Archive of Our Own

Sasuke feels sick. 

His head isn’t pounding so much as it is pressurized, tight behind the eyes, like something is pushing outward from the inside. It makes it hard to focus, hard to even stand still without feeling slightly off-balance. The air feels stale. Too warm. He shifts his weight, exhales through his nose, but it doesn’t help much.

For a moment, he just stands there, forcing himself to stay steady, waiting for it to pass. 

It doesn’t.

He’s getting married. 

The words keep returning, steady and intrusive, as if his mind has nothing better to do than replay them.

Again. And again. And again. 

Each time it replays in his head it hits a little deeper, harder to ignore, harder to shake loose.

His chest burns. A low, persistent heat spreading beneath his ribs. It tightens when he breathes, lingers when he tries to steady himself, even the simple act of inhaling feels strained.

Sasuke doesn’t even know how he got here.

One moment, Sakura is talking, something light in her voice as she tells him what she’s going to wear to Naruto’s engagement, and then something in him snaps so abruptly it feels physical. His Sharingan ignites without warning, sharp and immediate, and Sakura reacts on instinct, dropping into a defensive stance before she can stop herself. Her eyes are on him, searching, alert, asking what’s wrong, who’s there.

He doesn’t answer.

He can’t.

The room tilts, slow at first, then all at once. Her voice keeps reaching him, but it sounds distant, like it has to push through something thick to get to him. Sasuke stares somewhere past her shoulder, unfocused, trying to anchor himself, but nothing holds. The words echo again, unwanted, unrelenting.

Naruto’s engagement.

His stomach lurches. Heat rushes up his throat, sudden and violent, and he swallows it back with difficulty, breath catching halfway. His vision blurs at the edges, the red of his Sharingan bleeding into everything, distorting, sharpening, making it worse. He presses his teeth together, hard enough that it aches, like pain might steady him.

It doesn’t.

Sakura says his name again, closer this time, more urgent, but he still doesn’t look at her. He can’t risk it. Can’t risk seeing her face and having this become real in a way it isn’t yet.

The thought lands anyway.

Naruto is getting married.

Something in his chest gives, quiet but absolute, and for a second Sasuke is certain he’s going to be sick right there on the floor.

It doesn’t even occur to him where he is until he’s already inside.

The Hokage’s office. Naruto’s office.

The realization comes late, dulled at the edges, like everything else. He doesn’t remember the walk here. Doesn’t remember leaving Sakura standing there, tense and confused, calling after him. Just the echo of it, faint and useless. Somehow, he’d moved. Somehow, he’d outrun her.

Now he’s here.

The room feels wrong with him in it. Too familiar. Too full of things that belong to Naruto. The desk, the window, the careless way everything is arranged like he expects to come back to it at any second.

And he will.

Sasuke feels it before he hears it, that warm, unmistakable chakra drawing closer down the hall. It presses against his senses, steady and bright, until it’s impossible to ignore. Footsteps follow, muted but distinct, approaching the door like a countdown he can’t stop.

Any second now.

His body moves before his mind catches up. He turns, crosses the room, and slides the lock into place.

It clicks, small and final.

For a moment, he just stands there, hand still resting against the door. The gesture feels hollow the second it’s done. Pointless. Naruto could break this door down without thinking. Could pick the lock, could laugh it off, could do anything he wanted and Sasuke wouldn’t be able to stop him like this.

It doesn’t matter.

Sasuke can’t think far enough ahead for anything else.

He steps back, uneven, like the ground isn’t quite where he expects it to be. His chest aches in a way that feels too precise, too concentrated, like the pain has a center. Like it was placed there on purpose. It spreads from that point, hot and relentless, until it’s hard to tell where it ends.

Chidori.

The thought comes unbidden. This must be what it feels like. Like lightning driven straight through his ribs, left there to burn viciously with no plans of fading. 

His breathing starts to slip.

Too shallow. Too fast. He drags in air that doesn’t feel like enough, lets it out too quickly, and then has to do it again. His hand curls at his side, fingers twitching like they’re looking for something to anchor to, but there’s nothing.

The footsteps stop just outside.

Close.

Sasuke freezes, every muscle going rigid as the chakra settles on the other side of the door, warm and familiar and impossibly steady. It presses in, filling the space, filling his senses, until it feels like there’s nowhere left to breathe.

He needs to get a hold of himself.

Now.

Because if that door opens — if Naruto steps in and looks at him like this —

Sasuke is not sure what will break first. Right now it’s feeling like he’ll either break Naruto’s skull just so he could get a taste of the pain in his own chest or break his stupid vase by throwing it at his head. 

The door handle rattles.

Once, twice, sharper the second time, metal knocking against the frame with a hollow jingle that cuts straight through him. Sasuke’s gaze stays on the door, breath catching mid-draw, every nerve suddenly tuned to that single point.

Naruto’s voice comes through, muffled but unmistakable. “It’s locked. Shikamaru, it’s locked.”

A pause, then Shikamaru, flat and skeptical, “That’s impossible. No one would lock the Hokage’s office, Naruto.”

There’s a shuffle of movement outside, low voices overlapping, the faint scrape of soles against wood. Sasuke doesn’t move. He can’t. The sound presses in on him, each second stretching thin.

And then —

Naruto notices.

Sasuke feels it before anything else, that flicker of awareness sharpening into recognition. Naruto’s chakra shifts, not in strength, but in focus, zeroing in, unmistakable. He has picked up on Sasuke’s chakra and figured out who is in his office.

“Give me the room. Clear out. No interruptions.”

The change is immediate. Footsteps retreat, quick and obedient, voices dropping off until the hallway empties, leaving only silence and that presence on the other side of the door.

Closer now.

The handle turns again.

Harder this time. It jerks, metal straining against the lock, once, twice, the sound louder in the quiet. Sasuke’s fingers twitch at his side. For a split second, something instinctive flares, the urge to move, to disappear, to put distance between himself and whatever is about to happen.

The window. It’s right there.

He could be gone before the door gives.

The thought flashes through him, quick and desperate, but it never becomes action. His body doesn’t follow. It’s like the idea burns out before it can reach his limbs, leaving him standing exactly where he is.

The lock gives with a sharp crack.

A surge of chakra follows, sudden and controlled, forcing the door open just enough to break through, wood groaning under the pressure before it swings inward.

Naruto stands there.

For a second, neither of them moves.

Sasuke had half a mind to run. To vanish out the window, to avoid this entirely, to not have to see — but the moment his eyes meet blue, everything in him goes still.

It’s as if Sasuke has forgotten everything that is happening the moment he locks eyes with Naruto. This isn’t even something new anymore. Sasuke knows how his body tends to lack the necessary means of thinking whenever the blond hokage is involved. 

Then his brain recovers. How he got here. 

And he realizes he is fucking angry. 

Sasuke is furious.

It comes up violent and immediate, with no space between thought and action, just heat and noise and the sharp certainty that if he doesn’t do something, he’s going to split himself open where he stands.

The vase is already in his hand before he even registers it. He hurls it with serious force. It’s important that Naruto knows he is intentional. 

Naruto drops, quick, instinctive.

“Shit—”

The vase shatters against the wall beside Naruto’s head.

“Sasuke!”

“Don’t.” His voice cuts out of him, low and shaking. “Don’t fucking say my name.”

He grabs a pen and throws it straight at Naruto’s face. It whistles past his cheek, close enough to count.

Naruto shifts as if it’s nothing. Of course he does.

His ability in avoiding Sasuke’s attempts of hurting him, more than anything, makes something in Sasuke turn ugly.

So, Sasuke doesn’t stop. His hand keeps moving, sweeping, grabbing — papers, a paperweight, anything within reach — and sending it across the room in quick, brutal succession. Not wild nor careless. Every throw has intent behind it, a line drawn from his hand to Naruto’s body.

Naruto dodges every single one of them. 

A step back. A tilt of his head. A turn of his shoulder. 

Still standing there like he has the right to look at Sasuke.

“Sasuke, what—” Naruto tries.

“Shut up.”

Sasuke’s chest feels stripped. 

The pain hasn’t dulled, hasn’t even shifted. It sits deep, and it’s precise and sporadic at the same time, like something driven in and left behind to run inside of him. His pulse is too loud in his ears, his vision tightening at the edges until Naruto is the only thing that exists in it.

He hates it. Hates how Naruto is always at the center of his world.

He wants to tear his own heart out, like a spring cleaning — something ruthless and thorough. In hopes he could just carve it out the way his mother used to with papayas, cutting clean through, separating flesh from seeds of what doesn’t belong. 

Stripping himself bare of any trace of Naruto.

If only that would be enough to rid him of the pain sitting in his chest right now.

He needs the pain to stop.

So he reaches for something bigger.

The Hokage chair. Still standing behind the wreck of the desk, untouched. Sasuke grabs it and wrenches it up, the legs screeching against the floor before it lifts clean into his hand.

“SAS—!”

The shout rips out of Naruto.

Sasuke throws the damn chair.

There’s no precision to the decision, just force. The chair cuts across the room fast enough that if it connects it’ll do damage. Naruto drops out of the way on instinct, but it’s closer than it should be — the edge of it skims past where he’d been a second ago before it slams into the wall and breaks apart, wood splitting with a crack that echoes.

He thinks of how disgusting Naruto’s stationed ANBU is considering none had shown up here, what with all the ruckus happening. But he remembers Naruto has strict no walk-in instructions whenever Sasuke is in town. 

That split second — his thoughts snagging on Naruto’s ANBU, on the noise, on who might walk in — costs him.

Naruto takes it purposefully.

He closes the distance in that split second. One step, and then another, and Sasuke is already being driven back until the edge of the Hokage desk hits his spine. Naruto’s arms come up on either side of him, boxing him in, bracketing him there before he can slip away.

“Get the fuck away from me—”

Sasuke shoves, hard, trying to break the hold, to force space back between them. The desk digs into his back as he pushes off it, shoulders twisting, hands braced against Naruto’s chest.

“Stop it—” Naruto doesn’t let him go.

His grip tightens instead, arms coming back around him to hold him in place, not rough but unyielding, like he’s bracing for impact that’s already happening.

“No — don’t touch me—!”

It tears out of Sasuke, sharper now, edged with what isn’t just anger anymore. His hands jerk against Naruto’s hold, breath uneven, chest still burning like he’s being split open from the inside.

Naruto’s eyes are on him, searching — too fast, too intent, flicking over his face like he’s trying to piece something together that won’t stay still long enough to understand.

“Sasuke — please —” His voice comes out breathless, strained at the edges, like he’s already run out of air and is forcing the words through anyway. “What is going on?”

Sasuke shoves him with his one hand.

“Get your fucking hands off of me.”

It’s enough. It knocks Naruto back a step, breaks the contact.

Naruto lets it happen this time. His hands come up immediately, open, palms out, like he’s trying to show he’s not going to touch him again.

“Okay, okay—”

And that’s when Sasuke sees it.

It catches the light when Naruto moves. Just a brief glint, easy to miss if he wasn’t already looking right at him.

The ring.

Sasuke’s stomach drops hard enough it almost feels like vertigo. The nausea surges back up, sharp and immediate, climbing his throat before he can brace for it. He swallows it down on instinct, but it lingers, it’s sour and suffocating.

His chest tightens around it, that same burning point flaring like it’s been struck again.

Naruto’s saying something — he can see his mouth moving — but none of it registers.

Sasuke can’t look anywhere else.

Naruto’s gaze drops, follows the line of Sasuke’s, and his eyes finally land.

On the ring.

The change is immediate. Whatever confusion was there collapses into something rawer, sharper. His breath catches, visibly, chest rising too quick, like he’s just realized the exact point of impact.

Fear sits on Naruto wrong. It’s foreign on him. He’s always so adamant on not giving up and fighting for what he wants. The moment any trace of dread is on his face it looks entirely out of place. 

Sasuke wishes he could care less right now. 

He heads for the door. 

“Sasuke — wait —”

Naruto cuts in before he can take a second step. He moves fast, faster than before, and catches him by the arm, grip firm, stopping him outright.

“Sasuke, don’t—”

“I said don’t touch me.”

Sasuke doesn’t slow down. He tries to pull free, shoulder twisting, already halfway turned toward the door again.

Naruto tightens his hold.

“No, just, listen to me,” he says quickly, words tripping over each other, breath uneven. He steps in, blocking the path without even thinking about it, putting himself directly between Sasuke and the door. “Just a minute. That’s all I’m asking. Please.”

Sasuke tries to break past him again.

Naruto blocks it. Again.

There’s no clean movement anymore. It turns messy — shoves, turns, Naruto catching him, redirecting him, refusing to let him get more than a step toward the door before pulling him back again. The room feels smaller for it, tighter, all the space eaten up by the back-and-forth.

“Sasuke, stop—”

“Move, Naruto!”

“I’m not letting you leave!”

Naruto’s voice cracks through the room, sharper now, breath pulling unevenly between words, like he’s forcing them out through something lodged in his throat.

Sasuke goes still for half a second, just long enough to look at him.

And Naruto doesn’t look away.

It’s the worst possible thing he could’ve done.

Because Sasuke sees it. The panic sitting too close to the surface, the way Naruto’s breathing has gone uneven, the way his grip — so certain just seconds ago — feels like it’s holding on to something already slipping through his fingers.

The look on Naruto’s face confirms everything Sasuke is dreading and it dislodges something entirely in his body he feels like he could break. 

And so he does.

To Sasuke’s absolute horror, he breaks.

He feels it before he understands it. The sting behind his eyes, sudden and sharp, the burn climbing up his throat as if something is forcing its way out. It doesn’t make sense. None of this makes sense.

And he hasn’t — he’s never—

Not since the Valley, years ago.

His breath falters. Stutters. And then it’s gone completely.

The next sound that leaves him isn’t controlled, isn’t anything he can pull back. It tears out of his chest, raw and wrong, and suddenly his vision is gone, blurred beyond recognition.

His hand comes up —his only hand— and then the other side of his face presses into it, like he can hide it, like that’ll do anything at all.

He’s already sobbing by the time he feels himself crumple.

It’s immediate. His shoulders pull in, breath hitching and breaking between each sound, like even breathing has turned against him.

He doesn’t care who hears. He doesn’t care about anything except the fact that he can’t stop.

“Sasuke, please,”

Naruto moves without thinking. Of course he does.

His hands come up, reaching for him, trying to close the space, to pull him in—

“No!” Sasuke flinches so violently it’s almost a recoil, the word ripped out of him, sharp and immediate, because any contact with Naruto would actually burn his skin. He doesn’t want to burn anymore than he already is. 

Naruto freezes. His breath hitches, the motion cut clean in half, arms left suspended in front of him for a second before they falter, dropping slightly, useless.

Still, Naruto tries again, because that’s who he is. He is someone who tries for Sasuke. 

Slow this time. Careful, like he’s approaching something fragile instead of the same person who was just throwing furniture at him.

“Hey — shh, shush — Sasuke, look at me,” he says, voice low, uneven, like he’s forcing it steady and failing.

Sasuke can’t.

He can’t breathe.

Each inhale comes short, cut off halfway, like his lungs have forgotten how to work properly. His chest is too tight, that same burning point flaring into something unbearable, and now it’s tangled up with this — this exposure, this loss of control, this humiliation of breaking apart right in front of him.

Too much.

It’s too much.

He shakes his head, sharp, immediate, face still buried in his hand, like if he looks up it’ll get worse, like Naruto will see too much.

“I—” his voice catches, breaks completely, “I can’t—”

He hates this.

Hates that it’s Naruto seeing him like this. Hates that it’s always Naruto, that it always comes back to him, that even now —especially now— he’s the one standing here, close enough to hear every broken breath.

He wants the ground to open up and swallow him whole.

Anything but this.

Naruto doesn’t move away.

If anything, he looks worse.

Like he’s barely holding it together himself.

There’s something unraveling in his expression, slow but visible, his mouth pulling into a deeper frown with every sound Sasuke makes, eyes glassy in a way that doesn’t match the situation he’s used to handling. His breathing is still off, uneven, and now it’s syncing in the worst way with Sasuke’s, like he can’t separate himself from it.

“Sasuke —” his voice dips again, softer, clearly fraying at the edges, “just — just look at me, please. I’m here. I’ve got you, okay? Just — breathe —”

But Sasuke can’t.

And Naruto looks like he might break himself trying to fix all this. 

A ghost of a hand hovers near his shoulder.

Naruto doesn’t touch him. Not yet. It lingers there, uncertain, like he’s waiting for permission he knows he won’t get.

“Hey… how about this?” his voice dips, softer now, careful in a way Sasuke’s only ever heard from him before. “Let me — let me guide you, okay? We can just — sit. Over there.” A small motion toward the couch, hesitant. “Will you sit down with me? Please? Come on.”

He’s pleading. 

Sasuke can hear it, even through the noise in his own head, even through the uneven pull of his breath and the way his chest still won’t loosen. He doesn’t answer. He can’t answer. His face is still buried in his palm, shoulders tight, the sobs quieter now but no less relentless.

But he doesn’t pull away.

Not this time, at least.

The fight drains out of him in pieces, leaving him unsteady, easier to move. Naruto takes it carefully, as if he’s handling something breakable, guiding him with that hovering hand finally settling —light, cautious— against his shoulder.

Sasuke lets himself be moved.

Step by step, unresisting, until the couch presses against the back of his knees and Naruto eases him down onto it.

The second he’s seated, Sasuke shrugs his shoulder sharply, knocking Naruto’s hand off anyway. Petty and automatic. He couldn’t bring himself to care.

Naruto doesn’t react to it.

He just pulls his hand back and sits down beside him, slow, clearly unsure how close he’s allowed to be. There’s a slight shake to the movement, barely there but noticeable, his posture tense, angled toward Sasuke without crowding him.

Waiting. Like he’s afraid one wrong move will send Sasuke right out the door.

Sasuke’s still shaking, the sobs quieter now but catching every few breaths, snagging in his throat like they don’t know how to stop. His face stays half-hidden, shoulders tight, like if he doesn’t move too much this might pass.

It doesn’t.

Naruto is coming apart beside him.

“Sasuke, please,” he tries again, voice worn thin, pulled tight with it. “Just—let me touch you. Please.”

Sasuke says nothing.

Because he shouldn’t get to. Naruto shouldn’t get to ask that. Not now. Not after—

But Naruto has never known where to stop with him.

His hands find Sasuke anyway.

Careful at first, like he expects to be shoved off. They settle against his back, hesitant, almost hovering even in contact.

“Please tell me this is okay,” Naruto says, quieter now, voice dipping into something close to a plea. “Please.”

Sasuke doesn’t push him away.

That’s all it takes.

Naruto pulls him in, fully this time, arms closing around him, firm but careful, like he’s holding something already breaking. His hand starts moving against Sasuke’s back in slow, steady circles, even as his own breathing stutters, uneven, struggling to keep pace.

Sasuke gives in to it in pieces.

Not willingly. Not cleanly. But he folds forward anyway, ends up pressed into the crook of Naruto’s neck, breath hitching against his skin, the last resistance draining out of him in quiet, fractured bursts.

“You did this to me,” Sasuke whispers.

It’s small. Hoarse. It still lands like it’s been waiting to be said.

Naruto stills.

For a second, everything in him goes rigid, like the words hit somewhere deep enough to stop him cold.

“Don’t —” his voice catches, breaks, he tries again, softer this time, shaking at the edges, “don’t say that.”

Sasuke doesn’t move.

Naruto’s grip tightens, just slightly, like he’s afraid he’ll lose him if he loosens it even a fraction.

“You don’t mean that, Sasuke,” he says, quieter now, the words almost folding in on themselves. There’s something desperate in it, something fragile. “You don’t — you don’t mean that.”

But he sounds like he’s trying to convince himself just as much.

They stay like that.

Time stretches in a way Sasuke can’t track, measured only by the uneven rise and fall of his own breathing and the quiet, constant presence holding him together just enough.

Naruto doesn’t let go.

At some point, he starts apologizing.

“I’m sorry,” he murmurs, barely above a whisper, like saying it any louder would make it worse. “I’m sorry… I’m so sorry…”

It doesn’t stop.

The words repeat, soft and persistent, threading through the space between them until they blur into something continuous. His arm tightens around Sasuke, pulling him in closer without thinking, until Sasuke is fully tucked against him, held there like he’s afraid to loosen his grip even for a second.

“I’m sorry,” Naruto says again, quieter now, the words pressed into Sasuke’s hair, breath warm and unsteady where it lands. “I’m so—”

Sasuke shuts his eyes.

He wishes this made sense.

Because Naruto is apologizing. Over and over again, like he knows. It’s as if  he understands that something about this is all wrong, that something’s been crossed, broken, mishandled beyond repair.

His engagem—

Sasuke can’t even finish the thought.

It sticks, incomplete, like his mind refuses to let it form all the way.

Why?

His throat feels wrecked, dry like he’s swallowed smoke. He clears it, winces a little at the scrape.

Naruto notices.

“Just a second—” he says, already getting up.

Naruto moves before he can finish.

The arm around him slips away and he’s already on his feet, crossing the room in a few quick steps, like he needs something to do with himself or he might come apart completely. He’s at the tea corner in seconds, hands moving without pause, grabbing a cup, filling it.

Naruto comes back and presses a cup into his hand.

“Drink this.”

Sasuke doesn’t argue.

He probably should. On any other day, he would’ve. Said something cold, pushed it away, made it clear he didn’t need this.

But his throat burns. So he drinks instead.

Naruto breaks first.

“I’m sorry —”

“Why.”

It comes out flat, immediate.

Naruto falters. “I’m saying I—”

“Why are you sorry,” Sasuke repeats, quieter now, but it’s clean. He has control over his words now. All the crying has cleaned his head, even if it doesn’t dull the ache behind his ribs. He keeps his gaze forward, not on Naruto, not on his still shaking hands. “It’s not like there’s anything to be sorry for.”

He says it like he’s sure it’s obvious. There’s nothing here to examine, nothing worth naming.

And Sasuke leans into it.

Because this is what he’s good at.

Not whatever that was earlier — not the loss of control, not the way he folded in on himself. 

This — this is familiar. He takes something, reshapes it, makes it smaller. Contain it. So it can be something that is dismissable, filed away, forgotten.

If he refuses to look at it, then it doesn’t exist.

If he doesn’t say it out loud, then it never happened.

He can already feel himself pulling back, piece by piece, slotting everything into place where it won’t touch him. The anger, the nausea, the way his chest felt like it was splitting open — he presses it down, flattens it into something easier to carry.

A moment. A lapse. Nothing more.

Sweep it under. Move on.

That’s how this is going to work.

Because the alternative — actually sitting here, actually saying it, putting a name to whatever this is between them — there’s no version of that that ends cleanly. No version where he walks out of this room intact.

And for what.

Naruto is—

His jaw tightens.

He doesn’t need to finish it. Sasuke already knows.

The ring is still there. It hasn’t gone anywhere. Bright, solid, and blindingly real in a way Sasuke can’t argue with.

So that’s the answer.

Sasuke exhales slowly, steadying it, forcing his breathing into something even.

“I overreacted.” he says, like it’s simple. And it is. It is simple. The ring explains everything. 

Sasuke just wants Naruto to know that he is closing the door on this all entirely.

Naruto just stares at him.

Not blinking and not moving. 

For a second, Sasuke almost expects him to laugh. To shake his head, say yeah, sure, brush it off like Sasuke’s just being difficult again. Like this can be reduced to something small and manageable.

It doesn’t happen.

Naruto turns away instead.

Starts pacing.

It’s messy. He’s running his hands through his hair, pushing it back, only for it to fall again, like he can’t settle into his own body. He takes two steps, then another, turns too sharply, breathing already uneven.

“Don’t do this to me.”

Sasuke frowns, sharper now. “Excuse me?”

Naruto stops.

Looks at him like something’s fraying right down the middle.

“Don’t pull back on me,” he says, and there’s nothing steady about it. “Not right now.”

He starts toward him.

Sasuke reacts on instinct. He moves to stand, done with this, done with whatever this is turning into—

Naruto drops.

Right in front of him.

It’s not graceful. Doesn’t look planned in the slightest. Just sudden and messy — Naruto’s knees hit the floor and he’s there, close, too close, forcing Sasuke to look at him whether he wants to or not.

“Please,” Naruto says, and it comes out wrecked. “Please don’t back out of this — because then I’m just—”

He breaks off, drags in a breath that doesn’t stick.

“I’m alone in it,” he tries again, faster now, like he’s running out of time. “And I can’t — I can’t lose you, Sasuke, I — I can’t do—”

He can’t finish it. His breathing goes uneven, rough, like it’s slipping out of his control the more he tries to hold onto it. 

Sasuke is so tired it’s starting to feel like weight.

“Please don’t act like you’re the one who’s hurt here,” he says, voice worn down to something flat. “I can’t lick your wounds.”

Naruto recoils and Sasuke feels bad deep down, but he doesn’t let it show.

“Sasuke, I —” he drags a hand over his face, breath still uneven, “you don’t understand.”

“What is there to not understand, Naruto?” Sasuke shoots back, sharper now, something brittle creeping in. “I understand it completely.”

His eyes drop and they find it again.

That ring.

That disgusting, horrendous, silver wrapped around Naruto’s finger.

It sits there as a conclusion. The end of this conversation, stamped and sealed.

Naruto follows his gaze again — and this time, he doesn’t freeze.

He snaps.

There’s a flash of something ugly across his face, frustration turning hot and immediate. “For fuck’s sake—” he yanks the ring off his finger, quick enough it almost looks like it burns, like he can’t stand having it on him for another second.

He doesn’t even look where it goes.

He just throws it away.

Haphazardly with no clear direction.

It clatters somewhere across the room, out of sight, forgotten the second it leaves his hand.

“Stop looking at it,” Naruto bites out, voice rough, tight with something that’s been building.

Sasuke’s eyes follow it anyway.

Just for a second. Just a tiny beat enough to register that it’s no longer on Naruto’s finger.

Naruto steps in, faster this time, done with the distance, done with the space Sasuke keeps trying to put between them.

“Look at me.”

His hands come up and take Sasuke’s face, not gentle, still careful — firm, insistent, thumbs pressing in just enough to keep him there.

“Not that,” he says, quieter now but no less intense, eyes locked on his, something entirely unyielding sitting behind it. “Me.”

Naruto doesn’t let go of him.

“I’m sorry —” it comes out uneven, like the word doesn’t sit right in his mouth. He drags a hand through his hair, pacing a half-step away before snapping back in front of Sasuke, like distance makes it worse. “I’m sorry you had to find out however it is you did. Not from me. I —”

He exhales, shaky, frustrated with himself.

Sasuke feels it again. That same sick twist in his chest.

So it’s real.

“But you have to know it wasn’t up to me,” Naruto pushes on, faster now, words tripping over each other. His hand goes back to Sasuke’s face, like he needs to anchor himself there. “Sasuke, it wasn’t. I swear.”

He runs both hands through his hair this time, gripping at it, pacing again, then back, like he can’t stay still long enough to finish a sentence cleanly.

Sasuke feels bone-deep exhaustion creeping up on him from just the sight of Naruto; pacing, agitated, stressed-out like this. He’s never wanted Naruto to be like this. His mind drifts to all the times he’s put Naruto in a bad position; all those times the blond shinobi had to take metaphorical bullets to his chest at the expense of Sasuke. He reckons he could put a stop to it. 

If they would just close this chapter —of what? He doesn’t know— between them. 

There’s a lot of things Sasuke is sure of fighting for in this world; on the few tops of that list will always, always be Naruto’s happiness. So, if that means Sasuke has to carefully set down the torch he’s been carrying rather loudly for the other boy so he can settle down peacefully, so be it. 

“We don’t have to do this, Naruto,” Sasuke says, a tired exhale threaded through it, like he’s already stepping away. “You don’t have to do this.” 

Naruto freezes for half a second, then surges forward anyway. Hands reaching to grab Sasuke’s arms. 

“No — no, please, just listen to me — just one second, that’s all I’m asking —” His hands catch at Sasuke again, almost clumsy with it, like he doesn’t know where to hold without being pushed off. His eyes are frantic, darting over Sasuke’s face, trying to find something that’ll make him stay.

“I can’t do this,” he says, quieter, but it lands heavier. “I don’t have anything left for this.”

And it sounds final. 

He knows it does, because he remembers using the exact same tone years ago in the Valley when he said he’s lost. And that’s exactly what it feels like right now; Uchiha Sasuke has lost. 

Without any hidden triumph behind it. 

Back then, the certainty of returning home with Naruto had been his own little victory after claiming his loss out loud. 

Right now, there’s nothing behind it. Nothing after.

Naruto’s breath leaves him like Sasuke had punched him.

And then those blue eyes fill.

It’s too quick. A tad bit too vulnerable. He tries to wipe it off like it didn’t happen, but more follows.

God — what is this. Sasuke wants to scream at the scene.

This fucked up exchange where they keep taking turns breaking.

Sasuke feels it twisting in his chest again, sharper now, watching Naruto struggle to put words together — watching him try to explain, like he owes Sasuke something.

As if he has to justify this.

Sasuke hates it.

Naruto shouldn’t have to stand here, falling apart, trying to defend his own marriage just so Sasuke can survive it.

That’s not how this is supposed to go.

“If you would just — listen to me —” Naruto chokes out. He’s not sobbing like Sasuke was. There’s something burning behind his eyes. Determined and ready to go at it.

Are we going to fight? Sasuke asks himself mentally; but he already knows the answer. 

He can see it in the way Naruto is spreading his stance, shaking his head slightly as if he’s clearing his head. Eyes lifting to find Sasuke’s straight on. Still glassy and as blue as the best skies Sasuke has ever looked at. 

Still stubborn as ever.

“I have listened to you,” Sasuke snaps, already shaking his head, already done. “You’ve said enough.”

“No, you’re not hearing me —”

“There’s nothing to hear, Naruto!” Sasuke cuts in, louder now. “You’re engaged. That’s it. End of discussion.”

“That’s not —”

“It is,” Sasuke barks. “You have a ring on your finger —”

“I said don’t look at it!” Naruto’s voice barking just as loud.

“—that doesn’t change what it means!” Sasuke steps forward, anger finally breaking through the exhaustion. “You’re promised to someone else. I’m not going to stand here and pretend that it doesn't exist just because you, what?, feel bad about me feeling bad about it?”

“I don’t feel bad, I—” Naruto drags a hand through his hair, pacing, voice rising with it, “Why are you acting like this is so simple?!”

“Because it is!” Sasuke fires back. “You’re getting married. There is no version of this where I stay, and—”

“I didn’t choose this!”

“You didn’t stop it either!”

Naruto flinches. “I didn’t get the chance to—”

“Then you should’ve told me,” Sasuke cuts in, sharp, immediate. “First thing. Not after I had to hear it from someone else like it’s just — just another thing!”

“I told you I was going to tell you!”

“When?” Sasuke demands. “After the ceremony?”

“That’s not fair—”

“None of this is fair!” Sasuke’s voice cracks up louder than he means it to, chest tight, breath uneven again. “You don’t get to drag me into this after it’s already decided and expect me to understand—”

“I’m trying to make you understand!” Naruto shouts back, stepping in, hands clenched, shaking. “You’re not even letting me talk—”

“Because there’s nothing left to say!” Sasuke throws back. “You made your choice!”

“I didn’t—”

“You did!”

Naruto slams his fist into the Hokage desk hard enough to punch straight through it.

Wood splinters. Cracks loud.

“Goddammit, Sasuke!”

Just for a second — everything stops.

Naruto pulls his fist back, rests both of his hands on the desk in front of him. Leaning against it as he stares at the ground. Sasuke hates him like this. Hunched over, devastated. 

“You don’t get to decide that for me,” he says, voice breaking under the weight of all this. “You don’t get to just — shut this down like it’s yours to shut down!”

“It should be because I started it,” Sasuke says, colder now, final in a way that sounds worse than shouting. “It should be mine to end, so I’m ending this conversation.”

That lands. Naruto stares at him like that hurt more than anything else.

Sasuke feels himself lowering his hackles; like a wounded dog. 

“I’m just being realistic,” Sasuke adds, quieter. Trying to make this easier for the both of them. “That’s all this is.”

“Realistic?” Naruto laughs, sharp, almost hysterical. “You think this is realistic?”

“I think,” Sasuke bites out, “that whatever you’re about to say doesn’t change the fact that you’re marrying someone else and I’m not going to—”

“I’M IN LOVE WITH YOU!”

It rips out of Naruto like it’s been forced up from somewhere deep, loud enough to fill the room and then some. It carries through the room — chakra flaring with it, sharp and uncontrolled, rattling the windows on impact.

It doesn’t feel contained at all. It feels like it broke loose out of Naruto’s throat; the same way one breathes out a katon.

Sasuke’s head goes light from the impact.

For a second, he genuinely thinks he might black out.

Naruto looks wrecked.

Nowhere near composed or holding it together — wrecked. His chest is rising too fast, like he can’t get enough air in, shoulders tight with it. His hands lift, drop, lift again, like he wants to reach for Sasuke and doesn’t know if he’s allowed. There’s chakra still flickering off him, unsteady, like it spiked with the confession and hasn’t settled.

He doesn’t look away from Sasuke.

Doesn’t even blink.

“It’s always been you,” he says, voice raw, like it’s been dragged out of him. “I didn’t know how to say it. I didn’t—” he exhales hard, shaking his head, frustrated with himself, “Fuck, Sasuke, it’s you. It’s always been you.”

He means it.

Sasuke can see it clearly in the way he’s standing there like he has nothing left to hide. In the way his body won’t calm down. In how obvious Naruto is in wanting to step forward again. Body obviously twitching just to get to Sasuke. Waiting for Sasuke to let him. 

Sasuke just stares. His brain is lacking in him.

Because he had already decided the ending to this. Packed it away. Mold it into something he can survive. His quiet, painfully one-sided journey. Something he alone carries and no one else ever has to know.

He had accepted it.

He was ready to walk out and keep going like he always does.

Alone.

And now Naruto is standing there, shaking, saying Sasuke is in fact, not alone. 

Again. 

Sasuke tries to breathe. It doesn’t work.

Too shallow. Too tight. Something is pressing in on his chest again, worse now, sharper.

His vision blurs at the edges. Nothing fits in his line of vision beyond Naruto. 

Naruto doesn’t stop.

“The ring, the engagement — none of it fucking matters,” he says, voice still shaking, but there’s something steadier under it now. Not calm. Just certain. “It’s political. Whatever. But —” he exhales, drags a hand through his hair again, like he’s trying to keep himself from falling apart mid-sentence, “It’s still always going to be you.”

He steps closer without thinking.

“Everything in me is —” he swallows, jaw tightening, “It’s yours, Sasuke. All of it.”

It doesn’t even sound like it was made to be pretty. It just sounds raw and devastatingly true.

“And I’m sorry—” his voice spikes again, frustration bleeding through, “I’m sorry you were too fucking dense to see that, because you’ve had my heart in the palm of your hand for literal years now—”

He gestures between them, sharp, emphatic, like he’s trying to make Sasuke see it, physically.

“I figured — if we’re going to talk realistic —” he laughs, short and breathless, shaking his head, “it would always be you and me. Always. Me and you.”

Naruto sucks in a breath, as if he’s said something he can’t take back. 

And clearly doesn’t want to.

“So forgive me for not giving a fuck about that stupid ring,” Naruto says, breath still uneven, words coming faster now. “It’s not just some political marriage thing too by the way, it’s—” he drags a hand through his hair, clearly frustrated, “It’s a blood-seal. Old. From when my clan was already getting wiped out. They backed my mother into it — locked it in so if a jinchūriki ever took the Hokage seat, it’d trigger.”

He lets out a breath that almost sounds like a laugh, but there’s nothing light in it.

“I didn’t even know it existed. And now it’s bound. If I try to break it, it doesn’t just stop at me. It hits the seal—”

Sasuke’s thoughts cut clean off.

He’s already stepping forward, something in him snapping into place with frightening clarity. “Who did this?”

Naruto blinks at the shift. “Hey — wait, I just—”

“Was it the Hyūga main branch? Who’s enforcing it?” Sasuke presses, voice dropping, sharper now, eyes scanning him. He’s checking for any obvious damage, just in case. “Is it anchored to your chakra network or the Nine-Tails seal? Did they bind it to your heart or—”

Naruto reaches for him, catches his wrist, and pulls him closer as Sasuke’s mind keeps racing.

 “Sasuke.” Naruto tries.

Sasuke can’t think of anything else; If Naruto is in danger then—

“Are you in danger?” Sasuke asks out loud, already trying to pull free. He needs to move, needs to do something. “Naruto, if that seal destabilizes— if it feeds back into Kurama—”

“It’s not like that—”

“It is like that if it’s tied to your life force,” Sasuke snaps, breath picking up, mind running too fast now. “Those kinds of seals don’t just sit idle, they—”

“I love you.”

Sasuke doesn’t even register it.

“You’re not listening—this is dangerous—”

“I love you.”

Naruto’s grip on his hand tightens, grounding, refusing to let him spiral off.

“If it’s blood-anchored, breaking it could kill you,” Sasuke pushes on anyway, voice rough, urgent, “or worse, it could—”

“I love you.”

Naruto pulls him in, hard enough that Sasuke stumbles into him, his other hand is bracing back against the desk as he leans into it, holding them both there. Sasuke pressed against Naruto’s chest.

“Sasuke.” Naruto tries, again. 

Sasuke huffs, frustrated, still trying to think past the noise in his head, already calculating, already planning.

“Do you hear me?” Naruto presses, one hand coming up to his cheek, forcing him to look at him.

“I love you.”

Sasuke looks into his eyes and his brain finally registers it all entirely. For the first time. 

“You love me.” Sasuke breathes.

“I do,” Naruto says, softer now, but there’s something warm threaded through it, something almost disbelieving. His hand comes up, pressing against Sasuke’s cheek, thumb brushing just under his eye like he’s confirming he’s real. “Stop thinking about anything else.”

Sasuke huffs, annoyed, trying to pull his thoughts back together. “Because you just said blood-seal like that’s not —”

Naruto’s grin only deepens as he tightens his grip around Sasuke. 

“You’re in my arms right now,” he says quietly, like he’s pointing out something not obvious, something that matters to him more than anything else. “And you’re worried about me.”

Like that’s the only part he cares about.

“I love you.” Naruto says again. 

Sasuke exhales.

It comes out slower this time, the tension finally slipping out of him as his body goes a little loose in Naruto’s hold. Not gone — but softer. Less sharp around the edges. Smoothly sanded.

“You have a blood-seal on your arranged marriage,” he says, like he’s trying to anchor himself back to something real.

Naruto just looks at him.

Smiling.

“I don’t care,” he says easily. “I love you.”

Sasuke huffs out something that almost passes for a laugh, the corner of his mouth lifting despite himself. “You’re crazy.”

Naruto doesn’t even hesitate. “Over you?” he shoots back, grin widening. “I think you’re the last one to catch up on that.”

Sasuke shakes his head, but there’s no bite left in it. His hand comes up, resting flat against Naruto’s chest, feeling the steady thrum of his heartbeat under his palm. He leans in fully this time, weight settling into him like he’s done fighting it.

Naruto’s arms tighten around his waist immediately. Sasuke lets himself stay there.

It feels unreal. Like if he moves too fast, it’ll fall apart.

“…What are we going to do about the seal—” Sasuke starts, quieter now, the thought creeping back in whether he wants it to or not.

“Shh,” Naruto murmurs, soft, almost amused. “None of that right now.”

“But—”

Naruto cuts him off.

Both of Naruto’s hands come up and catch Sasuke’s face, firm, leaving no room to pull back as he crashes into him.

Their lips meet hard.

It’s stupidly immediate — deepening almost the second it starts, like Naruto has no intention of holding anything back. He kisses him like he’s been thinking about it for years, like he’s making up for every second he didn’t.

Sasuke feels it hit him all over again.

That same light-headed pull, his breath stalling as Naruto presses closer, angle shifting, chasing more. Their mouths move against each other in a way that feels almost too right, too easy, like they’ve already learned this somewhere without knowing.

Naruto doesn’t slow down.

If anything, he leans in harder, deepening it with each passing second, like he’s not letting Sasuke retreat, not letting him think — just feel and be in Naruto’s arms.

Naruto doesn’t give him space to think. The kiss deepens constantly.

His grip stays firm, one hand still braced at Sasuke’s jaw, the other tight at his waist, holding him there like he means it. He tilts his head, shifts closer, and Sasuke feels it — how deliberate it is, how much of it is want.

Sasuke exhales into it, unsteady at first, then steadier as he leans back in, meeting him properly this time. It’s not just Naruto anymore. Sasuke answers it, slower but just as intent, letting it build instead of resisting it.

Naruto hums, low in his throat, like he’s been waiting for that.

Their mouths move together, finding a rhythm that feels almost unfairly easy. Naruto chases every inch, every breath, like he’s not done yet, like he won’t be for a while. His thumb brushes along Sasuke’s cheek, grounding, while he leans in deeper, not letting the moment thin out.

Sasuke feels it again —that light, floating pull— but it’s steadier now. Less disorienting. Warmer.

The n—

“Oh.” Sasuke pulls back.

Just enough to break it, breath still uneven, lips still too close.

“I love you too, by the way.”

Naruto grins immediately. “I know.”

Sasuke scoffs, breath catching a little. “I didn’t even say it yet.”

Naruto’s grin turns smug, eyebrows lifting. “I still know.”

Sasuke rolls his eyes. “You smug bastard.”

He starts to pull away.

Naruto follows without thinking, stepping in after him like it’s instinct. “Hey — where are you going?”

Sasuke barely looks back. “To find a way to break that stupid seal, you moron.”

Naruto grabs his hand instantly.

Tugs him back.

“Just a few more minutes,” he says, softer now, but there’s something almost pleading under it. “Please, baby.”

Sasuke pauses. The pet name had rolled out so naturally and nicely that Sasuke can’t even be mad about it. It pulled him in entirely.

So he lets himself be pulled.

Naruto doesn’t hesitate this time — he’s already leaning back, kissing him again, deeper, slower now, like he’s savoring it instead of chasing it. Sasuke responds without thinking, hand coming up to grip his shirt, anchoring himself as Naruto’s hold tightens around him.

This time it lingers.

Naruto presses closer, breath warm, and Sasuke lets it happen — lets the moment stretch, lets himself stay in it, the tongue that traces his bottom lip as he opens and lets it in. The taste of Naruto on his tongue as he licks into his mouth. Letting a soft moan out as Naruto grips his waist even tighter. 

It’s all louder and quieter. Longer, for sure. Naruto’s mouth softens, then deepens again, like he can’t quite decide between holding him gently or not letting go at all.

And Sasuke lets him do it all.

Until —

BANG.

The door rattles violently as Sasuke pulls away. Naruto’s grips still tight around his waist as he whines about the loss of contact. 

“If you don’t unlock the door in under five minutes, I’m breaking it down, Naruto, I don’t care if you and Sasuke are naked.” Shikamaru’s voice cuts through. “We have a seal to break!” 

Sasuke raises an eyebrow at Naruto, whose gaze is still hazy. “So, Shikamaru knows already?” 

“Well, yeah, he’s my aide.” Naruto shrugs, eyes still on Sasuke as if he’s not quite sure if this is all real

Sasuke huffs out a laugh, breath still uneven. 

He steps away, tugging his body free just enough to move. “Come on, Loser.”

Naruto lets out another whine at the removal of Sasuke from his arms, but he jumps up and follows Sasuke, naturally.