Blood of the Broken, Scars of the Spiral (there are whirlpools in our veins)

Chapter Twenty-One

Sasuke wasn't sure what had made him talk to Naruto that day at the Academy– anger, jealousy, envy, hope... something thick and toxic had twisted itself up inside him as Naruto made the pained expression he had seen oh so many times in the mirror.

He'd wanted to shake Naruto, to scream in his face, to shove him from the tree branch for not answering his questions. And then Naruto had snarled, a familiar anger settling quickly onto his cherubic features, and Sasuke's rage stilled, if only slightly.

A darker, nasty part of him was happy with the golden boys rage. He wasn't the only one who understood. Wasn't the only one suffering, and that in itself was a form of freedom. But it hurts, the thick, heavy greif that surrounds them. Choking and oppressive in its hold.

And for the first time in the gods know how long he is hugged. And he breaks.

Sasuke still wasn't sure why he'd talked to Naruto that day– but he didn't regret it. He didn't regret following Naruto when he ditched class, didn't regret visiting the other boy's shrine where he listened to him speak of his own massacred clan, of free will and the rage of gods. When Naruto asked about visiting the Uchiha's shrine to Amaterasu Omikami, the truth of his feelings had slipped from Sasuke, almost unbidden. Maybe it was because Naruto was the first person he'd ever felt could possibly understand.

There had been no pity in Naruto's eyes– only an understanding that Sasuke greedily drank down, like a man dying of thirst in a desert who had stumbled upon a well. And when that understanding had come with an invitation, despite knowing the foolishness of attachment and against his better judgment, Sasuke had accepted the offer.

The apartment Naruto lived in was tiny, smaller than some of the rooms in Sasuke's (too big, too lonely) house, and old too. But it was homey; it had a clean, floral smell, the walls were painted a warm yellow and the curtains were stitched with a pattern of orange foxes gamboling about the spiral that Naruto always wore on his clothes. The furniture was cheap and second-hand, but it was well looked after and in good condition and there was a beautifully decorated blanket arranged over the couch; an embroidered pattern of intricately detailed sunflowers amidst which foxes with eyes of coloured glass beads howled, running into the crystalline waters of the beach bellow.

"You can have my old mat for now," Naruto said cheerfully, sapphire eyes shining. "We'll get you one later."

Sasuke had snorted to himself, not expecting for a moment that there would be a 'later'. He imagined he'd only stay a day or two before he grew too annoyed with Naruto, who was always so bright, and blinding, and colourful. Who was eerie, and fake, and sat alone with no real friends.

It didn't take long for Sasuke to realise how wrong he was.

Because Naruto wasn't fake and creepy in the apartment; he was enthusiastic, still bright, still colourful, but he chattered endlessly away, didn't draw attention to himself the way he did at the Academy. Even his clothes were different, the orange vest traded for a simple pair of black shorts and nondescript grey t-shirt.

Knowing how Naruto acted in the apartment, the difference was so obvious to Sasuke's eyes; he could literally see the shift as it happened, how Naruto seemed to change personalities the moment they stepped on the Academy grounds, all his soft lines and blunt corners turning into flashing eyes and sharp edges.

Sasuke didn't understand. Why would Naruto want to appear less than he was? And why would he choose the Academy to behave the way he did?

It didn't take long for Sasuke to figure it out, after sitting in class and puzzling over the mystery as Naruto smiled his too wide, too bright, smile– He had, at some point during the night before mentioned kids disappearing. Everybody noticed when Naruto didn't show up to class– he was too obvious to miss.