Warnings: This story chronicles an abusive relationship that ends in murder-suicide. This chapter psychological, emotional and physical abuse, as well the use of a homophobic slur and a heterophobic slur.

-Battering is just as common in same-sex relationships as in opposite-sex relationships. It transcends race/ethnicity, religion/creed, class, age, sexual orientation…it can happen to anyone.-

He threatens to out me. He says this all my fault. My boyfriend is angry a lot of the time. It's because he cares. According to him. Anger is a form of caring? No, more like…it's because he cares about something that it can get him angry. I'm not making a lot of sense right now, I know. I haven't had my coffee. That, and I didn't sleep a wink last night. I haven't slept well in so long…ugh. Fear does that. Yeah, I'm scared. Naruto Uzumaki is so scared that he can't sleep. And this is someone who I can't just—you know—I don't know, put one of my frogs on his back to scare him away. I'm scared—see, said it again—to find out what would happen to my frogs.

Originally I wanted toads but got frogs instead. I like them a lot. Skippy and Fofo (shut up, the names are awesome and you know it) are African dwarf frogs. Skippy is grayish brown. Fofo is a sort of greenish brown, and he's much bigger, stronger and slower. Skippy is much more active. They're both really small and like the water, rarely come up for air. Those are common traits in African dwarf frogs. I think. Anyway, I really like my frogs. I've had them a couple of weeks now. Sasuke brought them home one night "just because" and set up the tank and everything. There are snails too, but they're the size of the cobalt pebbles in the tank. The snails have pretty brown shells and seem to get along with the frogs. I don't think I'll name them. So, frogs and snails are my pets. I'm happy with them. But I know Sasuke really brought them home as an apology. A few nights before, I was talking about how cool toads were and how I wanted some one day. He looked up from cleaning his mouth-guards and smirked. "You'd never be able to take care of them. You're such an idiot. They'd never survive beyond three days and you know it." He shook his head, laughing to himself. He pressed the clear mouth-guard things against his teeth, letting the trays fit into place patiently but wincing at their tightness. Sasuke closed his mouth, smirked again and walked off. Later, we got into an argument because I can't keep my mouth shut. He punched me a couple of times. Then, a few days later, the frogs were here.

Sasuke's mouth-guards aren't really mouth-guards. I just call them that. Sasuke reminds me I do that because I'm stupid. That a smart, capable person would just ask what they were called. And I ask. He laughs and says not to act like someone I'm not. I used to yell at him for that but was always rewarded with a bloody nose.

At night, after Sasuke finishes brushing his teeth and all that, he pulls out his little retainer case and the bottle of gel. He puts three dabs of the gel on each mouth-guard, then drags a cotton swab to smear the gel entirely around each mouth-guard. He's memorized the routine by now. Doesn't need the directions anymore. Originally, he misread them and wore the mouth-guards for half an hour the first week. When he reread them and realized his mistake, he blamed me. Back then, he just yelled. But now, he wears the mouth-guards for one minute each night and doesn't eat or drink anything for half an hour afterward. How the hell was I supposed to know? It's a cavity prevention thing. They're fluoride treatment trays, custom-fit to Sasuke's mouth. He takes good care of his mouth. Really good care.

He takes good care of himself, period. Great teeth, great body, perfect diet and all that. Pays the bills on time, used to do volunteer work, works two jobs. He's brilliant. MENSA paid for his college education. "You know, if you were smart, you wouldn't have to do all this work just to get a piece of paper that might help you get a job. All brawn and no brains." I threw something at him. That was the night it turned physical. He grabbed my arm and twisted it behind my back, screaming with rage. It didn't hurt until he kept twisting. Pushing. And then I was whimpering. He stopped. I was shaking. He growled at me not to do that again. I nodded. He stalked off. We avoided each other for the next couple of days. I slept on the couch for a few nights while he worked the night shift at one job. In the middle of the third night, he came home and shook my shoulder gently until I grumbled my acknowledgement.

"Naruto," he whispered. "C'mon. Let's go to bed." I rolled away from him, curling up in my best impression of a hedgehog. He poked my side insistently. I got up and trudged after him. He kissed me as we slid underneath the covers. "Why'd you have to get me so angry, huh? Shh…it means I care. Just be nicer…no more throwing things, okay?" We had makeup sex. He was slow and gentle. There was foreplay and everything. I forgave him, I guess. There's a name for this. Lots of names, actually. But not for us. This kind of thing happens to hets, not homos. Especially not two men. I don't really know what's going on except that he's hurting me.