Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

He took a drag of his cigarette. The sun hung low in the sky, bleeding gold and fire over a quiet horizon. Pretty. Distant. Unreachable.

He closed his eyes and inhaled deep, letting the taste of nicotine coat his lungs like ash. It was bitter. It always was. But it was something. Something to feel when everything else felt like static. He hated the taste. He needed the taste.

It reminded him he was still here.

Sometimes he wondered if the cigarette cared more about him than most people did. It held him. Burned him. Stayed with him, even when it was killing him.

Life was cruel in its silence—handing out joy like a raffle prize, skipping over people like him. Twenty-six years in, and most of it felt like standing in the rain, waiting for someone to remember you’re still outside.

He was tired of pretending. Of being that guy. The cheerful one. The one everyone laughed with, leaned on. The one no one really saw. Just a mask they could smile at while the real him faded behind the glass.

To them, he probably looked lucky.

To him, it felt like drowning in an empty pool.

He stubbed out the cigarette and went inside. The view was gone. The feeling was gone. Only the numbness lingered, clinging like smoke in his clothes.

The stack of mail on the table hadn’t moved in days. Maybe weeks. He sifted through it without thinking. Junk. Bills. Another reminder of how normal life pretended to be.

He glanced at the wilting houseplant someone had given him once—some well-meaning gesture of life.

I should water it, he thought.

Tomorrow.

If there is one.

The fridge held nothing he wanted. Hunger wasn’t real anymore. Just a ghost he ignored. He pulled out a carrot and chewed, not because he was hungry, but because it felt like motion. Movement. Life.

He sank into the couch, let it swallow him. Closed his eyes and let his body fall limp.
His fingers tapped against his knee, no rhythm, no purpose. Just noise. Just something. To prove he was still here.

He had fought to stay grounded. Fought against the pull of the void. It whispered in moments like these, gentle and kind:
Let go. You’ve done enough.

And some nights, he believed it. Believed that if he slipped away, no one would even notice. That the world would spin on without a ripple.
But then—

Beep.

A vibration in his pocket. A message.

From:

Sas — I miss you.

Three words. Small. Simple. Soft. And somehow, they cut through the fog like a pinprick of light.
His fingers moved before he could think.

To: Sas

From:

Nar — I miss u 2. x

He tossed the phone aside. Let the silence swallow him again. But now it was… quieter. Less cruel. Like the world had tilted, just slightly.

He picked up the bong, flicked his lighter. The familiar scent of marijuana bloomed in the air, thick and musky. He took a deep hit, coughing until his ribs ached.
The sting was real. The sting was good. It reminded him he could still feel.

People called it a crutch. Maybe it was. But when you’ve been limping through life with an invisible wound, you take whatever keeps you upright.
He leaned back, arms wrapping around himself. A poor substitute for comfort, but it was what he had.

Was he okay?

No.

Would he be?

…Maybe.

If not today, maybe tomorrow.

He wanted to believe he could be more than this ache. More than the weight. More than the mask. He wanted to believe someone, somewhere, would love him loud and honest. No conditions. No expectations.

Maybe not yet.

Maybe not now.

But maybe.

He stood, heavy-limbed and slow, and wandered into the bathroom. The mirror didn’t lie. Blonde hair, dull and dry. Eyes half-dead. Not even sadness there—just quiet.
He touched his face, fingertips grazing the faint lines people called whiskers.

A reminder of who he used to be. Or who he was supposed to be.

Who am I?

His reflection stared back. Waiting.

A whisper:

I’m Naruto.

A smile formed—thin, shaky. It didn’t reach his eyes, but it was something.
Just for a second, he believed it.

Then he turned away. Switched off the light. Let the dark have him again.

Back in his room, he dropped onto the bed face-first. The mattress creaked under him. He didn’t care.

“I left that half-eaten carrot on the table,” he mumbled.

It was a mess.
But so was he.
And for now, that was enough.

Chapter Text

[Continuation — Sasuke’s POV]

He stared at the screen long after the message was sent.

Nar — I miss u 2. x

Three words. A lowercase heartache. Soft. Almost shy.

Almost not him.

But it was.

He could hear his voice in the text, somehow. That nervous laugh he gave when he didn’t know how to say what he really meant. The mask cracking just a bit at the seams.

Sasuke turned the phone over in his hand. Screen dark now. Quiet.

He sat there in the dark, apartment silent except for the low hum of the fridge and the occasional creak of old wood settling beneath him. Everything was still. Too still. It had been this way for a while. Like the world had pressed pause, and he’d forgotten how to unfreeze it.

The message hadn’t been planned. He didn’t even know why he sent it. Just that he’d been thinking about him again. Like he always did when the nights stretched too long and the guilt grew loud enough to feel like it had teeth.

I miss you.

It had slipped out like a confession. And maybe it was.

He hadn’t seen Naruto in person in months. Maybe longer. Not really. Not fully. They still talked. Checked in. Shared the occasional meme or hollow joke. But it wasn’t the same.

Not since he noticed Naruto’s laugh didn’t reach his eyes anymore. Not since he started replying later and later. Or stopped replying at all.

Sasuke wasn’t good with people. Never had been. But with Naruto… it was different. He was the only one who had ever made him feel human. And now, he could feel him slipping.

Sasuke rubbed a hand over his face. His fingertips brushed beneath his eyes, finding nothing there. No tears. Just the familiar burn of regret.

He’d known. He’d known something was wrong. Had heard it in his voice the last time they called. The way he hesitated before saying “I’m good” like he was convincing himself more than anyone else.

He should’ve gone to him. Should’ve done something.

Instead, he sent three words through a phone screen like it was enough.

I miss you.

A whisper against a scream.

He stood up, pushing away from the desk. The chair creaked in protest. He paced the room, arms crossed over his chest like he could hold himself together. He couldn’t sit still. Not tonight.

He walked to the window, pulled aside the curtain. The city stretched out in front of him—quiet, dim, cold. Streetlights flickering like dying stars.

He wondered if Naruto was looking at the same sky. If he was smoking again. If he’d eaten anything other than what was rotting away in his fridge.

He’d never admit it aloud, but he kept tabs on him—quietly. A like here. A timestamp there. A shadow in the corner of his concern.

But Naruto was good at disappearing. Even when he was right in front of you.

Sasuke knew the signs. He’d mastered them himself.

He stared out into the night, jaw tight. Hands curling into fists. He wanted to punch something. Wanted to scream.

But he didn’t.

He’d spent years building walls to keep people out, and now the only person he’d ever wanted to let in was crumbling behind his own.

Sasuke turned from the window and sat back down. He stared at the message thread again. The screen was still dark. His thumb hovered over the keyboard.

He typed.

I’m coming over.

Then backspaced it.

Typed again.

You up?

Deleted it.

He stared at the blinking cursor like it was mocking him. He wanted to say something that mattered. Something real. But the words always caught in his throat when it came to Naruto.

Instead, he sent a voice note. Short. Quiet. Barely above a whisper.

“You don’t have to smile for me. Just… let me in next time.”

He hesitated. Then hit send.

And for the first time in weeks, he didn’t feel entirely alone.

Chapter Text

Continuation – Naruto’s POV]

The couch held him like dead weight. His limbs draped over the cushions, his body too heavy to move, like his soul had sunk into the fabric hours ago and never bothered climbing back out.

The room was dark now. Not that he remembered turning the lights off.

His mouth tasted stale—leftover carrot and smoke. The bong still sat nearby, forgotten. His phone buzzed again.

He didn’t want to check it. Not really. But the vibration kept happening—soft, persistent. Like a knock he couldn’t ignore.

With a sigh that felt like it came from somewhere ancient inside him, he dragged his arm across the couch and reached for the phone.

One voice note. From Sasuke.

He stared at the message. Thumb hovering over the play button. His heart kicked once in his chest.

He hated voice notes. Too raw. Too real. Too much.

But this was him.

Sasuke.

Naruto sat up slowly, the couch groaning under his weight. He pressed play.

“You don’t have to smile for me. Just… let me in next time.”

That was it.

One sentence.

Sixteen words.

And somehow they felt heavier than everything else in the room.

He listened to it again. And again.

It wasn’t desperate. It wasn’t a plea. It was soft. Steady. Unpolished.

Real.

It cracked something in him—not enough to break, just enough to feel it.

Let him in.

Naruto blinked, swallowing the sudden lump in his throat. He leaned forward, elbows on his knees, fingers pressing into his temples. He didn’t cry. He didn’t know how anymore. But something inside him trembled—quiet, like the flicker of a candle in a storm.

He tapped his fingers again on his knee. This time slower. He was still here.

Still here.

He stood up. Wobbled a little. He didn’t bother changing. Just slipped his hoodie on over the shirt he’d been wearing all day—maybe longer. Grabbed his keys. Looked at himself in the mirror by the door.

Still didn’t recognize the man staring back.

But maybe someone else did.

He left the carrot on the table. Left the bong. Left the silence behind.

____________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________

[Later – Sasuke’s Apartment]

A knock at the door. Not loud. Not urgent. Just… there.

Sasuke didn’t move at first. He stared at the door like it might vanish if he blinked.

Then he stood. Walked slowly. Opened it.

Naruto stood in the hallway, hands in his hoodie pocket, hood pulled low over his head. His eyes were tired. He looked like someone who hadn’t slept in days. Someone who had considered not showing up more times than he could count.

But he was here.

Sasuke didn’t say anything. Just stepped back, letting the door open wider.

Naruto stepped inside.

The apartment was dim, quiet. It smelled like tea and old pages. Lived-in. Safe.

Neither of them spoke at first.

Naruto walked past him, took a slow lap around the room like he was reacquainting himself with the space. He paused by the window. Then sat down on the edge of the couch. Leaned back into it with a soft, exhausted sigh.

Sasuke stayed standing. Watching. Waiting.

Finally, Naruto looked up.

“I didn’t wanna be alone tonight,” he said. Voice hoarse. Almost fragile.

Sasuke nodded. “Then don’t be.”

Silence stretched between them—but not the bad kind. Not empty. Just space being held.

Naruto glanced at the floor, then at Sasuke. His lip twitched, not quite a smile.

“I left a half-eaten carrot on the table.”

Sasuke blinked. “…What?”

Naruto shook his head, a laugh barely escaping. “Never mind.”

Sasuke didn’t push. He walked over and sat beside him, not close enough to crowd, but close enough to feel the gravity shift between them.

Neither of them spoke again for a while.

Eventually, Naruto leaned his head on Sasuke’s shoulder.

Just for a second. Maybe less.

But Sasuke didn’t move. He didn’t pull away.

And in that quiet, the ache didn’t go away—but it eased.

Nothing was fixed. Nothing was solved.

But something shifted.

And for now, that was enough.