crafted illusions.
Fandom: Naruto
Characters: Uzumaki Naruto & Hyuuga Hinata
Prompt: 082. ghosts
Word Count: 745
Rating: PG
Disclaimer: I do not own Naruto
Warning: Somewhat one-sided NaruHina. First attempt at writing them, kinda weird.
Notes: Written for lover100. Prompt table is here.
-
“Naruto-kun?”
He blinks, her gentle voice snapping him from his daze. “Oh hey, Hinata-chan!” he grins, the raw emotion from seconds before carefully concealed. “What’re you doing here?”
The urge to frown pushes at her, but she refuses to, not in front of him. “Lunch, remember?”
“Oh, right!” he grins again, this time sheepishly. “Sorry ‘bout that. It’s been so stressful, you know? Let’s go!”
He doesn’t give her a chance to protest, as the next second they are flying through his new office window, landing silently on a neighbouring roof. Hinata’s face falls as soon as his gaze turns away, not bothering to chastise her husband and now Rokudaime for such an ungraceful exit.
It is always the same story, anyway.
She has been naive, as always, to trust that giving her all would be enough. Five years, yet it still does not suffice. Perhaps it’s her - because she isn’t them, she will never be able to heal his deep wounds, no matter how hard she tries. He tries too, that much she knows. He tries, he tries so hard every day to be enough as well, to be whole enough for her.
She sees it in the efforts he makes to make her happy, to be a good husband, to be a good father - but she knows that it simply isn’t enough.
He can never be whole again. The little pieces of him that chipped away with Sasuke’s departure, Sakura’s betrayal, Sasuke’s death by Sakura’s hands, Kakashi’s death, Sakura’s inauguration to the Akatsuki - she knows those pieces of him can never be found again.
He is but a fragile shell of Naruto, but she can never stop loving, never stop trying.
Every morning, she sees him slip out quietly to the memorial stone to pay his respects to his teammates - he thinks she is sleeping, but she has always been a light sleeper. She wonders sometimes, what it’s like to be the only one left standing, the only one left behind from a broken family.
She doesn’t want to think about the other one, however. She can see it in his eyes, the pain and love he still feels for his heart’s sister and first love. Konoha’s newest Bingo Book is in its eternal place on their coffee table. It is never touched, never opened - at least, not by her. But she can see the littlest hint of a dog-eared page, and she has no doubt that it’s the page of the newest pink-haired addition.
She doesn’t want to think about how he would do anything to have her back, to ‘save her’ - he is in denial, she thinks, for hoping. She pushes the little voice snickering hypocrite in her head away - she is in denial, too.
There is no doubt in her mind however, that he loves her - that much she should know. He tells her every day, smiles when he says it, full of kisses and grins.
But she knows deep down that he will probably always love her more, the enigmatic emerald eyed coral haired teammate of his, though her duty is now to kill him. He is adamant that it is against her will, that she has justifiable reason to deflect - a martyr-like sacrifice, he insists.
And so Hinata has stopped reasoning with him. It is best to let him wallow, she realizes.
She has seen him once, talking to a picture of a nineteen year old Sakura smiling at the camera, mirth radiating off every inch of her. Hinata knows Naruto is behind the camera, and that brilliant mega-watt smile has an effect on her husband that she can never hope to have on him.
“I’ll always love you, you know? Sakura-chan.”
“Hinata-chan’s great with little Sasuke. I wish you were here to see him - I wish he could meet you.”
Hinata is not prone to her masochistic streak, but despite each new word ripping a new shred in her heart, she is unable to tear her ears away from the one-way conversation. She has known since then that it is a lost cause, but she is still unable to walk away.
So strong is her love and devotion for him, so idiotic are her ways.
Shrouded by ghosts of his past, neither are able to let go.
So they hang on to their crafted illusion, working around the broken glass that is the truth surrounding them.
It is not nearly enough, but it’s the best they have.
Characters: Uzumaki Naruto & Hyuuga Hinata
Prompt: 082. ghosts
Word Count: 745
Rating: PG
Disclaimer: I do not own Naruto
Warning: Somewhat one-sided NaruHina. First attempt at writing them, kinda weird.
Notes: Written for lover100. Prompt table is here.
-
“Naruto-kun?”
He blinks, her gentle voice snapping him from his daze. “Oh hey, Hinata-chan!” he grins, the raw emotion from seconds before carefully concealed. “What’re you doing here?”
The urge to frown pushes at her, but she refuses to, not in front of him. “Lunch, remember?”
“Oh, right!” he grins again, this time sheepishly. “Sorry ‘bout that. It’s been so stressful, you know? Let’s go!”
He doesn’t give her a chance to protest, as the next second they are flying through his new office window, landing silently on a neighbouring roof. Hinata’s face falls as soon as his gaze turns away, not bothering to chastise her husband and now Rokudaime for such an ungraceful exit.
It is always the same story, anyway.
She has been naive, as always, to trust that giving her all would be enough. Five years, yet it still does not suffice. Perhaps it’s her - because she isn’t them, she will never be able to heal his deep wounds, no matter how hard she tries. He tries too, that much she knows. He tries, he tries so hard every day to be enough as well, to be whole enough for her.
She sees it in the efforts he makes to make her happy, to be a good husband, to be a good father - but she knows that it simply isn’t enough.
He can never be whole again. The little pieces of him that chipped away with Sasuke’s departure, Sakura’s betrayal, Sasuke’s death by Sakura’s hands, Kakashi’s death, Sakura’s inauguration to the Akatsuki - she knows those pieces of him can never be found again.
He is but a fragile shell of Naruto, but she can never stop loving, never stop trying.
Every morning, she sees him slip out quietly to the memorial stone to pay his respects to his teammates - he thinks she is sleeping, but she has always been a light sleeper. She wonders sometimes, what it’s like to be the only one left standing, the only one left behind from a broken family.
She doesn’t want to think about the other one, however. She can see it in his eyes, the pain and love he still feels for his heart’s sister and first love. Konoha’s newest Bingo Book is in its eternal place on their coffee table. It is never touched, never opened - at least, not by her. But she can see the littlest hint of a dog-eared page, and she has no doubt that it’s the page of the newest pink-haired addition.
She doesn’t want to think about how he would do anything to have her back, to ‘save her’ - he is in denial, she thinks, for hoping. She pushes the little voice snickering hypocrite in her head away - she is in denial, too.
There is no doubt in her mind however, that he loves her - that much she should know. He tells her every day, smiles when he says it, full of kisses and grins.
But she knows deep down that he will probably always love her more, the enigmatic emerald eyed coral haired teammate of his, though her duty is now to kill him. He is adamant that it is against her will, that she has justifiable reason to deflect - a martyr-like sacrifice, he insists.
And so Hinata has stopped reasoning with him. It is best to let him wallow, she realizes.
She has seen him once, talking to a picture of a nineteen year old Sakura smiling at the camera, mirth radiating off every inch of her. Hinata knows Naruto is behind the camera, and that brilliant mega-watt smile has an effect on her husband that she can never hope to have on him.
“I’ll always love you, you know? Sakura-chan.”
“Hinata-chan’s great with little Sasuke. I wish you were here to see him - I wish he could meet you.”
Hinata is not prone to her masochistic streak, but despite each new word ripping a new shred in her heart, she is unable to tear her ears away from the one-way conversation. She has known since then that it is a lost cause, but she is still unable to walk away.
So strong is her love and devotion for him, so idiotic are her ways.
Shrouded by ghosts of his past, neither are able to let go.
So they hang on to their crafted illusion, working around the broken glass that is the truth surrounding them.
It is not nearly enough, but it’s the best they have.