Summary: And I realised one thing. Sasuke had missed me as much as I had him. AU, some minor angst. NaruSasu.
The title sucks. I couldn't think of anything else though.
No, this is not original. It's in first person as well – yes, the smut included. However, I really like this piece, in spite of the awkward smut and the lack of a punchline towards the end. It has been a while that I felt that my writing is more than just passable. All criticism accepted. If you think it's utter garbage, don't hesitate to tell me.
For a while, I've been desperately trying to understand why he just left back then. It was on a Sunday morning, when the weather was all foggy and wet – the dirty slosh and squishy mud was everywhere. Looked like barf, only browner. Disgusting, of course.
But that's totally beside the point: the weather could have been all sunshine and rainbows. Whatever it would have been – rainy or sunny -- it wouldn't have changed anything. The pain wouldn't have been any less painful.
It would have still hurt, and I keep on repeating myself.
Anyhow, there's a certain satisfaction when the atmosphere outside matches the burning agony crying and twisting in your soul. Although, this sounds pretty poetic or just plain pathetic, pain is like that. It hurts, makes your throat dry and you feel heavier than a sack filled with rotting potatoes. Potatoes which are already a sickly green; the stench of them is so pungent that it makes one want to reel.
Pain makes you want to wretch so hard until there's nothing left to choke on anymore. It's blinding and all-consuming, like an ever-resounding gong.
When Sasuke left, it was just like that. A part of me just died; he tore part of my being in half and left me empty. I was just a bleeding, wrecked and screwed up mess. I'm still bleeding and feel incomplete – there's a gaping hole somewhere inside of me.
No, I'm not saying we were soulmates – I reject the thought of such corny, sentimental values.
It's for girls. I'm not a girl, last time I checked. And even if I were a girl, I'd reject such crap.
But he was definitely more than just a good fuck. Definitely more than that. If I had wanted to solely scratch an itch from time to time, I could have picked up the next whore from the street. There's more than enough of that out there. And yet, even if I did it with one, it wouldn't make me feel any better.
I'd probably just end up thinking, that it isn't Sasuke. Stupid bastard. I know that, even though I've haven't had tried it out – and I won't.
I miss the little banters we shared. I miss the sound of his voice. Even his nagging, his complaints and taunts are better than all too pervading silence here. It's impenetrable; it hugs and dances around me like too thickly knitted shawl. I want to get rid off it. I want it to be gone. Gone.
I fucking hate Sasuke for making me feel like this.
I'm not sure whether I'll be able to forgive him for that. But, moreover, I'm not sure whether I'm able to forgive myself for letting him go.
Because it's not just that he was my lover. We were friends before we became that. Or I thought we were. I really have no idea what we were. Or if we were really anything. But still I miss Sasuke, regardless of anything.
Because he's...well, he's everything and that's that. No point in denying the truth, even though the underlying cheesiness makes me want to laugh. I hate Sasuke for that as well. Even when he's not here he's tampering with my mind.
The tick of the clock announcing that it's midday startles me. I stir and notice that I'm really an idiot. Sakura-chan has told me that I often make things worse by obsessing over them. She's right. I'll go out. 'Sides I have work to do.
I hate the heat. Period.
I don't understand why radio broadcasts are so uppity cheerful when the temperature reaches up to forty degrees. It's all about going to the swimming pool then – have fun starting a summer flirt or something like that. It's all about the summer of love, they say.
Well, bloody idiotic half-a brain morons, not everyone has the time to sit and rot their brains off while lying in the sun.
And, even that, doesn't lessen my hate. The sun's burning down my back, my shirt has practically become one with my sweat-plastered skin. Even my trousers feel uncomfortable – I swear that I need to take a bath. I would do anything for a bit of refreshment.
I'll reiterate: the heat sucks.
There's mosquito buzzing over my arms; I swat it away. I'd kill the little git, but that'd make me look stupid. I'm in the middle of the street, but that persistent creature isn't letting go. Damn, it's really annoying.
I curse and then hear a short snort behind me; someone – with their screws gone loose – actually has the audacity to be amused. While I'm suffering like this, the idiot is snorting.
Why – I'll teach them a lesson. I'm not a coward and strangers making fun of me is a big no-no in my books.
Let's just say that I lose my temper easily. Today, I'm angrier than usual. Blame the heat (the weather is always good to be used as an excuse).
I turn around, prepared to spit out the most obscene strings of curses you've ever heard when my breath is taken away – literally. It's Sasuke who snorted.
Sasuke – the one and only. He looks the same, hasn't changed a bit. Then again, it's only been a few months. Strange, how the few months seemed like years to me.
Now at this point, you'd expect some super dramatic music or the monsoon rain to come a-pelting down us, drenching us wet to the bone. It'd be wonderfully melodramatic and, if you'd insert music, the moment would be perfected even more.
But there's no music, no rain and definitely nothing else of the extraordinary. It's still fuming hot, the people – all grown more hectic due to the scorching aggression of the sun's – are still walking and pushing past us. Nothing has changed. The world hasn't stopped turning for us.
Really, life's not a Bollywood film. We're not going to magically fall into each other's arms either.
Instead of hugging him, I just stare dumbfounded at him. I hate it – I've got a hundred and one things running around my head, but can't voice them. My voice has really died down my throat. I'd like to say something really vicious like “you fucking moron, where you've been, but all that comes out is a highly embarrassing “ehhh, Sasuke?”
Right. Makes me look incredibly smart and eloquent, doesn't it?
Sasuke is amused, nevertheless.
“Naruto, nice to see that you're as intelligible as always,” Sasuke gives me to understand. He's smirking still and I feel instantly annoyed. It's my ego that has been bruised.
“Why, you stupid bastard. At least, I talk and don't only say 'hn' all the time,” I growl out, but the comeback is lame.
Sasuke just sighs and ignores me and that's it. In just a span of a few minutes, we're back to what we always were – back to me insulting Sasuke and him trying to ignore me in return.
That's good -- at least, we're still the same.
Sasuke drags me into some café – it's posh and I hate it like nothing else. It's horrendous: the jazz music is roaring into my ears and the burgundy – or whatever the hell that colour is – wallpaper is making me sick. It's such a poofter's place; the only thing missing are fluffy pink cushions and a belly-dancer.
“What the fuck is this?” I say, angry that I'm forced to spend my hard-earned money here. “A pub would have been better, Sasuke”.
Sasuke just sighs and shakes his head. “You've really got no taste, Naruto.”
“Taste? You call this taste?”
I look around the oppressive atmosphere here again – the burgundy wallpaper, the lusciously decorated tables and long red carpet covering the floor. It's so intense – the reddish-burgundy colour is painful to my eyes. As well as the all too fluorescent illumination. Of course, Sasuke has to comment on my dislike.
“I shouldn't have expected anything from an unmannered ruffian like you.”
I bite back a haughty remark – don't want to infuriate him right now. Sasuke might not look it, but he's awfully sensitive. Takes everything to heart. And I've learnt from past experiences – I know that getting on his bad side is, well, a bad idea.
Besides, even if the surroundings make me want to kill something, Sasuke himself looks good. I mean, he always does, but he looks even better than usual today – delectable. I don't think it's only because I haven't seen him for a while; he's always had this effect on me.
Suddenly, I can't take it anymore. I just want to know why he's come back, why of all things he's approached me now.
“Don't ask me why I left. It's none of your business,” Sasuke answers, but his voice isn't contemptuous or warning. He's just keeping me at bay and that hurts. Even now, Sasuke is still pushing me away.
I'd like to scowl at him, but it's pointless. I've vented out my feelings on him too often. Sasuke is one of the only people who's ever made me degrade myself like this. But I won't lash out on him. I can see the repressed pain on his face. It only takes a split second for me to understand. Whatever has happened to Sasuke -- why he left -- shouldn't be disclosed right now. Maybe he'll tell me, but I won't squeeze it out of him now.
“I won't ask. I'll wait until you tell me yourself.”
Sasuke sighs in relief; a weight seems to have slipped from his shoulders. I feel relieved as well, even though a part of me is disappointed. Oh well, you can't have everything.
Sasuke's never been easy.
He follows me back home. It's grown dark, not very dark yet, but slowly – and surely – the day's coming to an end.
As soon as we've reached the door, Sasuke kisses me unexpectedly – it robs me of my composure quite a bit. It's unnerving how much it affects me, how the feel of his warm mouth is enough to make me melt right on the spot.
He's so warm, so damned addictive. I don't even mind the fact that he tastes like cigarettes. Not that I won't force him to quit smoking later on. It's pretty bad habit, if you ask me. Smoking, that is.
I pull him closer, knead my fingers into the white shirt he's wearing and groan when Sasuke rubs against me. He's hard and I'm just hard as he is – fantastic. It's really good to know how vulnerable I am when it comes to Sasuke. My body is a bloody traitor.
It's only minutes later that I realise where we are, what we're doing right here in the hall. Why, my neighbours must have been given a good show and I feel like dying. I never thought I'd be dry humping Sasuke like that, like a rabid animal for all the world to see.
Fuck, I think. And damn Sasuke for being that desperate – he's lost his marbles. I've always known that being deprived from having sex for too long is bound to make someone batty. Especially someone like Sasuke.
I push him away and hoarsely say:
“Wait, let me ... let me open the door.”
I do open the door with a loud click and pull Sasuke in; his warm hand fits perfectly against my own, but I don't marvel too long about that. There are other things on my mind right now; the prospect of having sex with Sasuke again is overwhelming. I can barely think straight.
The door's shut again and, without further ado, Sasuke is slammed against the wall.
I'll make him pay. He'll learn to not be gone for too long next time. No, screw that, there won't be a next time: he'll never leave me again.
Sasuke's skin is flushed with desire and his eyes are closed; he's already on the verge of submitting and I haven't even done anything yet. It's touching because I realise one thing.
He's missed me as much as I've missed him. Sasuke isn't a heartless, cold-hearted bastard: he's been through hell as well.
He's really an idiot, I think. It didn't have to be like this.
“You stupid asshole, you could at least have warned me,” I whisper into his ear, then lick it; he whimpers and I smile, glad that I've remembered. Sasuke's incredibly sensitive when it comes to his neck and ears.
I'd like to tease him further, but I'm about as impatient as he is. It's too bad – I might have even made him beg. But I'm not cruel and claim Sasuke's lips in a kiss again. He returns it and his fingers bury themselves in my hair, which he's always loved doing. For a reason I can't understand.
I drag him into the bedroom, hoping that he won't notice the messy state. But he doesn't: he's too busy frantically kicking off his shoes. His lips are on mine again and Sasuke is trying to – nearly aggressively – tear the shirt I'm wearing into pieces. I stop him.
“Don't – it's my favourite,” I remind him and take it off myself, followed by the rest of my clothes. Sasuke does the same and, for once, isn't concerned with neatness. The clothes are scattered all over the bedroom floor and Sasuke pulls me down the bed with him as soon as he's done.
After taking the necessary precautions, I push into Sasuke gently, knowing that he hasn't done anything for quite a while. You could say I'm an idiot for this, but I trust him. And, apart from that, Sasuke is too much of an icy bastard to screw around casually. He's too proud and haughty. I've often heard him saying that it's undignified and lowly behaviour for an Uchiha to fuck around.
Good for me.
I'm the only one he's ever really let close to him. He's so tight and warm; I'd nearly forgotten how warm he is and how good it felt to be intimate with him. Not that I have much to compare him to.
I've never had anyone else, either. Not that I regret it because Sasuke is more than enough. I don't need anyone else.
“Naruto move. Come on – move,” he hisses out; his voice barely more than a whisper. And he's practically forcing me to continue, to start thrusting into him until he'll break. He wraps his legs around my hips, pulling me in deeper. And it's painful – painful not to move and I can't resist from groaning. Sasuke urges me on, squirming underneath me.
“Fuck Naruto. Just move,” he gasps out aggressively.
Sasuke is such a stupid bastard. He is a bastard for making me feel so powerless against him. And, once again, I can't do more than obey his commands because resistance would be futile. He'd just flip us over and take measures to fuck me himself.
The bed creaks and Sasuke pants while I slam into him. I won't last long. I'd have loved to prolong it, but Sasuke's moans and “fuck me harder” commands just don't make it possible. So, I wrap my hand around his own cock and start pumping; he arches and squirms. He's growing quite loud – something that you'd never expect him to do, unless you really know him well.
But I told you: Sasuke isn't quite as placid as he'd like others to believe he is.
He's over the edge soon enough and I follow, shuddering and burying my face in his shoulder.
“I'm sorry,” Sasuke suddenly says and his eyes are boring deeply into my own; he looks anxious and, though he's not aware of it, he's biting his lips.
I don't want to think about what's happened. We'll have more than enough time for that. Don't get me wrong. Yet, what's the point to talk about it now?
Sasuke's brain has melted into wax and he's sleepy. I could probably coax him into wearing a pink dress if I wanted to -- he's that exhausted. I'm tired too, by the bye. So, I'll just let it be for today. 'Sides, I'm too happy.
Mornings are a hard bitch for me to digest. I don't wake up with ease. And, more than often, I doze off again. I don't fall asleep again this time, though. I'm not alone and, at first, it shocks me. Until I realise it's Sasuke who's here.
It's been a while since he's been here -- far too long for my tastes.
The sunlight shining through the curtains is bright enough for me to perceive that Sasuke's hair is all tousled. He looks relaxed, cosy even.
“You didn't leave," I say, trying to affirm that this isn't just a dream.
Sasuke just nods; he's not in the mood to talk. He's not a morning person either.
I place a chaste, innocent kiss on his lips and watch amusedly how his eyes widen because of my actions. Sasuke hasn't had much gentleness from me. In the past, I was scared of him being turned off by it and -- well -- it's awkward. I'm not big on sentimental values. But, I can't help being emotional right now. Sometimes you just have to be. Perhaps, I should have been more open before.
“Hey, don't do that again,”I say, giving my thoughts a voice. I want Sasuke to understand that he's important to me, that his not being here hurts worse than a frostbite.
“Don't ever leave me again.”
He nods, and I feel that he understands this time. At least, I hope so.
I couldn't stand it if he left again and neither would he. That's why I'm nearly certain that Sasuke wouldn't do it evermore because as much as he denies it, we're stuck in the same boat.
Sasuke needs me as well and that's a fact.