Categories > Anime/Manga > Naruto
-casualties-
You couldn't tell if Sasuke was sleeping.
He might close his eyes, but he was always alert so you wouldn't know if you stupidly dared to 'wake' him. (or if you attacked him in his 'sleep', you wouldn't live to)
Of course, Sasuke didn't like to close his eyes often.
He didn't like to miss the feeling of pink hair sometimes brushing across his arm, ("-it splayed like a fan," he mused.) nor did he like to miss the chance of seeing the 'dobe' be stupid and drool and punch air in his sleep. (Ninja cannot be picky about their sleeping quarters) The warmth and ease was inviting, and it was grudgingly; a home.
He couldn't define home, (despite having a 'home' once) nor could Naruto, but he bet Naruto thought (and he agreed) that this is what home felt like. The routine, like a family.
Of course, Naruto was not one to listen to routines, so they often ended up arguing. Sakura being the bystander and the most watchful one (not to mention what kept the whole team together, because his house before would have been a junkyard emotionally without his mother's being there)
Standards did not exist in their dream world, and the life of a ninja was abandoned momentarily.
Sasuke was different.
He fingered the lightly pulsing black tattooed on his skin, and he knew. ("-It is permanent," He frowns more.) He couldn't sleep without a dream of him.("-Home was a place of abandon," He knew.)
This stamp could not be forgotten as petty.
It is cold on the frozen outside, it is cold in the frozen inside.
But, these casualties are disregarded, and as this warmth mingles to be his own, as these hands grasp his; time does not exist.
----
You couldn't tell if Sasuke was sleeping.
He might close his eyes, but he was always alert so you wouldn't know if you stupidly dared to 'wake' him. (or if you attacked him in his 'sleep', you wouldn't live to)
Of course, Sasuke didn't like to close his eyes often.
He didn't like the blood of his past kills haunting him, ("-the hot blood always turns cold quickly," he thinks in a voice of almost innocent wonder) nor did he like the other members to regard him as useless and kill him. (Ninja could not be picky about their sleeping quarters) The cold and strife that lingered in the air was, certainly; not a home.
He couldn't define home again, (despite having a 'home' twice) nor could anyone there, but he bet they thought (and he agreed) that this is what power felt like. The loneliness, like a expectation lacking state.
Of course, Orochimaru was not one to care, so they seldom spoke. Nature being the bystander and the most watchful one (not to mention what kept everything together, because even silence could be stifling to him.)
Peace did not exist in their dream world, and the life of a ninja was always active.
Sasuke was no different.
He fingered the lightly pulsing black tattooed on his skin, and he knew. ("-It is strength," He is indifferent.) He couldn't sleep without a dream of victory.("-It shall come," He knew.)
This stamp could not be forgotten as petty.
It is cold on the frozen outside, it is cold in the frozen inside.
And, these casualties are regarded, and as the warmth mingles to be alone in the end, as his hands abandon their's; time always exists.
----
-owari-
You couldn't tell if Sasuke was sleeping.
He might close his eyes, but he was always alert so you wouldn't know if you stupidly dared to 'wake' him. (or if you attacked him in his 'sleep', you wouldn't live to)
Of course, Sasuke didn't like to close his eyes often.
He didn't like to miss the feeling of pink hair sometimes brushing across his arm, ("-it splayed like a fan," he mused.) nor did he like to miss the chance of seeing the 'dobe' be stupid and drool and punch air in his sleep. (Ninja cannot be picky about their sleeping quarters) The warmth and ease was inviting, and it was grudgingly; a home.
He couldn't define home, (despite having a 'home' once) nor could Naruto, but he bet Naruto thought (and he agreed) that this is what home felt like. The routine, like a family.
Of course, Naruto was not one to listen to routines, so they often ended up arguing. Sakura being the bystander and the most watchful one (not to mention what kept the whole team together, because his house before would have been a junkyard emotionally without his mother's being there)
Standards did not exist in their dream world, and the life of a ninja was abandoned momentarily.
Sasuke was different.
He fingered the lightly pulsing black tattooed on his skin, and he knew. ("-It is permanent," He frowns more.) He couldn't sleep without a dream of him.("-Home was a place of abandon," He knew.)
This stamp could not be forgotten as petty.
It is cold on the frozen outside, it is cold in the frozen inside.
But, these casualties are disregarded, and as this warmth mingles to be his own, as these hands grasp his; time does not exist.
----
You couldn't tell if Sasuke was sleeping.
He might close his eyes, but he was always alert so you wouldn't know if you stupidly dared to 'wake' him. (or if you attacked him in his 'sleep', you wouldn't live to)
Of course, Sasuke didn't like to close his eyes often.
He didn't like the blood of his past kills haunting him, ("-the hot blood always turns cold quickly," he thinks in a voice of almost innocent wonder) nor did he like the other members to regard him as useless and kill him. (Ninja could not be picky about their sleeping quarters) The cold and strife that lingered in the air was, certainly; not a home.
He couldn't define home again, (despite having a 'home' twice) nor could anyone there, but he bet they thought (and he agreed) that this is what power felt like. The loneliness, like a expectation lacking state.
Of course, Orochimaru was not one to care, so they seldom spoke. Nature being the bystander and the most watchful one (not to mention what kept everything together, because even silence could be stifling to him.)
Peace did not exist in their dream world, and the life of a ninja was always active.
Sasuke was no different.
He fingered the lightly pulsing black tattooed on his skin, and he knew. ("-It is strength," He is indifferent.) He couldn't sleep without a dream of victory.("-It shall come," He knew.)
This stamp could not be forgotten as petty.
It is cold on the frozen outside, it is cold in the frozen inside.
And, these casualties are regarded, and as the warmth mingles to be alone in the end, as his hands abandon their's; time always exists.
----
-owari-
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