[closed]
Characters: dungenessmaster & ramenandawesome
Location: chez karkat
Rating: PG-13
Time: January 12, late night
Description: Sasuke decided to stab Naruto. Naruto decided to go see someone who wouldn't ask questions. Karkat- well. He didn't get to decide anything.
He doesn't know where his feet are taking him- because he can't think around the dull throb his body has become. Naruto's hand stays pressed tight against his jacket, holding the fabric against the wound at his shoulder, and it's only when he comes to a stop that he realizes- he left his shoes. Back at the apartment.
His eyes shut once, heavy, and it feels like they're closed for hours.
Naruto doesn't remember the walk, doesn't remember much of anything from the fight, not with great detail- but his face is still streaked with tears by the time he finally stops. He's been injured before, hundreds of times worse and each memory feels fuzzy around the edges, but it's so different here. Without the fox. Without that chakra to take care of his body. Or maybe it's different because of something else entirely. His weight rests heavy against the entrance way, and his limp hand flicks uselessly. A weak, but no less present drum of his knuckles against the door.
Location: chez karkat
Rating: PG-13
Time: January 12, late night
Description: Sasuke decided to stab Naruto. Naruto decided to go see someone who wouldn't ask questions. Karkat- well. He didn't get to decide anything.
He doesn't know where his feet are taking him- because he can't think around the dull throb his body has become. Naruto's hand stays pressed tight against his jacket, holding the fabric against the wound at his shoulder, and it's only when he comes to a stop that he realizes- he left his shoes. Back at the apartment.
His eyes shut once, heavy, and it feels like they're closed for hours.
Naruto doesn't remember the walk, doesn't remember much of anything from the fight, not with great detail- but his face is still streaked with tears by the time he finally stops. He's been injured before, hundreds of times worse and each memory feels fuzzy around the edges, but it's so different here. Without the fox. Without that chakra to take care of his body. Or maybe it's different because of something else entirely. His weight rests heavy against the entrance way, and his limp hand flicks uselessly. A weak, but no less present drum of his knuckles against the door.