Categories > Anime/Manga > Naruto > Painting The White To Gray
It keeps the pain away
0 reviewsA new student arrives in class at the beginning of the week; at the end of the week, Kiba throws a party and Naruto decides to go.
0Unrated
STORY TITLE: Painting the White to Gray
CHAPTER TITLE: It Keeps the Pain Away
AUTHOR: Oturan Ikamazu
RATING: T (rating may increase in further chapters)
WARNING: Suicidal tendencies, self-mutilation, pervert-Kakashi, angst-Naruto, Naruto POV
STORY SUMMARY: Sometimes, pain is unbearable, and people need a way to escape. But different people cope in different ways.
CHAPTER SUMMARY: A new student arrives in class at the beginning of the week; at the end of the week, Kiba throws a party and Naruto decides to go.
DISCLAIMER: I own nothing that isn't mine. (If I did, I'm scared of what kind of characters I'd turn Naruto and Sasuke into. Scary thought, ne?)
"Smiling is only a symptom of happiness and can be faked. Do not assume that everybody who smiles is happiness."
-- JESSICA ALBERT
--------------------------------------------------
The day began afresh, with a hot shower, followed by a full warm meal and Monday morning cartoons. The alarm clock, I have to admit, was a bit annoying, buzzing in my ear until I fumbled for the snooze button - which only lasted for two-and-a-half minutes; and falling out of the bed was a major headache waiting to happen.
When I passed Kakashi on my way out, he was smiling - or was he yawning? - and scratching his head in a lazy manner. I was surprised he didn't have his little orange book with him; I asked him about it before I left.
"I finished it," he said, shrugging. "Now I'm waiting for the next one."
It was a simple answer, and I was satisfied - I'm sure Iruka would be happy when he came by later.
The trip to school was uneventful, save for the dog on the corner who thinks I'm cat - or a giant walking sirloin. Either way, I've learned to run away very quickly. My new friends laugh every time they ask how my morning's gone.
The first class of the day is English with Iruka-sensei, who also happens to be my landlord's boyfriend. He helps me with my writing, and he says I keep improving everyday - it's amazing, really.
About two months ago I moved out of my parents' house and into my own little apartment, away from my controlling mother and father who thought I was a failure. Before I moved though, I tried to kill myself, and when my mom and dad came in to see me bleeding to death, they saw it as another failure in the fact that I wasn't yet dead. It seemed I could do nothing right.
The atmosphere there wasn't good for me; it only created more tension, more reason to hurt myself, to kill myself. By myself and alone, things seemed to get a little better, but it didn't last; it never lasted.
I couldn't talk about it - people just didn't talk about things like that, and my parents would only make it worse, so that wasn't an option.
Iruka was good to talk to, but I couldn't tell him everything - just that I was feeling a little down, a little tired. Kakashi knew better, but never said anything about it, and part of me welcomed that comforting thought.
That day we got a new student in class, a dark brooding soul that at least half the girls gushed over the moment they saw him - though I will admit that he was cute, to say the least.
Iruka introduced him as Sasuke, new to the town. He was silent, didn't speak much even when asked to answer a question - in fact, I was beginning to wonder if he was mute until Sakura started to shamelessly flirt, constantly praising his every action, and he said, "Go away. You're annoying."
But that was only incentive to further the flirtatious acts. To be honest, it was disgusting and disturbing. I wouldn't be able to stand it, but I assumed he was accustomed to it, if his constant air of annoyance and indifference was anything to go by.
He stared out the window all through class, looking at the clouds and the trees; he didn't pay attention to Iruka's lectures even though he was able to correctly answer any question he was given. I thought it was interesting how he did that, seeming without any mind at all.
I wanted to talk to him after class, but he was too distant; I didn't want to bother him. Maybe I'd try another time, when he didn't feel so out of place and uncomfortable. I knew how it felt to be the new kid, and it wasn't something I wanted to force on anyone, let alone the new kid.
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There was a party that Friday, and I was invited. It was being thrown by Kiba, one of my new friends. He was a bit on the wild side, crazy and rambunctious and loud, but for some reason, people seemed to be naturally attracted to him; he was friends with damn near everyone - and that's who all he'd invited: everyone, even Sasuke.
But Sasuke didn't come; he hadn't been to school the past two days. No one knew why; no one ever talked to him. He was silent and withdrawn and weird, wearing long sleeved shirts even though it was summer; he even wore long sleeves in P.E. even though it was against dress code. Nobody argued with him though.
Before I left for the party, I made sure Kakashi and Iruka - who was staying over at Kakashi's - knew I was heading out. I told myself it was just a precaution, a good deed to tell them so they wouldn't worry, but Kakashi had a glint in his eye when he told me to be careful; he knew there would be alcohol, and possibly drugs, and he didn't want me to hurt myself, despite the fact that I already had.
I took the bus - partly for the fact that I didn't want to take the chance at driving home intoxicated, though it would be a good way to go - and got off about a block or two from Kiba's house; already I could hear the pounding bass and the loud ruckus. I was sure at least half of the people there were already under one influence or another. To add to the effect, there were colorful strobe lights set up all around the house and in the yard.
Inside there was a little table set up, loaded with drinks, most of which were alcoholic; I didn't want to know where Kiba had gotten them. I grabbed one that vaguely reminded me of a bottle in my father's liquor cabinet; it even tasted the same.
The smoke in the air was making my mind hazy, and the alcohol was giving me a headache even though I'd only had two glasses, so I headed for the bathroom, looting through the medications behind the mirror. I grabbed a random bottle and poured several pills into my hand, not minding the dosage or the fact that I would be mixing it with alcohol.
When I realized what I had done, it didn't seem like such a bad thing. My parents didn't care - wouldn't care if I died; as far as they knew I was already dead, the failure that I was. And it didn't matter that I had friends, or nice neighbors, or that I was finally aloud to make my own decisions.
It didn't matter anymore; my father wanted a perfect son, but what he got was me. If there was one thing I could do, I'd give him the next best thing.
The alcohol and the aspirin were mixing in my system, but I was moving around too much, enjoying the music even though my brain was pounding inside my head; I made it to the bathroom in time to empty my stomach into the toilet, taking with it the majority of the pills I had taken, and a good portion of the alcohol.
The cold porcelain felt good against my heated flesh as I rested my head against the bowl, doing my best to ignore the sting of vomit in my nose and throat, ignore the fact that the room was spinning out of control and I desperately needed to brush my teeth. I sat there on the floor, listening to the party as it slowly started to die away, as people passed out and were driven home by their sober friends.
When I heard the footsteps pounding up the stairs, coming nearer and nearer, I was afraid for a moment that it was father again, coming to ridicule my lack of success once more, or maybe my mother, secretly horrified that I would do such a thing, outwardly disgusted and confused. Could my life really be that bad that I would try something like this? That's what she'd want to know, but she'd never have the courage to ask.
But when the door opened, I was almost relieved to find it wasn't one of my parents - or both. It was Kiba, slowly filling the doorway as he observed me truly for what seemed the first time. His narrow eyes were confused, which I could understand. Somehow, he felt hurt, and angry that I would do something like this.
He turned away, and part of me hoped that he would leave me there so I could have another reason to end it, so that maybe I wouldn't get the help I needed, that maybe there was enough of the mix still in my system that I wouldn't have to face up to anybody on Monday, when Kiba was sure to tell everyone.
To my surprise, he called a few of his friends over to help him lift me, get me to the guest bedroom where I could rest and recover. Before he closed the door, he gave me a sharp, pointed look. He wanted answers, and he was going to get them.
The next morning, when he came up to tell me that breakfast was ready and waiting, he found an empty room and a tear-soaked pillow. I wasn't yet ready for the questions he wanted to ask, and that was as clear as the Vodka I'd taken; hopefully, he'd understand that.
-
To Be Continued...
CHAPTER TITLE: It Keeps the Pain Away
AUTHOR: Oturan Ikamazu
RATING: T (rating may increase in further chapters)
WARNING: Suicidal tendencies, self-mutilation, pervert-Kakashi, angst-Naruto, Naruto POV
STORY SUMMARY: Sometimes, pain is unbearable, and people need a way to escape. But different people cope in different ways.
CHAPTER SUMMARY: A new student arrives in class at the beginning of the week; at the end of the week, Kiba throws a party and Naruto decides to go.
DISCLAIMER: I own nothing that isn't mine. (If I did, I'm scared of what kind of characters I'd turn Naruto and Sasuke into. Scary thought, ne?)
"Smiling is only a symptom of happiness and can be faked. Do not assume that everybody who smiles is happiness."
-- JESSICA ALBERT
--------------------------------------------------
The day began afresh, with a hot shower, followed by a full warm meal and Monday morning cartoons. The alarm clock, I have to admit, was a bit annoying, buzzing in my ear until I fumbled for the snooze button - which only lasted for two-and-a-half minutes; and falling out of the bed was a major headache waiting to happen.
When I passed Kakashi on my way out, he was smiling - or was he yawning? - and scratching his head in a lazy manner. I was surprised he didn't have his little orange book with him; I asked him about it before I left.
"I finished it," he said, shrugging. "Now I'm waiting for the next one."
It was a simple answer, and I was satisfied - I'm sure Iruka would be happy when he came by later.
The trip to school was uneventful, save for the dog on the corner who thinks I'm cat - or a giant walking sirloin. Either way, I've learned to run away very quickly. My new friends laugh every time they ask how my morning's gone.
The first class of the day is English with Iruka-sensei, who also happens to be my landlord's boyfriend. He helps me with my writing, and he says I keep improving everyday - it's amazing, really.
About two months ago I moved out of my parents' house and into my own little apartment, away from my controlling mother and father who thought I was a failure. Before I moved though, I tried to kill myself, and when my mom and dad came in to see me bleeding to death, they saw it as another failure in the fact that I wasn't yet dead. It seemed I could do nothing right.
The atmosphere there wasn't good for me; it only created more tension, more reason to hurt myself, to kill myself. By myself and alone, things seemed to get a little better, but it didn't last; it never lasted.
I couldn't talk about it - people just didn't talk about things like that, and my parents would only make it worse, so that wasn't an option.
Iruka was good to talk to, but I couldn't tell him everything - just that I was feeling a little down, a little tired. Kakashi knew better, but never said anything about it, and part of me welcomed that comforting thought.
That day we got a new student in class, a dark brooding soul that at least half the girls gushed over the moment they saw him - though I will admit that he was cute, to say the least.
Iruka introduced him as Sasuke, new to the town. He was silent, didn't speak much even when asked to answer a question - in fact, I was beginning to wonder if he was mute until Sakura started to shamelessly flirt, constantly praising his every action, and he said, "Go away. You're annoying."
But that was only incentive to further the flirtatious acts. To be honest, it was disgusting and disturbing. I wouldn't be able to stand it, but I assumed he was accustomed to it, if his constant air of annoyance and indifference was anything to go by.
He stared out the window all through class, looking at the clouds and the trees; he didn't pay attention to Iruka's lectures even though he was able to correctly answer any question he was given. I thought it was interesting how he did that, seeming without any mind at all.
I wanted to talk to him after class, but he was too distant; I didn't want to bother him. Maybe I'd try another time, when he didn't feel so out of place and uncomfortable. I knew how it felt to be the new kid, and it wasn't something I wanted to force on anyone, let alone the new kid.
0
0-1-0
0-1-2-1-0
0-1-2-3-2-1-0
0-1-2-1-0
0-1-0
0
There was a party that Friday, and I was invited. It was being thrown by Kiba, one of my new friends. He was a bit on the wild side, crazy and rambunctious and loud, but for some reason, people seemed to be naturally attracted to him; he was friends with damn near everyone - and that's who all he'd invited: everyone, even Sasuke.
But Sasuke didn't come; he hadn't been to school the past two days. No one knew why; no one ever talked to him. He was silent and withdrawn and weird, wearing long sleeved shirts even though it was summer; he even wore long sleeves in P.E. even though it was against dress code. Nobody argued with him though.
Before I left for the party, I made sure Kakashi and Iruka - who was staying over at Kakashi's - knew I was heading out. I told myself it was just a precaution, a good deed to tell them so they wouldn't worry, but Kakashi had a glint in his eye when he told me to be careful; he knew there would be alcohol, and possibly drugs, and he didn't want me to hurt myself, despite the fact that I already had.
I took the bus - partly for the fact that I didn't want to take the chance at driving home intoxicated, though it would be a good way to go - and got off about a block or two from Kiba's house; already I could hear the pounding bass and the loud ruckus. I was sure at least half of the people there were already under one influence or another. To add to the effect, there were colorful strobe lights set up all around the house and in the yard.
Inside there was a little table set up, loaded with drinks, most of which were alcoholic; I didn't want to know where Kiba had gotten them. I grabbed one that vaguely reminded me of a bottle in my father's liquor cabinet; it even tasted the same.
The smoke in the air was making my mind hazy, and the alcohol was giving me a headache even though I'd only had two glasses, so I headed for the bathroom, looting through the medications behind the mirror. I grabbed a random bottle and poured several pills into my hand, not minding the dosage or the fact that I would be mixing it with alcohol.
When I realized what I had done, it didn't seem like such a bad thing. My parents didn't care - wouldn't care if I died; as far as they knew I was already dead, the failure that I was. And it didn't matter that I had friends, or nice neighbors, or that I was finally aloud to make my own decisions.
It didn't matter anymore; my father wanted a perfect son, but what he got was me. If there was one thing I could do, I'd give him the next best thing.
The alcohol and the aspirin were mixing in my system, but I was moving around too much, enjoying the music even though my brain was pounding inside my head; I made it to the bathroom in time to empty my stomach into the toilet, taking with it the majority of the pills I had taken, and a good portion of the alcohol.
The cold porcelain felt good against my heated flesh as I rested my head against the bowl, doing my best to ignore the sting of vomit in my nose and throat, ignore the fact that the room was spinning out of control and I desperately needed to brush my teeth. I sat there on the floor, listening to the party as it slowly started to die away, as people passed out and were driven home by their sober friends.
When I heard the footsteps pounding up the stairs, coming nearer and nearer, I was afraid for a moment that it was father again, coming to ridicule my lack of success once more, or maybe my mother, secretly horrified that I would do such a thing, outwardly disgusted and confused. Could my life really be that bad that I would try something like this? That's what she'd want to know, but she'd never have the courage to ask.
But when the door opened, I was almost relieved to find it wasn't one of my parents - or both. It was Kiba, slowly filling the doorway as he observed me truly for what seemed the first time. His narrow eyes were confused, which I could understand. Somehow, he felt hurt, and angry that I would do something like this.
He turned away, and part of me hoped that he would leave me there so I could have another reason to end it, so that maybe I wouldn't get the help I needed, that maybe there was enough of the mix still in my system that I wouldn't have to face up to anybody on Monday, when Kiba was sure to tell everyone.
To my surprise, he called a few of his friends over to help him lift me, get me to the guest bedroom where I could rest and recover. Before he closed the door, he gave me a sharp, pointed look. He wanted answers, and he was going to get them.
The next morning, when he came up to tell me that breakfast was ready and waiting, he found an empty room and a tear-soaked pillow. I wasn't yet ready for the questions he wanted to ask, and that was as clear as the Vodka I'd taken; hopefully, he'd understand that.
-
To Be Continued...
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