Dream; 003
“Too much chakra.”
There’s an audible flick of a powder-thin page, fluttering to the edges of his ears even above the screams of angry birds. He’s reading that bright-covered book again. He’s not looking at him at all, not focusing on him.
There’s a surge of ear-splitting screeches. It’s followed by a heavy sigh.
“Sasuke-kun, that’s too much.”
It’s burning, his hand. Like hot liquid searing right beneath layers of flesh, through the stream of his veins, to the tips of his fingers. It’s numb.
It’s painful.
He tightens the hand secured at the base of his forearm, squeezing around his wrist with enough force to cut off the circulating blood if he keeps it there long enough. He can feel the hard ridges of fragile bones.
“Sasuke.”
A snarl.
“It’s not-”
Too much power.
A gloved hand falls on his shoulder and breaks his concentration. It’s heavy.
It’s warm.
“That’s it for today. Rest now.”
Another snarl, twisting his lips to reveal gritted teeth.
“No.”
In retaliation, he directs more chakra he doesn’t have to his hand. Tries to. The hand on his shoulder tightens. It's not enough to hurt.
Not enough-
Hatred? But it’s so very heavy, dragging down his brows in an angry furrow.
“I don’t-”
“You have plenty of time.”
There’s a warning in his voice, wrapping around him like chains and dragging him down; a threat that snuffs out the blue electricity lacing around his fingers.
Reluctantly, he lets go of his hand. The action takes more effort than it should’ve. His arms falls limp to his side.
He can’t hide the wince that blooms when his tender fingers brush against new black fabric, suddenly so coarse and rough. He wants to clench his hands into fists, but that would only be worse.
So he looks away, sullen, blowing at the strands of too long bangs hanging over his eyes. Irritating. He’ll worry about it later.
The hand tightens again, but this time the pressure eases immediately after. Such a reassuring squeeze.
And that grip, so constricting on his shoulder, so close to his neck, slowly eases.
It slides off. He almost misses the softening edges of that single gray eye - doesn't.
He scoffs and keeps glaring eyes trained to the ground.
He still feels so heavy.
He’s still so far behind.
*Sasuke opens his eyes, the action so simple he might've just been completing the motion of a blink. A very long one. He doesn't look like someone whose just woken up, staring passively at the ceiling as he is.
He doesn't need to look to know that the Dreamberry's right beside him, faint glow radiating from a screen face-down.*
There’s an audible flick of a powder-thin page, fluttering to the edges of his ears even above the screams of angry birds. He’s reading that bright-covered book again. He’s not looking at him at all, not focusing on him.
There’s a surge of ear-splitting screeches. It’s followed by a heavy sigh.
“Sasuke-kun, that’s too much.”
It’s burning, his hand. Like hot liquid searing right beneath layers of flesh, through the stream of his veins, to the tips of his fingers. It’s numb.
It’s painful.
He tightens the hand secured at the base of his forearm, squeezing around his wrist with enough force to cut off the circulating blood if he keeps it there long enough. He can feel the hard ridges of fragile bones.
“Sasuke.”
A snarl.
“It’s not-”
Too much power.
A gloved hand falls on his shoulder and breaks his concentration. It’s heavy.
It’s warm.
“That’s it for today. Rest now.”
Another snarl, twisting his lips to reveal gritted teeth.
“No.”
In retaliation, he directs more chakra he doesn’t have to his hand. Tries to. The hand on his shoulder tightens. It's not enough to hurt.
Not enough-
Hatred? But it’s so very heavy, dragging down his brows in an angry furrow.
“I don’t-”
“You have plenty of time.”
There’s a warning in his voice, wrapping around him like chains and dragging him down; a threat that snuffs out the blue electricity lacing around his fingers.
Reluctantly, he lets go of his hand. The action takes more effort than it should’ve. His arms falls limp to his side.
He can’t hide the wince that blooms when his tender fingers brush against new black fabric, suddenly so coarse and rough. He wants to clench his hands into fists, but that would only be worse.
So he looks away, sullen, blowing at the strands of too long bangs hanging over his eyes. Irritating. He’ll worry about it later.
The hand tightens again, but this time the pressure eases immediately after. Such a reassuring squeeze.
And that grip, so constricting on his shoulder, so close to his neck, slowly eases.
It slides off. He almost misses the softening edges of that single gray eye - doesn't.
He scoffs and keeps glaring eyes trained to the ground.
He still feels so heavy.
He’s still so far behind.
*Sasuke opens his eyes, the action so simple he might've just been completing the motion of a blink. A very long one. He doesn't look like someone whose just woken up, staring passively at the ceiling as he is.
He doesn't need to look to know that the Dreamberry's right beside him, faint glow radiating from a screen face-down.*