Chapter Text
Sasuke shouts himself awake almost before the sun crests over the Hokage monument.
The light, gentle as it washes over the Uchiha compound, cuts through the windows and bathes Sasuke in warm, golden light as he lays there and tries to remember how to breathe. He looks with unseeing eyes at where the gaps in the curtains have let the gentle light in to hit his hands, his chest, his thighs, and the sensation leaves him feeling cold. The nightmares are still vivid as they dance in front of his eyes, and all he can think is that's where it was, that's where I had to wash Mother's blood away.
Needless to say, his dreams the night before had been vicious like they hadn’t been in years. As Sasuke wakes further and the dreams start to fade (which is worse, somehow, because Mother’s face is never as clear outside his dreams), he's left feeling like he's been filled with nothing but a jittering, consuming anxiety. Sasuke attempts to shut away the feelings with his futon; he knows his anxiety is only adding to the oppressive silence of the large house, which is far too big for one person when it was meant for six or more. Himself, father, mother and the baby, obaa-san, Shisui, and Ita—
Sasuke rushes through showering and dressing, using the sound of rushing water to drown out his thoughts. It doesn’t help for long; after he dresses, he has to rush past the row of closed doors near his room, leaving him choking on his own shuddering breaths. The doors, the ones he doesn’t— can’t— open any more, haunt him today more than they have in months. It's like his dreams, which usually fade away in the light of day, are lurking behind the door and taunting him with the angry, echoing voices of his mother and father and bro—
Sasuke forces down some leftover rice for breakfast, standing over the kitchen sink and bouncing from foot to foot until he can let the bowl and chopsticks clatter out of his hands. He wastes no time in shoving his sandals onto his feet, tearing his backpack off the hook, and dashing into the street.
The suffocating feeling chases him from his house and down the lane, half-remembered voices calling out from behind the boarded grocery kiosks, rotting storefronts, and abandoned homes. The genin of almost five years ago had tried their best to clean the bloodstains from the wood and stone, but their paltry Suiton weren’t quite enough to finish the job. The Hokage has offered to send someone more experienced to fix everything up on more than one occasion, but Sasuke had refused. I'm tired, was what he'd said, the last time, please, don't ask me again. I’m tired.
(Sasuke privately believes that there’s no point in cleaning it up—that no matter how hard anyone scrubs, the bloodstains won’t ever come out. My family wouldn't want to be forgotten like that, he thinks, then desperately regrets that he’s the only one left to remember. Father would scoff to be told that Sasuke was the only one left out of all of them, ever-disappointed in his distasteful second son. Mother would run a hand over his hair, smile, and say nothing. Obaa-san would feed him tomatoes off the vine and make sure to tell him all the stories he never got to hear, and make up mnemonics to help him remember, and—)
It's not until Sasuke reaches the still-scorched earth by the entrance to the Uchiha compound—the spot where he scrapped wood from nearby buildings to build up the funeral pyre—that he slows from a dead sprint to a quick-but-casual walk. To really hammer in the facade of apathy, he shoves his hands deep in his pockets and affects a spectacular slouch. It won’t fool any of the Watchers that are assigned to the compound—the animal-masked ones that have been on a 24-hour suicide detail for the last five years—but it’ll be enough to fool almost anyone else.
It's a lot easier to think and breathe after leaving the compound. The walls are tall and thick, imposing, and the torii gate only adds to the illusion that you're walking from one world to the next. If Sasuke could—but he can't, because he's a good son, and good sons don't abandon their family homes—he'd take his mementos from the houses then never go back to the compound ever again.
But it's not like the village outside the compound is much better, Sasuke thinks bitterly. He walks slowly, taking the back alleys, and tries to decide where he should go next. Going into the shopping or market districts during the day barely deserves a second thought; Sasuke can't go where there are too many civilians, not anymore. They take it as license to simper and pander and try to touch him.
The last Uchiha, he must have good luck to have survived his traitor brother's rampage, they whisper, touching him might make us lucky too.
It's disgusting. Whenever Sasuke goes to the day markets he ends up wanting to snap and snarl at them all, to ask them if they'd think it was luck if they lost everyone they'd ever loved and then had to live every single day alone. The last time he tried to go to the market, a ninja in a dog mask whisked him away and let him scream himself hoarse for hours on top of the Hokage Monument before taking him home, right to the gates of the Uchiha compound. Sasuke was eight, then. He's never seen the dog-masked ninja again.
If the markets with the civilians are never a good choice, the training grounds with the ninja are usually always a safe bet. There are so many training grounds in Konoha that it's usually possible to find at least one that's empty, especially this early. The more central grounds are always booked, no matter what time of day it is, but Sasuke knows that if you're willing to skirt a little closer to the Forest of Death you can always at least find a quiet place to sit.
Today, though, none of the training grounds are safe. They're all going to be filled with bored jounin and high-level chuunin, pulled temporarily from the active mission roster and waiting impatiently to meet their assigned genin teams. Graduation Day means all the 'safe' training grounds are being hogged by new teams, which shunts the usual takers towards the less desirable places, which are the exact spots Sasuke tends to gravitate towards. Sasuke's never personally tried it, because he doesn't have much of a death wish anymore, but he can guess that irritated ninja don't make for great before-school company.
Which just leaves the Academy.
The Academy isn’t exactly an entirely safe option either, what with Sasuke's fangirls lurking around every corner, but it's still much better than being at home. Alone.
Sasuke gets to the Academy early enough that no one else is there when he arrives. The room is unlocked, so Iruka-sensei must be here-but-not- here, and it’s easy to slip inside. Soundlessly as he can—the floorboards are creaky, purposely, so that students can’t sneak up on the teachers—he steals across the room and slumps into the farthest chair at the farthest desk, where Naruto usually sits. The girls usually avoid Naruto like the plague, and that's what Sasuke's counting on today. It’s always a toss-up as to whether the dumbass will help or hinder Sasuke’s desire to be left well enough alone, but today it’s an easy decision to trade the simpering fangirls for Naruto’s irritating and boundless enthusiasm.
Sasuke slings his bag onto the hook under the desk, then just… loses time, or something. By the time he comes fully back into his own head he finds that he's managed to lay out everything he usually needs for taking notes. With a sharp sound of disgust at himself, Sasuke shoves everything back into his bag haphazardly, as quickly as he can. It's graduation day, he doesn't need to take fucking notes.
Sasuke is not having a good day. He is having a bad day. He hasn't had a day this bad in - in - in months, at least. It's still tough to do even the simple things most of the time, but at least he wasn't spacing out and losing time any more. A ninja who doesn't have absolute control over their body is useless. What the fuck is wrong with him?
"-uke? Sasuke, Sasuke, Sasuke!" Naruto is suddenly saying right into his ear .
“What,” Sasuke snaps, and Naruto lights up like a firefly, all smiles and bouncing enthusiasm.
“Hey teme! Whatcha doin’? That’s my spot! Is there anyone sitting beside you? Can I sit here? You’re here so early! It's okay, I was excited too.”
Sloppy, Sasuke thinks, chiding himself for his lack of vigilance. It’s only Naruto, but that almost makes it worse; the dobe is the worst ninja ever. He’s loud, and brash, and wouldn’t know sneaking if it dressed up in orange and smacked him right in the face.
The thing about Naruto, though, is that despite truly being the worst ninja ever, he's more observant than anyone gives him credit for. Naruto is always falling over himself and screaming something about being the Hokage to take the attention off of the awkward Aburame kid, leaving little flowers for the girls who get bullied by Ami, catching cool bugs to share with Chouji and Kiba, and being a distraction so Shikamaru can take naps in class uninterrupted. And even though he always gets yelled at, always gets in trouble, Naruto is always smiling, always laughing, always failing, and Sasuke doesn’t know how he does it. Doesn’t Naruto feel the same way he does? Isn’t he lonely?
But—he must be. He must be. Because Sasuke pays attention to Naruto too, and the dobe is so sad, all the time. He talks and he talks and he talks, but it seems like no one is ever listening to him and Naruto knows it, and Sasuke can see it happening but he can’t make himself speak up, because he's sad too. He can barely keep his own head above water most days, he doesn’t also have the energy to stand up for someone he doesn't even know if he likes most of the time. Naruto has only ever been good company at night, when the rest of the village is tucked into bed.
Naruto keeps his distance when they’re around other people, like at school, but they’ve been frequenting the same quiet parts of town at night for years, when it seems like neither of them can sleep. More often than not, Sasuke finds Naruto lingering on the swings in the Academy playground or on top of the Hokage monument, stars always bright and glittering overhead. Sasuke usually means to go home and leave the dobe alone, but somehow he never quite manages it. Naruto’s a lot quieter at night, even if he still talks a lot, and he never seems to mind holding up both ends of the conversation the way Kiba sometimes does. It helps, on the nights Sasuke can’t stand to be in the compound by himself, to hear Naruto drone on and on.
He often wonders if Naruto is trying to escape the same kinds of ghosts.
“Hm,” Sasuke finally hums, looking at Naruto sidelong.
Naruto takes that as permission, grins, and crashes into the chair next to Sasuke, making all sorts of noise. His face is all blotchy and red, like he sprinted the whole way to school, and his whole body is vibrating like he needs to be moving or he’ll shake out of his skin. It’s a more familiar feeling to Sasuke than he’d like to admit.
“Aren’t you excited?” Naruto grins so wide his eyes scrunch almost shut, his whisker-like scars creasing like horizontal dimples. “It’s gonna be our first day as ninja! Do you think we’ll get a cool jounin sensei? Or do you think we’ll get a lame chuunin sensei? Not that Iruka-sensei is lame, but like, we’re going to be genin so it’d be lame to have anything but a jounin sensei, right?”
Sasuke just hums again, looking away from Naruto in favour of staring down at his hands. Naruto takes that as exuberant permission to keep chattering—and honestly, for Sasuke, it kind of is. Naruto fidgets, taps his feet, and gestures as he talks, and Sasuke keeps half an eye on him in case he needs to grab the dobe by the collar to keep him from tipping his chair over in his enthusiasm. It wouldn't be the first time.
It’s... nice. It’s grounding. Keeping an eye on Naruto’s flailing limbs is keeping Sasuke present, in the moment, and not letting him think too much about how Ita— That Man had already been a jounin at Sasuke’s age. How he’d only been two years older than Sasuke is now when the whole clan had gathered to celebrate his promotion. Everyone had celebrated all night long, raucous and loud in the way that only Uchihas could be; they’d had to file for noise and fire permits with the Council, just to make sure that the Military Police wouldn’t be forced to break up the party. Sasuke and his brother (because That Man was still his brother back then, he wasn’t quite the thing he would become) hadn’t been allowed to stay up past their bedtime. They had both complained as bedtime drew closer and closer, Sasuke out loud, and his brother with only small sighs and tense shoulders. Ten more minutes okaa-san, please, it’s aneki’s party! Sasuke remembers saying, but their mother had just laughed and shaken her head. Father had scowled, but before he could say anything scathing Uncle Kagami had lit up the sky with a Katon so hot and bright it looked like fireworks, shining blue and white against the stars. The hot air blasted back over the crowd like a sunburn over their skin, there and gone again, and Sasuke was left grinning and blinking spots out of his vision. There was a swooping sensation in his stomach as Uncle Kagami scooped him and Itachi up and hoisted them over his shoulders, Sasuke shrieking with glee and his brother grumbling but obviously pleased. By the time Sasuke could see clearly again, without the spots, Uncle Kagami had them both tucked into bed and the clocks read 8 PM. Bedtime.
Only a couple months later, Sasuke’s brother was gone and That Man had come into the compound at night to slaughter—
Naruto’s gentle hand on his shoulder jolts Sasuke out of the hurricane of his own thoughts. “Hey teme? You look a little pale—paler than usual, y’know? You’re basically see-through on a good day, and it’s usually really pretty, but - uh, I mean - um - are you okay! Is what I mean! Nothing else!”
The memories that are making Sasuke’s hands tremble are, quite abruptly, the furthest thing from his mind. He feels like he’s watching himself from a distance as he feels his head tilt to the side. He blinks stupidly, owlishly, and he’s unable to stop himself from saying, “You think I’m pretty?”
Naruto is suddenly the one who’s panicking. He’s quickly turning bright red, and it creeps up from under the collar of his orange jacket, making the scars on his cheeks look even paler in comparison, and doesn’t stop until it reaches the ridiculous goggles on his forehead. Sasuke just sits there and stares, unsure of what else to do, and Naruto opens his mouth to yell, maybe, or to deny it, but—?
“OhSasukehi!” Sakura squeals from right there, and before Sasuke is even done flinching at the noise, Sakura is tossing Naruto ass-over-teakettle, chair and all, and dragging over the next-nearest chair to place herself right in Sasuke’s personal space.
Sloppy! Sasuke thinks again, chiding himself once more. It’s one thing to not notice when Naruto walks into an empty room, it’s another entirely to be so caught up in his own thoughts that he doesn’t notice his fangirls entering the building.
With a grimace, Sasuke shifts as far away from her as he can manage while still being on his chair. Sakura is by no means the worst of his fangirls, but she’s definitely the most annoying, partially because she’s the only one willing to brave the unspoken taboo of going near Naruto. She’s a capable kunoichi, smart and strong, but she’s turned herself into a simpering idiot because of her rivalry with Ino. They don’t even really want him, they’re just willing to make his life a living hell in order to get one over on each other.
Once Sakura claims a spot next to him, the rest of the fangirls feel safe enough to brave Naruto, and soon Ino and six or seven others have descended on him, squealing and chattering and vying for his attention. Sasuke sighs quietly out his nose and holds himself very carefully away from Sakura, chin in his hands and resolutely looking anywhere but in her direction.
Which means - well - it’s not like he’s looking at Naruto, but the dobe is wearing orange and he’s not exactly quiet, so Sasuke still notices they way Naruto picks himself up from his sprawl on the floor. He glares at the side of Sakura’s head like he can light her hair on fire with his mind, then seems to come to a decision and—to Sasuke’s complete surprise—crawls up on the desk, right in front of Sasuke. He leans closer, and closer, until their noses are almost touching and Sasuke goes a bit cross eyed from the effort of keeping eye contact.
If he’s trying to get Sakura’s attention, this is probably the way to do it, Sasuke thinks. Naruto does this sort of thing, sometimes, especially when he's feeling left out. This feels like a direct challenge, though, and Sasuke’s never lost a contest to Naruto and he doesn’t intend to start now, so Sasuke doesn’t move except to murmur, “What do you want now, dobe?”
“I changed my mind,” Naruto declares, brandishing an accusatory hand in Sakura’s direction, “You might be pretty, but it’s not enough to scream about like they do. You’re just normal pretty, teme.”
“What! You —! ” Sakura and Ino shriek from Sasuke’s left, but Sasuke barely hears them over Naruto’s voice ringing in his ears. You might be pretty, it says, pretty, pretty, pretty.
Mortifyingly, Sasuke can feel the tips of his ears turning red, and his heart is beating double-time in his chest.
Naruto is bright red with embarrassment, but Sasuke knows he's about to double down on what he said. The idiot always doubles down. True to form, Naruto grins through his embarrassment and leans impossibly closer to Sasuke, never breaking eye contact. When he's close enough that Sasuke can feel the dobe's breath gusting across his face, Naruto grins and crows, “I meant what I said, believe it!”
Of course, Chouji and Shikamaru choose that exact moment to wander over to try and collect Ino before class starts. The unholy noise Ino and Sakura make at Naruto's declaration causes Chouji to flinch and pitch into Shikamaru, who stumbles and knocks into Naruto, who predictably falls forward and bumps into Sasuke.
Lips first.
Naruto’s lips are on his. The sensation is warm, if a little pointy—Naruto had been smiling when he fell forward, his large, sharp canine teeth on full display—and not entirely unpleasant. Even though he’s positive that he'd never once thought about kissing before this very moment, he can’t help but feel glad that it happened like this. At worst, it’s done now. At best, Sasuke avoided a much more terrible fate: it could have been Sakura, or worse, Ino.
Sasuke's first thought—after his relief—is of Naruto. Naruto, who is kissing him. Naruto, who jerks back and raises a gentle hand up to his lips, eyes wide and so, so blue.
Of course, Sakura chooses that moment to take a flying, screaming leap that knocks Naruto right off the desk and into Iruka-sensei’s knees, and the whole ensuing scuffle is so funny that Sasuke is too busy trying not to laugh out loud to even think about the kiss. By the time he gets a hold of himself it's time to start the exam, and he promptly forgets about the whole thing.
Well. Forgets is a strong word. He puts the memory firmly away, stores it under lock and key, and tells himself he'll never think about it again. Not until he needs a good memory to combat all the bad ones.