Chapter Text
Naruto lay sprawled across his bed, motionless, as if the weight of the day ahead had pinned him down. He stared blankly at the ceiling, his eyes half-lidded with sleep and reluctance. The soft morning light trickled through the curtains, casting faint golden rays across the room, gentle reminders that time was moving forward, whether he liked it or not.
The air was still, save for the quiet creak of the wooden floor beneath the house and the occasional chirp of birds outside. Even that felt distant, like a world he didn’t quite belong to.
With a quiet exhale through his nose, Naruto dragged a hand down his face, as though trying to wipe away the drowsiness, or maybe the feeling of dread creeping up on him. Finally, he sat up with a groan, his body protesting the motion. His feet hit the floor with a dull thud, cold wood meeting bare skin. He hunched forward slightly, elbows resting on his knees as his fingers curled into loose fists.
His brows drew together, a scowl forming before he even realized it. If there was one thing he could do without, it was school. It wasn't just boring, it was isolating. He always felt like he didn’t belong there, like he was a ghost everyone could see but no one wanted to acknowledge. The stares from the teachers were the worst, always full of pity, always guarded, as though they already knew how his story was supposed to end.
He clenched his jaw, fists tightening at his sides as an old, familiar frustration flared in his chest. No one ever said it aloud, but he could feel it, the distance, the judgment, the whispers that stopped when he walked into the room. Every day was the same fight: get up, show up, survive it.
And yet, even with all of that swirling inside him, he pushed himself to his feet. Because if there was one thing Naruto knew how to do, it was keep moving, no matter how much it hurt.
He dragged his feet toward the bathroom, a growing sense of dread weighing down each step. It wasn’t just the tiredness, it was the routine, the predictability, the knowing exactly what kind of day awaited him. Every movement felt heavier than the last, as if gravity was stronger in this part of the house.
When he pushed open the bathroom door and caught a glimpse of himself in the mirror, he stopped cold.
For a moment, he simply stared.
The scowl etched across his face began to soften, slowly warping into something more fragile, a frown, weary and uncertain. He stepped closer to the mirror, almost cautiously, as if approaching someone else entirely. The early morning light cast sharp shadows across his features, highlighting every curve, every imperfection.
His hand lifted, hesitant at first, before his fingers brushed lightly against his cheek. The scars, faint but unmissable, traced down the side of his face like reminders etched into skin. He followed them with his touch, not out of vanity, but out of something harder to name. Memory. Shame. Loneliness.
Thoughts began to stir, memories threatening to surface, questions he’d already asked himself a thousand times. But before they could fully take shape, he jerked his hand away and turned his face from the mirror. It was easier not to think.
With a mechanical sort of resolve, he moved through the rest of his morning routine, washing up, throwing on clothes, brushing his teeth. Every action was practiced, numbing, meant to keep the thoughts at bay.
There wasn’t time to dwell. School waited for him like a storm he had no choice but to walk into.
He stood silently in front of the door after he finally had finished getting ready, staring at it like it was some kind of challenge he had to overcome. His eyes narrowed, jaw set, as if the door itself was daring him to leave the safety of what little space he called home. For a moment, he didn’t move.
Then his gaze shifted to the clock on the wall, an old, stubborn thing that ticked too loudly in the silence of his apartment. 07:21. About twenty minutes before his first class. Too early to be late, too late to turn back.
Without another thought, he reached for the doorknob and pushed it open.
The cold morning air greeted him like a slap to the face, but not a cruel one. It was sharp, clean, and oddly refreshing. The kind of cold that made you feel alive, just for surviving it. He took a quiet breath, letting it ground him, and then started walking.
The streets were mostly quiet at first, lined with shuttered windows and early risers bundled in coats.
But as he moved farther from his building, the world around him began to stir, cars starting, voices murmuring, the slow flood of people on their way to work or school. Familiar and distant all at once.
He glanced over his shoulder, eyes flicking back toward the apartment building he had just left behind. It stood there like a stubborn stain against the skyline, cracked walls, peeling paint, crooked windows. A dry, humorless scoff escaped him.
It was his place, sure. But not because he chose it.
Most people his age still lived with their families, warm homes filled with the noise of morning routines, breakfast on the table, someone waiting. Naruto had none of that. He had an apartment, not a home. And not out of independence or pride, but out of necessity. Out of circumstance.
Without slowing, he turned his gaze back to the road ahead and quickened his pace.
He didn’t want to be late. Not because he cared about school, but because showing up late meant drawing attention, and attention was something he’d had more than enough of his entire life.
The closer he got to the school, the louder the world became.
Voices blended into one another, laughing, shouting, casual conversations that seemed lightyears away from his own headspace. Students gathered in small clusters along the sidewalks, huddled together in early morning chatter, comparing homework, sharing snacks, trading gossip. No one looked at him, not directly. But he could feel it all the same, that subtle shift in energy when he passed. The way voices lowered. The way eyes flicked toward him, then away, like glances sliding off glass.
By the time the looming gates of Konoha High came into view, he felt like he was walking into a place that had already decided who he was.
The building itself was as dull and gray as ever, bathed in the pale light of morning. A steady flow of students trickled through the entrance, backpacks slung lazily over shoulders, some running to beat the bell, others dragging their feet like they had all the time in the world. Naruto walked through them like a ghost, unseen and untouched.
He stepped through the front gates and into the courtyard, his pace slowing slightly as he took in the all too familiar landscape, benches, rusted bike racks, fading posters for clubs he’d never join, and the ever-present hum of forced normalcy.
He hated how familiar it all was.
The halls inside buzzed with the same rhythm. Lockers slamming. Sneakers squeaking against polished floors. Teachers herding students like cattle with clipped greetings and tired eyes. Naruto kept his head down, avoiding eye contact as he made his way to his locker, weaving through bodies that instinctively parted for him, like they didn’t want to brush against whatever they thought he carried.
He reached his locker and spun the dial with muscle memory, the door clicking open with a soft metallic groan. Inside was nothing special, just a few textbooks, a crumpled schedule, and a notebook covered in half-finished doodles. He stared at it for a second before pulling out what he needed, then slammed the locker shut a little harder than necessary.
A group of kids nearby laughed at something, nothing to do with him, he was sure, but the sound still made his shoulders tense.
He glanced at the clock on the wall.
07:43. Seven minutes before class.
Still too early to be late. Still too late to turn back.
With a quiet sigh, he adjusted the strap on his bag and started walking toward his first period, each step echoing in the halls like a countdown.
He could already hear the whispers waiting for him behind the classroom door. But he’d still open it.
Because that’s what he did. Show up. Survive. Repeat.
Naruto stepped into the classroom just as the bell rang.
Eyes turned toward the door, briefly. Not out of interest, not really, just habit. Like they expected something strange from him, and were disappointed when all he did was walk in, silent, shoulders slightly hunched. He didn’t bother meeting their gazes. He never did.
He made his way to the back of the room, where his usual seat by the window waited. It was the farthest from the board, closest to the outside, his own little corner of quiet in a place that was anything but. As he slid into the seat, he let his bag fall to the floor with a soft thud and leaned back in his chair, arms crossing over his chest.
The classroom buzzed with the same dull energy it always had, conversations in low voices, desks shifting, chairs scraping, the occasional burst of laughter from the usual troublemakers near the front.
The teacher, Mr. Takahashi, hadn’t arrived yet, which meant everyone felt free to be a little louder, a little more themselves.
Naruto turned his head toward the window.
Outside, the morning light had fully settled in, casting soft golden tones over the rooftops and trees. The world out there looked so different. Peaceful. Like it didn’t care who you were, what your name was, or what people whispered behind your back. He liked that about the sky, the way it stretched out wide and endless and indifferent.
He wondered, not for the first time, what it would feel like to disappear into that space. To be free of the weight he carried every time he walked into a room, every time someone avoided his gaze, every time a teacher looked at him like a problem they couldn’t solve.
He picked at the corner of his desk absentmindedly, thoughts drifting.
Did anyone really see him, beyond the stories? Beyond the rumors, the glances, the inherited discomfort that followed him like a shadow? Even the teachers treated him like some delicate glass they were too afraid to handle, too polite, too cautious. Not out of respect. Out of something else. Something colder.
He exhaled slowly through his nose, watching a bird land on a tree branch just outside the window. It chirped once, then flew away.
He envied that bird.
"Alright, settle down!" Mr. Takahashi’s voice cut sharply through the noise, jolting Naruto from his thoughts.
The teacher entered with his usual presence, clipboard in hand, glasses slipping down his nose, a slightly irritated expression already forming before he even reached the desk.
Naruto shifted in his seat, dragging his eyes away from the window as the class collectively groaned into silence.
“We’ve got a new student joining us today,” Takahashi said, his voice raised just enough to command attention. “I expect everyone to be on their best behavior.”
That got everyone’s attention.
A new student was rare, especially this far into the school year. Heads turned, whispers stirred. Even Naruto’s interest sparked slightly, if only because it meant the focus would shift off him for once.
Mr. Takahashi gestured toward the door. “Come in and introduce yourself.”
The door slid open, and a boy stepped inside. His movements were calm, measured, almost too composed for someone standing in front of thirty curious faces. Black hair framed his face, sharp and deliberate, his eyes dark and unreadable. He didn’t bow. He didn’t smile. He just stood there, gaze level, like the attention rolling over him barely registered.
“…Introduce yourself,” Mr. Takahashi prompted.
The boy’s voice was low but steady. “Uchiha Sasuke.”
That name hit the room like a dropped stone. Whispers immediately surged, quick and fevered, louder than before. Even Naruto caught the shift, the way people straightened in their seats, excitement buzzing in their eyes. Uchiha.
It was a name everyone knew. A name that carried weight, history.
Naruto felt something twist in his chest. Just like that, every eye in the room forgot about him. They had someone new to focus on now, someone with a story worth telling, worth chasing.
“Take any empty seat,” Mr. Takahashi said, though the teacher’s voice carried a rare note of caution.
Sasuke’s eyes swept the room once, cool and detached. For a second, Naruto was sure he’d choose the front, or somewhere among the students already leaning forward, eager to claim his attention. But instead, Sasuke turned, walked past them all without a word, and pulled out the chair at the empty desk, right beside Naruto’s.
The scrape of the chair’s legs against the floor was loud in the sudden quiet.
Naruto blinked. Of all the places he could’ve sat, why there? No one ever chose that spot. Ever.
Sasuke didn’t look at him as he set his bag down, didn’t even acknowledge the whispers that rose again. He just sat, posture perfect, eyes fixed straight ahead.
Naruto slouched lower in his chair, crossing his arms. He couldn’t tell if he was annoyed or…something else.
For the first time in a long while, the window didn’t hold his attention.
Naruto sank lower in his seat, arms tightening over his chest. He could feel the weight of the class’s attention buzzing all around them, though most of it wasn’t on him anymore. That was fine. He should’ve been relieved. But instead, something about it left a dull ache in his stomach.
Sasuke sat perfectly still, his back straight, hands resting loosely on the desk. He didn’t fidget, didn’t glance around, didn’t return the stares that lingered on him. If he noticed them at all, he gave no sign.
The silence between them stretched thin. Naruto risked a sideways glance, quick, just enough to catch the profile of Sasuke’s face, sharp lines, unreadable eyes.
There was no curiosity there, no interest in who sat beside him. Just…nothing.
Naruto’s throat tightened. A dozen words sat heavy on the tip of his tongue, but none of them made it out. What was he supposed to say? Hi? Welcome? He could already imagine the flat response, the cool dismissal. He’d had enough of those to last him a lifetime.
So he said nothing.
The lesson began, chalk scratching faintly against the board as Mr. Takahashi spoke, but Naruto barely heard it. His gaze slid back toward the window, though it didn’t hold him the same way it had before. Not with someone sitting at the desk beside his, their quiet presence filling up the space that had always been his alone.
Sasuke didn’t move. Didn’t speak. Didn’t look at him.
And Naruto, for once, was too afraid to try.
The quiet between them didn’t last long.
A soft scrape of chairs broke through the lesson, followed by a cluster of giggles.
Sakura and Ino had already abandoned their spots at the front, dragging their desks noisily across the floor until they landed in a neat line beside Sasuke’s.
“Hi, Sasuke!” Sakura’s voice rang out, much too loud for the classroom.
She leaned forward on her elbows, smiling wide, as though the lesson didn’t exist at all.
“Don’t listen to her,” Ino cut in quickly, flipping her hair back with practiced ease. “If you need anything, I’ll be the one to help you. You don’t have to bother with—” her eyes flicked to Naruto, sharp and dismissive “—certain people.”
Naruto stiffened. He didn’t need them to finish the thought; he knew exactly what they meant. He’d been in this seat long before Sasuke ever showed up, and no one had cared. Now suddenly it was a problem.
“Move, Naruto,” Sakura said, her tone deceptively sweet, but her eyes gleamed with challenge. “Don’t you think it’s kind of rude to hog the seat right next to the new student?”
The words stung more than he wanted to admit. His seat. His corner. The one place he could hide, and now even that wasn’t safe.
Naruto gripped the edge of his desk, jaw tightening. A dozen comebacks rose up in his throat, but none of them escaped. Not with Sasuke sitting right there, still silent, still unreadable. He couldn’t tell if Sasuke even cared. Maybe he didn’t.
And if Sasuke didn’t care, why should he fight for it?
Naruto’s heart thudded dully in his chest. He looked down, refusing to meet Sakura’s gaze. His fingers tapped restlessly against the wood, like if he moved them fast enough, no one would notice how much his hands were shaking.
Sasuke still hadn’t said a word.
Naruto pushed his chair back with a sharp scrape, the legs screeching against the floor. For a moment he thought the sound might drown out the pounding in his chest. He stood quickly, head down, trying to mask the flush creeping up his neck.
“Fine,” he muttered, reaching for his bag. Better to leave than give them the satisfaction of watching him squirm.
But before he could take a single step, a voice cut through the air, low, calm, carrying more weight than its volume should allow.
“Sit.”
Naruto froze.
Sasuke hadn’t looked at him, hadn’t even turned his head. His eyes were fixed forward, his tone flat, like he was giving an order he expected to be followed. Nothing more, nothing less.
The classroom seemed to still at that single word. Sakura’s smile faltered; Ino blinked in surprise.
Naruto hesitated, hand hovering over the strap of his bag. Something in Sasuke’s voice, steady, unbothered, completely certain, made it impossible to move. Slowly, awkwardly, he sank back into his chair. The bag slid from his fingers and thudded softly against the floor.
Silence settled over their corner of the room. Sakura and Ino exchanged quick, uncertain glances, then scooted their desks back just a little, their chatter dimming into whispers.
Naruto stared at the desk in front of him, heat prickling behind his ears. He didn’t look at Sasuke, not even a glance, but the weight of that single word lingered, heavy and strange.
Sasuke didn’t say anything else. He didn’t have to.
Mr. Takahashi cleared his throat loudly from the front of the room, as if daring anyone to test his patience further. Chalk tapped against the board again, the sound oddly sharp in the hush that followed.
Conversations quieted, laughter died down.
For once, the classroom wasn’t buzzing.
Naruto sat stiffly in his chair, eyes fixed on the corner of his desk, the tension in his shoulders refusing to ease. The space beside him felt heavier than ever, Sasuke’s silent presence stretching between them like an invisible wall.
Sakura, though, Sakura wasn’t quiet on the inside. She’d forced a smile back onto her face, but her hands twisted slightly in her lap, nails digging into her palm. She’d seen it, the way Sasuke had spoken for him. To him. Naruto, of all people.
It burned.
She leaned closer to Ino, voice a whisper thin enough not to reach the teacher, but sharp enough to cut.
“He thinks he can sit there like he belongs. Watch. I’ll make sure he never tries that again.”
Ino raised a brow, half-curious, half-wary. “Sakura…” she whispered back. But Sakura’s eyes were already locked on Naruto’s back, narrowed, calculating.
Naruto didn’t notice.
He was too busy pretending not to feel every set of eyes still flickering toward him, too busy forcing himself to stay put, to not look weak.
Sasuke sat exactly as before, calm, unmoving, uninterested. As if none of it mattered to him.
But for Sakura, it mattered. And she wasn’t about to let it go.
The lesson dragged on, Mr. Takahashi’s voice filling the silence with formulas and diagrams, but Naruto barely absorbed a word.
He kept his eyes forward, pen resting uselessly in his hand. Every so often, he could feel Sakura’s gaze flick toward him, sharp, needling, but he didn’t dare meet it.
When the teacher turned to write something on the board, Sakura leaned over just enough to let her voice reach Naruto.
“Guess even you can’t hide forever,” she whispered, her tone light but edged like glass. “Sasuke must feel sorry for you.”
Naruto’s jaw clenched. He didn’t answer.
Ino shot her a look, half warning, half curiosity, but Sakura only smirked, satisfied with the flicker of tension she’d caused.
Later, when papers rustled and students began passing their notebooks forward, Sakura made sure hers slid across Naruto’s desk with a little more force than necessary. The corner caught his arm, leaving a faint scratch of irritation.
“Oh, sorry,” she said sweetly, though her eyes gleamed with anything but apology.
Naruto hunched further over his desk, muttering something under his breath, though he wasn’t sure if it was anger or just tiredness spilling out.
Through it all, Sasuke remained a statue beside him, silent and untouched by the currents swirling around. His indifference made it impossible to know if he noticed, or if he cared.
And somehow, that silence was worse than any insult.
Naruto shifted in his seat, shoulders tight, eyes fixed stubbornly on the desk as Sakura’s latest “accidental” nudge sent his pen rolling to the floor. He bent down to grab it, biting back the urge to snap at her. That would only give her what she wanted.
When he straightened again, something pulled at the corner of his vision.
Sasuke.
For the briefest moment, Sasuke’s eyes had flicked sideways, resting on him with a calm, unreadable weight. It wasn’t long enough to be called staring, just a glance, quick and precise, before turning back toward the front as though nothing had happened.
But Naruto felt it.
His chest tightened. The room buzzed faintly around him again, chalk scratching, chairs shifting, Sakura whispering to Ino, but that glance lingered louder than all of it. It hadn’t been pity, not exactly. And it wasn’t the cold dismissal he’d grown used to either.
It was something else.
Naruto gripped his pen tighter, staring at the paper in front of him though the words blurred together. He didn’t know what to do with that glance, didn’t know what it meant.
The rest of the lesson passed in a heavy, stretched-out quiet. Mr. Takahashi droned on, Sakura whispered once or twice, Ino giggled softly, and chairs creaked against the floor, but none of it really registered for Naruto.
He didn’t look at Sasuke again. Didn’t dare. That one glance already sat heavy in his chest, tangled with questions he didn’t want to ask himself.
When the final bell rang, the room exploded back to life, voices rising, laughter, the scrape of chairs as everyone hurried to gather their things.
Naruto was already on his feet. He grabbed his bag so fast it nearly toppled the chair behind him, muttering something under his breath as he shoved past a group of students.
The noise swallowed him, but his heart pounded louder than all of it.
He didn’t look back.
His feet carried him on instinct, down the hall, past the courtyard, away from the clusters of chatter and the curious eyes that never seemed to leave him alone. He didn’t stop until he reached the library, a place most students avoided unless they had to.
It was quiet there. Still. Rows of shelves stretched out like walls, the faint smell of paper and dust hanging in the air. Naruto slipped between them, dropping into the farthest corner table. His bag slumped against the chair, and he buried his face in his arms, exhaling shakily.
For a while, it was enough. Just the silence, the muted light filtering through high windows. No whispers, no stares. Just him.
Until footsteps broke the stillness.
Naruto’s head shot up.
Sasuke.
He stood at the end of the aisle, framed by bookshelves, his bag slung loosely over one shoulder.
His expression was the same as always, cool, unreadable, but his eyes flicked once toward Naruto before scanning the rows of shelves.
He hadn’t come here for Naruto. He was just…there.
Naruto’s stomach twisted. He gripped the edge of the table, caught between wanting to vanish into the wood and the strange, sharp pull of not wanting to be unseen.
Sasuke stepped further in, the quiet of the library swallowing the sound of his footsteps.
And once again, the distance between them filled with silence.
Naruto couldn’t take it.
The silence pressed too heavy, Sasuke’s presence at the far end of the aisle pulling at him like a magnet he didn’t know how to resist.
He shoved his chair back, the legs scraping softly against the floor, and stood.
He didn’t look at Sasuke as he left. Didn’t even glance his way.
He just pushed through the library doors into the empty hallway, his chest tight and restless.
He didn’t get far.
“Leaving so soon, loser?”
Naruto froze. Sakura stepped out from behind a corner, arms crossed, her smirk sharp enough to cut. Her eyes gleamed with something cruel, something that had been simmering since homeroom.
“You really thought you could just sit there next to Sasuke, like you belonged? Pathetic.”
She took a step closer, lowering her voice to a harsh whisper. “He’s way out of your league. Don’t embarrass yourself.”
Naruto clenched his fists. Heat rushed to his face, but no words came out. He wanted to shout, to throw her words back in her face, but his throat locked tight. Instead, he shifted as if to move past her.
Sakura blocked him, sliding in front of his path. “What’s the matter? Cat got your tongue? Or maybe you finally figured it out, no one wants you here.”
Her words hit sharper than he wanted to admit. He ducked his head, jaw tight, trying to shove past her.
And then, the sound of footsteps. Slow. Steady.
Sakura froze, her smugness faltering as the air behind them grew heavier. She turned her head slightly, and there he was, Sasuke, standing just a few paces away, eyes dark, unreadable.
He hadn’t said a word. But he didn’t have to.
The hallway seemed to hold its breath.
Sakura’s smirk wavered, but she tried to recover it quickly. “Sasuke! I was just—”
“Move.”
The word came out flat, sharp as a blade. Sasuke’s eyes didn’t waver, didn’t blink. It wasn’t anger in his voice, but something colder, absolute dismissal.
Sakura froze, her breath catching.
For a moment she looked like she might protest, but the weight of his gaze pressed her back a step. Then another. Her lips tightened, and she spun on her heel, storming down the hall with a bitter huff.
Silence settled in her absence.
Naruto stood rigid, fists still clenched, his heart hammering in his chest. He didn’t look up. Didn’t want Sasuke to see the flush on his face, the way his throat still ached with the words he hadn’t been able to say.
Sasuke’s voice broke the quiet again, low but steady.
“Don’t let people run over you.”
Naruto blinked, his head snapping up before he could stop himself. Sasuke wasn’t looking at him, not directly. His gaze was already shifting past, as if the conversation was already over.
But the words lingered. Heavy. Sharp. Impossible to ignore.
Naruto swallowed hard, his chest twisting with something he couldn’t name.
“…Tch,” he muttered under his breath, turning his face away.
But his grip on his bag had loosened.
And for the first time, Sakura’s voice didn’t echo quite as loudly in his head.
Naruto shifted his bag higher on his shoulder, muttered something under his breath, and brushed past Sasuke without another glance. His steps were quick, uneven, carrying him away before the silence between them could stretch any further.
The rest of the day moved by in fragments.
Lessons blurred together into a haze of scribbled notes he barely registered, teachers calling on students whose voices echoed dimly in his ears. Every time he caught sight of dark hair at the edge of his vision, his chest tightened, and he made himself look away. In the hallways, he ducked into side corridors. At lunch, he ate fast, head down, slipping out before Sasuke ever appeared.
He didn’t even notice Sakura’s glares anymore, didn’t care to. His mind was too tangled.
The weight of Sasuke’s words, don’t let people run over you, echoed louder than the jeers, louder than the laughter, louder than everything else. And the worst part was, he didn’t know if it made him angry… or if it made him want to listen.
By the time he pushed through the door of his small apartment, the sun was dipping low, painting the walls with a tired orange glow. He dropped his bag by the entrance and collapsed onto the couch, pressing an arm over his eyes.
The day felt like it had been weeks long, but the one thing he couldn’t shake, the one thing that clung to him even here, in the quiet of his own space, was the sound of Sasuke’s voice.
Naruto groaned and rolled onto his side, burying his face into the cushions.
“Stupid,” he muttered. He wasn’t sure if he meant Sasuke. Or himself.
The apartment was quiet. Too quiet.
Naruto kicked off his shoes and wandered into the kitchen, opening the fridge only to find a half-empty carton of milk and some leftover instant noodles. He sighed, grabbed the noodles, and tossed them into the microwave.
The hum of the machine filled the silence, but it wasn’t much comfort. He leaned against the counter, arms crossed, eyes fixed on nothing.
Don’t let people run over you.
The words replayed again and again, like a scratch on a record. Sasuke had said it so casually, like it was obvious. Like it was easy. But it wasn’t easy for Naruto. Every time he’d tried to stand tall, to push back, people just laughed harder. Or worse, they ignored him altogether.
The microwave beeped. Naruto pulled the bowl out, sat at the small kitchen table, and ate in silence. The noodles tasted bland, but it didn’t matter. He wasn’t hungry anyway.
Afterward, he dropped onto his bed without bothering to change. The springs creaked under his weight. He stared up at the ceiling, the faint light of the city bleeding in through the blinds.
He hated how one word from Sasuke stuck with him more than a hundred insults from Sakura or anyone else. It wasn’t fair. It made his chest feel tight and restless, like he should be doing something about it, but he didn’t know what.
Eventually, he rolled onto his side, pulling the blanket over his head.
“…Tch. Who cares what he thinks anyway?” he muttered into the darkness.
But even as his eyes drifted shut, sleep pulling him under, Sasuke’s voice lingered.
And it followed him into his dreams.