Warnings: implied character death, language, and one adult situation (without explicit details). Italics = Flashbacks

Cascade
by vernajast

naruto x sasuke

stained glass makes my blue sky cry

"Sasuke?"

My back is to him, and I'm glad. I hate the sound of his voice when he makes that face—the face I can't see, but can hear in the way he says my name.

"Sasuke? Are you awake?"

He knows I am. We're too aware of one another now. It's just a formality.

"Sasuke. Sasuke, what will you do when—?" It isn't like him to be so tentative. Even making that face, he's still Naruto.

I roll over onto my back from my side and look up, connect gazes. "Spit it out." (What's bothering you?)

Sasuke spat dusty grit from his mouth and swished saliva and blood around to clear out the rest. There were still a few crystals of dirt that ground between his teeth and he'd vomit if he thought it would help things.

"What's the matter, Sas-gay!" The emphasis on the last syllable left no doubt as to why he deserved a beating. At least he'd held his own. (His one to their seven, and four had bloody noses and cut cheeks, another was limping on a crushed ankle.)

Naruto happened to be walking along the railroad tracks when he saw the small crowd. There was something dark huddled amongst their kicking feet, and then a cry like some kind of wounded animal.

"Shit."

He ran for it, school bag full of remedial books and make-up work smashing into the back of the ringleader's head at full throttle.

(Hey, in these games, Sasuke, all ya have to do is take out the big boss creature and the others will scatter, see?)

When the group dispersed, he helped a broken, shaking Sasuke to his feet. The smile he flashed was bright, toothy, and wide-wide-open, if slightly sinister for Sasuke's blood on his shirt.

"Hi! I'm Naruto! Who the hell're you?"

There's a faint beep somewhere in the room. He licks his lips and flicks his eyes all around before settling back on me.

"What?" My voice is too flat. (Talk to me.)

He frowns, and it's an obvious effort to make his lips and tongue work together to form the right words—the ones he's been rehearsing for an hour as he stared at the ceiling. I know because hyperawareness of all-things-Naruto is both a blessing and a curse.

Sasuke never had to justify himself, and for that he was truly grateful. The stolen glances and faint brushes of skin-against-skin didn't seemed to penetrate Naruto's bubble-like world in which everything was perfect and golden, they were best friends, and Sasuke was rival competition for Sakura's heart.

Sakura.

She was nothing more than a thorn in his side, really. A pestering fly Sasuke flicked his hand at to make it buzz away. It was only when she became too persistent that he gave in, tired of waiting for Naruto to get it and see that their so-called competition had always been something of a completely different nature. In the end, it was Sasuke who got it and Naruto who walked in on them at just the wrong moment.

(How quickly one name become another when that first tell-tale syllable fell from pale lips: God, Na-Sakura!)

Oh, Naruto definitely saw the true nature of things, and even if he didn't say it, those blue eyes told Sasuke everything he needed to know.

Sakura's gaze darted between their faces in those few stretched seconds before Naruto stormed out, and what she saw made her blush and smile and want to cry all at once.

It wasn't the first time she had realized they were both idiots.

"Sasuke." His voice is too breathy. I don't like it. "When I die, w-will you go to my funeral?"

(Taboo. Don't start now. Don't say it and it can't happen.) "That's a stupid question." I want to roll away again, but I don't. His eyes are too damn beautiful.

"No, they aren't, and stop changing the subject." He looks childish with a pout, but at least it's better than that other face.

I didn't even realize I'd said it out loud, and it bothers me, how careless I'm becoming. I hate it. Those things are unspoken, and words are so...unnecessary anymore.

They avoided one another until halfway through college.

As they passed in the stale, crowded hallway, there should have been some kind of momentous pause, but the tide of students flowed around them, pulling the pair along, and then it was far too easy to slip into old habits. Fingers brushing as they walked. Smiles that came alongside dares to look away first.

Sasuke made a rare joke, Naruto stole a kiss, and they filled those patched-up holes in their lives with something more permanent.

"Naruto. There's no telling which of us will die first, you know." It's bullshit, and he doesn't even call me on it. "Fine. Yes. I'll go to your funeral. I'll wear black for a year. I'll—"

"You already wear black."

Yes, I do. I'm in mourning, aren't I? My family...but Naruto is my family now.

When they were twenty-five, Sasuke carried Naruto into the hospital emergency room for the last time, swearing at the nurses and insisting he be allowed to stay by his side until they reached those gray double doors with their awful yellow letters: Authorized Personnel Only.

Naruto's illness was no surprise. It was the same rare genetic disorder that had killed the father he never knew. (Minato, honey, this is Naruto, your son. Can you understand me? This is your son...I thought you should see him. Before you...Minato...wake up, please!) His entire life, doctors had been taking samples and laying him out on examination tables like an insect under glass.

A week after admission, the staff couldn't meet Sasuke's determined face as he marched down the hospital corridors with Naruto's release papers clutched in one hand. He went outside, had a cigarette, and pulled the car around into the circle drive.

Naruto forces a smile, a weak parody of all those previous. "You should wear orange. For me..."

(No, I should be pissed at you for even suggesting that abomination. You always did have shitty taste.) "All right, then."

He closes his eyes, apparently satisfied with my answer. I listen to him snoring softly while he sleeps. My hand slides up his chest to rest against his stuttering heart, and I don't notice when I start counting the beats. I hold my breath after each, wondering which will be his last.

Is it this easy? To own another's soul...but you do. You truly do.

[ .end ]