undone

It wasn’t even cold out. If anything, it was one of those weirdly warm fall days where the sun hit just right, and Naruto was perfectly fine in his hoodie and ripped jeans. The air smelled like coffee and burnt sugar from the bakery down the street, and there was a light breeze, but nothing that should’ve warranted Sasuke walking beside him like they were trekking through a snowstorm.

Naruto squinted at him, eyeing the way he had his arms crossed tightly over his chest, hands shoved into the sleeves of his jacket.

“Dude,” Naruto started, watching as Sasuke hunched his shoulders even more. “It’s literally sixty degrees right now. Why do you look like you’re about to get frostbite?”

Sasuke shot him a flat look, his nose barely peeking out from where he’d tugged the collar up to his chin. “I’m not cold.”

Naruto barked out a laugh. “Yeah, okay, sure. That’s why you look like a miserable little rat.”

Sasuke tensed beside him, his scowl deepening, and Naruto immediately regretted the choice of words. Not because he minded annoying Sasuke—hell, that was practically his favorite hobby—but something about the way his expression flickered, just for a second, made Naruto’s stomach twist. He wasn’t sure why, but he didn’t like it.

Before he could backpedal, they reached the coffee shop, the scent of espresso hitting them as soon as they stepped inside. The place was small but cozy, full of dark wood and the low hum of conversation. Naruto sighed happily, rubbing his hands together. “This is what I’m talking about. Coffee, warmth, and—oh, sweet, they still have those chocolate croissants—”

Sasuke barely acknowledged him, stepping toward the counter with his usual disinterested expression.

Naruto ordered first—something sugary and caffeine-loaded—before turning to Sasuke expectantly. He already knew what the bastard was gonna get, because he was the most predictable person on the planet.

“Black coffee,” Sasuke said, like clockwork.

Naruto wrinkled his nose. “Boring.”

“It’s coffee.”

“It’s sad coffee,” Naruto corrected. He leaned against the counter, grinning. “C’mon, live a little. Try something with actual flavor for once. Maybe—oh! A pumpkin spice latte.”

Sasuke gave him a withering look, but Naruto caught the way his mouth twitched, just slightly.

“Absolutely not.”

“Why not?” Naruto wiggled his eyebrows. “Afraid you’ll like it? Afraid you’ll turn into a basic—”

Sasuke nudged him, his elbow sharp against Naruto’s ribs.

Naruto snickered but didn’t push it. He did, however, make a mental note to buy Sasuke something ridiculously sweet later just to be annoying.

They found a small table by the window, and Naruto sipped at his drink happily while Sasuke curled his hands around his coffee like it was his last source of warmth. The sun streamed through the glass, painting everything in a golden glow, and Naruto let his gaze linger on Sasuke for a moment longer than usual. The way the steam from his coffee curled up against his face, his dark lashes dipping low as he stared at nothing in particular.

Naruto had seen him look peaceful before, but it was rare. And he wished—god, he wished—he could freeze this moment, keep Sasuke like this, keep him okay.

“Stop staring at me,” Sasuke muttered, still not looking up.

Naruto grinned. “Can’t help it. You’re pretty.”

Sasuke rolled his eyes but didn’t argue. Didn’t even tell him to shut up.

And Naruto wasn’t sure whether that made him happy or really uneasy.

They walked out of the coffee shop together, Sasuke still wrapped up in his jacket like it was the dead of winter, even though the sun was shining and people were walking around in t-shirts.

“Alright, time for my daily good deed,” Naruto announced, stretching his arms over his head. “Let’s go, bastard. I’m walking you to class.”

Sasuke sighed, exasperated, like this was a daily inconvenience instead of an act of pure devotion. “You don’t have to do that.”

Naruto slung an arm around his shoulder anyway, steering him in the right direction. “Yeah, yeah, I know, but I want to. And you should be grateful, honestly. Most people would kill to have me escort them anywhere.”

Sasuke shifted under his arm, but he didn’t pull away entirely. “Most people have standards.”

Naruto laughed, unfazed. “You wound me.”

Sasuke didn’t respond, but Naruto caught the way his lips twitched again, just barely. It was small, but Naruto counted it as a victory.

They walked across campus together, falling into their usual rhythm—Naruto talking about some nonsense, Sasuke responding just enough to let him know he was listening, even if he pretended not to care. By the time they got to the building where Sasuke’s first class was, Naruto was already gearing up for his dramatic goodbye.

“Well, this is where we part ways,” he said, sighing heavily. “I know it’ll be hard without me, but stay strong. Be brave.”

Sasuke glanced at him, unimpressed. “You have class in ten minutes.”

Naruto waved him off. “Irrelevant.” He grinned and nudged Sasuke’s arm. “Have fun learning about… whatever it is you’re learning about.”

Sasuke rolled his eyes. “I’m a pre-med student, Naruto.”

“Right, right. Fancy doctor things. Got it.” Naruto took a step back, giving him an exaggerated salute. “Catch you later, doc.”

Sasuke didn’t dignify that with a response, but Naruto swore he saw the tiniest shake of his head and a smallest hint of a smile as he turned and walked inside.

—

After Naruto’s class, he wasted no time tracking Sasuke down. It wasn’t hard; he knew Sasuke’s schedule by heart—not that he’d ever admit that out loud.

He spotted him exactly where he expected: tucked away in the corner of the library, a thick textbook open in front of him, his posture stiff in the way that meant he was concentrating way too hard.

Naruto dropped into the seat across from him with all the grace of a collapsing building. “Alright, bastard. Let’s go eat.”

Sasuke didn’t even look up. “No.”

Naruto scoffed, leaning forward on his elbows. “What do you mean no? It’s lunchtime.”

“I’m not hungry.”

Naruto narrowed his eyes. He’d been expecting that answer, but it didn’t make it any less frustrating. He glanced at the table—no empty coffee cup, no snack wrappers, nothing.

“Okay, first of all,” Naruto started, pointing at him, “you literally just drank black coffee for breakfast, which is not a meal, by the way. And second of all—” He paused for dramatic effect. “—you’re full of shit.”

Sasuke sighed, finally looking up, his expression blank. “Naruto.”

Naruto matched his stare. “Sasuke.”

They sat like that for a second, locked in some kind of silent battle, before Naruto sighed loudly and flopped forward, resting his chin on the table. “C’mon, just get lunch with me. I’ll even let you pick the place.”

Sasuke arched a brow. “That’s supposed to be an incentive?”

“Yes,” Naruto said, unwavering. “Because if I pick, we’re getting ramen.”

Sasuke gave him the kind of exhausted look that only Naruto could bring out of him.

Naruto grinned, tilting his head. “C’moooon. I’m just asking for, like, thirty minutes of your precious time.”

Sasuke exhaled slowly, closing his eyes for a moment like he was debating whether this was worth the fight. When he opened them again, there was a flicker of something unreadable there, something tight. But then, finally, he shut his textbook.

“Fine.”

Naruto fist-pumped. “Yes! I win!”

Sasuke rolled his eyes but didn’t argue.

Naruto let himself bask in his victory for a moment before standing up and grabbing his bag. “Alright, let’s go. Before you change your mind and try to make a run for it.”

Sasuke didn’t respond, just followed him toward the exit, the sun warm on their backs as they stepped outside.

Naruto was still grinning. He knew this didn’t fix anything, that this wasn’t some grand solution to the weird, uncomfortable feeling that had been growing in his chest whenever he looked too closely at Sasuke.

But for now, it was enough.

Sasuke sighed and muttered, “Dining hall’s fine”, and Naruto clapped his hands together before dragging him towards said dining hall.

The walk to the dining hall wasn’t far, and Naruto kept the conversation moving, filling the space with his usual stream of nonsense. Sasuke mostly just hummed in response, nodding at the right times, but Naruto could tell his mind was elsewhere. He didn’t call him out on it.

Inside, the dining hall was its usual noisy, chaotic self, with students clustered around tables, trays stacked with food, and the hum of conversation filling the space. Naruto grabbed a plate without hesitation, piling on way too much food like he always did.

Sasuke, however, lingered at the entrance, hesitating for just a second before following.

Naruto didn’t say anything about it. Instead, he focused on keeping things casual, nudging Sasuke in the ribs with his elbow as they walked toward the food stations. “C’mon, I know you have a weird diet or whatever, but there’s gotta be something here that meets your standards.”

Sasuke gave him a look but didn’t snap back, which was already weird. Normally, Naruto would’ve gotten some remark about his terrible eating habits, or at the very least, an insult about how much junk he was grabbing.

Instead, Sasuke just glanced over the options, his gaze flickering over each tray of food with a sharp, unreadable focus. It wasn’t the normal kind of decision-making, like figuring out what you were in the mood for—it was something else. Something more calculating.

Naruto felt that weird knot in his stomach again.

He didn’t let it show, though. He just grabbed a second plate and waved it in Sasuke’s direction. “Alright, you’re taking too long. I’m picking for you.”

Sasuke exhaled sharply. “Naruto.”

“Nope, you lost your privileges,” Naruto said cheerfully, already piling some rice and grilled chicken onto the plate before handing it over. “There. Balanced and boring. Just how you like it.”

Sasuke stared at it for a second before taking it without a word.

That was weird too.

Naruto didn’t say anything, just steered them toward a table by the window. He started eating immediately, making a show of how good his food was—mostly just to see if he could annoy Sasuke into actually eating.

But Sasuke was quiet.

Too quiet.

And Naruto hated it.

“So,” he said, pointing a fork at him. “Are you actually gonna eat, or are you just planning to push it around until I stop looking?”

Sasuke’s jaw tensed. “I’m eating.”

“Are you?”

Sasuke shot him a glare, but Naruto just held it, unwavering.

Slowly, Sasuke picked up his fork and took a small bite, chewing deliberately. Naruto watched him for a second, trying to read every little detail—the way he swallowed a little too carefully, the way he immediately sipped his water afterward.

Naruto let out an exaggerated sigh, leaning back in his chair. “See? Was that so hard?”

Sasuke didn’t answer.

And Naruto didn’t know if it was just in his head, or if Sasuke’s shoulders really did look a little tighter than before.

—

Sasuke knew he should’ve just said no. Should’ve shut Naruto down the second he started nagging him in the library. But he also knew Naruto—and once he got something in his head, there was no getting rid of him.

So he agreed. Because it was easier than arguing. Because Naruto would’ve just found him later, even more obnoxious and determined.

The dining hall was too loud, too bright. He felt the familiar static hum under his skin as they walked inside, the overwhelming scent of fried food and over-seasoned meats making his stomach twist. He wasn’t hungry. He was. He was so so fucking hungry.

But Naruto didn’t give him time to think.

“C’mon, I know you have a weird diet or whatever, but there’s gotta be something here that meets your standards.”

Sasuke didn’t respond, just moved along the food stations, scanning his options carefully. Not that he wanted anything, but if he didn’t pick something, Naruto would make it into a thing. And the last thing Sasuke needed was Naruto hovering over him like some overeager babysitter.

He could feel Naruto watching him, too, eyes sharp beneath all that usual obnoxiousness. Sasuke knew how this went. If he hesitated too long, Naruto would step in. He was already bracing for it—

And then, right on cue—

“Alright, you’re taking too long. I’m picking for you.”

Sasuke sighed. “Naruto.”

“Nope, you lost your privileges,” Naruto said, piling food onto a second plate before shoving it into Sasuke’s hands. “There. Balanced and boring. Just how you like it.”

Sasuke didn’t argue. He took the plate, following Naruto to an open table. He had already used up too much energy pretending to care.

Naruto, as usual, dug into his food with his usual enthusiasm, making a point to groan dramatically after every other bite. Sasuke stared down at his plate, unmoving. His fingers curled around the edge of the tray, the weight of it feeling heavier than it should.

“So.” Naruto’s voice cut through the noise. “Are you actually gonna eat, or are you just planning to push it around until I stop looking?”

Sasuke’s grip tightened slightly.

“I’m eating,” he muttered, picking up his fork just to make Naruto shut up.

“Are you?” Naruto pressed.

Sasuke looked up sharply, meeting his gaze. Naruto was watching him, expression too casual, too easy going—but his eyes were anything but.

Sasuke clenched his jaw and took a bite, chewing with slow, deliberate effort. He swallowed, chasing it with a sip of water, trying to ignore the way it sat in his stomach like a lead weight.

Naruto sighed, leaning back in his chair. “See? Was that so hard?”

Sasuke didn’t answer.

Because yes, actually. It was.

Sasuke stared at his plate, the food in front of him looking painfully unappetizing. He could still feel Naruto’s eyes on him, could feel the unspoken concern woven into his usual playful nagging. It made something in Sasuke tighten, a sharp coil of irritation and something dangerously close to shame.

He wasn’t supposed to be seen like this.

But then again, Naruto was relentless.

Sasuke forced himself to take another bite, chewing mechanically. It tasted like nothing. Just texture and weight, sitting heavy in his mouth. He swallowed, the feeling of it sinking into his gut making his skin crawl.

Naruto had no idea what he was really asking for when he told Sasuke to eat.

—

His mother had been the first to teach him about hunger.

Not in the way a parent should, not in the way that involved warmth or care. No, Mikoto Uchiha had done it with sharp words and colder actions, with the careful calculation of a woman who saw imperfections as failures.

“You’re looking soft, Sasuke,” she had said when he was eight, her tone light, but her gaze sharp.

Sasuke had looked up from his dinner plate, confused. “What?”

She had given him a delicate smile, reaching out to brush his hair from his forehead, an empty gesture, a movement as smooth as her criticisms. “You don’t want to embarrass the family, do you?”

Sasuke had shaken his head quickly. “No.”

“Good boy,” she said, pulling her hand away. “Then maybe you don’t need to eat so much.”

That was all it took. A single sentence, to fuck him up forever.

He didn’t touch the rest of his dinner that night.

It wasn’t until later—until it had become a pattern, until she had started taking his food away on purpose, until she had begun watching him with that same clinical scrutiny every time he so much as lifted a fork—that Sasuke understood.

She had wanted him to disappear.

Not literally, maybe. But enough. Enough that he wouldn’t be a blemish on the Uchiha name, a mark on their carefully cultivated reputation.

Because Sasuke had never been Itachi.

Itachi, who was the perfect son, the prodigy, the golden child who carried the Uchiha legacy like he had been born for it.

And Sasuke—Sasuke was nothing in comparison. A shadow in the spaces where Itachi shined.

It hadn’t mattered how hard he tried. Nothing ever impressed them.

So when he’d started skipping meals even more frequently, no one noticed. Given he had no actual friends and his parents couldn’t give less of a shit about him.

Then he’d passed out. He’d woken up in a hospital bed with an IV in his arm and his mother staring at him like he was an inconvenience.

“You need to stop this foolishness,” she had said, her voice low and sharp, as if she wasn’t the one to plant these ideas into his brain.

And his father—his father had been worse.

Fugaku Uchiha had never been a warm man. He was cold and unmoving, his presence enough to make a small child cry.

So when they’d returned from the hospital, his parents having ignored all the pamphlets for “Eating disorder treatment centers” and “therapy”, things they deemed completely pointless, Fugaku sat Sasuke down at dining room table and told him to fucking eat.

He’d forced bite after bite down his throat while his father glared at him, silent and cold. Sasuke had eaten until he was physically ill, his stomach rejecting it before he could even think, and the moment he had rushed to the bathroom to throw it up, the relief had been instantaneous.

Like a switch flipping.

Like something loosening inside him.

That was when he realized.

That was when he learned.

If he couldn’t be perfect like Itachi, if he couldn’t be enough, then he could at least be nothing at all.

After that, it became easy.

Skipping meals in front of people—his parents still couldn’t care less. Pushing food around his plate in public. Pretending.

And then, when he was alone—when the hunger became unbearable—he would binge. He would eat until he hurt, until the panic crept in, until he felt like he was losing control.

And then—

Relief.

Twisted, awful, necessary relief.

—

“Sasuke.”

Naruto’s voice snapped him back to the present, his gaze sharp and steady across the table. Sasuke blinked, realizing he had been gripping his fork too tightly, his hand stiff and unmoving.

Naruto was still watching him. Not teasing now. Just watching.

Sasuke exhaled slowly, pushing the food around his plate without thinking. “What?”

Naruto’s eyes narrowed slightly, his usual grin nowhere to be found.

For a moment, it looked like he was going to say something else, something real, but then he just rolled his eyes and leaned back. “Nothing, you just look like you’re thinking really hard over there.”

Sasuke forced a smirk. “That’s because I have a brain. Unlike you.”

Naruto groaned, throwing a fry at him. “There he is. Thought I lost you for a second.”

Sasuke caught the fry before it could hit his shirt, dropping it onto Naruto’s tray with a pointed look.

Naruto huffed but let it slide.

And just like that, the tension shifted. Naruto moved on, rambling about something else, and Sasuke let himself fall into the rhythm of it.

Like nothing had happened.

Like Naruto hadn’t noticed.

Like Sasuke wasn’t still sitting there, stomach churning, throat tight, already planning how quickly he could get to the nearest bathroom.

Sasuke didn’t finish his food.

But he’d eaten enough.

When Naruto finally gave up, leaning back in his chair and stretching, Sasuke took it as his cue to stand. His stomach was already a mess of discomfort—too full, too heavy, too wrong—and the sooner they got out of here, the better.

“Alright, alright, let’s go,” Naruto said, grabbing his tray and nudging Sasuke’s with his own. “I don’t have any more classes today, what about you?”

Sasuke shook his head, already turning toward the exit. “Nothing.”

“Oh, hell yeah, lazy day,” Naruto declared, practically bouncing beside him. “C’mon, let’s go back to the dorm. I’m gonna destroy you in Smash Bros.”

Sasuke gave him a look. “You wish.”

Naruto grinned. “Oh, I know.”

The sun was still out when they stepped outside, casting golden light across campus. It was warm. Not unbearable, not in a way that would make Sasuke uncomfortable normally, but warm enough that Naruto had already shed his hoodie, tying it around his waist as they walked.

Sasuke, on the other hand, shivered.

It was barely noticeable at first—just a slight chill curling over his skin, a sharp contrast to the sun beating down on them. He clenched his jaw, tucking his hands into his hoodie pocket, ignoring the way his body seemed to reject the temperature entirely.

Naruto glanced over, frowning. “Dude. Are you cold?”

Sasuke scoffed, tugging his sleeves down over his fingers. He’d left his jacket in the library. “No.”

“You so are,” Naruto said, squinting at him like he was some strange creature Naruto had never seen before. “What the hell, Sasuke? It’s literally, like, perfect out here.”

Sasuke ignored him, focusing on the pavement ahead. “You’re imagining things.”

“I am not—” Naruto stopped suddenly, then narrowed his eyes even further. “Where’s your jacket from this morning?”

“Left it in the library,” he mumbled.

Naruto groaned, dragging a hand down his face. “Seriously, you’re cold right now? Like, legit cold?”

Sasuke was cold.

When wasn’t he?

When hunger became a constant hum in the background of his life. He had learned to ignore it, to function through it, but some things—some things you didn’t just get used to.

The cold had settled in his bones and never quite left.

It didn’t matter how warm it was. He was always freezing.

But he wasn’t about to explain that to Naruto.

“It’s not a big deal,” Sasuke muttered.

Naruto made a frustrated noise but didn’t push any further. Instead, after a few beats of silence, he sighed and did something so Naruto-like—

He pulled off his hoodie, the one he had tied around his waist, and without warning, threw it at Sasuke’s face.

Sasuke caught it before it could fall to the ground, scowling. “What the hell?”

“Just put it on,” Naruto said, grinning like an idiot. “I know you’re not gonna admit you’re cold, so just shut up and take it.”

Sasuke glared at him, ready to argue, but Naruto just kept walking, hands behind his head like it was no big deal.

Like this wasn’t the stupidest, most Naruto thing he could’ve done.

Sasuke exhaled sharply, gripping the fabric in his hands. It was warm.

It smelled like Naruto.

He hated that it helped.