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Today had been a long day for Naruto. A lengthy training session with the Pervy Sage, hot springs to wind down, the hitting the club by Ichiraku’s with all his friends. It was overall a good day. Some of the senseis joined their former students at the club as well. A big drinking game erupted between the senseis and their old students; whoever lost had to pay for everyone’s drinks. It ended in the student’s favor, so they treated themselves to plenty of drinks. Around one in the morning, everyone began to sober up and walk home. Naruto, as he lived a few blocks away from the club walked himself home.
With a slight stumble, he made his way to the door of his flat. His keys jangled when he unlocked the door and gave a quick shove to open it. Naruto was greeted the same deafening silence he’d grown used to in the eighteen years of his life. He let out a breath he didn’t realize he had been holding as he pushed the door closed behind him. A familiar wave of dread washed over him as Naruto staggered to then collapsed onto his couch. He yanked off his tee shirt, tossing is across the room, then carefully pulled off his binder. He’d worn it nearly all day, only taking it off for training with Jiraiya and the hot springs.
The binder was a gift from Iruka-sensei when Naruto made chuunin a couple of years back. It was one of the best gifts he could’ve asked for and since the blonde still thanked him to this day for such a thoughtful present. His former sensei always shrugged it off, giving Naruto a pat on the back and flashing a bright grin.
Naruto stared at the floor of his flat, pale silver moonlight illuminating the dull wood floors. It has been three years since he had last seen Sasuke. Since he’d last spoken to Sasuke. And even longer since he’d last held Sasuke. Some days were easier than others. His friends, namely Sakura, Shikamaru, Choji, and Sai, were all excellent distractions from his thoughts and Naruto would be eternally grateful to them. But they could only do so much. Not even his closest friends could completely mend his broken heart, and sometimes it got to the point where Naruto wasn’t sure he’d ever be the same again.
Nights like these, Naruto often dwelled on the past despite those who advise against it. He thought back to his childhood when he spent more time alone than was healthy. When the silence was almost as loud as it is now. Where he heard the whispers of those embittered by the Nine-Tails attack the loudest. Naruto remembered the scorching glares the parent's kids his age gave him, he remembered it all. He remembered acting out in Iruka-sensei’s class to get some sort of recognition, some kind of attention that he so desperately craved. The other kids called him annoying, called him a knucklehead. It may have been true, but it got him the attention he wanted.
Naruto snapped out of his alcohol and nostalgia-induced fugue for long enough to slip off his shoes and crack open the window in his living room. He sighed, groggily creeping into his kitchen to prepare himself some instant ramen. He spaced out for about five minutes, but when he came back to, his ramen was finished and he was seated at his small dining table. He hadn’t realized how hungry he was, and before he knew it, there was an empty container on the counter. As soon as he finished, Naruto stared blankly at the open window, remembering times he has Sasuke in his flat, the two sharing a cup of noodles. Sasuke always complained about the lack of “real food” in Naruto’s flat, although he wasn’t much better, eating tomatoes like apples as if that was normal. The two had spent many a night in the small flat; often because Sasuke too could not take the deafening silence of the Uchiha compound. They didn’t have to talk. It was a mutual understanding that the young Uchiha would sometimes climb through the open window in the living room and spend the night with Naruto, often in each other’s arms.
A chill breeze swept through the flat and a shockingly cold feeling struck Naruto’s face, snapping him back to reality. He felt his face, finally noticing the streams of tears falling from his eyes, sliding down his neck and landing on his bare chest. He wiped his face, neck, and chest. How long had he been crying? He blinked, sniffled, then stalked to his bedroom after cleaning up the noodles. Naruto dug through his drawers until he found it: one of Sasuke’s old shirts. The blonde pulled his shirt on and put on a pair of sleep shorts as well. It didn’t smell like Sasuke anymore, but just the knowledge that it used to belong to him was enough for Naruto. When he turned around to face his bed to lay down, Naruto’s eyes landed on the photo of him, Sakura, Kakashi-sensei, and Sasuke from their initial genin training. He sat on his bed and stared down to the picture. Everything was so easy then. When did it all change?
Naruto recalled the Sasuke retrieval mission. It was perfect; he was closest to Sasuke, so he would, of course, go ahead and get him while Choji, Shikamaru, Kiba, and Neji held off the other folks. It all was going according to plan. Until Sasuke didn’t want to go home. Until he stomped on the bond he and Naruto shared. After he left Naruto to die in the Valley of the End, the blonde swore he would get Sasuke back. He promised, and he never goes back on his word.
Three years of training with Jiraiya flew past, and after defeating Sasori, Naruto could practically feel the embrace he was going to give Sasuke. He constantly dreamt of their reunion, Naruto could have written a novel to rival the Pervy Sage’s of all the things he dreamt of saying to bring Sasuke home. He spent restless nights alone in his overwhelmingly quiet flat mumbling his theoretical speeches to himself in the mirror, in the shower, in his bed.
When they finally found Orochimaru’s hideout, after years of searching, after years of painstaking training, Naruto was speechless. He couldn’t say anything. The speeches he had so meticulously prepared to convince Sasuke to come home disappeared. His mind was blank. He couldn’t say anything, and he nearly let Sasuke kill him then and there.
What were the years of training for? What did Naruto work so hard for? For a near-death experience at the hands of the love of his life? He narrowly escaped unscathed, the cold glare Sasuke fixed him with permanently etched in his mind.
“How can someone,” Naruto had cried, “who can’t even save his friends become Hokage?”
The ear-splitting sound of glass shattering filled the room. He gasped, blearily looking down at the picture frame that had slipped from his hands. Naruto’s eyes were filled with tears. He pushed the glass under his bed to deal with later, then he set the photo on his side table. An involuntary shudder ripped through him, then a wheeze. He curled up on his bed, shaking violently as a sob racked his body.
Just before exhaustion set in, Naruto gave one last fleeting look to the open window in his living room from his bed. He gazed at the curtains flapping in the cold night breeze. He wrapped the blanket around himself, his eyes slowly falling shut.