Disclaimer: Naruto and its characters created by Masashi Kishimoto

A/N: Sasuke is dead in this.

Forgive You

I can forgive you for the way you treated me. Like dirt, like an annoyance, like some bug under your shoe. Because you took the time to do it. No one else received so much of your attention. And I know you didn't really mean it. Because sometimes you were nice, too. You looked out for me, helped me. You protected me. And I noticed.

I hate you.

I can forgive how you accepted the way the village looked at you. Adored and admired with so much expectation. Because that's just how it was, for such a long time. And you didn't care what they thought anyway. Just as long as you proved your worth to yourself. And it was all right; because I knew. Just like me, deep down, you were lonely too.

I hate this.

I can forgive you for when you tried to kill me. Each and every time. For punching a hole through my chest and hurting me worse than you'll ever, ever know. Because I know that just as easily as you'd take my life, you'd give your own to save it. And offer up a sacrifice I didn't really want.

I always hated that.

But none of that matters now. Now does it?

There is no coming back from where you've gone. There's no more chasing, no more following. No more nameless hope for me to hold onto.

I really hate it.

I'm sorry that I failed you. And, I don't know, are you sorry that you failed me too?

I hate this feeling.

I stand before the monument, my hand tracing the names engraved in stone there. A constant reminder of those now gone.

But your name will never be etched here. Will never be etched anywhere. There are no memorials for criminals who've fallen

I hate that it's my fault as much as yours.

But I can forgive you for that too, for not leaving your name behind. Because I'll remember it anyway. I don't need some stupid stone slab to remind me of who you were. Your smirks, your sneers, your arrogance, your obsession, your hate, your fear.

I'll remember it all.

But most of all, more than anything, I'll remember your sorrow. It echoes through my memory as a constant condemnation.

I hate that the most

But no one will remember your smile. Not even me. I saw it once, so long ago that I can't recall it anymore. You never wanted me to see. All that time. All that time and you never . . .

I hate you for that.

You made me feel weak, worthless, powerless. Like nothing I did would ever make a difference.

You made me break a vow.

Why did you make me have to hate you?

I didn't want to cry anymore. Not over this, not over you. Not over a jerk who wouldn't let me help him, who closed himself from who he really was. I didn't want to cry over some jerk that left without an epitaph.

Why?

Some selfish, arrogant, hateful, distant, impassive jerk. Cold like this stone that will never bear your name.

I hate it all.

Some jerk who was so sad he couldn't even cry. Couldn't move on, couldn't let go. Couldn't open up, not even to his best friend . . .

I hate you. I really do! Do you even understand!

Could you ever?

You stole a big part of me and ran off with it. And now I'll never get it back.

That hole you made all those years ago is still there.

I hate that you never understood.

Now it always will be.

I just hate you so much . . .

And that is something even I can't forgive.