The trip was long.”

“Fifteen hours, right?” Sophie arches an eyebrow.

“Yeah.”

“I bet tonight you’ll sleep like a baby,” she teases with a mischievous smile.

They leave the airport, suitcase in hand, and climb into the car.

“Don’t hesitate to rest, there’s still a bit of a drive.”

“Thanks, Sophie, for welcoming me.”

“Of course.”

The radio crackles, and then a deep voice fills the car: Je suis venu te dire que je m’en vais. Gainsbourg.

The song tugs at something inside Sasuke. Naruto. The wound is still there, even if time has dulled it.

Sophie parks the car, and Sasuke steps out, his eyes still heavy with fatigue.

“And here we are.”

The street hums with life. People hurry past, wrapped in their coats, each chasing their destination as if time itself were running out.

The building hides at the back of a courtyard. Old, its red paint has faded with age. Sophie punches in the code, pushes the heavy steel door open, and together they climb the narrow stairs up to her apartment.

Small, but warm. The view glows with the lights of the Parisian night, and Sasuke feels a calm wash over him.

“I set up a room for you,” Sophie said as she dropped her jacket on a chair. “Tonight’s simple—just pasta with some vegetables. Tomorrow I’ll take you out for something properly French. You’re my guest.”

Sasuke nodded. The fatigue made his eyes sting. He drew in a breath, searching for words.

“Sophie… I’m really glad I met you.”

Her smile softened. “Me too, Sasuke.”

Dinner passed quickly, like a moment suspended in time. Sasuke didn’t speak much, but he watched. The small, ordinary gestures of Sophie, the quiet warmth of her welcome—it all felt unexpectedly reassuring.

When she showed him the bedroom, his chest tightened. No luxury, no pretense. Just a bed, a lamp, clean sheets. And yet, it felt like so much more than he could have imagined.

He sat down on the mattress, shoulders slightly hunched. It was strange, being here in Paris. A few months ago, he would never have believed this possible. The past suddenly felt distant, as if it belonged to someone else’s life.

A faint smile slipped across his face, unbidden. Maybe, for the first time in a long while, he could believe another future was possible.

He lay back, closed his eyes. Sleep took him quickly—not as an escape, but as real rest.

The next morning, Sasuke woke up with surprising ease. The restless hum of the city beyond the window had finally worn him out.

Sophie was already up.

“Get dressed!” she called cheerfully. “This morning we’re having breakfast outside—your first real croissant. A proper French initiation!”

“Okay, I’m coming.”

Still a little groggy but oddly lighthearted, Sasuke got ready.

A few minutes later, they were seated at the terrace of a small neighborhood café. The morning sun warmed the gray stone of the buildings, and the air carried the scent of strong coffee and fresh bread. Around them, Paris pulsed with life: waiters darting between tables, customers downing espressos at the counter, car horns weaving through the chatter of voices.

Sophie bit into her croissant with delight.

“There,” she said with a grin. “That’s a real French breakfast.”

Sasuke took his own bite of the crisp, flaky pastry. It was simple, almost ordinary, and yet the moment felt unique. He smiled, letting himself sink into it—this fleeting pause, so far removed from everything he’d known.

The day took off at full speed. Sophie tugged Sasuke through the streets of Paris, tireless and brimming with energy.

“First stop: the Eiffel Tower!” she announced.

Sasuke tilted his head back. The iron giant stretched into the sky, massive and unreal

“Impressive…”

“Want to go up?”

“No thanks. I’m not great with heights.”

Sophie burst out laughing and gave his shoulder a playful pat.

They crossed the Alexandre III bridge next. Sasuke stopped, his gaze caught by the gilded statues.

“All that detail… how did they even make this?”

“A lot of patience—and a touch of French madness,” Sophie replied with a grin.

The Tuileries Garden greeted them afterward. Sasuke wandered toward a fountain, reaching out to the water that mirrored the sky.

“It’s strange… like it’s moving on its own.”

“That’s just your imagination,” Sophie teased. “But you’re not wrong—there’s something magical in the shadows here.”

By late afternoon, they climbed the narrow streets of Montmartre. The view that unfolded before them stole Sasuke’s breath. Paris spread wide and endless, glowing with life.

“So? Worth the climb?”

He nodded, captivated.

“Yes… it’s… different from what I imagined.”

To wrap up the day, they settled into a small neighborhood bistro. The waiter set down a steaming plate of boeuf bourguignon in front of them.

Sasuke took a bite, and his eyes lit up.

“This is incredible.”

“Right?!” Sophie laughed. “And wait—you haven’t even tried dessert yet.”

Sasuke burst out laughing too, the sound light and unguarded. The fatigue from the day before had vanished, replaced by curiosity and wonder.

As the whirlwind of the day drew to a close, Sasuke returned to Sophie’s apartment for his last night in Paris. A thought crossed his mind: tomorrow, he’d send a few photos to his brother and to Sakura, to share a glimpse of this city he was just beginning to discover.

And, just like the night before, he drifted off quickly in the crisp, soft sheets—this time carried not only by fatigue, but by the quiet wonder of the day.

The sky was gray that morning, autumn seeming to arrive sooner than expected. Sasuke felt a small pang in his chest as he looked at Sophie, but the thought of Strasbourg sent a new thrill through him.

At the station, they shared a quick hug. She held on a little tighter than necessary, as if to press the moment into memory.

“Strasbourg’s a small city, you’ll get your bearings quickly—nothing like here. And if you like mountains, the Vosges are perfect for hiking.”

Sasuke adjusted his bag, his fingers nervously toying with the strap.

“I’ve seen some photos… some places look like they’ve stepped out of a fairy tale.”

“They do!” she smiled. “I went for Christmas once. The lights, the atmosphere… it’s magical.”

He shrugged with a shy smile.

“I’m a little scared of being on my own, but… I’m excited too.”

“You’ll see, it’ll go fast. And text me as soon as you get there!” Sophie nudged him playfully with her elbow.

“Thank you…” Sasuke murmured, his voice soft, returning her smile.

A loud announcement rang through the station. The train to Strasbourg was pulling in. They exchanged one last wave, a quick, knowing glance—and then Sasuke slipped into the crowd, his chest tight but ready for whatever came next.

Seated on the train, Sasuke scrolled through the photos he’d taken the day before. The buttery croissant, the Eiffel Tower gleaming in the sun, the Tuileries gardens, Montmartre with its dizzying view… Every memory came back with almost magical clarity.

He sent the pictures off to Sakura and Itachi, adding quick captions.

“Here’s my French breakfast… not bad at all!”

Sakura replied almost instantly:

“Oh wow, Paris, Sas, it’s gorgeous! Thanks for the pics. So… the French? Any of them charming?”

Sasuke shook his head with a faint smile. Always poking into my love life… He sent her another shot from Montmartre.

“The view here is incredible. You would’ve loved climbing up with me.”

Itachi’s response came just as fast:

“Take care of yourself. I’m glad Sophie welcomed you. You behaved, right? Are you already on the train to Strasbourg? Let me know when you arrive.”

Sasuke reread the message, exhaling in amusement. God… even miles away, he’s still watching over me.

He added one last photo—the little bistro, the steaming beef bourguignon.

“Even the food here is amazing.”

Sakura shot back:

“I want to try! You’re eating way too well without me!”

Sasuke chuckled softly, feeling a blend of fatigue and contentment. Between the thrill of what lay ahead and the steady presence of his family, he felt at peace. For the first time in a long while, everything seemed to be falling into place.

Strasbourg’s train station struck Sasuke as odd—a grand old building wrapped in a huge glass shell that reflected the gray sky. Around it, buses and cars tangled in an endless dance, horns and engines blending with the hum of travelers. Sasuke pulled out his phone and typed in his address. Just in case, he also had the route printed out.

He started walking toward the tram stop a few hundred meters away, his footsteps echoing on the cobblestones. Crossing a bridge, brushing past hurried pedestrians, he passed an old church whose steeple loomed over the street.

A metallic screech made him glance up—the tram was approaching. He checked the signs to be sure—Place Gallia. The doors opened with a sharp snap, travelers spilling in and out in a constant flow.

The tram rolled forward, and Sasuke let himself sink into the rhythm. His new place was in the southeast part of the city, in a neighborhood called Krutenau. The name sat awkwardly on his tongue, but he promised himself he’d remember it. All around, the city pulsed, alive and breathing.

When he got off at his stop, Sasuke made his way toward the building as best he could, his heavy bag knocking against his hip.

At the entrance, he rang the bell. A few seconds later, a man appeared—gruff, but polite. The caretaker led him into the hall and handed over the keys.

“Here you go,” the man said in a low, steady voice. “Everyone minds their own business here, but if you run into any trouble, don’t hesitate to come see me.”

Sasuke nodded, a little intimidated, as his eyes wandered over the rows of mailboxes and the staircase winding upward. The faint buzz of the hall mixed with the discreet scent of polished wood, giving the place a strangely reassuring air.

With the keys in hand, he began climbing the stairs, each step creaking under his weight. He noticed the colorful doors of the apartments, the names carefully written on the mailboxes. On every floor, the building felt a little more alive: muffled voices, bursts of laughter, the clatter of dishes drifting out from behind closed doors.

At last, he reached his door. Sliding the key into the lock, he felt the cold metal press into his palm. A turn, a push—and the door opened.

The apartment was small, but welcoming. Afternoon light filtered softly through the window, painting the space with warmth.

A bathroom, a living area, a tiny kitchenette. Not much, but his.

His gaze swept over everything—the modest kitchenette, the little table against the wall, the slightly worn rug. A quiet pride stirred in his chest: he had made it, here, on his own. And suddenly, the road behind him felt worth it.

The single window opened onto a tiny balcony—barely enough space to stand.

“Miaou.”

A cat leapt from the next apartment, landing gracefully on the narrow ledge.

“Kaku! Get back here!”

A boy with fiery red hair leaned over the thin wall dividing their balconies.

Sasuke flinched, startled by the cat now rubbing against his legs. When he looked up, he found himself face-to-face with its owner. The boy’s pale green eyes caught his, sharp and arresting.

For a heartbeat, the world shrank to that silent exchange. The redhead, too, seemed frozen—intrigued, surprised by Sasuke’s presence. No words, no gestures. Just two gazes colliding with unexpected intensity, while the cat, oblivious, continued its lazy prowl along the railing.

“Hey?”

“Hey.”

“Sorry about Shukaku. He loves to wander.”

The cat padded back and forth along the dividing wall. Sasuke reached out slowly, running his hand once along its back, just enough to feel the soft fur.

The redhead watched in silence, his eyes lingering on Sasuke a beat longer than courtesy required. He tilted his head slightly—subtle, almost unconscious.

“Well… he’s adopted you,” he murmured.

“It’s mutual,” Sasuke replied, his voice low, eyes still

on the cat.

“Gaara.”

“Sasuke.”

The cat slinked away. A faint current passed between them—quiet, restrained, but alive with mutual curiosity. No wasted words, no grand gestures. Just the fragile certainty that something unexpected had begun.

Chapter Text

This first encounter pulls a smile out of him, one he doesn’t expect to have. Gaara gives off something calm, almost reassuring, with a quiet edge that unsettles Sasuke more than he’ll ever admit. Maybe they’ll really get to know each other someday? The thought annoys him as much as it makes him feel good.
Deciding to make use of this sudden spark of energy, he heads out to walk the streets, trying to find his way to the journalism school.

He opens his apartment door and comes face to face with Gaara, who is climbing the stairs, arms full of grocery bags.

“Sasuke, how are you? Settling in okay?”

“Yeah.” He nods at the bags. “Need a hand?”

“Oh no, it’s fine, thanks.” Gaara gives a small smile, shifting one bag against his hip.

“Heading out?”

“Yeah, I’m going to check out where my school is and get a feel for the city.”

Gaara slides his key into the lock, unhurried, as if nothing in the world could rush him.

“Then wait for me. I’ll drop this off and come with you.”

Sasuke blinks, caught off guard. His heart skips a beat, irritatingly.

“You… you don’t have to."

Gaara glances up at him, a calm glint in his eyes.

“I know. I want to.”

Sasuke turns his face away, his hand tightening around the banister as if to ground himself.
“… Alright.”

Sasuke feels strangely at ease with Gaara. He expects this closeness to come more slowly, yet there is something calm, reassuring about him, and his silences are never heavy. On the contrary, they seem to accompany his thoughts, as if walking beside him makes everything simpler.They make their way to the tram that will take them to the journalism school. Along the way, Sasuke talks about his program for the year, and Gaara confides that he studies at the same school too, but specializes in visual media: video, photography—anything that captures the world through a lens.A pang goes through his chest. It is so easy with Gaara, who barely knows him, so simple… and yet, a fleeting thought of a certain blond creeps in, bringing back memories he thinks he has left behind.Sitting close together on the tram, Gaara leans just slightly toward Sasuke, and their thighs brush.

 “Do you want to go together?” he asks softly.

Sasuke looks up, a shy smile curving his lips. “I’d love to, Gaara.”

“But… you seem to know the city pretty well already. What year are you in?”

“First year, same as you. I arrived a little earlier, about a month ago,” he admits, his grin a little sheepish. “I may have… exaggerated when I made you think I knew Strasbourg better than I actually do.”

Sasuke chuckles quietly, shaking his head.

“Come on, this is our stop.”

Gaara stands, gently taking Sasuke’s wrist to guide him through the crowd. Their fingers brush, and for a brief second, neither lets go—just enough to make the moment feel quietly special.
Their footsteps echo softly on the pavement; the school is not far now.

Curious, Sasuke glances at Gaara.

“Where are you from?”

“Bordeaux, ever heard of it?” Gaara replies, a gentle smile playing on his lips.

“That’s in France too?”

Gaara stops for a moment and looks at him, his eyes warm, almost like a promise. “Yes, near the ocean… Maybe one day I could take you there.”

Sasuke feels his cheeks warm. “That… sounds nice.”

They continue walking side by side. Gaara pauses in front of the glass-fronted building. “Here’s our school.”

Sasuke tilts his head up, amazed by the building’s length and the way the light dances on the windows. “I can’t wait to be there…” he murmurs.

Gaara chuckles softly, tapping Sasuke’s shoulder. “You look like a kid in front of his favorite toy.”

Sasuke looks down, a shy little smile on his face. “A few months ago… things weren’t going so well. I… well…” A quiet sigh escapes him.

“It’s okay, Sasuke. You don’t have to say more,” Gaara says, his voice calm and reassuring.

They walk on in silence for a while. Sasuke feels a strange sense of ease next to him. It isn’t yet the time to share everything, but he knows that one day he can trust this man with his wounds. For now, he simply savors the gentle moment, the quiet closeness that makes him smile despite everything.

“It’s kind of crazy, you know… meeting you like this. We’re neighbors, and we even go to the same school. I feel… lucky, actually. Like everything’s finally falling into place.”

As soon as the words slip out, Sasuke freezes. That isn’t him—blurting out things like that, especially to someone he has barely met. His ears burn already. But Gaara doesn’t tease, doesn’t raise an eyebrow. He just looks at him, calm, with that small, knowing smile that somehow makes Sasuke feel seen without a single word more.

Sasuke inhales slowly, trying to steady himself. There are so many things lately to be grateful for: his French teacher who believes in him, his brother who never lets go, Sakura, Sophie… and now Gaara. This quiet, steady boy whose presence already makes the strangeness of this city fade into something softer.

“Wanna have dinner with me tonight?” Gaara asks, like it’s the most natural thing in the world.

Sasuke blinks, his breath catching. His first instinct is to look away, but he can’t.
“… I’d love to.” His lips curl into a timid smile, one that almost betrays how fast his heart is beating.

They walk together back upstairs, their steps unconsciously matching. At their floor, they stop in front of their doors—side by side. Sasuke rubs the back of his neck, trying to play it cool, and failing.

“I’ll… take a shower, call my brother, then I’ll come over.”

“Sure. No rush.”

Their eyes catch again, lingering a beat too long, like neither wants to be the first to look away. Then Gaara slips his key into the lock and disappears inside.
Sasuke stays there for a moment, in front of his own door, pulse racing, cheeks warm, wondering when the last time was that he felt this light.

His shower done, Sasuke sinks into his armchair, hair still damp. Phone in hand, he hesitates for a moment before opening his chat with his brother. It’s already night in Osaka, but he can’t wait any longer—he has too much to share.

Hey big brother,

It’s already been a week since I get here… time flies. Sorry I don’t write sooner.
I’ve got some good news: I make a friend! Yeah, already. He’s my next-door neighbor. He’s really calm, kind… and funny too. And we go to the same school.
You’ll laugh—he’s got a cat that loves hanging out on my balcony. Gaara complains because it spends more time at my place than at his, and it cracks me up.
I figure out my route to school and start exploring the neighborhood. Strasbourg feels tiny compared to Osaka, but honestly, it’s nice. I think I’ll feel at home here pretty quickly.
Don’t worry about me, everything goes well. I still miss you though. Promise I’ll call you soon.
Love you.

He stares at the screen for a while after hitting “send.” Warmth spreads through his chest, and before he realizes it, a smile creeps onto his face—like that simple message makes everything suddenly feel more real.

When Sasuke rings Gaara’s doorbell, his heart skips a beat. Gaara clearly puts effort into his appearance: his red hair neatly styled, a light line of eyeliner highlighting his green eyes that seem to sparkle just for him.
Their gazes meet, and for a moment, the world narrows to just the two of them.

“I make some cordon bleus… I hope you like them?” Gaara asks, a small, shy smile tugging at his lips.

“I don’t eat them often… so yes, it’s perfect,” Sasuke replies, a faint blush rising on his cheeks. “But you really don’t have to.”

“You’re my guest… it’s only natural,” Gaara says softly, gently guiding Sasuke inside with a light touch on his shoulder.

The living room is cozy, alive with personal touches: photos of Kaku, snapshots of the city, little moments Gaara captures and frames carefully around the room.

“I get why you choose the visual reporting track… you’re really good at photography,” Sasuke says, glancing at a photo of Kaku, Gaara’s cat.

“Yes… I like capturing moments that matter, or people who are important to me,” Gaara replies, his voice calm, almost like a gentle reassurance.

Sasuke’s fingers brush Kaku’s fur, and the cat, as if approving, jumps onto his lap. “I love this photo… his gaze is so intense,” he murmurs.

Soft music plays in the background, a rock song with a soothing acoustic melody and the singer’s low, calm voice.

“You like rock? Me too,” Sasuke says, his eyes briefly meeting Gaara’s.

“Yes… but I listen to everything. This is Inspector Cluzo, they’re from my region,” Gaara says proudly, a subtle gleam in his eyes.

“Oh, so there’s rock in France too!” Sasuke teases lightly, smiling.

“We have some really great bands, you’ll see… I’ll make you listen,” Gaara adds with a small, playful wink.

He gestures toward the couch, inviting Sasuke to sit, placing some chips and vegetables on the table.

“Do you want something to drink? Water, orange juice… or a beer?” Gaara asks, leaning just a little closer than necessary.

“A beer sounds good,” Sasuke says, feeling his heart race a little, especially as Kaku nuzzles against his legs.

“Hey there…” he whispers, petting the cat, who promptly curls up in his lap, purring contentedly.

“Kaku! Leave my guest alone, you little rascal,” Gaara says, laughing softly.

“Hey… don’t talk like that about this magnificent feline!” Sasuke replies, a warm laugh escaping him.

“He’s just trying to charm you,” Gaara murmurs, leaning a touch closer to scratch the cat’s back.

“And he’s doing a really good job,” Sasuke says, smiling shyly, his heart fluttering as he looks up at Gaara.

Everything—the music, the cozy space, Gaara’s calm presence—makes Sasuke feel at ease. Words flow naturally, and laughter comes easily between them.

“Alright… let’s eat!” Gaara says, his smile lingering in a way that makes Sasuke’s chest warm with something more than just comfort.

The cordon bleu melts on Sasuke’s tongue, tender and flavorful. Gaara clearly puts a lot of care into it. The warm aroma of the dish mixes with the subtle scent of fresh tomatoes from the salad and the lightly seasoned rice—simple, yet comforting.

“This is amazing, Gaara,” Sasuke says softly, a small smile tugging at his lips.

Gaara leans forward slightly, watching him with quiet amusement. “I’m glad… I’m a little nervous it won’t turn out right.”

Sasuke shakes his head, cheeks warming. “No, it’s perfect. Honestly, it’s more than perfect.”

A comfortable silence settles over them. The only sounds are the soft clinking of cutlery and the occasional rustle of Kaku padding across the floor. Every bite seems tastier somehow, as if sharing the meal with Gaara makes it better.

“You cook a lot?” Sasuke asks, curiosity shining in his eyes.

“Only when I feel like making someone happy,” Gaara says, his voice calm and steady, with that faint smile that makes Sasuke’s chest tighten just a little.

Sasuke feels a gentle shiver run through him—not from the food, but from the quiet, tender closeness that seems to wrap around them. This simple dinner becomes more than just a meal—it’s a small, sweet moment he treasures.

Sasuke looks at his plate, a small smile playing on his lips. “You’re really talented, Gaara… I can tell you put your heart into this.”

Gaara shrugs slightly, a bit embarrassed. “It’s nothing… I just want you to feel comfortable here.”

A warm little pang runs through Sasuke’s chest. This simple gesture, this quiet attention, makes him feel… seen, in a way he hasn’t felt in a long time. “It’s perfect. And… thank you, really.”

They continue eating, exchanging words in little bursts between bites. Sasuke comments on a detail of the salad, Gaara shares a funny story about Kaku or a photo he takes. Every laugh, every smile seems to light a small, gentle spark around them.

At one point, Gaara looks at him with a mischievous glint in his eyes. “You’re eating really slowly… are you savoring it as much as I am?”

Sasuke blushes slightly. “Maybe… or maybe I just want to enjoy this moment.”

Gaara gives a tender, sincere smile that makes Sasuke’s heart skip a beat. “Then let’s enjoy it together.”

Their eyes meet, and for a second, the world around them seems to fade away. There is only the warmth of the meal, the scent of the cordon bleu, and this small, budding connection between them, soft and light like a gentle breeze.

The evening drifts on gently out on the small balcony, the two of them watching the lively street below. It’s the last of the warm days, and people are making the most of it—laughing, weaving through the crowd. The hum of conversations mixes with music spilling out from the nearby bars, the words too blurred to make out.

“There are a few nice bars around here. Want to check them out sometime?” Gaara asks.

“Yeah, the atmosphere seems nice. It brings the place to life,” Sasuke replies.

He sighs inwardly; he doesn’t really feel like going out. Besides, tomorrow is his first day at school, and he needs to get some rest.

“I should go… shall we meet tomorrow morning?”

“Oh, of course—it’s already late. I’ll come knock on your door. Seven-thirty, does that work?”

Sasuke smiles. “That works.”

“See you tomorrow,” Gaara breathes, his voice soft as a whisper.

He walks him to his door and, before leaving, presses a light kiss to his cheek.

“Good night, Sasuke.”

Breath catching, Sasuke whispers back, “G… good night, Gaara.”

Once he’s finally alone in his apartment, Sasuke lets himself drop onto the bed. The memories of his day with Gaara keep playing on repeat in his head. He doesn’t want to compare him to Naruto, but it slips through anyway, automatic, like a reflex.

“Gaara doesn’t interest me romantically” he insists, lips pressed tight.

But his cheeks are already warming, and his heart is beating way too fast.

“Cut it out…” he whispers, hiding his face in the pillow.

And still—he knows it. The butterflies are there. Not the kind that overwhelm or scare him… but gentle, light, like a sweet little secret fluttering in the pit of his stomach.

On the other side of the wall, Gaara is sprawled out on his couch, Kaku curled up in a soft ball against him. He strokes the cat’s warm fur absentmindedly.

“So, Kaku… you felt it too, didn’t you?” he murmurs, a smile tugging at his lips.

The cat purrs in answer, as if agreeing with him. Gaara lets out a quiet laugh, his eyes shining. For him, the butterflies had already made themselves at home, ever since that very first glance across the balcony.
And so, with only a thin wall between them, they drift off to sleep, each wearing the same foolish little smile… both cradled by the very same thought: the other.

Chapter Text

The next morning, Sasuke is woken by the sound of his phone ringing. Still half-asleep, he picks up, and Itachi’s euphoric voice bursts through the speaker.

“Glad to hear from you, little brother.”

“Mmh, Itachi… it’s early here.”

Sasuke blinks his eyes open and glances at the screen.

“You’re terrible, he grumbles. It’s only six in the morning.”

“Then don’t send a message like that, Itachi teases. Tell me instead—who’s this boy who seems to have stolen my little brother’s heart?”

Sasuke pushes himself upright, giving up on any hope of going back to sleep.

“Don’t be ridiculous. We only just met. I’m not interested in him like that.”

He absently scratches at an invisible spot on the kitchen table.

Itachi breathes in softly, as if choosing his words.

“Still, I felt something in your email. You sound happy with your life in France.”

“Yeah… I’ve met some wonderful people. Sophie, in Paris—she’s full of energy. And Gaara… he helps me feel better. He’s kind, attentive.”

“So? He could be an option” Itachi murmurs.

“I don’t know. I’m too scared of getting hurt again.”

“Sasuke… they’re not all like him.”

“I know, but… what if they are?”

“For now, just let yourself go with it. Listen to yourself, feel things out. You’ll know if he’s really a good person.”

“I never had that feeling with Naruto.”

“You’re being too hard on yourself. He’s the asshole in all of this. You just made a bad call, that’s all. I would’ve done the same. He’s good at manipulating people with that angelic blond face of his.”

Sasuke stays quiet for a moment, then a faint smile slips out.

“Gaara’s different. He didn’t come up to me the way Naruto did, and he isn’t self-absorbed. He listens.”

“Exactly, Itachi says. That alone makes a huge difference.”

“Even at six in the morning, I still give good advice, he chuckles.”

“Mmh… you’re mostly just insufferable, Sasuke mutters, though a smile tugs at his lips.”

He hangs up, and suddenly the apartment doesn’t feel so silent anymore.

It’s seven o’clock. The sun is rising, the first rays brushing against his face. Leaning on the balcony, a warm coffee in hand, Sasuke thinks back on his brother’s words. On Naruto. On Gaara.

A wave of melancholy washes over him. He’s fine here, so why does that bastard still creep into his thoughts? Is it because he’s starting to see Gaara as a possible love interest that his ex keeps coming to mind?

He shakes his head. Ridiculous. Gaara is probably just being kind because he’s new. Helping him fit in, nothing more.

Sasuke sighs, downs the last of his coffee, then straightens. Time to pull himself together and get ready—Gaara will be here soon to walk with him to class.

Right on time, Gaara rings at his door. Sasuke adjusts his jacket, fixes his hair one last time, grabs his bag and keys. He takes a deep breath, a little shiver of excitement running down his spine.

They head to the tram. This morning, it’s packed: the holidays are over, and the usual rhythm is back. Sasuke feels the gentle sway of the tram beneath his feet, the hum of the city slowly waking up around him.

Near the school, Gaara suggests stopping by a bakery for a coffee and a pastry. The smell of freshly baked bread drifts through the air, irresistible, and Sasuke leans forward slightly to take it in.

The choices are overwhelming: butter croissants, almond croissants, apple turnovers, raisin or chocolate swirls, chocolate croissants… He hesitates, eyes widening a little, his heart lighter than he expects, a quiet thrill fluttering inside him.

Gaara watches him with a soft, tender smile.

“You look a little lost.”

“There’s too much to choose from… I only know the croissant and… pointing, that one… the chocolate croissant.”

Gaara chuckles softly.

“It’s funny, for me this variety seems normal. But I can see how it might surprise someone from outside. Want a tip? You’ve already tried the croissant, so go for the chocolate croissant. It’s the other classic.”

“Okay. I’ll try that, Sasuke murmurs, feeling a warm flush rise to his cheeks.”

They each take a coffee and their pastry, then settle on a nearby bench. The morning light brushes Sasuke’s face, soft and comforting; the calm of the moment makes him feel as if everything could go well today.

Gaara leans slightly closer, as if sharing a secret.

“You know, where I’m from, we say chocolatine, not chocolate croissant. Every region has its word, and it’s always a bit of a debate.”

Sasuke raises an amused eyebrow.

“Just for a pastry?”

“Yes, Gaara laughs gently. Most of the time, it’s just for teasing, nothing serious.”

He glances at his watch.

“Come on, let’s go. It’s time.”

Sasuke packs up his things and glances one last time at the bakery window.

“The chocolate croissant was delicious.” he murmurs with a small, satisfied smile.

“Next time, you’ll try another pastry” Gaara replies, his laugh soft and warm.

They rise together, and Sasuke feels Gaara’s hand brush against his as they pass. A shiver of delight runs down his spine. Even without holding hands, the simple contact makes this morning feel lighter, sweeter.

Around them, the crowd of students moves toward their classrooms, the noise and bustle contrasting with the quiet intimacy they’ve just shared. And yet, Sasuke feels buoyant, ready to face the day, a small smile lingering on his lips, warmth still settled in his chest.The morning goes by quickly, carried along by classes and the chatter of the hallways. Yet every time Gaara sits beside him, Sasuke feels a soft warmth settle in his chest. Even the squeak of chairs or the rustle of pages can’t disturb the calm that comes with his presence.

At noon, they meet on the little bench behind the school, their bags at their sides, a sandwich in hand.

“You seem good today,” Gaara notes, a quiet smile on his lips.

“Hmm… yeah. With you, I feel… at peace.” Sasuke replies, almost surprised by his own honesty.

They hold each other’s gaze, a knowing smile spreading across their faces. Sasuke realizes that, for the first time in a long while, he can breathe freely.

The afternoon drifts by in the same way, between classes and fleeting moments. A laugh shared in the hallway, a word whispered under their breath… Nothing remarkable to anyone else, but for them, it’s a world of their own, a cocoon where everything feels simple and light.When the final bell rings, Sasuke and Gaara leave together, walking slowly through the streets of Strasbourg. The sun dips low, painting the rooftops in gold and rose, and Sasuke catches himself smiling for no reason, just because Gaara is there.Even in the bustle of the city, simply being at his side is enough to steady his heartbeat, to make every moment shine a little brighter.

Autumn has settled in for good. The wind whistles through the streets, and rain seems to fall almost every day. Sasuke drifts through the morning in a heavy mood. The Sunday market at Place Gutenberg had brought him a few little trinkets for his apartment, but they do nothing to lift his spirits. Today, he simply isn’t up for it. Eight months have passed since Naruto left him in pieces, and he thought he was healing. Not today. Today, everything feels fragile. Kaku curls beside him, warm and soft, yet even the cat’s presence can’t fill the emptiness. Almost as if he wants to hurt himself, Sasuke flips through old folders and finds some photos of Naruto. Mistake. His throat tightens. Then his phone buzzes. A call from Japan. Not Naruto—of course not. Sakura. Even seeing her name on the screen sends a shiver down his spine.

"Hey, Sas… how are you?"

"Hey… tired."

"It’s the 20th."

"I know."

"He’s not with Hinata anymore. She broke up with him. I know, you don’t care."

"Why? Did she finally see he’s a jerk?"

"Kind of, yeah."

"Good. That’s no longer my problem. [He strokes Kaku] I’m glad it was her who ended it. I hope he suffers."

"He’s mostly angry, Sakura sighs. After you… and now Hinata… He always blames everyone else."

A small smile touches Sasuke’s lips. Cruel coincidence—but sweet, in its way.

"And you, Sakura? Any love life?"

"Oh… nothing special. I got closer to… You promise you won’t be mad?"

"You’ve got my attention."

"Your brother…"

Silence.

"After you left, we felt a bit nostalgic. We started meeting just to talk about you…"

"And that made you… grow closer? [He chuckles.] I didn’t know I had the power to play matchmaker between my brother and my best friend."

"You don’t mind?" she asks softly.

"It’s funny—Itachi never told me. And he just lets you handle it?"

"Mmh…"

"I don’t care, Sakura. I’m happy for you. I just wanted to tease you a little."

"Oh, you! If you were in Osaka, I swear…"

Sasuke laughs, a full, easy laugh that makes him feel lighter.

When he hangs up, his mood has lifted. The rain still drums against the windows, but he no longer wants to drown in memories. He puts on some upbeat music and finally arranges his morning finds around the apartment.

A few hours later, his phone buzzes again. This time, it isn’t a memory from the past—it’s a promise of the present: a message from Gaara.

“Want to go out for hot chocolate?”

Sasuke pauses, gaze lingering on the paper garlands hanging from his wall. He thinks of Naruto, of Sakura, of everything he thought he had lost. Then he reads the message again. A soft smile escapes him.

Maybe it’s time to stop looking back.

“I’d love to. Fifteen minutes okay?”

“Perfect.”

Through the cobblestone streets of Strasbourg, they cross the Abreuvoir footbridge, their steps light and in sync. Just behind the cathedral, a small café awaits them: Bistrot et Chocolat. Gaara knows Sasuke has a soft spot for chocolate croissants, and he’s chosen this cozy spot to warm up on rainy Sundays with a steaming cup of cocoa.Side by side, hands wrapped around their mugs, Sasuke savors the moment. Gaara shares little legends about the cathedral: a tiny dog carved into the pulpit, said to bring luck to anyone who strokes its head; or the restless wind across the square, said to be the devil’s steed trapped inside after spotting depictions of itself in the holy place.Sasuke listens, intrigued and amused. His own country is full of legends too, but he loves discovering new ones. Above all, he loves how Gaara tells them—with that calm voice and the tiniest smile in his eyes—making everything feel simple, warm, and effortless.

Leaving the café, Gaara leads him to the cathedral. The building stands tall and silent, its ancient stones bathed in the golden glow of late afternoon. Inside, Sasuke touches the little carved dog, a shiver running down his spine at the cool stone.

"And if I don’t believe in legends?" he asks, half-serious, half-smiling.

"Then you can always pretend, Gaara says softly. I believe they work for the little things—the ones that make life sweeter."

Their eyes meet, and a quiet smile passes between them. That small, shared moment is enough to fill the space between them with warmth.

"I think… I’ll be coming here often." Sasuke whispers.

"Me too, says Gaara. And this time, I’ll come with you."

They continue walking, light on their feet, noticing every detail of the cathedral and the little stories it hides. Even amid the city’s bustle, their quiet connection makes each moment gentle and precious.Sitting on a bench along the banks of the Ill, hidden away from prying eyes, they savor the quiet moment. It’s been almost a month since they first met, and October is just around the corner. Gaara treasures each of these instants with Sasuke, noticing more and more of the little things he loves about him—his attentive gaze, the way he sometimes smiles without realizing it, the small scenes with Kaku that make them both laugh.
He catches himself thinking Sasuke looks beautiful, but he keeps the thought to himself.

“Sasuke?”

Sasuke turns, meeting Gaara’s eyes.

“I just wanted to tell you… these moments we share, I hold onto them. They mean a lot to me.”

Sasuke’s breath falters. He looks away, fixing his gaze on a willow tree across the river, its branches swaying in the wind.

“You don’t know how much that means, Gaara… A few months ago, I was in a relationship. Two years. He left without warning, slipping away little by little… like I’d never mattered at all. It left me shattered—body and mind.”
His voice shakes, his eyes glassy.

Gently, Gaara slips an arm around him. With quiet care, he wipes the tears from Sasuke’s cheeks with his thumbs.

“You’re doing better than you think,” he murmurs. “I can’t imagine the road you had to walk to get here… but I can see you’re moving forward.”

A fragile smile crosses Sasuke’s lips.

“Today makes eight months. And instead of drowning in it, I read your message. And I smiled. I am getting better.”

Their eyes meet, lingering in silence. No need for more words. Gaara keeps his feelings unspoken, but his gesture says enough. And under the watchful eyes of the ducks drifting along the river, the two of them open up to each other a little more—without rushing what doesn’t need to be rushed.The biting cold of early evening nudges them to get up. Walking home will do them good, warming both their hands and their thoughts. After these confessions, they find themselves a little closer than they had been on the way there. Shoulders brush against each other, fingers graze almost by accident, yet each touch, however fleeting, leaves a mark, a shiver—as if the world around them had slowed down for these stolen moments.

Chapter Text

Pedaling on their rental bikes, the gentle pace of the day carried them away from the city's bustle. Gaara rode ahead, and Sasuke kept up without trouble. Every now and then, Gaara glanced back over his shoulder to make sure he was following. Their eyes met—briefly, but enough to send a pleasant flutter through Sasuke’s chest.

Traffic was heavy, yet Strasbourg remained welcoming to cyclists. It took them only about fifteen minutes to reach the Parc de l’Orangerie. At the entrance, they locked their bikes side by side.

The park was vast and lively. Playground areas echoed with children’s laughter, parents chatted on benches, groups improvised ball games on the lawns, each soaking up the rare October sun. The tall trees lining the paths hosted enormous nests—this was home to the storks.

«It's the emblematic bird of the region. Legend has it that women wishing to have children had to make a wish over a well. A gnome, living in an underground lake beneath Strasbourg Cathedral, would then gently take the baby and place it by the well. The stork would come to fetch it and deliver it to the parents’ cradle.”

Sasuke lifted his gaze to the long-legged birds, their beaks clacking in a joyful cacophony. Gaara moved closer, their arms brushing almost imperceptibly.

“How do you know so much about all this?”

“I’m curious. I like to know where I am. Legends always carry that little extra… They make me feel like I’m soaking in a place, really inhabiting it.”

Sasuke listened, captivated by his voice. The thought crossed his mind that maybe one day it would be his turn to show Gaara his country. A warm, gentle feeling spread through him: he wanted to keep Gaara in his life.

Their walk leads them to a pavilion surrounded by a formal garden, its flowerbeds bursting with color. Music floats through the air: a wedding is in full swing in the heart of the park. They pause, both impressed. This place truly seems full of surprises.

Further along, they pass a skatepark teeming with children and teenagers on skates and skateboards. Then a lake opens up before them, wooden rowboats gliding slowly across the water, a small waterfall adding a gentle murmur at its center.

Gaara heads toward the boat rental, tugging Sasuke along by the arm, his eyes sparkling.
"Want to go for a ride?"

Sasuke hadn’t expected that. Gaara’s energy catches him off guard, but he doesn’t mind. A timid “yes” slips out, warmth rising to his cheeks. It’s just a rowboat, nothing extraordinary—but in that moment, it feels utterly romantic.

Settling into the fragile craft, Gaara offers Sasuke the oars. At first, it’s a disaster: the boat spins in place, drifting toward the reeds. Sasuke grows a little frustrated, which only makes Gaara’s amusement deepen.
"You’re rowing too hard on one side. Here, watch…"

He leans over, placing his hand over Sasuke’s to guide the motion. The contact is brief, natural—but enough to make Sasuke’s heart beat a little faster.

"Thanks… it’s so easy with you" he murmurs, embarrassed.

"I used to go canoeing in Arcachon, near my hometown."

"Does Mr. Gaara have any flaws? You’re cultured, a good cook, and now you can row… You really are full of surprises" Sasuke laughs.

Gaara looks at him, catching the light dancing across his face. With that golden glow, he looks stunning. Gaara treasures the moment as if it already outweighs everything else.
"None. I’m perfect" he breathes, with a charming smile.

Once again, Sasuke looks away, unable to meet that confident grin. Two idiots, oar by oar, laugh after laugh, drifting slowly closer to each other. The rest of the ride flows between bursts of laughter and gentle silences, until they finally reach the shore.

Sasuke carefully steps out of the boat, still a little unsteady. Gaara chuckles softly at his concentrated expression.
"Come on, we’ve earned an ice cream, right?"

Sasuke raises an eyebrow, surprised by the suggestion, but follows Gaara to a small ice cream shop nearby. They each pick a flavor and end up sitting on a bench, enjoying the October sun filtering through the branches. Sasuke’s fingers quickly get smeared with a bit of melted ice cream, which amuses Gaara.

"You eat so messily, you know that?"

"Tsss… shut up."

But he smiles despite himself, caught up in the lighthearted moment. When their hands brush while passing the cones, a small shiver runs through Sasuke.

They continue their stroll, approaching the Orangerie Arch. Families wander by, children laughing at the goats and ponies. A little further, a sign points to the rehabilitation center for injured wild animals. Gaara stops in front of the aviary, where a few birds rest.
"See that one? Its wing’s bandaged" They release them once they’re healed.

Sasuke watches the motionless raptor, quietly moved.
"It’s beautiful… having a place that gives them a second chance."

Gaara glances at him from the corner of his eye, as if sensing that his words go beyond the birds. A shared, deeper silence settles between them before they slowly resume their walk, side by side, a little closer than when they arrived.

They leave at twilight, happy from discovering such a park so close to home. Next time, they’d explore another spot: the Parc des Deux Rives, where France and Germany meet. For now, they head back, and as often happens, Sasuke is invited to dinner at Gaara’s place.

Sometimes, Sasuke helps Gaara in the kitchen. Tonight, they decided to make simple baguette melts: baguettes halved, topped with thick cream, finely sliced onions, bacon bits, and a little grated cheese, all baked in the oven. Simple, but delicious.

A soft, cheesy aroma fills the room. At first, Sasuke struggled a bit, and Gaara teased him gently:
"In winter, it’ll be even worse… with all the cheese dishes: raclette, fondue, tartiflette… your nose is in for a treat!"

The oven timer goes off quickly—the dish didn’t require much prep or cooking. Sitting cross-legged side by side, their knees brushing under the coffee table, they eat in comfortable silence. Gaara had put on some background music, and they talk about their day together, letting the evening’s calm settle around them.

Kaku, the mischievous cat, occasionally begged for a bit of bacon, his paws resting on the table. He stretched, sniffing Sasuke’s fingers after he finished his bite, then licked the leftovers with his rough tongue.

"Hey, Kaku!" Gaara gently shooed him. "Don’t touch."

"Your cat is a real food sniper, he can smell it from miles away" Sasuke laughed.

"Don’t even start… Even when he sleeps—and you know how long he sleeps a day?—I open a chicken fillet, and he comes running!" Gaara replied, amused.

Sasuke smiled as he watched Kaku walk away, full and satisfied. He met Gaara’s gaze, catching that little half-smile that always made his heart flutter.

Without thinking, Sasuke slid his hand under the table and brushed Gaara’s. The contact was brief, but enough to send a small shiver through both of them.

"You know…" murmured Sasuke, a little shy, "I really like these moments."

"Me too" replied Gaara, gently holding his hand under the table.

A comfortable silence settled, only interrupted by Kaku’s satisfied purring and the music in the background. The evening drifted on, and for Sasuke, it was exactly the kind of moment he wanted to keep… again and again.

Returning home, Sasuke felt a slight emptiness. The evening with Gaara had left him on cloud nine, and he wished it could have lasted just a bit longer. But tomorrow, classes would resume.

Before going to bed, he glanced at his emails: a message from his brother, also signed by Sakura. Since they’d gotten together, they sent updates as a pair. A routine that always brought a little warmth, tinged with a slight sense of disconnect.

As usual, Gaara came by to ring his doorbell and accompany him. The tram was packed that morning, forcing them closer together. Pressed against him, Sasuke clutched his arm; he could feel the warmth of Gaara’s breath against his cheek, unaware of the tender look Gaara cast in his direction.

Every moment spent near him made Sasuke fall a little more, and Gaara dreamed of wrapping him in his arms. But after what Sasuke had gone through with his ex, he wasn’t sure there was any space for that.

Sasuke, for his part, didn’t think that far ahead. All he felt was this unexpected calm, this sense of safety when standing close to Gaara.

When their stop came, they weaved through the passengers and stepped out into the open air. Today, classes would take a different turn: they’d have to put theory into practice, working together to create their first report.

Naturally, they divided the roles: Sasuke would conduct the interview, while Gaara handled the camera and photos. The topic was free, with only one constraint: the report had to be no longer than five minutes.

Gaara suggested several options, naming places close to their hearts: the bakery near the school, the bistro known for its hot chocolates, or that independent bookstore they had wandered through a few days ago.

They decided to dedicate the afternoon to their report, following a set route: first the nearby bakery, then the bistro, and finally the bookstore.

They hadn’t prepared a list of fixed questions. Their idea was to go with the flow: see how the owners would react, capture the atmosphere of each place, and shape their piece in the moment.

So, they headed to the bakery. Fortunately, the morning rush had passed, allowing them to talk calmly with the owner and the baker. Both explained that they favored local suppliers: the flour came from a village in northern Alsace, the fruits from the city’s markets.

Curious, Gaara asked technical questions, while Sasuke, a bit less at ease, mostly observed the precise movements behind the counter. They were invited to peek at the ovens: a dense warmth, walls dusted with flour, a buttery smell that made their mouths water.

When their stomachs growled in unison, the owners laughed heartily and handed each of them a pastry. Sasuke, slightly embarrassed, nodded his thanks, while Gaara bit into his with a joyful appetite that brought a smile to his friend’s face.

They left the shop full and happy, already pleased with this first stop. Since they still had some time before moving on, Gaara pulled out his phone to call the bistro: could they stop by before opening? The owner agreed enthusiastically, and twenty minutes later, they stepped through the door.

The man greeted them with a wide smile, instantly recognizing them: “Ah, here’s my little Sunday afternoon couple!” Sasuke and Gaara’s cheeks flushed, but neither corrected him.

The owner spoke about how he organized his day between the morning and evening services, and how the menu changed with the seasons. He showed them the chocolate bars used to prepare his drinks, even letting them taste a few bitter beans that burst in their mouths.

The exchange was simple and warm, just like the place itself. As at the bakery, everything went smoothly. Leaving the bistro, they felt torn: both encounters had their charm, each offering an atmosphere they liked. The decision wouldn’t be easy.

To complete their little tour, only one final stop remained: the independent bookstore where they had lingered a few days earlier. Sasuke and Gaara exchanged a knowing glance—they knew this moment would be calmer, perfect for observing and listening.

Final stop: the bookstore.

The modest façade didn’t hint at what lay inside, but the shelves were packed with books pressed tightly together, and the air smelled of both dust and fresh ink. The bookseller, an energetic woman with silver hair, immediately shared her mission: supporting independent publishers, curating original selections, and regularly hosting readings and writing workshops.

Gaara asked his questions with seriousness, while Sasuke lingered over the titles lined up behind her. At one point, the bookseller handed them a poetry collection, “one of my favorites,” she said with a smile. Sasuke flipped through it quickly, and Gaara didn’t miss the subtle sparkle in his gaze.

Like with the previous shopkeepers, the exchange was rich and warm, but here it carried a unique atmosphere: a blend of calm and curiosity that made them want to linger longer.

As they stepped back outside, Gaara teased Sasuke with a grin:

"So, are you going to read me some poetry now?"

Sasuke looked away, but the corner of his mouth betrayed a quiet amusement.

Back in their building, they went to Sasuke’s place to organize their notes and debate where they would conduct their interview.

“I noticed something different about you at the bookstore.”

“Oh? In what way?”

“More at ease. I think we’ve found our interview.”

“Wait, we can still discuss it.”

“I like it too. The atmosphere is cozy, the owner is really passionate, and honestly, seeing something other than food won’t hurt us.”

Sasuke nodded, a small smile playing on his lips. “Then it’s settled.”

They settled around the low table, notebooks open, still holding the warm mugs they’d brought back from the café. The conversation flowed lightly, punctuated by comfortable silences. Through the window, the decorations some neighbors had begun to put up could already be seen. Discreet garlands blinked softly, a little lost in the growing darkness.

Gaara let his gaze linger for a few seconds before returning to his notes. Sasuke focused on a question he had just drafted, but the muted ambiance of the room and the reflection of tiny lights on the glass lent the evening a transitional feel, as if something were slowly taking shape.

Huddled together on the armchair, they talked about the exchange they would have with the elderly bookseller. They decided to highlight her selection of independent authors, her writing and reading workshops, and her personality. No banal questions about opening hours or the state of the book market—they wanted to capture something authentic.

“I could ask her how she chooses her authors? Or have her tell me how the workshops go?”

“Ask her for an anecdote about her bookstore.”

“Mmh, good idea, thanks.”

Gaara leaned toward Sasuke to go over his notes, resting his head on Sasuke’s shoulder. An intimate, almost tender gesture, but one that had naturally become familiar to them.

The next day, they would go back to see her to ask their questions. Gaara would handle the camera, take a few photos, and then take care of the video editing. Sasuke, meanwhile, would work on the layout for the article.

Exhausted from their day, they stretched out without really thinking about it, their shoulders brushing together. Gaara let his hand graze Sasuke’s, an almost imperceptible gesture, and Sasuke didn’t pull his away. Gradually, the silence cradled them, and they drifted off to sleep almost like a couple.

Outside, fine rain fell over the city, artificial lights casting shifting reflections across the bedroom walls.

Chapter Text

Sasuke squinted, focused, giving his draft one last read before putting it neatly into his computer. Nearby, Gaara adjusted the final touches on the video edit, silent but attentive. They wanted their report to radiate a special warmth, so that each viewer would feel as if they were sitting with them in the bookstore, listening to an honest, familiar exchange.

Sasuke carefully chose the layout: a serif font for the titles, a sans-serif for the body text, and a deep navy blue for the writing, harmonizing with the photos Gaara had taken. Every detail mattered; each visual choice was meant to reinforce the sense of intimacy and authenticity.

The memory of the bookseller and her passion gently enveloped them. She had taken the time to talk about her young authors, her writing workshops, her commitment to independent publishers. Sasuke remembered her words:
"We have to help people get noticed, even if my contribution is just a small gesture. I know I can’t compete with the giants who gradually crush small businesses like mine."

A shiver ran down his spine. He felt that mix of fragility and strength in her—and, in reflection, in himself. This was why he had chosen this job: to give a voice to those who, in their own way, tried to make the world a little better. And watching Gaara bent over the screen, absorbed in his editing, he felt a mix of admiration and a quiet longing to be closer.

Gaara leaned toward his ear. "I’m done, I think it’s in the bag. How about you?"

Sasuke gave his layout one final glance. The article spanned three pages; everything seemed perfectly aligned: the same body text for titles and paragraphs, no mistakes, the photos lightly adjusted for brightness and saturation. "Me too," he replied softly, a small smile playing on his lips.

Their first collaboration had just come to an end, and it had gone with an almost surprising fluidity. They fit together like two fingers of a hand. Sasuke had never felt such a connection with anyone, not even with Naruto.

"I think we deserve a break. Shall we go see the big Christmas tree they’ve set up at Place Kléber?" Gaara suggested.

"A Christmas tree?"

"Yes, it’s a tradition here. It’s cut from the Vosges forests, carefully transported here, and then decorated. Once it’s ready, locals and tourists come every evening to admire its lights."

"Sounds nice… I’d love to go."

The streets of Strasbourg were dressed in their finest, bathed in colorful lights. Shop windows drew the wide-eyed children, mesmerized by the automata endlessly replaying the same scenes. The scents of gingerbread, cinnamon, and mulled wine mingled with laughter and chatter, filling every corner.

The usually quiet cathedral square was crowded: a Christmas market had taken over. Small wooden chalets sold crafts, jewelry, sweets, and warm drinks, radiating a lively, welcoming energy.

When they finally reached Place Kléber, the tree revealed itself—majestic, twelve meters high, sparkling with thousands of golden lights. Touches of blue and red added balance to the display. The crowd pressed in tightly around it. They drew closer together, weaving through the people, hands intertwined to avoid losing each other. Gaara’s hand felt warm in Sasuke’s.

At the foot of the tree, a miniature model depicted a snowy landscape: mountains, fir trees, little white houses. Sasuke’s eyes lit up, and he took the opportunity to snap a few photos to send later to his brother and Sakura.

"Do you want me to take a picture of you?" Gaara suggested.

"Let’s do it together."

"Let’s ask someone, otherwise we won’t get the tree properly."

A nearby family kindly agreed. The father even took several shots. They laughed at one where Gaara had his eyes closed, another where Sasuke was blurry from moving. The third was perfect. Sasuke wore a slight smile, and Gaara, beside him, seemed radiant.

"I’ll send this one," Sasuke said, pointing to the image.

"Can you send it to me too? You look amazing in it."

"You too," Sasuke murmured.

The crowd bustled all around, but for them, the noise faded away. Their eyes locked. The moment was almost magical, suspended in time. It wasn’t yet the right moment for Gaara to open up, he knew that. But soon. Soon, he would. He just hoped his feelings would be reciprocated.

"Shall we go back? The crowd is getting too oppressive for me," Gaara murmured.

"Yeah… I don’t like it either," Sasuke replied.

They headed home. As they walked, Sasuke talked about the places he wanted to explore during the holidays. He had read that other towns, like Obernai, Colmar, and Kaysersberg, also host Christmas markets, and the idea of wandering around for an afternoon sounded perfect.

"Are you going back to Bordeaux for the holidays?" he asked.

Gaara hesitated for a moment. "I’ve thought about it… and I wanted to know if you’d like to come with me."

Sasuke blinked. "But… it’s a family thing."

"And leave you here all alone? No way. I’ve already talked to my parents, and they’re thrilled to welcome you."

"What? But… when?"

A tender smile spread across Gaara’s lips. "Just say yes. That’s all."

They climbed the stairs, and almost instinctively, their steps led them to Gaara’s apartment.

He offered Sasuke a hot tea to warm up after the winter walk. He switched on a few lights, creating a soft, intimate glow. Kaku rubbed against Sasuke, seeking gentle strokes. Gaara laughed nervously at the situation, trying to find the right moment—but did it even exist?

"Sasuke?"

Still with his hand in Kaku’s fur, Sasuke didn’t immediately sense the importance of the moment for Gaara

"Do you know what love is?"

Sasuke’s hand stops stroking Kaku. He takes a deep breath and answers as sincerely as possible: "Love… it hurts. But it’s also wonderful. I… I think I’m starting to believe in it again. And you? Do you know?"

"For me, it’s little things, layered together to slowly form a whole: sharing a coffee, exchanged smiles, moments spent together. But the more time I spend with you, the more I realize I’m lost… it’s bigger, wider than I ever imagined. It’s hard to tell you what I feel. I know you’re fragile, but I had to say it… I need to."

The moment hangs in the air. Gaara waits, heart light, having bared himself. He knows his friend; even if the feelings aren’t returned, he won’t reject him—the friendship will always remain.

"Gaara… I… no one…" Sasuke chokes back a sob; no words can escape his lips.

He moves closer, curling into Gaara’s arms. He doesn’t need to hear any words right now—the moment is too fragile. Gaara lets him recover, gently stroking his soft hair. Slowly, the tears fade, and Sasuke regains his breath.

"What you just said… it’s so simple and so wonderful. No one has ever spoken to me like that. I thought after Naruto…"

"Don’t say that. You shared something with him, and even if it ended badly, you had moments of happiness."

"I know, but the fall was too hard… I’m afraid of going through that again."

Gaara holds Sasuke a little closer. "I promise I’ll never do that to you. You’ve become too precious to me over time."

"I want to believe that."

Silence fills the room, broken only by their mingled breaths. In the soft warmth, there is nothing else to understand or explain.

Deep down, Gaara made a silent promise: to cherish Sasuke. He didn’t need to say it out loud; he knew, with an intimate certainty, that he had found his soulmate, and every day he would make it his mission to show him.

Inside Sasuke, happiness collided with anxiety. Gaara was tender and reassuring, but the shadow of Naruto still clouded his thoughts. He’s not Naruto. Let him… no, let yourself have a chance to love, and to be loved.

"Gaara?" he whispered.

Sasuke’s hoarse voice sent shivers down Gaara’s spine. "Yes?"

"Can I stay tonight?"

"Nothing would make me happier."

Sasuke straightened, leaving the warmth of Gaara’s embrace. He leaned in, his lips brushing Gaara’s in a delicate kiss. So reserved, this was his first step—a way of saying he accepted Gaara’s words, and returned his feelings.

"I’m going home to grab some things and I’ll be right back."

"Pizza and board games tonight, is that okay?"

"Of course."

At his place, Sasuke grabs the essentials: sleepwear, his toothbrush, clothes for tomorrow. He takes a quick shower; the hot water cascades over his skin, calming the whirlwind of his thoughts.

Still shaken by what just happened, he pulls out his phone and texts his brother:

I don’t want to admit you were right, but Gaara just declared his feelings to me… and I was left speechless. He really stole my heart.

He attaches a photo taken in front of the grand Christmas tree. Seconds later, he makes it his wallpaper as well. Letting out a sigh, he can’t help but smile.

Ready to go back to him, he hesitates over one word. Boyfriend? Can he already call him that?

Back at his place, the smell of pizza filled the air—Gaara had ordered from the little Italian downstairs. A Margherita, a Regina, two beers: everything was ready. They ate heartily, already chatting about which game to play next.

"A calm game, or something a bit more intense?"

"I’m in a strategic mood… Ark Nova, how about that?" Sasuke replied confidently.

Gaara raised an eyebrow, a teasing smile tugging at the corner of his lips. "Trying to make up for your two losses?"

"You filled your board completely and scooped up all the appeal points. That’s cheating."

"Oh no, darling."

The word slipped out. A suspended silence followed. Sasuke looked at him, surprised.

"Darling?"

"I… I didn’t think," Gaara stammered, cheeks tinged with red.

Sasuke let out a soft laugh. "So, darling, am I giving you a beating this time?"

And the fragile moment melted into lightheartedness. Gaara kissed him quickly before bringing out the big box. The board took over the table, cards scattered, and already the tension was rising: the game had begun.

Sasuke picked an ambitious objective, while Gaara chose a board that gave him a sneaky advantage. Every action brought a shared smile or a playful jab. Gaara crossed his arms, focused, biting his lip in hesitation. Sasuke watched him, amused—he found him irresistibly attractive when he wore that serious expression.

"I told you this was my game," Sasuke said confidently, placing his key card.

"We’ll see about that," Gaara replied, but his eyes already shone with pride.

Tension built until Sasuke played his giant panda, adding the decisive points. The game ended on a tight score: 18 to 15.

Sasuke leaned back triumphantly in his chair. "There we go."

Gaara stretched, a tender smile on his lips. "This game is way too long… but I think I love seeing you focused even more than winning."

Their gazes met. Whether fierce competitors or awkward lovers, the line between the two had all but disappeared.

Sasuke chuckled softly. "For such a big game, I find it pretty clear. And I really love its action system."

"I agree," Gaara said, tidying a few cards. Then, his eyes on Sasuke: "Want to do something before bed?"

Sasuke exhaled, his shoulders sagging. "It’s been an emotional day… I’m tired."

Gaara stood and held out his hand simply. "Then let’s go to bed."

In the small bathroom, Gaara and Sasuke brushed their teeth. A few minty kisses were exchanged, a hand brushed against a shoulder. Their eyes met with sincerity. Gaara led Sasuke to his bedroom; the bed wasn’t really meant for two, but the forced closeness didn’t bother them.

“I was scared to tell you how I feel, but now I’m the happiest man alive.”

“And I’m the luckiest,” Sasuke replied, a tender smile on his lips.

Sasuke nestled against Gaara’s back, and Gaara took the opportunity to pepper his neck with little kisses, tickling him lightly.

“You’re adorable, I love your laugh.”

“Stop being so sweet,” Sasuke teased.

“Mmh, no, it’s you who makes me melt.”

Sasuke turned his face toward Gaara, silently asking for a kiss.

“Good night, my love.”

“Good night, darling.”

They stayed wrapped around each other, fingers intertwined, gently playing with each other’s hair. Kaku purred at their feet, adding to the bubble of calm. Sasuke took a deep breath, savoring the warmth around him, a soft smile forming on his lips.

Gaara placed a quick kiss on Sasuke’s forehead, then another on his temple.

“You know… I could stay like this all night.”

“Me too,” Sasuke murmured, his voice almost drowned in happiness.

Their breathing slowed, the outside world seemed to fade away, and for the first time in a long while, Sasuke drifted off to sleep peacefully, nestled against Gaara.

Chapter Text

"Meowwww!" Like every morning, mischievous Kaku wakes his human to demand his breakfast. He climbs onto his back, licks his hair, and when that’s not enough, lets out meows that could make young parents pale.

Sasuke slowly emerges from his sleep. His eyes open to Kaku, settled on Gaara, who is trying to find a creative way to wake him up. It makes him smile.

“You don’t need an alarm, Kaku seems perfect for the job.”

Gaara buries his head in the pillow and mumbles something. Sasuke rolls his eyes, amused.

“I’ll feed him. Tell me where you hide his treasure.”

“In the cupboard under the kitchen sink.”

Sasuke kisses his hair before getting up. Kaku follows without hesitation, no matter who is going to fill his bowl. The little cat weaves between his legs with every step, almost making him stumble, and lets out insistent little meows.

“Yes, yes, I’m coming, you little glutton.”

He sets down the bowl, which Kaku devours instantly, as if he hasn’t eaten in days. Behind him, a warm body presses against him, wrapping him in its arms.

“Do you think you’ll get used to these wake-ups?”

“Of course,” he murmurs.

Gaara makes coffee, takes the butter and blueberry jam out of the fridge, then grabs some rusks from the cupboard. They sit down and go over the project to make sure they haven’t forgotten anything. Gaara shows him the five-minute video he edited.

“You really managed to make this interview feel intimate… It’s like I’m talking with my grandmother about books, and the music hits just the right moments.”

“That’s exactly what I wanted. To keep it simple, like a real conversation between friends. No drama to grab viewers’ attention, we already see enough of that.”

Sasuke smiles, impressed. Gaara’s vision is very close to his own. They would make a great team after their studies… if it were possible.

They get ready for class, finding every excuse to create a point of contact. Gaara straightens Sasuke’s collar. In return, Sasuke slips his fingers into Gaara’s red hair to give it a bit of volume. The touch reassures him: he’s always been tactile, needing these small gestures of affection to truly feel grounded in their relationship.

On the tram, their hands don’t just brush anymore; they hold tightly, like an anchor. They chat about their plans for the weekend, and Sasuke asks what he could bring his parents for Christmas Eve. The conversation is lively, light, and full of complicity. From the outside, they look like a couple already well-rooted, with years of history behind them.

Sasuke feels a little nervous about turning in their assignment. He hopes they did well. Gaara reassures him in his calm voice:
“We put our full effort into it. The professor will see that. Don’t worry.”

Of course, Gaara is right. He has that quiet confidence that says without words: It’ll be fine.
The professor praises their work and their vision of journalism:

“Sasuke, you’re going to be an empathetic journalist, someone who truly cares about people. And you, Gaara, a photographer who will know how to bring the truth to light.”

When the day of classes is finally over, they head to the train station to buy a round-trip ticket from Strasbourg to Bordeaux. Gaara had already bought his long ago. Sasuke, on the other hand, nearly chokes at the outrageous prices.

“That’s just how it is in France—you have to plan ahead. Want me to cover half?”

“I’ll pay you back.”

“Take your time. There’s no rush.”

Once the ticket is bought, Gaara sends a message to his parents to confirm Sasuke will be coming.

“Just so you know… my brother and sister will be there too.”

“Oh? So I need to find… four gifts?”

“No, the ticket’s already expensive enough, and my family understands that. We can make something together instead. Christmas cookies—it’s a tradition here, and they’ll love it.”

“I like the idea… but I’m a terrible baker.”

“How can you mess up cookies? It’s basically just flour and butter,” Gaara teases.

Sasuke pouts.

“Then teach me, instead of making fun of me.”

Gaara laughs at his sulking, which only makes him want to kiss him—right there, passionately, in front of everyone. But he holds back. A simple embrace is enough.

Afterwards, they decide to wander a bit, soaking in the festive atmosphere that’s fast approaching. Settled in a café in the Petite France district, a landmark of the city with its old half-timbered houses, they scroll through Gaara’s phone looking for bredele* recipes to make for his family. They settle on four kinds: cinnamon, raspberry jam, lemon, and chocolate.

Sasuke rests his head on Gaara’s shoulder.

“Alsatians sure seem to love their sweets… With all these recipes, it’s crazy.”

Sliding his hand over Sasuke’s thigh, Gaara replies proudly:

“It’s true, there are a lot of specialties here, like in most regions. We’re known for it, after all.”

Sasuke lifts his head and looks at him with a teasing, affectionate gaze.

“And this is why people call you arrogant. Typical.”

“There’s some truth to that” Gaara exaggerates in his proud chauvinism, then winks at Sasuke.

Once they finish their coffee, they decide to do a bit of shopping to prepare the cookies. They step into a small shop specializing in baking supplies. The warm light makes the shelves, filled with colorful utensils, sparkle, and a faint scent of sugar lingers in the air.

Sasuke lingers in front of the cookie cutters, letting his fingers glide over the shapes: stars, Christmas trees, snowflakes…

“We really have nothing at all yet, huh?” he says with a smile.

“Exactly” Gaara replies, amused by his excitement.

They take their time, occasionally hesitating over colors or sizes, exchanging playful remarks and knowing glances. Sasuke brushes his hand against Gaara’s as he picks up a set of small golden stars, and Gaara smiles softly, touched by the subtle contact.

Once they’ve chosen their cookie cutters, they head to the Carrefour to buy the ingredients. Their bags fill with flour, sugar, butter, and small jars of jam, cinnamon, lemon, and chocolate. Every gesture is simple, yet shared, every exchange strengthening the bubble that surrounds them.

At Gaara’s place, the kitchen table transforms into a full-fledged baking workshop. The recipes are displayed on the laptop. At first, Sasuke almost melts the butter in the microwave by mistake, and Gaara, amused, tells him he’ll take care of it:

“It wasn’t a joke when you said you’re a terrible cook.”

“I never lie.”

“Can you weigh the ingredients?”

Sasuke responds, mock-offended:

“Come on, really!”

He opens the flour a bit too quickly and ends up with some on his black T-shirt. Trying to brush it off, he only gets more on himself. Gaara lets out a small laugh.

“You’re not teasing me, are you?”

Sasuke steps closer to Gaara, a mischievous smile on his lips, ready to make Gaara’s shirt just as flour-dusted as his own. Gaara steps back, trapped between Sasuke and the wall. Sasuke presses his floury hands against Gaara’s chest, sliding them gently.

“Now we’re just as messy as each other.”

Noticing their closeness, Gaara wraps his arms around Sasuke’s waist, asking for a kiss.

Sasuke leans in to deepen the kiss, running his hands through Gaara’s hair that he loves to touch, smudging some flour there as well, but Gaara doesn’t care—he wants to savor this intimate moment.

“I got it all over you.”

“Yeah… and none of it’s in the bowls” Gaara giggles.

“I have a feeling this moment is going to be memorable.”

The scene continues in the same joyful atmosphere. Egg yolks and sugar whisked until pale, melted chocolate, kneaded dough… The scents of spices and fruit fill the small apartment.

Following Gaara’s guidance, Sasuke focuses on rolling out the dough to create the bredele with the cookie cutters. Cinnamon and jam stars, lemon snowflakes, chocolate Christmas trees, all placed on the trays, ready to go into the oven.

With every movement, their hands brush against each other, and they exchange little knowing smiles. When a piece of dough sticks to his fingers, Sasuke lets Gaara help him remove it, and their gestures become a quiet dance of closeness.

“Careful not to get it everywhere” Gaara teases.

“Yes, yes, I’m being careful… but you can help me here” Sasuke murmurs, handing him a piece of dough.

Every shared moment strengthens their bubble, turning the simple act of making cookies into an intimate and joyful experience.

Gaara takes out some boxes to store the bredele once they’re baked.

“We should get some packaging to make them look nice” Sasuke suggests.

Sasuke’s stomach growls; the tempting smells make his mouth water.

“I made a few extra” Gaara anticipates, having heard his companion.

“A chef must always taste their creations first” Sasuke explains.

“Oh yes, that’s well known” Gaara replies tenderly.

The oven timer rings. Gaara grabs the oven mitts and takes out the trays to let them cool. They’re exhausted though the recipes were simple, it still takes time and attention.

“They look beautiful…” Sasuke murmurs.

Gaara takes a container and sets a few bredele aside, handing them to Sasuke.

“Let’s taste” he smiles.

Sitting on the couch, they savor their creations.

“I love the cinnamon ones” Sasuke sighs. “But they’re all good.”

“I agree, Gaara breathes, we worked well, this deserves a reward.”

He places the plate on the coffee table and sprinkles kisses on Sasuke’s lips, nose, and cheeks. Sasuke closes his eyes, enjoying the sweetness of the moment.

He’s so kind and attentive with me… I feel so good with him.

“Do you want to stay here tonight?” Gaara asks softly.

Sasuke feels his heart tighten. He smiles, a little shy, then lets his fingers slide against Gaara’s, squeezing them gently.

“Aren’t you going to get tired of me, always sticking around?”

Gaara looks straight into his eyes, serious and tender all at once.

“Never.”

Sasuke lowers his gaze for a moment, brushing Gaara’s hand with his thumb before speaking in a soft voice:

“I think I’ll go sleep at my place tonight. Take a shower, finish my assignments… and call my family in Japan. That takes time.”

He lifts his head, smiling to brush away any worry, and adds while caressing Gaara’s hand:

“But tomorrow, I’ll be back.”

“You’ll sleep at my place tomorrow then?” Gaara asks, a glimmer of hope in his eyes.

“Of course… and sometimes I’ll sleep in my apartment. I’d rather be with you all the time, but I think it’s healthy to give ourselves some space. With Naruto, we moved in too fast… and you know how that turned out. I don’t want to make the same mistakes again.”

Gaara listens intently, his heart tightening. He wants to tell him that he’s not Naruto, that with him it would be different. He wants to promise him mornings spent together, Kaku jumping on the bed to bother them, dinners cooked side by side, improvised dances in the middle of the living room… But he keeps those images to himself and chooses gentleness instead.

“I’m not him, and our story will be different" he whispers. “But I understand. I know you’re afraid of being hurt. Let’s go at your pace, my love.”

Sasuke squeezes his fingers, his eyes glistening with emotion.

“Thank you, baby. I care about you, don’t ever forget that. Can we still spend the evening together? It’s only a few hours… and tomorrow, I’ll be back.”

They decide to stay quiet, keeping it simple. Gaara lights a few candles on the coffee table, bathing the room in a golden glow. Kaku jumps onto the couch and wedges himself between them, making Sasuke burst into laughter.

With a steaming mug of tea in hand, they let the conversation wander wherever it wants: childhood memories, songs they listened to in middle school, dreams they’ve never dared to share with anyone else. Each confession draws their hearts a little closer.

At one point, Gaara plays a random song on his phone. The melody is soft, faintly melancholic. He reaches out a hand to Sasuke:

“Come, dance with me. Just a few minutes.”

Sasuke rolls his eyes, amused.

“You want to dance in the middle of the living room, right now?”

“Exactly.”

He accepts, against his own expectations. Their steps are clumsy, their shoulders brushing, but the moment is so genuine that Sasuke closes his eyes and lets himself go. Gaara kisses his temple, gently, like a silent promise.

When the hour grows late, Sasuke finally slips on his coat. On the doorstep, Gaara pulls him back for one more second, pressing his forehead against his.

“Tomorrow.”

“Tomorrow” Sasuke echoes in a whisper.

Then he leaves, heart light, already impatient for their next moment together.

As he steps into his apartment, the silence wraps around him like a blanket that’s too heavy. The place feels empty, lifeless, almost suffocating. Every second away from Gaara weighs on him, and the thought of being alone is hard to bear. He only wants one thing: to find Gaara’s warmth again, hear his voice, feel his presence.

But he holds back. If he gives in to that impulse, Gaara might see him as too clingy—just like Naruto once did. Sasuke never really understood why Naruto grew tired of him, and that unanswered wound still hasn’t healed.

He forces himself to pull it together. A quick shower to clear his head, then he settles at his desk to finish his homework. Between lines, he checks his emails from Japan, skimming through his family’s messages. The actions are ordinary, routine, yet the emptiness remains—a quiet ache, an impatience to be back with Gaara that refuses to fade.

The next morning, after finishing his coffee, Sasuke finally dials his brother’s number. He’s been meaning to call for days, but it was always either too early or too late. Damn time difference.

“Hey, little brother… how are you? I was right, wasn’t I… about…?”

“Gaara. His name is Gaara.”

“Sas! I want to know everything! And that photo—you two look so cute, you seem so happy! I’m so glad for you. We have to set up a video call, all four of us. I can’t wait to meet him!”

Sasuke rolls his eyes, amused. Of course Sakura is there. Through the screen, he sees Itachi sigh at her excitement, and a tender smile pulls at Sasuke’s lips.

“We can do that,” he replies simply.

The rest of the conversation drifts into small talk. Itachi tells him to eat well, Sakura reminds him to take care of himself. Before hanging up, they agree to set up a four-way video call around Christmas, just a few weeks away.

As soon as the call ends, the doorbell rings. Gaara—always there in the morning. The moment Sasuke opens the door, he’s wrapped in his arms. The night apart had felt too long, and that embrace brings with it a gentle warmth, a sense of safety.

“Good morning, my love,” Sasuke whispers.

“Morning, baby. Sleep well?”

“Hn. I missed you.”

Gaara presses a kiss into his hair, while Sasuke buries his face in the crook of his neck, holding him tighter.

“I missed you too. I had trouble falling asleep.”

Sasuke lets him in, though they linger in the middle of the room, unwilling to let go.

“Baby, if being apart is this hard… maybe we should just listen to ourselves,” Gaara murmurs.

“I’m scared of taking up too much space in your life… With Naruto, I was too invested, and maybe that’s why he got tired of me.”

“I already told you, Sasuke. I’m not him. And honestly… I bet you’ll be the one to get tired of me first.”

“Impossible.”

Gaara’s laugh bursts out, fresh and sincere. Sasuke thinks he could listen to it every single day and never grow tired.

Today, Gaara had a little surprise for him: two train tickets to visit the Christmas market in Kaysersberg, with a night in a cozy hotel. A whole weekend, just the two of them. Sasuke is left speechless, overwhelmed by this gesture that shows once again how serious Gaara is about their relationship.

"When did you do all this? We were together last night, weren’t we?"

"The day you mentioned it", Gaara replies simply.

"But… that was a few days ago."

Sasuke meets his green eyes, deeply moved.

"Thank you… this is going to be amazing."

Gaara shows him the hotel he booked: a warm, almost fairy-tale-like room in the photos. And even a spa, in case they want to relax after sightseeing.

"Pack a bag, we’re leaving today. The train’s at four."

Euphoric, Sasuke still can’t help but let his practical side surface.

"And Kaku?"

"I asked the downstairs neighbor. She’s already looked after him before—everything’s taken care of" Gaara reassures him.

Sasuke nods and pulls out his small travel bag, still untouched since his arrival in Strasbourg. Excitement swells in his chest: a weekend hand in hand, in a village that, judging by the pictures, looks like it came straight out of a fairy tale, with its colorful houses and glowing festive lights.

The hours slip by faster than they expected. Sasuke zips up his bag, checking three times to make sure he hasn’t forgotten anything, while Gaara watches in silence, amused by such meticulousness. At last, they step out of the apartment, greeted instantly by the sharp December air.

The train ride unfolds in a calm, quiet atmosphere. Pressed close to each other, they watch the winter scenery roll past the window: frost-covered fields, white hills, little villages strung with twinkling lights. Between conversations, Sasuke lets his head rest against Gaara’s shoulder, lulled by the steady hum of the rails.

When the train finally pulls into Kaysersberg, they exchange a knowing glance. Their fingers search, then intertwine. The crisp air, tinged with spice, slips in as soon as they step off the train. In the distance, the glow of the market shimmers, carried by the joyful murmur of the crowd.

A weekend outside of time has just begun.

Chapter Text

Before exploring the town, they first decide to drop off their belongings at the hotel. They make their way up the cobbled streets, surrounded by tourists lingering in front of brightly lit shop windows, all adorned with festive decorations.

The hotel appears around a corner in a small square: a large timber-framed house, its façade painted blue, windows draped with Christmas garlands. Inside, the dark wood of the reception desk, the red-and-white tablecloths of the adjoining restaurant—everything radiates warmth and a cozy charm.

Key in hand, they head upstairs to discover their room.

“I wanted something intimate,” Gaara whispers. “A real memory for the two of us.”

“You succeeded,” Sasuke murmurs, his eyes shining. “It’s really picturesque.”

The room immediately wraps them in a gentle atmosphere: a double bed beneath the beams, a small sitting area with a table laden with local specialties, a mini-fridge, and a simple but well-kept bathroom. The beige and red walls, accented with raw wood, give the space an old-world charm that perfectly suits the season.

Gaara stretches, a little tired from all the emotion. Being here with Sasuke, this close, when only a few days ago they were just friends… it’s happened so fast he almost feels dizzy. Sasuke steps toward him.

“What are you thinking about?”

“Us. How everything changed so quickly. Look at us—we’re already living this,” Gaara whispers.

“Do you regret it?” Sasuke asks, his voice slightly panicked.

“No. On the contrary. I’m just realizing how comfortable I feel with you… with the beginning of this story.”

Sasuke gently takes his hands, locking his black eyes into Gaara’s clear green ones.

“I feel safe with you. I want to build something, to show you who I really am—my strengths and my flaws. I don’t know how else to say it.”

“Sas… baby… Your words are a treasure. I want something solid too. And don’t think I’m perfect: I have my cracks, just like you. We’re human.”

A smile tugs at Sasuke’s lips.

“We’re so sappy.”

“Maybe. But if it makes us happy, nothing else matters. Come here. I need you in my arms.”

Sasuke buries himself against Gaara’s chest, breathing in his scent, nestled in his neck. They sway gently in the middle of the room, to a melody only they can hear.

“Shall we take a shower before going out?”

“Hn.”

“Tired, baby? We can explore tomorrow if you prefer.”

“No. I want to see the city lit up tonight.”

“Then tonight it is. Who goes first?”

“You. I’ll take the chance to send a message to Itachi and Sakura.”

“Alright. Say hi from me.”

While Gaara is in the shower, Sasuke films the room to send a short video to his brother and Sakura.

“We’re in… Kai-saa-baa-gu… sorry, it’s unpronounceable for me,” he says with an embarrassed smile. “Anyway, it’s a classic Christmas spot here. And here’s the room we’re staying in. Pretty, right? Oh, look…” — he moves closer to the window — “Here’s the view. In the distance, the lights, that’s the city center. We’ll go there later. Bye for now… oh, I almost forgot, Gaara says hi. See you soon, I miss you, love you.”

When he finishes recording, a little laugh escapes him.

“That’s so cute, the way you say Kaysersberg,” Gaara murmurs into his ear, still wet from the shower.

Sasuke shivers as Gaara’s damp hair brushes against his cheek.

“Hey, don’t make fun of me.”

“Never, baby,” Gaara whispers before planting a kiss on his neck.

After showering and getting ready, they finally head out, ready to enjoy the evening. Wrapped up in their coats, they wander through the illuminated streets. The shops are still open, their windows overflowing with decorations. Sweet and savory scents float through the air, mingling with the smoke of roasted chestnuts. The biting December cold is softened by the warmth of the crowds filling the town.

In the center, the Christmas market spreads out its wooden chalets, just like in Strasbourg. They stop for a spiced, cinnamon-scented mulled wine, sipping it while seated on a bench, their hands warming around the steaming mugs. A little further on, a choir sings Christmas carols, the music blending with the laughter and joyful hum of the crowd.

“Thank you, my love, for this weekend. I love it… it’s so magical here. You know, when I was still in Japan and Strasbourg accepted my application, I looked into the city and its surroundings. And when I saw these little villages, I thought they were so cute… And here I am, with a bonus—a handsome redhead. Haha, I remember Sakura telling me before I left to enjoy the little Frenchies.”

“Hey, ONE little Frenchie, no more,” Gaara retorts.

“Just one… Kiss me.”

Gaara leans in, his tongue brushing against Sasuke’s lips before fully kissing him. At the same moment, a few snowflakes drift down from the sky, giving the scene an almost unreal feel.

“I think I’m getting addicted to our kisses,” Gaara whispers.

“Mmh… me too,” Sasuke replies softly.

With their mulled wines finished, they continue their stroll, hand in hand, stopping from time to time to admire the stalls.

Sasuke pauses at the artisans’ stands: he picks out a leather notebook for Itachi, engraved with traditional motifs, perfect for writing, and for Sakura, a lightly colored wool scarf, simple yet elegant.

Gaara, for his part, takes his time selecting a few gifts for his family. He lingers in front of a woodcarver’s stall: the old artisan’s fingers shape the veins with fascinating precision. Among the pieces on display, he chooses a small, finely crafted tool, ideal for Kankurō’s puppets.

A little further on, his eyes light up at a deep green wool scarf, soft and warm to the touch, which he can already picture draped over Temari’s shoulders. For his mother, he is touched by a snow globe where a miniature Kaysersberg twirls under the falling flakes, simple yet poetic. Finally, he completes his selection with a bottle of local Pinot Gris, perfect for sharing a quiet moment with his father, in that silent understanding they sometimes enjoy.

“I thought I was just going to wander and look, not buy… I’m glad I found these gifts for Itachi and Sakura.”

“Same here,” Gaara admits with a smile, “and I’ll admit, you influenced me a little.”

A little rumble comes from Sasuke’s stomach.

“Seems like you’re hungry. Let’s go have a good tarte flambée at the hotel restaurant.”

“Oh yes, good idea!” Sasuke responds enthusiastically.

Clinging to each other and carrying their gifts, they head back to the hotel, eager to enjoy a delicious meal together.

The restaurant was lively, filled with tourists. A true melting pot of languages floated through the air: to the left, German; to the right, English; and a little further on, a father scolded his son in Italian, probably too excited from the day’s fatigue.

Steam rose from their still-warm tarte flambée. Traditionally eaten with the fingers, the dough, so thin, almost rolled up like a crepe.

“This is so good… I was so hungry!” Sasuke exclaimed.

“Shall we have one more?” Gaara suggested.

“Yes… but after that, I think it’s enough. Even though it’s thin, it fills you up quickly.”

They looked over the menu together to choose the next one and settled on the one with Gruyère. As Sasuke had warned, two were more than enough. They finished their meal with a little ice cream treat: Sasuke chose a cinnamon scoop, Gaara opted for strawberry, each savoring the moment.

By the end of their meal, they naturally returned to their room. The calm of the place contrasted with the bustle outside. The room bathed in semi-darkness, lit only by the moonlight, freed from clouds. The day had been full of discoveries, packed with little moments that were already imprinting themselves on them, precious memories they could keep and cherish for the future.

In the hotel room softly lit by the moon, the air was heavy, saturated with a gentle, electric tension. The walls, silent witnesses to past intimacies, seemed to hold their breath, while the subtle scent of cinnamon lingered, wrapping the space in an enchanting sensuality. Gaara, standing in the middle of the room, exchanged an intense gaze with Sasuke, seated at the edge of the bed. Their eyes locked in a silent dance, each breath a prelude to what was to come. Gaara’s red hair, haloed by the silver moonlight, caught the glow like flames, highlighting the presence and sculpted silhouette of his body. Sasuke, meanwhile, remained motionless, his dark, intense eyes fixed on Gaara, as if trying to pierce the secrets of his soul.

Gaara broke the silence with a shy smile, a gesture so light it could have gone unnoticed. He leaned his torso slightly toward Sasuke, closing the space between them, and let his fingers glide over his cheek, as if to confirm the reality of the moment. Sasuke’s skin shivered under the touch, and a timid smile answered him, equally shy yet full of promise. The atmosphere, already heavy with desire, thickened, every particle of air vibrating with anticipation.

With feline grace, Gaara leaned a little closer, letting his fingers glide over Sasuke’s cheek, each step an invitation, each movement a promise. He stopped in front of Sasuke, their bodies so close that the warmth radiating from their skin mingled, creating a tangible aura of desire. Slowly, Gaara began unbuttoning Sasuke’s shirt, his fingers tracing invisible patterns over his partner’s sensitive skin. Each released button revealed more of Sasuke’s soft, warm flesh, and Gaara took his time, as if he wanted to etch every moment into his memory.

The room was filled with the heady scent of warm skin, mingling with the subtle aroma of cinnamon. The silence was broken only by the soft, steady sound of buttons sliding over fabric, marking the rhythm of their dance. When Sasuke’s shirt was finally open, Gaara watched as it slipped off his shoulders, the fabric falling silently onto the wooden floor, like a sacrifice to the goddess of sensuality. He stepped back slightly, his eyes still fixed on Sasuke’s, as if the mere act of looking could consume them both.

The invitation was clear, and Sasuke, driven by a burning curiosity, rose slowly. Their eyes never left each other, as if the entire world had shrunk to this room, to these two bodies, to this dance of desire. Sasuke began undressing, his movements hesitant but full of intent. Each piece of clothing that fell revealed more of his skin, and the tension rose, soft and irresistible. The moon’s muted light caressed the curves and muscles of their bodies, each detail seeming to call out to be touched.

Gaara stepped closer again, his lips brushing Sasuke’s ear. His voice, a hoarse whisper laden with emotion, murmured, “Let me show you how much I care for you.” The words, simple yet profound, resonated in the air like a promise sealed by desire. Sasuke gasped, his body responding to the warmth of Gaara’s voice, to the closeness of his breath.

Their bodies drew closer, barely touching, yet the warmth radiating from their skin created an intangible connection. Gaara’s hands slid along Sasuke’s spine, sending a shiver of pleasure through his entire body. Every movement was slow, deliberate, as if Gaara wanted to savor each moment, each sensation. Sasuke, in turn, let himself be carried away, his body responding to every touch, to every breath.

Their lips sought each other, hesitant, this kiss ready to seal their fate. The air vibrated with anticipation, each second stretching in delicious suspense. Finally, their mouths met, soft and burning, in a kiss that held everything they had not yet spoken. The world around them faded, leaving only the sweetness of their embrace, the promise of what could be, and the intoxicating uncertainty of what was to come.

As their lips parted, their gazes locked again, charged with a newfound intensity. Gaara, his fingers still resting on Sasuke’s skin, hesitated, as if the weight of the moment was too heavy to bear. Sasuke, meanwhile, breathed deeply, his body alive with desire, but also with a deep tenderness. The room, bathed in silvery light and the scent of cinnamon, seemed to hold its breath, as if waiting to see what would happen next.

Their bodies remained close, yet something in the air had shifted. The intoxicating, frightening uncertainty hung between them, like a question without an answer. Gaara, his gaze still fixed on Sasuke, searched for something—a confirmation, a permission. Sasuke’s dark eyes met his with a smile, light but full of meaning.

The moment remained suspended, charged with possibilities. The room, with its witness walls and wooden floor, wrapped them in a protective intimacy. Yet the future, uncertain and enchanting, was still unwritten. Their bodies, so close, so connected, waited, as if time itself had decided to pause to let them savor this instant.

And then, nothing. Just the silence, the warmth of their skin, and the promise of a desire ready to blossom. The moon, ever present, continued to shine on them, like a silent blessing. The world, with all its complexities and uncertainties, seemed far away, very far away. Here, in this hotel room, there was only Gaara and Sasuke—their bodies, their hearts, and the infinite potential of what could be.

That night, another step was taken under the kindly gaze of the shining star, silent witness to their closeness. Sasuke fell asleep first, cradled by the warmth of the moment. Gaara watched him for a long while, his heart tight with love, and in a whisper murmured, “I love you.” Then, at peace, he closed his eyes too.

The next morning, Sasuke woke first, betrayed by the sun’s rays. They had forgotten to draw the curtains, carried away by the magic of their night. Across from him, Gaara was still sleeping, peaceful. Sasuke reached out, taking a few strands of red hair, gently rubbing them between his fingers before letting them slide along his cheek.

His mind drifted, once again, to his past. Inevitably, Naruto came to mind. And, to his own astonishment, he almost felt like thanking him—it was absurd. Another, softer thought mingled with the first: “I’m scared… but I think I love him. Too soon? Maybe. But it’s what I feel.”

A soft sigh escaped him. He pressed himself against Gaara’s chest, his face nestled in his neck. His cheeks burned at the memory of the night. Lost in his own little bubble, he didn’t notice that Gaara had opened his eyes. The redhead watched him in silence, a tender smile on his lips, savoring this quiet morning too.

Gaara murmured with a smile:
"Good morning, baby… slept well?"

Sasuke, eyes still half-closed, snuggled against him:
"Wonderfully, my love. You’ll think I’m crazy… but I almost want to call Naruto just to thank him for dumping me."

Gaara tightened his arms around him, possessive, protective:
"I should be the one thanking him", he breathed through his teeth.

Sasuke let out a soft laugh:
"Hm, you’re adorable when you get jealous. Shall we switch roles this time?"

Gaara rolled his eyes, a smile tugging at the corner of his lips:
"This is exceptional. Come here… I need my morning kiss."

Sasuke didn’t hesitate, pressing a warm kiss to him. He wanted to imprint this moment before returning to Strasbourg, to their cramped apartments. That morning, he felt bolder than the day before: his kiss deepened, carrying everything he didn’t dare to say aloud.

His fingers traced Gaara’s body, memorizing the firmness of his muscles, the tender roughness of his skin. Their breaths mingled, panting, while their bodies rubbed slowly against each other, as if silently repeating in unison: “You’re right here, with me.”

Their breaths continued to mingle, their bodies pressed together. Sasuke closed his eyes, savoring Gaara’s warmth and the echo of the night before. A sigh escaped his lips, almost dreamy.
"I want to savor every minute before we have to go back", he murmured.

Gaara gently stroked his hair, his tender gaze fixed on him.
"Then come… let’s make another memory today."

Their foreheads brushed in one last touch before Sasuke straightened up. The room was filled with a light, lingering atmosphere, as if the love they had just shared still clung to them. Sunlight pierced through the window, inviting them to leave the cocoon of rumpled sheets and explore the town one last time.

After their morning embrace, they decided to savor Kaysersberg a little longer before heading back. Winter light cast sharp shadows across the timbered façades, and the crisp air pushed them closer together, gloved hands still entwined.

Gaara took out his camera, slung over his shoulder, and began capturing moments like a painter with his canvas. Sasuke, initially a little shy, let himself be guided: he laughed as he saw Gaara crouch for an unusual angle, or when he was asked to pose with a stray lock of his red hair blowing in the wind.

"I want us to keep this image with us", Gaara murmured, eyes never leaving the viewfinder.

Sasuke smiled, curious and touched, stepping closer to rest his head against his love’s shoulder. Each shot became a small treasure, a fragment of this suspended moment.

They then climbed up to the old castle, the ochre stone standing out against the pale sky. From up there, the view was breathtaking: the vineyards stretched endlessly, seemingly frozen under a thin mist. Gaara snapped a few photos of Sasuke, contemplative, then a few more of them holding hands, their silhouettes etched against the panorama.

"You’re beautiful", Gaara whispered.

Sasuke blushed but posed for him, letting his smile light up the ancient stone.

Back in town, they wandered through the artisans’ workshops. Gaara captured the focused concentration of a glassblower, while Sasuke leaned in to admire a piece still molten. He chose a transparent Christmas ornament, flecked with silver shards, and handed it to Gaara:

"So we can remember."

Gaara took it, holding Sasuke gently against him, capturing the moment in his mind as much as with his camera.

At noon, they settled into a winstub to enjoy a baeckeoffe, a traditional stew simmered in white wine. Between bites, Gaara discreetly took a photo of Sasuke, cheeks flushed from warmth and laughter, eyes sparkling with shared joy.

"Seriously, you photograph me all the time", Sasuke teased, laughing.

"Just so we never forget", Gaara replied with a smile.

The afternoon stretched on through the illuminated streets, decorated for Christmas. Lanterns and garlands reflected in the shop windows, and Gaara delighted in capturing Sasuke’s reflection in each of them. Pressed close together, they let themselves be carried away by the enchanting atmosphere, the scent of mulled wine and cinnamon lingering in the air.

By evening, on the train to Strasbourg, Sasuke fell asleep against Gaara’s shoulder, the glass ornament clutched between his hands. Gaara looked down at him, gently stroking his cheek, thinking of all the moments he had frozen in time—each a precious fragment of their magical escape. The photos, both tangible and in memory, were promises they would carry with them long after the village lights had faded.

The little interlude had ended, but their story was only beginning.

Chapter Text

Back in Strasbourg after their weekend together, where they had gotten to know each other a little better, their feelings had deepened though neither of them dared to say it out loud, afraid of scaring the other.
Instead of taking the tram, they walked home, enjoying the last light of the day and the calm of the city.

The neighbor, who had been looking after Kaku, greeted them with a big smile. The cat, well-behaved but clearly missing them, rubbed against their legs, meowing plaintively before curling up against Sasuke. A cuddle session followed, filled with contented purrs.

The evening passed simply, snacking on leftovers from the fridge and sharing muffled laughs on Gaara’s couch. Kaku, ever loyal, never strayed far, keeping watch from the corner of the cushion.

“We’re going to my family’s place next weekend”, Gaara said, setting down his glass. “Don’t eat too much beforehand. My mom always makes mountains of food. She wants to do everything perfectly, and it gets a little… over the top.”

He smiled. And I’ve got a surprise planned for you there.

Sasuke looked up, eyes sparkling.

“No, no, no. You can’t just say that without telling me. I want to know now.”

“I know… it’s on purpose.”

“You’re horrible. You know I can be really annoying, right?”

“And you know I’m very patient.”

“A sadistic patient, yeah”, Sasuke muttered, pouting.

Gaara laughed softly and pulled him close. Sasuke melted into his arms, head resting against his chest. Gaara’s fingers traced slowly along his arm, up to his shoulder, then brushed the nape of his neck. A shiver ran through him.

“Are you sensitive here?” Gaara murmured, his fingers drawing little circles.

“Mmh… yeah”, Sasuke sighed, eyes closed, soaking in the warmth of the touch.

“I love this… discovering your sensitive spots.”

Their eyes met. Time seemed to pause. Gaara leaned in slowly, and their lips met in a lazy, lingering kiss, perfectly matched to the softness of the moment.

When they parted, Sasuke breathed out:

“Now I know what to do if you sulk.”

“I confirm, you’re horrible. Using that against me… that’s low. I’ll find your weak spot too.”

“I have no doubt, baby. And you’ll get to use it too.”

Sasuke raised his hand and gave him a light tap. Gaara pretended to defend himself before retaliating, mercilessly tickling him.

Laughter burst out, genuine and joyful, filling the room.
They teased each other like children, collapsing into fits of laughter, breathless and happy. Only Kaku, impassive, watched from his cushion, his tail swishing gently as if approving the scene.

Sasuke found himself pinned under Gaara, cheeks flushed, hair tousled, shirt rumpled. The warm glow of the living room lamp caught the dark strands of his hair, highlighting the gentle fatigue of the day. Gaara paused his playful torment to look at him, a tender smile on his lips.

“You’re so beautiful.”

As if to tease him, Sasuke stretched like a cat, exposing his neck. Gaara took the opportunity to pepper it with kisses, the warmth of his lips sending shivers through him, while he purred softly, rubbing against Gaara.

“Mmh… you too”, he murmured, breath warm against Gaara, after this brief interlude.

The evening wound down with plans for the trip to Bordeaux. Sasuke also planned to call his brother to arrange Christmas from afar. Their last moments together approached: tonight, Sasuke would go home. This freedom they allowed each other suited them well—a space to reconnect even more fully later. Their hands reluctantly parted, fingers brushing in a final shiver.

In the hallway, between their doors, they shared one last kiss, full of softness and intimacy.

“Good night, baby.”

“Good night, my love. See you tomorrow.”

“See you tomorrow.”

At his place, Sasuke checked his messages. Two.

The first was from his brother, laughing at the unpronounceable name of the village: “Is it like this everywhere?” followed by an eager, “Call me tomorrow, I want all the details!”

The second pleasantly surprised him: it was Sophie, checking in on him. He glanced at the clock at 9 p.m. Not too late to call her back. At worst, he could leave a message.

Sasuke flopped onto the couch, phone pressed to his ear, watching the lights of Strasbourg twinkle through the slightly open window. A gentle breeze brushed his cheek, and he felt the familiar comfort of his apartment wrap around him.

First ring. Second.

“Sasuke!” Sophie’s cheerful, lively voice bursts through, and he can’t help but smile.

“Hey Sophie, how are you?” he murmurs, eyes fixed on the city’s reflection in the window.

“Good, and you? How’s life in Strasbourg?”

Sasuke absently twirls a strand of hair, a shy smile appearing.

“Pretty good… I’ve met someone, he says softly, his heart quickening at the thought of saying Gaara’s name.”

At the other end, a joyful scream erupts, making the phone vibrate against his ear.

“What?! How?! I want all the details! Tell me everything!”

He stands, taking a few steps toward the window.

"We met thanks to his cat, and then we became friends really quickly, he continues in a gentle voice. Gaara confessed to me, and… we spent a weekend together."

“Sasuke, I’m so happy for you! Sophie exclaims. And you’ve really improved your French, that’s amazing. Your little Japanese accent is adorable, don’t ever lose it!”

“And you? How are you doing?”

Sophie describes her hectic life in Paris, the constant rush, and her desire to move somewhere calmer. Sasuke leans against the window ledge, feeling the cool wood under his fingers, absorbed in her words.

“Where would you go?” he asks, curious.

“I love the mountains… maybe the Alps. I haven’t decided yet. Otherwise, I’m thinking of making a little trip to your area in a few weeks. Would you be free to meet?”

Sasuke frowns slightly, then a smile lights up his face.

“I’d love that. You can even stay at my place.”

“Great! Wait, let me check my calendar… okay… it would be the weekend of February 21st.”

He jots down the date on a scrap of paper, fingers gliding over the crumpled sheet.

“And you’ll introduce me to Gaara?”

“Of course”, Sasuke smiles, a shiver running down his spine just thinking about him.

They hang up on the promise of seeing each other soon. Sasuke lingers for a moment, gazing at the sleeping city, heart light, happy to have heard from her. Sophie is so positive… he vows to keep in touch more regularly from now on.

Before slipping under the covers, he sends a quick final message to his brother: “I’ll call you tomorrow around 8 p.m. at your place.” Then, with a contented sigh, he grabs a book, sends one last loving message to Gaara, and falls asleep, his face still lit by the reflection of Strasbourg’s city lights in the room.

The next morning, Sasuke decides to dedicate the morning to himself. After a heavy weekend, he feels the need to burn off some energy. He lets Gaara know so there’s no unnecessary worry, puts on his workout clothes, grabs his headphones, and heads toward the riverbanks. At this hour, the path should be quiet.

Stepping outside the building, the fresh air instantly invigorates him. He starts jogging gently to warm up, feeling his muscles awaken under the effort. Once on the banks, he gradually picks up the pace, carried by the driving rhythm of his music. The route lasts about thirty minutes enough to ease back into exercise.

Lately, he’d somewhat forgotten the beneficial feeling of being alone. Everything had gone so fast since his arrival in the city that he’d neglected himself a bit. He loves being with Gaara, but for his own balance, he needs moments to himself, to get lost in his thoughts, and reconnect with himself.

His feet pound the concrete in steady rhythm, accompanied by deep, even breaths. He passes other runners; a few glances and nods suffice for greetings. Everything feels perfect: the pace, the music in his ears, the cloudy yet peaceful sky, and the city slowly coming to life around him.

On the way back, he stops at a bakery and buys bread to make some toast. Climbing the stairs, his phone vibrates a message from Gaara appears, sweet and light: “See you later, baby.”
Smiling, Sasuke replies immediately: “See you soon, my love.”

Sasuke’s morning unfolds peacefully. He takes the time to savor a balanced breakfast: a savory toast topped with avocado and a perfectly poached egg, accompanied by a steaming cup of tea, its aroma brushing against his nose. Each bite is a moment of calm, almost meditative, before starting his day.

After breakfast, he enjoys a hot shower, letting the water slide over his skin, awakening his senses and clearing his mind. Refreshed, he sits at his desk to work on his new article. Their professor had asked them to write a travel guide about their home country but not just any guide: one that goes off the beaten path, revealing lesser-known places and authentic experiences, tailored for curious travelers who want to discover Japan beyond the usual tourist attractions.

Sasuke takes careful notes, reflecting on forgotten alleys, quiet temples, hidden cafés, and local markets he could recommend. He loves the idea of sharing what he knows in an intimate way, almost like an invitation to explore Japan through his eyes with its sounds, smells, and contrasts between modern life and ancient traditions.

He records every detail, every texture, every scent, like a painter capturing light on canvas. The silent morning streets, the birdsong mingling with temple bells, the warmth of small teahouses serving steaming green tea. All of it becomes a thread he weaves, inviting the reader to experience Japan with their senses, not just to visit it.

Each word he writes is a window into an intimate, vibrant, living Japan, far from postcards and clichés. Sasuke loves the idea of guiding curious travelers toward these stolen moments, these instances where the country reveals itself in its simplest, most beautiful form.

Caught up in his work, Sasuke doesn’t notice the time passing. He pauses from typing, stretching to loosen his tired muscles. It’s the perfect moment for a break and a call to Itachi. He launches a video call via WhatsApp, and his brother’s face appears on the screen, a genuine smile lighting his features.

"Hello, little brother."

Itachi is comfortably settled on his couch, a steaming plate within reach. He clearly prepared for the call.

Sasuke straightens in his seat and replies:
"Hello, Itachi."

"So, tell me about Gaara… How is he? He’s treating you well, I hope?"

Sasuke exhales, a small smile forming on his lips. His brother’s cherubic face, nostalgic of their childhood, brings him comfort.

"He’s amazing, Itachi. I really like him, and I feel so at ease with him… It’s as if we’ve known each other forever. Everything flows naturally with him. He makes me laugh, he’s caring, and… it’s… I don’t know how to describe it."

Itachi watches his expressions carefully through the screen.

"I see it, Sasuke. You’ve never been able to hide it: your face says it all. I can read the love in your eyes."

Sasuke feels his cheeks flush.

"Yes… it’s the start of something strong, even more than with Naruto," he murmurs shyly.

"My god, Sasuke, I’m so happy to hear that! When do you want the four of us to get together so we can meet properly?"

"Tomorrow, same time?"

"Perfect. Sakura and I can’t wait to meet him, even if it’s just through the screen."

"Same here. He’s a bit nervous," Sasuke teases gently. "He doesn’t speak a word of Japanese, so I’ll help him communicate with you."

"Excellent," Itachi smiles. "So we’ll see each other tomorrow then?"

"See you tomorrow. Give Sakura a kiss for me."

The call ends, leaving a peaceful silence in the room. The clock reads 2:00 PM. Sasuke is eager to see Gaara; he sends him a message, and the cheerful reply doesn’t take long. He slips on his sneakers, a smile spreading across his face, ready to go and meet his love.

Sasuke barely has time to knock before Gaara opens the door, as if he’s been waiting for hours. The sight makes Sasuke smile inwardly: they really are hooked on each other.

Gaara steps aside to let him in. The apartment smells warm and inviting, a mix of laundry and coffee. The chairs are still perched on the table, proof that Gaara had a productive morning.

He slips up behind Sasuke, gently nipping at his neck to say hello.

"So, that run? Did you get a good workout?"

Sasuke turns, resting his arms on Gaara’s shoulders.

"Oh yes. It feels good to get back into it. And you? What did you do this morning?"

"I worked on my courses, called my parents, and did a bit of cleaning."

Suddenly excited, Gaara grabs Sasuke’s hand.

"This afternoon, would you like to go to a museum? While looking for things to do, I came across something cool. Come, I’ll show you."

He leads him to the computer and opens the museum’s page.

"The Zoological Museum. Look, it says we can see over 1,200,000 specimens."

Sasuke leans closer to the screen, fascinated by the sheer number and variety: mammals, birds, insects… He frowns slightly.

"That’s… pretty intense."

He looks up at Gaara, a smile tugging at his lips.

"But if you’re up for it, let’s go."

They hop on their bikes and reach the museum in barely ten minutes. Being a weekday, the rooms are quiet, bathed in soft light. They meander between the display cases, their steps muffled on the polished floor.

Insect collections stretch out before them, from iridescent butterflies to beetles of improbable size.

"Impressive," Gaara whispers.

Sasuke stops dead in front of an insect as large as the palm of his hand.

"Brrr, that gives me the chills," he murmurs, tensing up.

"Imagine it waking up and crawling towards you?" Gaara teases softly.

"Ah, no, yuck. Let’s go see the mammals," Sasuke proposes, stepping away with a faux-casual pace, though quick enough to put some distance between himself and the insect hall.

The other galleries are equally fascinating: a vast hall devoted to birds, wings frozen mid-flight, feathers vivid despite the passage of time. Some extinct species have been reconstructed in papier-mâché or glass, with astonishing precision.

A little further on, a semi-permanent exhibition focuses on Sagami Bay in Japan. Sasuke approaches, captivated. The models illustrate marine biotopes, from the coasts to the deep abyss. Soft sounds of water and birdsong drift faintly from the speakers.

"Hey, Gaara?" Sasuke says, reading an explanatory panel. He turns to him, a little embarrassed.

"You… I mean, would you like to go to Japan with me?"

Gaara looks at him, a tender smile at the corner of his lips.

"I’d love that. And besides, I’d have the cutest guide."

Sasuke lets out a soft laugh, his eyes sparkling.

"Oh, you… Come on, let’s keep going."

They finish the visit, zigzagging between fossils, skeletons, and the majestic room where a wolf, a lion, a giraffe, an elephant, and a gorilla stand frozen in their grandeur.

As they step outside, Sasuke stretches, still soaked in the experience.

"Honestly, I expected to see stuffed animals behind glass, nothing more. But this… You really feel the diversity of life. It’s fascinating."

"I agree. I really loved the bird section. I like to observe them whenever I get the chance."

"Oh? You never told me that."

"I reveal my hobbies sparingly, that way I keep surprising you," Gaara says with a mischievous smile.

The day was winding down. A soft chill settled over the city.

They decided to prolong the moment and headed to their favorite café to treat themselves to a well-deserved hot chocolate.

Seated in the café’s quiet, cozy atmosphere, Sasuke told him that tomorrow they had plans with his family in Japan. Sakura would be there too. She was part of the circle now and he sincerely hoped things would go well between her and Itachi. He loved them both so much.

"They can’t wait to meet you," he murmured, looking up at Gaara. "Itachi already likes you, even without knowing you."

"You must’ve vouched for me to make a good impression?"

"Not at all. He just sees how happy I am."

Gaara held his breath for a moment. Sasuke spoke with a quiet, natural confidence, and the clarity of it touched him deeply. A warm, discreet wave of pride rolled through him.

They sipped their hot chocolate slowly, the conversation drifting between teasing remarks and tender words. Outside, the day gradually faded, and the first lights of the city flickered on.

On the way home, they made a detour to buy wrapping for the Christmas cookies they’d made for Gaara’s family. Back at his place, they talked about the upcoming meetings, both a little anxious to make a good impression on each family.

"I also got a call from Sophie, my private tutor, the one who helped me pass my exam to come to France. We’ve planned to meet. And she’ll get to meet you too."

Gaara, busy preparing a meal, knife in hand, chopped a carrot while listening.

"Can you grab the spices for me?" he asked.

Sasuke, on autopilot, went to the cupboard where they were stored.

Gaara set the knife down on the board, wiped his hands on a towel, and kissed Sasuke on the corner of his mouth.

"Thanks, babe. It’ll be great to meet her."

"You’ll see, she’s awesome. A little too chatty, but she radiates so much energy. I feel bad for having forgotten about her a bit… She helped me improve my French a lot. And without even realizing it, she healed me a little after my breakup."

Sasuke nestled against him, finding in his arms the safest place in the world.

"Seriously, you know how to surround yourself with the best," Gaara teased with a chuckle.

"It comes from having been with an asshole," Sasuke sighed.

When dinner was ready, they ate in the kitchen. Since Kaku had once managed to steal their food from the coffee table, they played it safe by dining up high.

After that intense day, Gaara suggests to Sasuke that they take a shower together. For the first time, they are going to share this intimate moment. The shower head, fixed to the ceiling, pours its warm water over their bodies, relieving them of the accumulated tension.

Once wet, Gaara takes the body wash. Fixing his gaze on Sasuke, he pours some onto his hands, lathering the product before slowly running them over Sasuke's body, starting with his face. Sasuke takes the opportunity to do nothing and lets himself go, closing his eyes to the care provided by Gaara.

The touch is firm yet soft. Gaara’s hands linger on his neck and back, giving him a massage. Sasuke groans in pleasure, and his thighs undergo the same treatment.

“Gaara?” Sasuke contorts.

“Mmh, baby? You ran this morning, you need to take care of your body. And I'm taking advantage of it, I enjoy exploring you.”

Sasuke feels good. Seeing Gaara reach for soap for himself, he stops him by taking his hands.

“Wait, my turn”, he whispers.

Gaara has stoked Sasuke’s flame. The latter is feeling playful. He plays with Gaara's body, lingering on his sensitive spots. He presses a little more on his pelvis, eliciting gasps. His thumbs, too close to the sac, do not touch them, which is driving Gaara wild. But he says nothing: the anticipation of something more excites him as much as the act itself.

And Gaara’s patience is rewarded. Sasuke cherishes his member with his soapy hands, stroking it gently along its entire length without forgetting the sac. Sasuke accelerates his movements, building the pressure. Their breaths are growing faster; their foreheads touch.

His gaze is lowered toward the act Sasuke is performing, the sight prolongs Gaara’s ecstasy. It is too much; he needs to touch Sasuke too. It would be selfish of him not to bring him pleasure in return.

“Sas…” Gaara collapses.

“I'm here, my love”, Sasuke fans the flames with his voice, which has turned husky.

Gaara grips Sasuke’s buttocks, massaging them lovingly. For now, they haven't gone that far, and he doesn't know what Sasuke prefers. So, he tests him gently, teasing his entrance by stroking it, but without penetrating. Sasuke's reaction is one of the sexiest he has ever seen: small, quiet sounds that he tries to hold back.

The foam on their bodies is starting to dry, Gaara’s member swells to its maximum in Sasuke’s hand. Gaara turns the water back on to rinse them. And without letting go, he savours the warmth of the water for a sensual kiss, the prelude to what awaits them in his room.