A Return
A Return
Author:
starapple / Martinique
Rating: PG-13
Warnings: This fic is about the death of a character.
Pairings: NaruSasuNaru, GaaNaru.
Summary: He can’t cope with this much longer, the mourning.
Disclaimer: Yes, not mine, etc. etc.
Author’s Notes: This is based on the happenings in The Little Things, and Epilogue: At Home. I don’t think you necessarily need to read any of them to understand what is going on here, but it helps. Just in case you’re interested, here are links to it on my lj (full versions - NC-17, unlike FF.net:
The Little Things: 1 . 2 . 3 . 4 . 5 . 6 . 7 . 8 . 9 . 10 . 11 . 12 . 13 . 14 . 15 and
Epilogue: At Home: 1 .
Also, I’m a bit (read: very) rusty. I wrote this up just now on a flash of inspiration that has been eluding me for quite some time - but hey, exam time is the best time to write….
Naruto stepped back, heart clenched as he tried not to break down at what he’d done, at what he had to do. It’d been inevitable. He would mourn, because no one else would do so truly, he would mourn and then he’d be free, even if guarded soft green eyes would haunt him forever.
He was ready. He would keep his promises.
It was the worst kind of dream to wake from, one that never became easier for Naruto no matter how hard he tried to hide it.
His mouth tasted salt-dry - he pulled himself tiredly out of bed, muscles protesting at the early start to the day. It was still night.
His mind was awake, enough to find the bathroom and flush his mouth with cool water that ran from the tap. For good measure, he patted some on his face, pushing sweaty bangs out of his eyes. The hair tangled in his hands.
His mouth tasted salt-dry, despite the water, despite the way he worked his tongue, running them over fangs and teeth that refused to wet with saliva. It was maddening.
It was punishment. He wasn’t sure how to cope any longer.
He’d made so many promises. There was impatience in his own mind, thoughts that tumbled across each other and he sorely wished Sasuke was here, beside him in bed like that night nearly a year ago, when he’d told him he’d be back.
He came back, but he couldn’t face Sasuke. It had made sense, at first. Gaara’s body had to be found. He had to show them. He had to organize the funeral, had to explain to Temari and Kankuro what had happened. Had attempted. Had failed.
It was no secret Gaara was unstable - but it didn’t help that he’d done it. That he had - the reason for his dreams - murdered someone who had loved him unconditionally, fully.
His mouth tasted salt-dry, like the day he’d brushed his lips chastely against Gaara’s, waiting for the sand to curl up his thighs inexorably, the relentless slither of it haunted him even now.
Naruto felt nauseous. He couldn’t stop it. Never could, the recurring nightmare that ended in him dry-heaving as his mind replayed it all.
It was the only appropriate way to mourn, but he wished Sasuke wouldn’t respect his wishes, would come to find him and comfort him. He was his, after all.
It was starting to drive him insane. Naruto knew that much, knew it in the way his tails twitched in a way they hadn’t done over a year, in the way that his arms shook every time he thought of Gaara, the spasms that ran along the culprit fingers. A cacophony of voices that he’d never heard in real life made him whisper ‘I’m sorry, I’m sorry’ over and over in front of the mirror.
He didn’t eat before going to bed, but it never stopped the convulsions that forced him to stagger backwards a few steps, bent double, swivelling to face the toilet as he heaved clear acid.
It was night, he could hear the birds whisper over the noise he made that echoed in the tiled bathroom.
Slowly, the convulsions ended, and deep breaths convinced him that it was once again over for the night. He stood, brushed his teeth and went back to the bed, knowing that he would not sleep again. He pawed the battered copy of some thriller and settled back to wait out the night.
It had always come in the same way. The dry mouth, the panic and unending guilt - regret at not having done more, at not having paid enough attention. The vomiting. He still trained as hard during the day, was still on top form thanks to the stamina he’d built over the years, but the fatigue showed in his body, he knew as much, saw it in the bags under his eyes and the lazy droop of his tails.
There was nothing for him to do but try and distract himself. He had no missions. He had not returned to Sasuke. He dare not see Sakura, in the event that he distressed her for being in such poor shape.
It had begun to wear off, but he dared not hope.
There was a slight reprieve in that his choice for today had already been made. It marked the end of a harrowing year for everyone. The scars from the fire he’d unleashed on the building had long been hidden by more buildings, taller ones that reached towards the skies with impunity. Konoha could forget, this new Konoha could still move beyond it. Things were still so new.
The only ones who would mourn him properly were those who carried him in his memory. Naruto mourned for those who didn’t realise whom they had lost, this person of such importance. With such a tragic life, a fate he had narrowly avoided by sheer luck.
His mind was his own.
It had been a long year. Naruto swallowed heavily as he stood in front of the lone memorial stone erected for the former shinobi of Hidden Sand. There was only one name engraved in it, though he knew that more would come soon. Gaara.
The words poured out of his mouth faster than he thought.
“I’m a bad friend, aren’t I? A whole year has gone past. An anniversary, of sorts, yes?” Naruto attempted to chuckle. “All these other times, I’ve brought you something. But today, I just bring myself. I don’t know what to say. I miss you. I say that all the time, don’t I? I’m sorry. That too. I know. I know. I-I hope you’re at peace. I haven’t-”
Naruto stopped as suddenly as he had started, aware of a minor change in the rustle of trees behind him. He flicked a kunai towards the offending branch, rewarded with the sound of a body dropping to its feet and the return of his kunai, lazily thrown towards him.
It had been so long.
“You look like shit.” Sasuke told him. Naruto had to clench his teeth not to let the tears fall. He felt overwhelmed, seeing Sasuke like this while stood at Gaara’s grave. He hadn’t changed much, filling out a little with age. Eyes still focused with the perpetual Sharingan.
Naruto nodded slowly. He’d suffered enough, hadn’t he? “Thanks.”
Sasuke shook his head in reply, waving it off.
The air wavered between them, and a silence enveloped them, adrift in their contemplation of what had happened. An hour passed in this way, he could tell by the slant of the shadow of the memorial stone. When Sasuke took his hand, Naruto felt relieved, as if the stone in his lungs had finally dissolved. He fell into the embrace willingly, letting Sasuke clutch him tightly to himself.
“Can we go home now?” he heard himself ask. The touch of another - it felt so alien, but it was Sasuke. Here. Finally.
He was ready. He would keep his promises.
Author:
starapple / Martinique
Rating: PG-13
Warnings: This fic is about the death of a character.
Pairings: NaruSasuNaru, GaaNaru.
Summary: He can’t cope with this much longer, the mourning.
Disclaimer: Yes, not mine, etc. etc.
Author’s Notes: This is based on the happenings in The Little Things, and Epilogue: At Home. I don’t think you necessarily need to read any of them to understand what is going on here, but it helps. Just in case you’re interested, here are links to it on my lj (full versions - NC-17, unlike FF.net:
The Little Things: 1 . 2 . 3 . 4 . 5 . 6 . 7 . 8 . 9 . 10 . 11 . 12 . 13 . 14 . 15 and
Epilogue: At Home: 1 .
Also, I’m a bit (read: very) rusty. I wrote this up just now on a flash of inspiration that has been eluding me for quite some time - but hey, exam time is the best time to write….
Naruto stepped back, heart clenched as he tried not to break down at what he’d done, at what he had to do. It’d been inevitable. He would mourn, because no one else would do so truly, he would mourn and then he’d be free, even if guarded soft green eyes would haunt him forever.
He was ready. He would keep his promises.
It was the worst kind of dream to wake from, one that never became easier for Naruto no matter how hard he tried to hide it.
His mouth tasted salt-dry - he pulled himself tiredly out of bed, muscles protesting at the early start to the day. It was still night.
His mind was awake, enough to find the bathroom and flush his mouth with cool water that ran from the tap. For good measure, he patted some on his face, pushing sweaty bangs out of his eyes. The hair tangled in his hands.
His mouth tasted salt-dry, despite the water, despite the way he worked his tongue, running them over fangs and teeth that refused to wet with saliva. It was maddening.
It was punishment. He wasn’t sure how to cope any longer.
He’d made so many promises. There was impatience in his own mind, thoughts that tumbled across each other and he sorely wished Sasuke was here, beside him in bed like that night nearly a year ago, when he’d told him he’d be back.
He came back, but he couldn’t face Sasuke. It had made sense, at first. Gaara’s body had to be found. He had to show them. He had to organize the funeral, had to explain to Temari and Kankuro what had happened. Had attempted. Had failed.
It was no secret Gaara was unstable - but it didn’t help that he’d done it. That he had - the reason for his dreams - murdered someone who had loved him unconditionally, fully.
His mouth tasted salt-dry, like the day he’d brushed his lips chastely against Gaara’s, waiting for the sand to curl up his thighs inexorably, the relentless slither of it haunted him even now.
Naruto felt nauseous. He couldn’t stop it. Never could, the recurring nightmare that ended in him dry-heaving as his mind replayed it all.
It was the only appropriate way to mourn, but he wished Sasuke wouldn’t respect his wishes, would come to find him and comfort him. He was his, after all.
It was starting to drive him insane. Naruto knew that much, knew it in the way his tails twitched in a way they hadn’t done over a year, in the way that his arms shook every time he thought of Gaara, the spasms that ran along the culprit fingers. A cacophony of voices that he’d never heard in real life made him whisper ‘I’m sorry, I’m sorry’ over and over in front of the mirror.
He didn’t eat before going to bed, but it never stopped the convulsions that forced him to stagger backwards a few steps, bent double, swivelling to face the toilet as he heaved clear acid.
It was night, he could hear the birds whisper over the noise he made that echoed in the tiled bathroom.
Slowly, the convulsions ended, and deep breaths convinced him that it was once again over for the night. He stood, brushed his teeth and went back to the bed, knowing that he would not sleep again. He pawed the battered copy of some thriller and settled back to wait out the night.
It had always come in the same way. The dry mouth, the panic and unending guilt - regret at not having done more, at not having paid enough attention. The vomiting. He still trained as hard during the day, was still on top form thanks to the stamina he’d built over the years, but the fatigue showed in his body, he knew as much, saw it in the bags under his eyes and the lazy droop of his tails.
There was nothing for him to do but try and distract himself. He had no missions. He had not returned to Sasuke. He dare not see Sakura, in the event that he distressed her for being in such poor shape.
It had begun to wear off, but he dared not hope.
There was a slight reprieve in that his choice for today had already been made. It marked the end of a harrowing year for everyone. The scars from the fire he’d unleashed on the building had long been hidden by more buildings, taller ones that reached towards the skies with impunity. Konoha could forget, this new Konoha could still move beyond it. Things were still so new.
The only ones who would mourn him properly were those who carried him in his memory. Naruto mourned for those who didn’t realise whom they had lost, this person of such importance. With such a tragic life, a fate he had narrowly avoided by sheer luck.
His mind was his own.
It had been a long year. Naruto swallowed heavily as he stood in front of the lone memorial stone erected for the former shinobi of Hidden Sand. There was only one name engraved in it, though he knew that more would come soon. Gaara.
The words poured out of his mouth faster than he thought.
“I’m a bad friend, aren’t I? A whole year has gone past. An anniversary, of sorts, yes?” Naruto attempted to chuckle. “All these other times, I’ve brought you something. But today, I just bring myself. I don’t know what to say. I miss you. I say that all the time, don’t I? I’m sorry. That too. I know. I know. I-I hope you’re at peace. I haven’t-”
Naruto stopped as suddenly as he had started, aware of a minor change in the rustle of trees behind him. He flicked a kunai towards the offending branch, rewarded with the sound of a body dropping to its feet and the return of his kunai, lazily thrown towards him.
It had been so long.
“You look like shit.” Sasuke told him. Naruto had to clench his teeth not to let the tears fall. He felt overwhelmed, seeing Sasuke like this while stood at Gaara’s grave. He hadn’t changed much, filling out a little with age. Eyes still focused with the perpetual Sharingan.
Naruto nodded slowly. He’d suffered enough, hadn’t he? “Thanks.”
Sasuke shook his head in reply, waving it off.
The air wavered between them, and a silence enveloped them, adrift in their contemplation of what had happened. An hour passed in this way, he could tell by the slant of the shadow of the memorial stone. When Sasuke took his hand, Naruto felt relieved, as if the stone in his lungs had finally dissolved. He fell into the embrace willingly, letting Sasuke clutch him tightly to himself.
“Can we go home now?” he heard himself ask. The touch of another - it felt so alien, but it was Sasuke. Here. Finally.
He was ready. He would keep his promises.