A/N: I felt frisky, and jotted this down! Enjoy. (even though there are probably a hundred of these on here).

He stares at me with black eyes. Colorless. Emotionless. Emptiness. I want my eyes to be that way, giving away nothing. My eyes are huge and open. If I'm happy, they'll glow and shine. If I'm sad, they'll turn dull and depressed. If I'm scared, as I am right now, they'll stretch and my orbs will waver. If I'm angry, they'll burn and light a fire. If I'm aroused, my lids will droop, my orbs would be steady. But his, you can never tell. When he's sad, happy, angry, or whatever needless feeling. As if he has control on how he expresses his feelings. I have no control. Absolutely none. That's why, I am scared. This man, who's in front of me, I once thought I knew. Stands stall and firm, staring blankly. I have no idea what he's thinking. I'm blocked from entering his mind. I can't escape, his eyes trapping me to the ground.

I'm standing, slightly shaking. I'm wobbling, my breathing is uneven, his is calm. How does he do that? I always wondered. Maybe because he's just that way. He believes that I'm stronger, but he's wrong. Why what happened, have to happened? I cried his name, reached out for his body, prayed for his presence. I fought for him. Not hard enough. I lost him. I lost. He left on to what he thought was right, I tried to keep him from it. Now he's back, staring at me in a dignifying way. What is he thinking? How pathetic I am? Is he analyzing what I want to do right now? Which is to run and embrace him with all my might? No, he already knows that. Anyone who is watching this, can tell how much I want him in my arms. To never let go again.

That was my first mistake, letting go. I didn't do my best, I promised her that I would bring him back. I failed her, myself, everyone, the village. I should have never let go. He was in my grasp, I took him for granted. Why couldn't I understood him, until the last minute? Until he was gone? But now he's back. I finally have the will to tear my feared eyes away. I'm more focused on his body.

Has he trained that much over the years? I didn't know he could even get any more muscular. I'm more intrigued, my lips slightly parted, eyes squinting. I don't even show my strength physically, but within. I only grew taller. But him, he grew much more. Achieving vengeance, betraying the ones you love, could do this to you? But wait, who did he love? Apparently not me. Yet he claims I'm his best friend. Why is that? Why try to kill me? Somewhere in my heart, I know the answer is there. I simply can't touch it. Touch.

I want to touch him. Again, like always. Even if it's a punch, a nuggie, a pat, I want-need-to touch him. My hands are making fists, releasing, and wiggling my fingers in a cycle. I drag my eyes back to the cold face. I want to press my hands onto him. Giving him the warmth I kept safe, just for him. I should have gave it to him years ago. Does he know I love him? Because I do.

After all this time, he's back. Here, on the rooftop of my apartment. The moon behind him, giving him a glowing look. The wind blows, rustling his black locks. It's chilly outside, though it doesn't seem to faze him one bit. How does he do that? He has such control, I admire it. I crave self and mental control. To stop myself before the damage unravels. However I'm always too late. Like I was too late to saving him. I let go.

I take a step forward, only one small step. He doesn't move, but smile faintly. Maybe I'm seeing things. I move closer, gradually. I can't let go, this is my chance. Don't mess up, not yet, not again. It was my fault really, if I hadn't slipped up, he would have never abandoned us.

No, deep inside I felt he abandoned me. Personally. Of course, to the naked eye we appeared not to be the best of buds. But in our box, we were. We both had something in common, and that was we were stay cats without homes. No one to really talk to. I should have took advantage of that. I should have made long conversations with him. I should have brought him out. But would that have fixed anything? Made things better?

Reaching him, we stood inches apart. His smile is there alright, but his eyes, the eyes, are empty. I need to fill them with something, quick. With what? What can I give him? I have nothing to offer. I'm panicking, my chest is rising and lowering too fast. I bite my lip. I need to say something. I need to do something. If I don't, he'll leave again. He will leave me again in the cold, dark, on my back covered in my own blood.

I thought we were friends.

Suddenly, he reaches out and rests his left hand on my shoulder. I go rigid, his touch paralyzes me. My breath hitches and slows down. Why is he torturing me this way? He lifts the right hand and caresses my cheek, cocking his head amused. Eyes still blank. I'm becoming furious now, why won't he speak? Do something! He's not a puppet. I reach my hand out and press it against the middle of his chest. I had a strong urge to feel his heartbeat.

It thumped against my palm. I closed my eyes, soothed by it. To know he's real and not part of my daily illusions. I move closer, he doesn't stop me. Now our noses are touching, I could feel his breath against my lips. He removes the hand that was on my cheek, to my left pink. He entwines our pinkies, creating a 'pinky promise'. My eyes burst opened. I see his dark eyes up close. This proximity is new, not counting the one time we kissed. I drown inside his black pools of irises. He raises our pinkies near our faces.

"Naruto-kun." He says my name, in that deep voice, I wished to hear since the day he left. Tears swelled in my eyes, I can no longer hold it back. I have no control. I throw my arms around him.

"...Sasuke-kun..."