Chapter Text
The apartment was new, yet it already bore the subtle, unmistakable traces of Naruto’s personality. Bright and warm, the space radiated his energy, like a sunbeam captured and stored in wood and paint. Scattered among the colorful cushions tossed haphazardly on the sofa were remnants of his impulsive joy. Cartoon posters adorned the pale walls, characters frozen mid-laugh or battle, and the organized mess of the American-style kitchen spoke of someone who cooked often but never quite remembered to put the spices back in the right drawer.
It smelled faintly of orange peel, cinnamon, and fabric softener—the unique blend that seemed to follow Naruto everywhere. The light of late afternoon entered slowly through the wide windows, slanting across the floor in warm streaks, illuminating dust particles in the air and gently touching the furniture like fingers trying to reach for something long gone. There was a quiet in the apartment—not silence, but an echo of something missing. A soft, persistent ache he couldn’t quite explain.
It had been two months since the move. Sixty days. Naruto kept count, though he wouldn’t admit it. On paper, the new place was everything he could want—spacious enough to breathe but small enough to feel safe, filled with natural light, pet-friendly, and only a few minutes away from his old home. And yet, despite all of that, he often found himself feeling inexplicably lonely. Not in a dramatic, cinematic way, but in the subtle ache of habit disrupted.
Perhaps it was the absence of familiar noise. The sound of Shikamaru’s grumbling as he played strategy games into the night, the half-shouted conversations from the kitchen as someone—probably Kiba—burned something again, the unmistakable laughter of Ino, or Sakura scolding someone for stealing her snacks. Those sounds had become background music to Naruto’s life, and without them, everything felt too still.
For most of his life, Naruto had shared space. He had lived in a whirlwind of shared apartments, inside jokes, and impromptu sleepovers. Friends weren’t just visitors—they were fixtures. Kiba sprawled on the carpet, Hinata quietly reading in a corner, Gaara brewing tea for everyone without saying a word. Even Temari, who acted like she hated it, always came back. Their presence was so constant that Naruto had never stopped to wonder what it would be like without them. He had never needed to.
But something had shifted. One day, amid the chaos and comfort of it all, Naruto realized he had never lived on his own. He had never chosen silence, never chosen solitude. And he wondered, not without fear, what he might learn about himself if he did.
So he moved out.
The decision wasn’t easy, nor was it made on a whim. It took weeks of searching, questioning, and second-guessing. His friends had supported him wholeheartedly—especially Sakura, who had insisted on inspecting every apartment and arguing with landlords on his behalf. In the end, Naruto chose this one, only a few blocks away from Shikamaru’s, close enough to run over for movie night but far enough to call his own.
Still, no amount of planning prepared him for the quiet that crept in at night. The soft hum of the refrigerator, the ticking of the clock—he hadn’t noticed those things before. Now, they echoed in the stillness. And when the light from the streetlamp filtered through the window, casting orange patterns across the floor, the longing came with it. Quiet. Uninvited. Persistent.
It was especially on days like this that he questioned everything.
That morning had started with promise. Naruto had woken to a message in their group chat—Ino’s usual stream of emojis and excitement announcing a spontaneous picnic. A perfect plan. Sunshine, snacks, and the best kind of chaos. Naruto loved the idea instantly. He had jumped out of bed, energized, already picturing the afternoon with his friends sprawled on blankets, eating too much and laughing too loud.
He had spent the morning preparing with exaggerated care. Sandwiches cut into triangles, fruit packed neatly into containers, even a few cupcakes that he wasn’t sure would survive the trip. Humming to himself, he had taken a long, hot shower and then spent too long choosing an outfit, finally settling on his favorite vibrant orange T-shirt. It matched his mood. Or at least, it had.
He padded into the living room, scooping up his phone from the counter as he passed, pausing only to crouch down and greet his dog, Kurama. The little Pomeranian—orange, fluffy, and spoiled—stretched lazily from her nap on the couch. Her tail wagged once.
"Hey girl, don’t miss me too much, okay? I’ll be back before you even realize I’m gone," he murmured, dropping a kiss onto her tiny head. She blinked at him, unimpressed.
He turned toward the door, grabbing his keys from the hook. And then—
A sudden sound. Thunder. Then a roar. Rain, as if someone had dumped an entire ocean over the building. It hit the roof and windows with startling force. Within seconds, the sky darkened and visibility vanished behind the sheets of water.
“Oh, come on!” Naruto groaned, staring out the window in disbelief.
He waited. Five minutes. Ten. The rain didn’t let up—it only grew worse. The kind of rain that makes everything else stop. He paced, then gave up. His heart sank as he typed out the message:
hey, I can’t get out of the house in this rain
ino:
same here!
shikamaru:
yeah
hinata:
Don’t worry guys, we can reschedule for another day, right?
kiba:
of course, princess 😉
gaara:
yes, we’ll do that
sakura:
oh what a shame... guess I’ll have to eat all this delicious cake alone
I hope you die of poisoning
sakura:
ah no dear, you’d miss me too much 😘
He smiled at the familiar teasing, but his shoulders slumped as he put his phone down. It wasn’t just about missing the picnic. It was about what the picnic represented. A day of noise, closeness, presence. A reminder that he wasn’t alone.
But now, the house felt colder. Kurama had curled back into a ball and resumed her nap. The windows rattled softly with each gust of wind. Naruto sighed, retreating to his room. He changed into Pokémon pajamas, wrapped himself in a fluffy blanket, and returned to the couch, trying to convince himself that tea and cartoons could make up for what he’d lost today.
He was just settling in, staring blankly at the television, when he heard it—the distinctive metallic clink of the mailbox. A sound almost forgotten in the age of digital everything. Curious, Naruto stood, shuffled to the door, and opened it slowly.
There, folded neatly and tucked into the mailbox slot, was a single note.
His eyebrows rose. A note? In this weather?
"Your laundry room window is open. It’s raining a lot. Thought you should know.
-
Apt 302"
Naruto blinked. Apartment 302. That was… the guy next door. The mysterious one. The one with dark hair and serious eyes, whom Naruto may or may not have watched—discreetly—on more than one occasion. The one who moved like a ghost through the halls, never speaking, always focused.
They had never spoken. Not even a greeting. But Naruto remembered bumping into him in the elevator, catching glimpses of him through the hallway. He was the quiet type. Serious. Intimidating. And apparently… thoughtful?
There was something about the note. It was simple. Direct. Maybe even a little cold. But it wasn’t careless. He didn’t have to say anything. He didn’t have to care. And yet, he had.
Naruto felt a smile tug at his lips. He wandered over to the window, saw that it was indeed open, and quickly dried the puddle forming on the floor before locking it shut.
Then, for reasons even he couldn’t explain, Naruto pulled out a sheet of paper and grabbed his orange pen. He hesitated for only a moment before writing:
"Thanks for the tip.
I promise not to let you drown if you forget yours.
-
Naruto (301)"
He folded it carefully. Casual. Maybe too casual. But it felt right. He waited for the hallway to go quiet again and slipped the note under his neighbor’s door.
Sasuke was walking back from the kitchen with his coffee when he saw it—a folded piece of paper sliding beneath the door. He stared at it, unsure. Junk mail? A mistake?
But as he bent down and read the first line, his lips twitched.
"Thanks for the tip.
I promise not to let you drown if you forget yours.
-
Naruto (301)"
It was… ridiculous. Silly. But honest. It wasn’t the kind of note Sasuke was used to receiving, but something about the orange ink, the lopsided handwriting, the humor—it made his apartment feel a little less sterile.
He slipped the note into the drawer of his desk, fingers brushing it once more before he let it go.
He didn’t plan to answer. He wasn’t the kind of person who got involved in neighborly back-and-forths. But something tugged at him.
He remembered Naruto’s face. The hair, the eyes, the smile that seemed to stretch too wide and too real. Sasuke had noticed him too, even if he pretended not to.
Maybe it was nothing. Maybe it was just a rainy day and a note that didn’t matter.
But he still found himself reaching for another sheet of paper.
"I don’t usually forget open windows.
But I will accept help against drowning.
-
302"