Naruto Fan Fiction ❯ None the Wiser ❯ Why Would You Betray Me? ( Chapter 8 )

Title: None the Wiser

Author: The Uke Reformation

Genre: Naruto

Subgenre: Romance/Drama

Summary: There are some things not meant to be said. There are some pasts that you cannot escape. Some people that will always hunt you down. And every once in a while, there are special students that reward you for all your teaching...SasuNaru, yaoi

Rated: R for harsh language, as well as sexual and mature content.

Author's Note: Don't worry about how this one looks at the beginning. It's not filler, I guarantee. Love! (Omigod, shortest AN ever!)

Note: This is the dirty version of Chapter 8. It includes two boys (one below legal age) kissing, and a masturbation scene. The cleaner version can be viewed as a fan fiction of the same title on Fanfiction(dot)net. Readers are strongly cautioned that this version contains graphic sexual content that may not be suitable for readers under eighteen. Thankyou.

Disclaimer: Copyright The Uke Reformation, 2005. All rights reserved.

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None the Wiser

By The Uke Reformation

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Chapter 8

" Why would you

betray me...? "

Yohko felt his forehead with dainty fingers, dabbing lightly at the light sheen of perspiration there. The thermometer beeped, high-pitched and sudden, from under his tongue, and he let out a groan as she took it from his mouth. He groggily watched her eyes scan the small screen that indicated his temperature, her eyebrows knit.

"What's the damage?" he croaked, finally, feeling as though his own skin might suffocate him with it's warmth.

She sighed softly, petting his hair, the ends of which were soaked with sweat. "You're running a 38.1° fever." Naruto groaned, closing his eyes tightly against the information. In his gut he'd known it, ever since he woke up in the middle of last night. He never woke up after taking his sedatives unless something was really wrong...not to mention the fact that he never got sick. Ever.

Yohko shifted her weight on the bed, putting the thermometer on the nightstand and then curling up to hug his shoulders. He shivered and leaned into the warmth, the wet comforter around him making him feel even sicker than he obviously was.

"You aren't going to be able to go to work, you know."

Naruto nodded and grimaced, finding it hard to pay attention to anything except the stifling heat and his throbbing head. Yohko tightened her arms ever so slightly in a protective gesture. "You want me to go call in for you? It's still early. Kakashi would probably be able to get someone to sub for you."

Naruto nodded again, and she gave him a light kiss on the cheek, getting up. "Alright. Stay as warm as you can...I'll be back in a minute." And then she was gone, disappearing from the room and down the hallway to phone the scarecrow from the kitchen. Naruto sighed, clutching at the damp blankets as he'd been told to do, and hoping she came back soon.

He hated being sick. Honestly, he could only remember being physically ill once in his life - a time that had been just like this. He'd been so overwhelmed by everything that his immune system of steel had begun to shut down in order for his body to focus on performing other, at the time more important, functions, like simply maintaining a certain level of sanity despite the tremendous stress put on him at the time.

Everything had began to die off, during that time, everything he'd ever known. Every point of stability in his life had begun to crumble, bringing him and so many of the ones he loved tumbling into a downwards spiral. It was sudden, and as a fourteen-year-old he was frightfully unprepared. No one had been able to help him. He'd stopped sleeping or eating regularly, instead letting both rest and food find him whenever it felt like it, mostly because he didn't have the time. His studies were disregarded for better things like chainsmoking to make himself feel better, which didn't work in the slightest. His frail and slowly expiring social life seemed to ruin everything.

It had simply been too much for his body to handle. True, it was worse then than it was now, but that didn't make the two instances any less connected. He guessed that the motive behind his current state of invalidity and the only similar experience he'd ever had were linked: the amount stress he weathered on a daily basis had always had a physiological affect on him. If he wasn't in a good place mentally, he wouldn't long be in a good place physically, either. It was just the way the world worked for him.

Damn the Uchiha to hell.

Naruto did blame it entirely on the boy that he was like this. Sasuke's domineering presence and constant intimidation of him had made him into an emotional wreck, and he supposed that he was going to have to face the fact that he was one of the last people to admit it. Even Shizune had made mention of it when he'd visited her at the beginning of the month, something that was only about a week behind him, he realized.

"Have you been sleeping well, Naruto-kun? You seem..."

"What?"

"...Well, exhausted, to put it bluntly..."

He was just glad she hadn't prescribed him anything new. He doubted he'd have caught something this late into the game if he'd been given yet another pill to take - he'd probably have caught a more virulent strain of whatever he had now a lot earlier in the month. Then again, he thought with a sigh, he hadn't been to see her for his bi-monthly psychological check up yet. He had a very bad feeling that the way this was wearing on his mind would show up in the course of the half-an-hour sessions they had.

Great, he sighed. I'm a fucked-over insomniac with a whole treasure trove of phobias and soon-to-be a new bottle of some anti-depressant, like Zoloft or something. Perfect.

Bitter thinking like that made him feel guilty, of course. He knew Yohko was worse off - she went to see Shizune on a weekly basis after all, at the expense of the state, and he didn't even have to glance through her medicine cabinet to know how crammed full it had to be. The schedule was posted to the inside, long and complicated: Zyprexa, to be taken daily; Lunesta, upon which she was dependant for sleep, to be taken every night; and then a long list of medications for everything else. He knew where the emergency card was, on the front of the refrigerator, where it was supposed to be for any mental patient at the Kubome.

He knew, too, where the long list was on the bottom of the silverware drawer, right beside the signed statement for both of them, confirming that they were no longer considered threats to themselves or society by the expert psychiatrists of the Center for Prevention of Drug Usage and Treatment of Psychological Maladies. It didn't take him having an eidetic memory in order for him to remember Tsunade's handwriting in perfect clarity, explaining to them which medications they needed to take and why, as long as the long record stapled to the back stating each of their phobias clear as day.

"Just in case" she had told him. He'd been pretty out of it at the time, but not out of it enough not to know what those words meant. "Just in case" coming from Tsunade was the equivalent to "when something bad happens, somebody might need to know".

He knew that that didn't bode well coming from Tsunade, probably to the point of her doubting they had even lost Kyuubi at all. But even now, he pushed it to the back of his mind. He was well aware that after all they'd been through, it was going to be impossible for him and Yohko to attempt being truly normal ever again. Perhaps they would be able to prevent life from being as violently hectic as it had been before, but that was really all that was in their power to control.

Normal was no longer an option.

He stopped himself, then, realizing just exactly what he was doing. Dammit. This was why he hated being sick. Illness dragged minutes into hours, filling the silence with an irrepressible buzz. It gave you empty spaces of time where there was nothing to do except think.

Thinking was that last thing he'd ever want to do, now especially. He was too…fragile to think too much. He shuddered at the word, disgusted, and tried to focus on things that were easier and less painful to focus on, like the rain thrashing against the windows.

“It's bad luck,” he muttered to himself, not really making the effort to wonder in his head any more. “The first downpour of the season and I'm bedridden for the first time in almost a decade. Real bad omen, that.”

“Un, sou da na.” Yes, that's true.

Yohko closed the door behind her quietly as she came back in from the hall, keeping her bright golden eyes on the same window Naruto did, the rain splaying odd shadow patterns across her face as it drummed against the glass pane. The woman came over to the bed to sit down upon it, careful not to block the mesmerizing view.

“What did Kakashi say?” Naruto whispered after a while, afraid to break the blank silence or interrupt the rainfall, for fear it would stop.

Yohko's voice matched his in volume. “That he would find the best or do it himself.” She pet his arm. “I called Tsunade, too, actually.”

“And…?”

“She said for me to address you as `brat' for the rest of the day in her place since she's out of date and to make you sweat it out until I can get my hands on some ThermaFlu.”

“Only the Hag.”

Yohko flicked him on the cheek gently, in a chastising manner. “Don't call her a hag, brat.”

“Well, you should call her back and tell her how well you're doing. Yuh sound just like her.” Naruto gave his cousin a look that earned him a pinch on the ear. He would've laughed if he weren't so tired, and he could see she knew it in the way she smiled at him.

“You still have to go to work though, hm?”

She nodded. “It's not so bad. The best thing for you is sleep anyway, and the boys and I tend to be too loud for much of that, especially during the afternoon.”

Naruto groaned. “How am I supposed to do that?”

Yohko continued to pet him in an assured way. “You're not dependant on any sort of medication for rest. It's easy. Just let yourself go.”

He stared at her, full of skepticism. “I haven't had a nap since I was six.”

“I suggest you start relearning your six-year-old habits, then.” She stared back, soft smile in place. He sighed. He wasn't getting out of this, and he knew it. He also knew the six-year-old bit was a load of bullshit. He'd slept for no reason lots of times. He'd just never slept for no reason when nothing truly awful was going on.

Doing so brought back more haunting parts of his life that he'd rather not recall. Ever.

It took him a while to realize Yohko had started humming Ave Maria and stroking the skin along his hairline in a warm, caressing way. He blinked, realizing that it was one of the few calming songs of hers that he didn't associate with drying blood.

He blinked again, watching the rain and feeling himself sink into the pillow with Yohko's soothing voice.

“Ave Maria…”

The beads of water cascaded into one another. He remembered times when he had sat in his parent's car on drives when he was young, rainstorm falling all around them, and been hypnotized and fascinated by the windows. He'd used to make believe that the droplets were tribes of people, or herds of horses, all sliding towards one destination, occasionally overtaking one another or joining different tribes or herds. He didn't have to name them or anything, but they'd seemed like individuals…like people.

“Gratia plena…”

It was weird, the way rain played into his life. He loved rain…more than anything, he loved rain. For him, it symbolized goodness. Purity, in its own way. For bad things to happen during the first rainstorm of winter was very bad luck, in his eyes, simply because he had his own queer ways of being superstitious.

Consequentially, some of the worst experiences of his life had taken place during the first rainstorms of winters past.

Yohko noticed him tremble as she sang the words softly, and pressed her palm more firmly against his head. He took notice and calmed the acidic creepers and dark, deep pressure that threatened to envelop his stomach. Now wasn't the time for that.

“Maria, gratia plena…Maria, gratia plena…”

He wondered at Yohko's insistence that she did not suffer from the same ailments he did. They both knew that was a lie that she told to convince herself that she could care for them both as she always had. From the way the whole thing had begun and ended, Naruto had known she would never again be able to do that. He just wondered at her sometimes, how well she was able to almost convince him.

“Ave, ave dominus…Dominus tecum…”

He was relatively good at quashing his own desires. It was something he and Yohko had both inherited from their experiences, he had seen. But then, they had different artistic styles, even if - fundamentally - they were very much alike. He had a tendency to erase any wants he had before he even had a chance to fully realize them. Yohko just tended to smother them entirely and focus on the one thing that interested her, be it her job, or her kids, or (more commonly) him.

“Benedicta tu en mulieribus…”

Maybe it was the fact that they'd been protecting one another for so long that she decided to focus her own self around his happiness and well being. It was one of the weirdest ways of living he'd ever seen or heard of, but he supposed that if it kept her breathing that was all that mattered. He didn't even try to imagine what would've happened if she'd died. It was too impossible.

“Et benedictus…”

He stared out at the rain, feeling empty but too full of thought to move. His face burned with his own heat and he shivered in the cold of the room. Yohko ran constant fingers around his ears and unruly golden bangs, her voice low in a soft and steady alto rather than her regular soprano, so that she might lull him into the sleep she wanted him to have.

“Et bendictus fructus ventris…”

He wondered why Beethoven had decided, of all things, to write the lyrics for Ave Maria in Latin. It didn't surprise him that Yohko knew it, could pronounce it, even though she probably knew only the melody as far as interpretation went. It didn't really matter, of course. It was beautiful anyway. He blinked again, for the first time in what seemed like a while, realizing she was achieving her goal. He was really honestly going to sleep.

“Ventris tuae, Jesus…”

He wondered, as a parting thought, if it was possible raindrops had a consciousness.

“Ave Maria…”

And then he was gone.

-----

He hadn't meant to scream. Honest, he hadn't, even if he felt like a small child making excuses like that to justify his actions to himself. He hadn't meant to scream. He really hadn't. But, come on, what else were you supposed to do when a boy almost ten years younger than you grabs you and forces you through the surface of a lake?

So he felt justified in continuing.

The water was cold. Damn cold; like fluid ice. He writhed out of pure terror, desperate. He couldn't escape Sasuke's vice grip, and the frustration and plea for help rippled out from his throat in a piercing, elongated cry. The world spun with the water's mind-blowing lack of warmth as it enveloped him, sucking him down deep into the darkness of it.

He knew Sasuke was watching him, even though the liquid that tangled around his form and made his clothes weighted blurred his vision almost irreparably. He squirmed and fought, bucked and twisted, screaming the whole while, in what he knew was in vain.

And then, inexplicably, his vision was crystal clear. He realized now that he was entirely underwater, completely submerged in fear of himself and what might come of this. He contorted himself so that he might look back at the surface, letting out a frightful yell when he realized that it was sealing itself behind him.

No…!

He meant to speak coherently…he truly did. But he could not. All of the emotion behind his thoughts would not allow him to form the words he needed to speak so desperately. He was too overwhelmed, under so much pressure that his tongue would not avoid him. Only his vocal chords were willing to listen. So all he could do was scream up to Yohko who was reaching for him in a way that seemed both frantic and futile.

“Naruto!!”

He put his hand back out for her and their fingertips brushed, sparking the electricity of the message that lay behind his eyes, in the back of his throat, the words he could not convince himself to say. It poured out of him though. It poured out of him in tears and toil.

Help me…!

It was only a small brush of fingertips, however, and Sasuke was quick to jerk him further downward, leaving him to scream in vain as the hole he had collapsed through closed behind him. He drowned in the golden of Yohko's eyes as she called his name to him, pressing her hands to the glass-like water, even though it seemed so far away. He yelled ever harder in frustration and agony.

Help me!

-----

Naruto awoke to a feeling of déjà vu, his cousin looking down at him quizzically. The rain seemed not to have stop since he last rested his eyes, but some sort of internal knowledge told him that a great deal of time had passed, were Yohko's rumpled shirt and tired eyes not example enough of the day's departure in his absence.

“Are you alright?”

Naruto shook his head, absently. “No, I'm fine. You?”

“Oh, I'm okay.” She patted his hand. He allowed it but felt eerily full of jitters, as if there were something he desperately needed to do and he could not remember what it was. It made him feel nervous and boxed-in, which weren't things he much enjoyed feeling.

“What time is it?”

“Around ten-thirty. You slept a while.”

Naruto grunted with a nod, rubbing his eyes.

“Your fever broke half way through the day, I think. Would you like something to eat?”

He shook his head, feeling groggy and rolling over onto his stomach. “I'll just sleep until tomorrow.”

She smiled and pecked him on the cheek. “Alright.” She gripped his shoulders again in a tight embrace.

“Did you hear back from Kakashi…?”

“Yes…he subbed it for you. Said he wouldn't have felt right not doing it.”

Naruto laughed, feeling uneasy. He knew the real reason Kakashi had come; yesterday's happenings weren't going to go unnoticed by the physical education instructor, and they both knew it. Kakashi was going to be keeping his nose in this business now, by all accounts. He was hardly going to let the Uchiha walk away intact after causing such a scene.

He hadn't informed Yohko of those particular things just yet, which made him feel more guilty around her than he usually did. What was it with him and telling people when it came to Sasuke? It was so uncharacteristic of him to stay quiet about anything, even things he didn't want to talk about. People asked all the right questions, even, know that they were accustomed to getting the proper answers from him that went along with them. And, after everything the two of them had been through, it was second nature for him to just tell Yohko automatically, whether or not she needed or wanted to know, or asked any questions at all.

So why didn't he, when it came to Uchiha Sasuke? It shouldn't be hard. It really shouldn't.

So why, in all the seven hells, should he object so much to speaking about him?

Part of him didn't want to know the answer.

Yohko pat his head softly, bringing him out of his reverie. “Are you really alright, Naruto?”

He nodded, hurriedly, trying to dispel the concern billowing in her eyes. “Yeah, yeah, I'm fine…just tired.”

“Alright…” she said, still looking fretful as she kissed his ear. “Oyasuminasai, anata.”

He sighed into the comforter as she brought it up around him. “Oyasuminasai…”

-----

Sakura was stunned silent, he could tell. The whole class was. He was remarkably proud of himself, no matter how winded he was as the door shut behind him. The bell resounded through the school and the rest of the world as Naruto smiled to himself, reveling in the fact that he had finally achieved and accomplished something he almost never did.

The pink-haired girl seemed too shocked for words, her jaw hanging open. “Na…Naruto…You…You're on…

“You're on time.”

He looked up at her. “Damn straight!” He straightened, feeling very good about himself. “Aintcha proud?”

“Indescribably.”

“Wanna celebrate? I got sake.”

“In the classroom?”

“Don't tell.”

“You could get fired for that.”

“Maybe. Or maybe they'd gimme a raise.”

Sakura looked thoughtful. “You're right…it could swing either way, seeing who you work with.”

Naruto shrugged. Sakura laughed at him.

“Now why can't you do this the rest of the year?”

“What makes you think I won't?”

“Experience,” the girl replied, airily.

“Mm…you're right. This could taint Iruka's perception of me, eh?”

“I think so. You should be careful.”

“Okay, I'll tell you what I'll do,” Naruto said, going over to his desk and fishing out a small slip of paper. “I'm going to sign this, and you're going to go back to class, tell him I was late, and forget the whole thing when I get you together with Ino this weekend.”

“What?”

“C'mon, it's a bribe. Aren't you political?” Naruto handed it to her, although the girl looked indignant.

“You can't be serious.”

“Just take it and shove it at me after school on Friday.”

“Are you kidding? That's illegal!”

“Not if you don't get caught.”

She raised an eyebrow at him.

“C'mon! You can tell him you tore one of my limbs off.”

“For the sake of your bad reputation?”

“Of course.”

She sighed, shaking her head. “You're crazy.”

“Yeah, I know.”

“Which limb should I tell him I tore off?”

“My left arm. Ooh, and you beat me around the head with it, too. He'd like that.”

“Fine. When this weekend?”

“I give no details, toots.”

She glared at him. “Don't call me that.”

He shrugged. “Relax and I might not feel the need to do it for you.”

“My parents are gunna kill you.”

“Only if they find out,” he said with a grin. She chuckled lowly and shrugged.

“Alright. Your funeral.”

He laughed. “If I have to die, I doubt it'll be by your parents' wrath. Neji? Maybe. I could actually see that…encouraged the move a little too much for my own good, when it comes to the Hyuuga Branch House…”

“Yuh think?” Sakura interrupted, hand on her hips. He continued, ignoring the comment.

“But you? Nah. They'll probably disembowel me, but hell, I've handled worse.”

“I should hope,” she sighed, patting him on the arm.

“Right.” He waved. “Out with you.”

She laughed and left, obligingly. Naruto turned to look at his audience, whom he'd almost completely forgotten were there. He blinked, noticing the unnatural silence. No one spoke. He wasn't even sure that everyone was breathing.

“Uh…” He raised an eyebrow, peering into the crowd of faces. “…hi.”

No one spoke.

Crap.

“Um…yeah…if you guys are…corpses…could yuh tell me? Please? I have mild necrophobia, so touching dead people is kinda out of the question.”

No answer.

It dawned on him.

“Ohhhhh…” He leaned back. “I get it. Kakashi's scary, eh?”

“YES,” Akamaru groaned loudly from the front row, inspiring small giggles in a few of her wax-like classmates. “CHRIST YES.” The room coughed in some stifled laughter, and Naruto chuckled himself.

“Well, if that's all…”

“If that's all?” Akamaru said, eyes wide and gesticulations exaggerated. “He's like a Denison of Satan!”

Naruto laughed. “He's really not like that all of the time.”

“Is he a friend of yours, sensei?” Haku asked, soft, empty smile in place. Naruto noticed Akamaru color lightly out of the corner of his eyes. He subdued a grin, not wanting to call attention to it. So that's what all the attention getting tactics are starting to revolve around. He'd recognized them easily as similar to his own.

Interesting.

He paid more focus to the task at hand, choosing to muse over it later, maybe bring it up with her after a while. The two of them were on relatively good terms, after all, and he had a desire to help her if the attention was warranted by the opposite party…

“Yup. I've known Kakashi for a long time…nearly as long as I've known Iruka.”

Haku brightened slightly, seeming satisfied with the knowledge.

Naruto looked around the classroom, noticing the faces that still seemed unsure that they were allowed to be themselves again. “That bad, huh…? I'm glad I didn't have the, erm, priviledge of speaking with him, then…”

“Where were you yesterday, sensei?” Akamaru piped again.

“Got sick with something.” He shrugged.

“Was it bad…?”

“Well, whatever it was it's gone now…”

“Do you get sick often, sensei?” a boy called from back.

Naruto shook his head. “Nope. This'll be the first time in…” He glanced up at the ceiling, attempting to remember. “…about…oh…give or take eight years.”

There was an intake of breath from many. “Eight years?”

“Why'd you get sick now then?” Kiba said, from where he had his feet propped up on his desk.

“Maybe because you've forgotten that the floor is where we put our feet,” Naruto said with a skeptical look. “Just a guess.” There was a wave of laughter and the boy scowled, taking them down with a begrudging air.

“Any other questions people'd like to ask me?” he said, looking around.

Akamaru shrugged. “When's the lesson start?”

“Right now, if everyone's finished,” Naruto said with a smile. “We're going to be continuing our in-depth conversation about the Constitution…”

He taught the whole thing without really being engaged in it - there was no antagonistic look or comment nipping at his heels to start the day. He'd almost gone without noticing it.

Sasuke wasn't there.

He'd known it in the back of his mind, he figured, the minute he'd entered the room, simply because of the anger the boy invoked in him with his mere presence. But it really hit him now that he'd begun teaching without anyone to contradict him. There was no way he would admit that the something missing was favorable, but it definitely was missing.

He wondered, absently, what he thought about that, and if his feelings were appropriate. But all thoughts were quashed easily, and siphoned away into a place in his soul that he barricaded simply because of the unpleasant things he knew resided there. He'd be fine if he didn't think about it. Just don't think about it. It's not that hard.

He wondered, too, if Sasuke had been there yesterday, either. Maybe that was the reason Kakashi had been so unable to curb his viciousness in a way that was less noticeable.

Somebody help me, dammit.

-----

No time to turn away, no time to resist, no time to react. No time to do anything except watch and let it happen, only being half-aware that anything was happening at all.

He didn't even know where he had come from. Their lips just collided. Collided. Sasuke had managed to slam them together, gripping Naruto's by his collar, pushing them up against the wall. How the hell did a fourteen-year-old manage the kind of strength and stealth required to surprise him like this, and knock him senseless? He wasn't small, especially for his age, but he certainly wasn't as large as Naruto, relatively speaking.

Why was Naruto thinking about this? Goddammit, if you're so much larger, get away from him!

His brain was screaming, and he knew it. But nothing that was worth anything to the logic that ruled his life was registering right now. His hands had gone up immediately to clench the material of Sasuke's own shirt out of the instinctual urge to escape. The skin of the boy's knuckles brushed against his neck as the warmth of those lips overrode his senses.

It wasn't his fault. He felt like screaming but in order to scream he was going to have to get his drunken brain to overrule his out-of-control sex drive and his hyped up attraction to the something that was devour him with such arrogant indifference. Drunken? Was that the word? Yeah…it had to be. It was the only way to describe the half-drowsy irrational way he was reacting to this.

This was the second time…the second fucking time! Goddammit! He should be schooled enough to handle this!

But he wasn't. God. He really wasn't. His own hesitation, his own allowance was going to give Sasuke the wrong idea. Because they both pulled back slowly. Both of them at once let a small space of air pass between them, not letting go. Sasuke watched him for what seemed to be a long while but was probably less than a few seconds and Naruto tried to collect himself, to little avail. What…am I doing…?

The worst part wasn't even the beginning.

The worst part came when he didn't object to Sasuke diving in again, savagely. The worst part came when he let his eyes close.

It was a ravaging, plundering, soul stealing attack on his mentality. He wasn't really kissing him back but he certainly wasn't saying no, and Sasuke had obviously decided to take advantage of the fact, pressing them together again and again roughly, in a way that was oddly experienced. Naruto couldn't understand. Through the blackened haze of irrationality, he couldn't even tell what was going through his own mind.

He knew he was being used and abused because of his own foolish hesitance to stop it. And in truth he couldn't find the reasoning behind this hesitance at all. It frightened him. So much, in fact, that he almost realized what he was doing.

What am I doing?

Enough to awaken him out of a daze, anyway, when Sasuke finally pulled back to breathe, belatedly. He assessed the situation quickly, as one who was just come out of being possessed by something, only to realize that a bit of fast thinking is in order so that they might escape the matter at hand with their vital organs in tact.

He was slightly slumped over Uchiha Sasuke, his back pressed up against the whiteboard behind him, the day's notes undoubtedly rubbing off onto his white shirt which the boy still had a hold of, the first button undone. Said student was breathing almost laboriously and looking wet, as he had been outside for a long while. His face was cold, he realized, dripping with rain, and his hair was soaked. He knew, the way the boy was pressed up against him, the moisture had soaked into his clothing and would be evident unless he did something about it quickly.

What, in the mother of hell, was he doing?

However, even in the midst of coming to, he couldn't help but be captivated by the way a droplet of water that had run down the boys nose was now perched upon his pale lips. It made him desirable in a way that ripped Naruto apart for not having suspected it.

He had to get out of here.

He pushed against the boy's chest, still slow to regain himself. When he spoke, he was surprised at how unsteady his voice was, as if he were about to cry. It almost made him queasy, simply hearing it and how much it lacked any sort of conviction.

“Sasuke…get off.”

The boy watched him with dark ebony eyes for a moment before completely disregarding him, moving to kiss the skin that lay just above his now barely-exposed collarbone. Naruto winced at the feel of a soft mouth and the teeth that hardly and accidentally feathered against his flesh. He pressed the boy more forcefully, still deficient in strength to back his words, but having enough of a mind to get what he wanted in order to remove the boy from his person.

“Off, I said!”

The boy stumbled back a few feet but kept standing, folding his arms as Naruto slumped against the whiteboard, pinching the skin between his eyebrows habitually at the headache beginning to gather there before standing fully upright, not looking at him. He redid his button, brushing himself off. Sasuke's eyes never left him…not once. He finally met them, feeling almost as grim and upset as he looked.

“You got me wet.”

“So?”

“Don't do things like that.”

“Why not?” The boy looked indignant, raising an eyebrow.

“Now or ever, Sasuke. Do you understand me?”

“Until you give me any sort of adequate reason,” Sasuke said, arm folded and eyes emotionless, “the answer is no. And I'll do it whenever I choose.”

Naruto's temper flared. “No you won't.”

“Yes I will. And the more I do, the less you'll object, I think.”

“Says who?” Naruto spat, venomously.

Sasuke grabbed him again, pulling him close before he could react.

“Oh,” he whispered, soft and calm, Naruto staring at him, “just something you've proven to me time and again, sensei.”

Naruto would never admit to himself the erotic thrill the boy gave him, using a voice like that. Never ever. It mostly had to do with his state of outright denial mixed with the rage he harbored for the Uchiha right then.

And that, of course, wasn't mentioning his self loathing at his own body's reaction to the kind of attention it was receiving.

Sasuke pulled away then and was gone like a dandelion seed in the wind, simply disappearing into the air, leaving Naruto to collapse into the roller chair that went with his desk. Blue eyes were dilated and unfocused, full of mixed emotions and amazing confusion and revulsion with himself. His thoughts were dead and empty, filled with his recognition of one thing.

Sasuke smelled like a mix of ashes and mint.

Naruto could no longer stand the thought of being around his own mind, knowing something like that.

-----

Naruto came home early, not surprised (or too unhappy) that the boy hadn't shown up after school. He hadn't waited very long, of course, not wanting another run-in with him, but he'd had a feeling that if the boy's only pit stop on campus was to jump him, he wouldn't be coming back. Sasuke didn't strike him as that much of an over-achiever…or a stalker for that matter.

Why he didn't target Sasuke as a stalker was his own business and not an opinion he would ever share with anyone else on pain of death.

He opened the door dully, feeling drained and exhausted, the ceaseless rain outside drumming into his brain. He hated this feeling of captivity in his own life; as if he were a caged bird, trapped with no control at all. He understood full well that he had and always would have limited influence over how things went, but all the influence he did have was going down the toilet with his current lack of ability to use it.

By all accounts, if he hadn't been sure he hated both Sasuke and himself before, he certainly was assured of it now. Truly, he felt like digging his own stomach open with a butter knife, just to see if it would quell anything. Everything hurt. He felt twenty years older, easily. How could just one incident affect you so much?

He didn't know. And that bothered him. It agitated him severely, this lock of knowledge, because it seemed to sing as a thematic for his entire life, at present. He didn't know how or why these things were happening to him, and he didn't know how he was supposed to stop them, or why he didn't even try when it came right down to it.

He knew he didn't want it. He knew he didn't want it. But, why, then, didn't he even try very hard stop it? He hadn't been lying to Yohko when he'd said Sasuke could've had his way with him that one day in the classroom without facing objection. Naruto would've let him if his body hadn't swept him up and out of the situation.

And so, the only thing he could think to do was blame himself. It was a common method he used - not very useful to other people, but useful enough to him. It was his own fault, after all. He was dirty. Worthless. He really was a whore. And he knew it, too.

He knew Sasuke didn't understand what he was getting into. He knew that full-well. If the boy did know what he was getting into, maybe he'd be more easily frightened away. Honestly, Naruto couldn't think of any other way to force him to leave. They could manipulate the school system, but how effective could that possibly be? Sasuke was determined in his course of action, and Naruto had a feeling that such petty things as a change of class schedule could be even possibly sought after as a reliable deterent.

Why was Sasuke after him anyway?

He dropped his briefcase near the doormat with a sigh, rubbing his forehead. He was getting a monster headache from all this.

He decided to muse over the rest of it in a shower.

-----

Naruto's bathroom was one of the homeliest rooms in his house, namely because it was one of the rooms that made him the most nervous. He hated closed, small spaces where he could not see everything around himself; bad experiences left him with the constant paralyzing fear that someone was lurking behind him with killing intent in their eyes, or something worse. He hadn't been able to find a house where he could stay unnoticeable and low-key as he wanted that had a shower that allowed him a 360° view of the surrounding world.

Instead, he had gotten this bathroom, with a wide mirror that hung over the small sink and a window that opened up into the small stairway in the center of the building that led to the garbage cans. There was a miniscule shower adjacent to the mirror with a glass door and a small tile floor with a drain in the center. The knobs inside it were well-kept enough, but it really was a very cramped space with room only to stand - not even to sit half-comfortably. He tended to use it purely out of habit, even though he always had to keep the door open to be sure there was no one to stare back at him in the reflection of the mirror accept himself.

It was probably a factor in why he kept his showers going so long and at such warm temperatures, but simply something he did automatically after six years of having to cope with it. He could use the porcelain bathtub that lay beneath the window, but he associated baths with laboriousness as well as less pleasant things, and thus avoided using them most of the time.

He took off his clothes in the manner of a simpleton, unbuttoning his shirt and tossing it into the tub without much thought, before kicking off his pants. Before getting in he turned to stare at himself in the mirror.

Toned, tan skin that seemed to form itself met his eyes, as well as the numerous scars that trailed ominously downwards beneath the protective elastic band of his boxers. The black, tribal-looking tattoo of a sun swirled around his navel in an almost mesmerizing fashion and he let his fingers brush over it aimlessly, feeling the slight indentation where a knife had traced it countless times. He brought his eyes back up to the reflection, looking into them. Blue; deep, endless cerulean blue. He brought his fingers up to rub at the foundation on his cheeks, feeling it rub off in small, gooey flakes, brushing a few golden strands of hair away.

He felt the muscles in his cheeks tighten as he narrowed his eyes. He hated everything about the reflection that shone back at him. Everything held something that didn't belong to him, that Kyuubi had done to make it belong to someone else. All of the scars and tattoos didn't belong to him at all, and there was no way to remove them and the memories that went with them to the extent he wanted to. So he simply stared at himself icily.

How does anyone stand you, Uzumaki? How does anyone stand knowing what you let them do to you?

He shivered in the cold air and turned away from the mirror to turn on the water, discarding his boxers thoughtlessly, on the mat near the base of the toilet. The steaming torrent exploded from the nozzle and he felt the familiar urgency, even though he knew no one was in the house.

Get in. You don't want anyone to see you like this.

As soon as the water hit his skin he shuddered. It enveloped him in a way that felt good, relieving him in a way few things did nowadays. He groaned softly, feeling his brow soften, the creases and pressure undoing themselves with the warmth. His hair wetted down immediately, sticking to his head and the sides of his face. He raised his finger tentatively, careful to rub below his eyes so that the foundation that was melting away didn't sting them.

It felt so good, to have the water rush into every inch of him, unrestrained and kind in the way it did what it always had done, always would do: running over his scars and everything else without hesitating. Sometimes it stung, but even then it was firm and gentle, coaxing the pain out of wherever it was hiding.

The air from the room was biting, much more so than it had seemed before, but Naruto ignored it, his cheeks flushed and finally smooth and free of cover up. He let the rivulets of water wash over him in his entirety, letting it soak into his ears and into his mouth, reveling in the familiar rhythm as it pounded against his scalp. As he pulled back from it slightly, to lean against the tiled wall behind him so that the water had better access to his chest, he realized that his headache had quelled slightly, and that the coolness of the air gave him an oddly clear head.

He decided that, if it killed him, he was going to need to think about this.

Why had Sasuke done something like that? In his mind, he had overlooked the boy's reasoning as a minor technicality, but having such atrocities happen again led him to believe that his “pursuer” (if you could by any means call him that) had a different intent than he'd first suspected. There was a plan behind his eyes and he knew it, but he couldn't have read it for the world. The whole affair seemed to have come about entirely out of thin air, as if it was all on simple impulse.

Quite honestly, Naruto wouldn't have put it past him.

He considered for one second the boy being after him for real but dismissed it immediately. It was ridiculous. Inconceivable. If that was the case, Sasuke would be going to more effort than simply grabbing him at any random interval he chose. He didn't strike Naruto as the romantic type, but he'd certainly be going at it differently if a…a relationship (Naruto blushed most profusely at the thought) was what he was after.

Besides, Sasuke was quite openly viewed as Konohagakure Academy's “Number One Bachelor” of sorts. He hadn't been able to find even one part of the student body where the Uchiha was not the topic of heated discussion, at the beginning of school, and even to this very day. If he'd really wanted anything like that, there were plenty of people his own age available for him to go after.

But then, fourteen-year-olds hardly applied such logic to things in real life. For them, simple reason was often downgraded to useless theory when it came to other people, which is one of the things that made them so desperately unpredictable, if not always agreeable. Maybe Sasuke really was…?

No. No. He wasn't even going to acknowledge that being a possibility. That would make everything even more out-of-control than it was already, and he didn't know if he could handle that. There was no way he was going to be able to handle a student actively seeking him out as a viable love interest. No. Absolutely not.

Well, so long as he was ruling that one out he'd better come up with something else. That's what you did if you didn't want to think about something - you replaced it with something, preferably a thought that would prove more distracting.

The subject itself was rather distracting, but he opted to overlook that.

He sighed, steam billowing off of his skin, and reached to take up to shampoo from the shower floor, popping the cap open and letting a generous quantity ooze into his palm. What the hell kind of thrill did Sasuke get out of harassing him? It wasn't even the fairly new physical abuse that was taking the worse toll, it was the long-term mental abrasion. He couldn't handle the stress, he'd more than proven that. The fainting last week hadn't occurred in over half a year which is mainly how it had caught him by such surprise; usually when things were gone that long, they were gone for good.

He didn't get it. Of all things, why would Sasuke target him? There were so many other students he could choose to take out whatever frustrations he had, so many other small animals to torture. So why him? Christ, it was like the Uchiha had just drawn his name out of a hat one day or something, and stuck to it ever since.

Or maybe I'm just fun to torment.

He frowned bitterly, and scrubbed the shampoo into his hair. It wouldn't surprise him actually, seeing as this wasn't the first time somebody had singled him out unsystematically and then proceeded to make his life miserable. He dug his fingers into the lathered strands, working the soap in until he could feel the skin of his scalp and then rinsing them out, careful to keep his head tilted so that they didn't run into his face, and watching them as they flowed over his shoulders, chest and back, along his legs and into the rush of water that encircled the drain.

He sighed again, and wondered, absently, why he was doing that so often.

He couldn't call himself obsessive anymore, he thought. Sasuke was right in his face, after all (in more than just the metaphorical sense) and it wasn't like he wanted him there. He didn't even know how the boy had gotten there, very less why it seemed he so fully intended to stay. Maybe he really does hate me that much. It wasn't out of the question.

He froze up, though, at a thought that suddenly came to him.

Or maybe…

That couldn't be right. Surely not.

Maybe…

That just couldn't be right…could it?

Maybe it's all a matter of him proving his dominance over me…

More than anything he'd bothered to think about so far, this one made sense. What else had they been struggling with all year long? That had to be it. That just had to be. Sasuke had, out of blue and all of a sudden, discovered the one way to triumph in the battle of wits they had been locked into since the beginning.

By backing me into a corner, he can get his way.

That meant it was all part of the game, then. Somehow, that made Naruto feel unbearably nauseous, and he clutched his stomach, the sudden dizziness in the back of his throat making him feel as if he might vomit. There was a violent bitterness in the way he hung forward, now. It's all a game, then. Well, if that were true he had nothing to worry about in the realm of obscurity. He just had to figure out how to overturn Sasuke's tactics and convince him that what he was doing wasn't going to work the way he thought it would. Disassemble his plan of action, in a way of speaking.

In a way, he was both relieved and sick with hatred at the same time. He had no way to communicating it to anyone, the way he felt, and he didn't feel like trying. He felt as if he were about to go into a depression, the horizons on either side seemed so endlessly bleak. And now this of all things. Well, at least it meant there was nothing behind his advances, which kept a large knot of trouble away from his life.

But…how was he supposed to overturn those advances? Desperation pawed through him. He had enough trouble thinking straight when the boy was present very less when they were engaged in things like…that. He flushed wildly. Why the fuck did he just say engaged? That made it sound like they both participated, and he could quite proudly state that he had done no such thing.

This was bad for his health and he knew it. He just had to get away. That's all he had to do. He had to get ahold of himself and pull things back together, somehow dowsing Sasuke in some reality in the meantime. Assuming he could. He shivered lightly, thinking. What if whatever he was to do didn't work, though? Sasuke was persistent, if anything. What if he took Naruto attempts to turn him away as encouragement to try harder? What if he stopped being satisfied with just kissing and graduated to things like…

Naruto's breath hitched.

Oh God.

Naruto couldn't believe he had just thought something like that. No. No, no, no. He'd acknowledged Sasuke was less that unattractive the other day with Zabuza…no way in hell was he going to let himself go any further than that. But it was like a drop of ink in milk, and the scandalizing conception of what else Sasuke might be able to do made his body react, a weird warmth racing up and down his arm.

He didn't know what triggered it exactly, the thoughts on his mind or the way the water fell against his mouth, where his lips were slightly parted. He blinked, knowing his eyes were hazy with fantasy, flicking his tongue out to taste it. The taste of the water sent shivers through him, and he felt as if his tongue were not the only thing in his mouth.

He couldn't stand this. Why the hell did thinking about Sasuke like that make him that way? How could you feel so happy and yet so horrendously unclean? He dipped his head under the water.

His body wasn't listening though. His chest throbbed and his stomach tingled strangely, in a way that elated him in an appalling way. Sasuke's kisses were intoxicating enough to make his giddy and this was enough to drive him insane. He couldn't stand it. He couldn't stand himself.

He's your student, dammit. How dare you even think that way?

He was scolding himself, he realized, and his body didn't care. He found himself leaning his forehead against the cool tile as he slipped into a weird funk. How could you be so physically elated and so mentally pained? It wasn't going to work, him being himself. The water was still hot, almost in a way that throbbed. The room smelled like steam, and yet it still wasn't enough to suffocate him or cleanse him of any of the horrid things he'd ever done.

God…

He imagined pushing in to someone else's small mouth and shuddered ominously, falling back against the wall of the shower with a small gasp. A flush bloomed out from his face, blood coming to inhabit the place just below every inch of his skin, every sensation driving him wild. The world filled with mint and ashes and he felt pressurized to the point of pain. He knew what he was going to do before it happened.

No…stop it…just stop it…you don't like him like that.

He couldn't help it, though. Couldn't resist it. And he hated himself for it.

He reached up to let skilled fingers run across his lips, and reached out to kiss the thumb that offered itself, nibbling on a knuckle with sincerity. His fingers didn't stay there long of course, the pinky edging down and dragging the rest of his palm over his throat. He let himself pause as soon as his hand rested in the center of his chest, and he stared up at the ceiling with dazed eyes, not wanting to do it, but not feeling like he had a choice. His whole being rose and fell with each breath he took, and that being true he knew he was far past the stopping point.

He fondled himself, taking in every bit. Every sinewy muscle was explored so thoroughly he thought he might die. Ears, neck, chest, chest, chest: touch the collar bone, dance over nipples, massage the pectorals. He felt himself gasp occasionally.

He finally let himself go lower, used to the torture but hating it all the same. He drug his nails over his legs, relishing the contact of skin on skin. Everything was too close and yet not close enough. Any small bit of decency he'd had since he'd come back from all that was huddled in a corner of his brain, still pleading for him not to do it.

But when he finally let his fingers brush up ever so tentatively at what truly needed to be touched, the moan that rattled him filled his entire being, and the voice silenced itself after taking part just as readily as everything else.

He was so erect that it hurt. Every nerve of him felt like it was being contorted into knots. He let the fingers of his one had tease their way up it, his other arm pressed against the wall, hard. He needed all of it's support; his knees were shaking, and his head lolled, his mouth wide open as he tried to breathe. After a few more perverse touches, he brought his hand up again, tongue enveloping them immediately. He tasted his own precum upon them and almost lost it.

He pumped himself without much thought in the matter because of how much he needed it. The warmth of his hands and broad expanse of his imagination was enough to convince him that he was inside someone. He tightened his fingers at just the right moments to simulate the feeling of sharp, small hip bones that rose to meet him. He moaned loudly, letting himself soak in the water and sweat that rose up from the intense hit overriding his senses.

He heard someone cry out his name and smothered them with lust, ramming up against himself and cumming violently, with a soft scream. The orgasm was incredible, one of the best he'd had in his entire life, blanketing and hard to ride out to its full potential.

He leaned back against the tile, head thrown back as he gasped for air. It graced him, almost lazily, that that was one of the only times he could remember not having masturbated while thinking about Gaara.

Then it graced him, not so lazily and in full, mind-blowing clarity what he had just done.

God…God no. Why did I…? Oh Goddammit…

If anyone had any pity for him, any pity at all, let them speak now, hold a gun to his head and fire for all they were worth, or forever hold their peace.

The silence that echoed around him told him everything he needed to know from the world, and he slipped so that he was pressing one hand to the wall he was leaning his head against. He stared into the other one which dripped with water that interchanged every so often in his brain as blood. He knew it wasn't, but the guilt surged all the while, and a thrill that flew up his back as an afterthought made him hiccup his way into a sob.

The tears streamed down his face, intermingling with the water still jettisoning from the showerhead. His face was contorted in the deepest expression of sorrow and duplicity of self. He couldn't even trust his own body. The vulgarity he felt in reference to his own soul was alienating. There was no one for him to turn to now.

“Why…?” he said to himself, to his turn-coat flesh and skin, the tears still spilling down. “Why would you betray me?”

His thighs said nothing in return, of course, although the rest of him seemed to have gone numb out of what seemed to be an overdue sense of guilt, and he was left to sob to himself for a long while in the moist silence of his apartment, completely and utterly alone.

-----

End Chapter 08

Sasuke has got Naruto thinking too much, nee? -feels bad- Poor thing… (Anyone who wants to know who's going to be on top should be paying real good attention. I hoped to use this scene to prove a few assumptions quite wrong… -giggles-) Hope you liked…I didn't think it was written very well, but whatever.

Nest chapter's release date is uncertain because of school work…and I don't think I'm going to be able to say the word “release” for a while either. Spread joy - this is the first lemon I've ever posted on the web.

--Lady Lamb