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Sasuke moves through the hospital room like slow molasses. The atmosphere is thick with it; the scent made sickly-sweet by the bouquets piling up at the foot of the bed. But it's not just the smell. Something foreboding lingers here, seeping into Sasuke’s traveling cloak and clinging to him like the fingers Naruto’s always uses to try and make him stay.
Sasuke’s always prided himself on his independence, his ability to wade through life without allowing others to dictate his decisions. As he sits at Naruto’s bedside now, he wonders if that vision he holds of himself is simply a mirage. When he takes Naruto’s cold, clammy hand into his own, he knows this image is a mirage.
It is interesting, or perhaps cruel depending on how one looks at it, the way Sasuke finally comes back to him. This hand that Sasuke holds has spent a lifetime catching Sasuke’s tail coat. Over the years, fox-sharp fingers have dug crescents into Sasuke’s arm, clinging to the idea that Sasuke might someday stay with Naruto of his own accord. Sasuke leaves with moon-shaped indentations pressed into his skin. They fade after a day or two, taking Sasuke’s guilt with them.
Or so Sasuke likes to tell himself.
He has fought this heart of his for so long. As he watches Naruto stir, his consciousness seemingly aware of Sasuke’s presence, Sasuke feels the age-old guilt climb up his throat like bile. When Naruto's eyes open, groggy and soft, Sasuke's chest splits open in relief, the pressure having built up around his very bones since he'd learned of the assassination attempt, threatening to break him the moment Naruto’s injury faded to death. Naruto smiles at him, and the pressure is relieved. However, after days spent wondering if Naruto had made it out alive, the stress that had taken up residence in Sasuke’s chest has left behind a cavity, a pit dug so deep into the crevices of Sasuke’s heart that he finds even the small act of breathing to be too painful.
Naruto fills this gap instantly, pulling Sasuke’s hand to his cheek and letting Sasuke’s fingers soak in the warm, soft skin of his very alive companion. Sasuke brushes the backs of his fingers along Naruto’s whiskers, digs the tips of them into the soft palate where Naruto’s hairline meets his neck. Sasuke doesn't usually mourn the loss of his other hand, but now he wishes he had it. If only to have more fingers to press into Naruto’s skin, to keep a constant tab on his friend's pulse. Instead, he works with what he has, bringing his hand back down to wrap shaking fingers around Naruto’s wrist. He feels a steady heartbeat pushing diligently against the pads of his fingertips, but this is not enough. He pulls Naruto's wrist up and presses his lips to the skin colored blue and green by Naruto’s veins. Here, he can taste Naruto’s life, clinging to that resilient body with a strength far surpassing that of Sasuke’s fears. With each ba-dum, Sasuke breathes out, and he holds Naruto’s wrist like it is a lifeline.
I cling to you now.
Sasuke turns his cheek to see bright, azure eyes following his every move. Sasuke is too relieved to be embarrassed, too happy to see a depth in that gaze he'd feared would be foggy by the time he'd made it home. Naruto's eyes are ever bright and ever lustrous, washing over Sasuke like warm saltwater. Sasuke thinks of the southern sea he'd visited earlier in the year, the white sand so silty that it buried his toes in velvet. The water was warm and clear, a mirror of whatever the sky chose to be that day. Everywhere Sasuke looked was blue. Everything within visual distance was bright and sun-kissed, untouched by the heavy clouds that seemed to cling to Sasuke’s very existence.
Naruto’s gaze is this ocean, his presence this beach. Sasuke turns the tide in those eyes, puckering his lips slightly and pressing a well-pronounced kiss into Naruto’s skin. Like the warm, velvety sand, Naruto’s fingers fill cracks in Sasuke’s body, resting against Sasuke’s cheek with the lightest pressure. There are no crescent moons marring Sasuke’s skin today, only the harmless rays of bright sunshine.
The waves recede in Naruto’s eyes, and Sasuke is left with something peculiar. Hope does not befall them, nor is it pain or longing or passion.
It is contentment. Resting on this shore of Naruto’s life, where so recently a storm had passed by and threatened to take Sasuke’s Everything with it, Sasuke finds contentment.
Prodding at what feels like the eye of the storm brewing in his own body, he leans forward. Drowning in the liquid blue that is Naruto’s gaze, he ignores the turbulence tugging at his heart. Inches away, he closes his eyes. He smells the salt of the sea, of the sweat clinging to Naruto’s feeble body. He feels the gentle breeze of Naruto’s fingers rubbing love into his blushing skin. Collapsing into Naruto’s embrace, he is enveloped by sun-warmed water. Sand tickles his feet in the form of elation and the riptide pulls him closer to the edge of an unmapped reef. When his lips meet Naruto’s, he steps off the sandy bank and wades into a pool of love that's been holding out for him an entire lifetime.
This time, he does not come up for air.