undone

Sasuke pushed himself away, slow and unsteady, like every part of him was still frayed and raw. His fingers twitched against Naruto’s shirt, hesitating for just a second before he fully pulled back, putting space between them.

But he didn’t stop moving. He pushed himself up onto shaky legs, gripping the sink counter hard enough that his knuckles turned white. His breath was uneven, like he was trying to steady it, trying to shove everything down before it swallowed him whole.

Naruto stayed where he was, still kneeling on the floor, watching him.

He could see it—the way Sasuke’s shoulders rose and fell a little too fast, the way his fingers clenched so tightly against the counter it looked like he was trying to ground himself, the way his eyes darted, unfocused, like he was struggling to process what had just happened.

And then Sasuke looked at him.

Naruto had never seen him look at him like that before.

It wasn’t anger, not really. It wasn’t even hatred. It was something deeper, something heavier, something that made Naruto’s stomach twist into knots.

Like Sasuke was grieving something.

Like Naruto had taken something sacred and shattered it.

“…Sasuke?” Naruto said carefully.

Sasuke flinched.

Just barely. Just the smallest, almost imperceptible twitch in his fingers, but Naruto caught it.

Sasuke swallowed hard, his throat working, his face carefully blank. Too blank.

“I hope you don’t think this changes anything,” he muttered, voice flat.

Naruto’s stomach twisted. “Sasuke—”

“I mean it.” Sasuke’s voice wavered slightly, but he tightened his grip on the counter and forced it steady. “You think just because you caught me—” His breath hitched, but he covered it quickly, clenching his jaw. “You think I’m supposed to just stop?”

Naruto opened his mouth, but Sasuke shook his head sharply.

“It doesn’t work like that,” he muttered, his eyes flickering toward the floor. “It’s not—I’ve tried, okay? It doesn’t go away. It doesn’t just—” He exhaled sharply, almost like he was frustrated with himself for even saying this much.

He was talking too much.

Letting Naruto see too much.

And that realization must have hit because suddenly, Sasuke went still, his shoulders tensing, his whole body locking up. His breath came too fast for just a second—too quick, too uneven—and then, almost violently, he turned away, dragging a hand down his face.

“Get out,” he rasped.

Naruto blinked. “What?”

“Just—get out.” His voice cracked on the last word, but the glare he shot Naruto through the mirror was sharp, panicked. “I don’t need you here. Just—just fucking go.”

Naruto didn’t move.

Sasuke’s breath hitched again, his grip on the counter tightening. He wouldn’t look at Naruto anymore. Wouldn’t even turn his head.

Sasuke moved suddenly, shoving off the counter with more force than Naruto thought he had left in him. His grip was unsteady, fingers curling around Naruto’s wrist too tight, like he was running on pure adrenaline. But his hands were trembling. His whole body was trembling.

“I said get the fuck out,” he snarled, yanking Naruto up with surprising strength. His voice was raw, barely holding together, but the way he said it—like he was forcing himself to be angry, to be cruel—hit Naruto harder than anything else.

“Sasuke—”

“Shut up,” Sasuke snapped, his grip tightening. “You’re so fucking annoying—you think this is your problem? You think I need you here?” His breath was coming too fast again, his face pale, but he still pulled Naruto forward, dragging him out of the bathroom in jerky, unsteady movements.

Naruto didn’t fight it.

He couldn’t fight it.

His nails dug into Naruto’s wrist, his chest heaving, his body moving on autopilot like he just needed Naruto gone. His free hand trembled violently as he shoved his bedroom door open, dragging Naruto through it.

“You don’t know shit,” Sasuke kept going, his voice shaking more now, losing that razor-sharp edge. “You think this changes anything? You think you can fix me? Fuck off.”

And then, with one last sharp tug, he all but threw Naruto out into their living room.

Naruto barely caught himself, stumbling back a step. “Sasuke—”

But before he could say anything else—

SLAM.

The door shut right in his face.

Silence.

Naruto exhaled shakily, staring at the wood grain of the door, his stomach twisting itself into knots. His wrist still burned from where Sasuke had grabbed him, and his pulse was hammering, but the only thing he could think about was the look on Sasuke’s face—

The sheer, frantic desperation in his eyes.

The way his breath had stuttered like he was on the verge of a full-blown panic attack.

Naruto clenched his jaw.

Sasuke was still behind that door. Alone.

Naruto felt so fucking useless.

—

Sasuke barely heard the lock click into place before his knees gave out beneath him. His back hit the door, and he slid down, collapsing onto the cold tile floor. His breath was coming too fast, too shallow—his chest tightening so much it fucking hurt.

His fingers clawed at his arms, his stomach, his ribs—anywhere he could feel something,

, but it wasn’t enough. He felt like his skin didn’t fit, like he was caving in on himself, like there was too much of him all at once.

Naruto knew.

Naruto knew.

Sasuke squeezed his eyes shut, pressing the heels of his palms hard against them, trying to block out the humiliating mess of everything that just happened. But he couldn’t. It was burned into his skull—the look on Naruto’s face, the way he had held him like he was fragile, like he needed saving.

His stomach twisted violently.

No one was supposed to know.

He sucked in a breath, but it came out shaky. His throat ached, his limbs were buzzing, his whole body screaming at him to do something.

He wanted to throw up again.

No. No, he couldn’t— he couldn’t. How the hell was he even thinking about that right now?

His breath hitched. His nails pressed harder into his arms.

Naruto.

What was he going to do? Was he going to tell someone? Was he going to pity him? Treat him like he was weak?

He was weak.

His body jerked with a sharp inhale, and suddenly, it was too much. His face crumpled, and a strangled, broken sound ripped from his throat before he could stop it.

His hands covered his mouth, his shoulders curling inward, shaking, trying to contain it, to smother it, to shove it back down like he did with everything else.

But he couldn’t.

Naruto had seen.

And Sasuke had let him hold him.

He let out a choked gasp, pressing harder into himself like he could disappear inside his own skin. His stomach felt like it was twisting into knots, his ribs caving in, his chest so tight he thought he might split open.

He hated himself.

His whole body shook. He bit down hard on his lip, but it wasn’t enough to stop the way his breath kept hitching, the way his hands wouldn’t stop trembling.

This wasn’t supposed to happen.

Sasuke clenched his teeth so hard his jaw ached, forcing himself to breathe slower, deeper. His throat felt raw, his limbs weak, but he had to pull himself together.

He didn’t know how long he sat there, curled up against the door, fingers twitching, breath still uneven. His chest still ached, his throat still burned, and his mind—his mind wouldn’t fucking stop.

His fingers clenched against his arms, his nails digging in, harder, harder. His breath came out ragged, too shallow, too fast, and he squeezed his eyes shut, trying to ground himself, trying to think.

But all he could think about was how much he hated himself.

His stomach twisted, and suddenly, he couldn’t fucking stand it—this feeling, this filth, the weight of himself, the weight of everything. It was too much. It had always been too much.

His hand lurched forward before he even realized what he was doing, yanking open the bedside drawer. His fingers fumbled through the clutter—loose papers, an old lighter, a pen a charger—shoving everything aside in frantic desperation. It had been years, but—fuck, he just needed something. Something sharp, something real, something to shut his fucking head up.

His hands were shaking so fucking bad, but then—there. His fingers closed around a razor.

His breath hitched violently.

The weight of it in his hand, cold and familiar, made his stomach twist in a way that almost made him sick. It had been so fucking long. He had stopped. He had found other ways—worse ways, maybe, but ways that let him function.

But right now, he couldn’t fucking function.

His hands trembled as he turned it over between his fingers, his heart pounding, his vision blurred. His wrist ached—not from anything recent, but from the ghosts of old scars, the ones that had long since faded, the ones no one had ever noticed because he’d been a kid—just some pathetic, fucked-up twelve-year-old who had been too weak to handle what was happening to him.

And then at thirteen, he had found something better.

Or maybe just something worse.

His stomach twisted violently, shame curling in his gut, and his grip on the razor tightened. His fingers trembled against the cold metal, pressing, pressing, feeling the sharp edge bite into his skin just enough to sting.

It would be easy.

He could end this.

He could finally fucking stop.

His vision blurred, his breath coming fast, shallow, the shaking in his hands getting worse. His mind was screaming, everything inside him screaming, and he wanted it to end.

Just one deep, vertical, cut.

That was all it would take.

His breath hitched, his shoulders tensing—

And then—

A muffled sound from the other side of the door.

Sasuke froze, his pulse slamming against his throat.

He hadn’t even heard Naruto get up. Hadn’t even realized he was still there.

But he could hear it now—the quietest shift of weight, the barely-there sound of breathing.

Naruto hadn’t left.

He was still right there.

Sasuke’s stomach lurched. His fingers slackened.

His breath hitched, something thick and suffocating catching in his throat. He felt like he might be sick. His hands were still shaking. His chest still ached. His mind still wouldn’t shut up.

But he couldn’t do this.

Not now.

Not when Naruto was still there.

God it was always fucking Naruto, wasn’t it?

—

Sasuke didn’t move.

The morning had come and gone, sunlight filtering in through the blinds, but he hadn’t left his bed. He hadn’t even bothered to pull the blankets over himself. He just lay there, curled onto his side, staring blankly at the wall, his body stiff and aching and disgusting.

His stomach churned, a nauseating mix of emptiness and revulsion settling deep in his gut. His limbs felt heavy, his skin felt wrong, his throat still burned from the night before, and no matter how much time passed, it still felt like there was something rotting inside of him.

Sleep had come in short, restless bursts—only to be shattered by nightmares, sharp and suffocating, dragging him right back into places he didn’t want to be.

Orochimaru’s hands. His voice. That sick, sick feeling of being touched and loved like that.

Sasuke’s fingers twitched against the sheets. He squeezed his eyes shut, forcing the bile down, forcing himself to breathe.

He was supposed to be in class right now.

But he couldn’t.

Not with last night still thick in his head, a raw, gaping wound that wouldn’t stop bleeding.

Naruto had seen him.

Naruto knew.

Sasuke wanted to die.

Not in the way he had last night, when everything had been suffocating, overwhelming, when he had actually considered it. No, this was different. This was the kind of suffocating, gut-twisting humiliation that made his skin crawl. The kind that made him want to disappear, not in the literal sense, but in the way that meant never facing Naruto again.

He didn’t get up when his alarm went off. His body felt like lead against the mattress.

So he lay there, unmoving, staring at the ceiling, breathing through the remnants of the fucking nightmares that still clung to the edges of his mind.

The hours bled together. His phone vibrated somewhere on the nightstand, probably a reminder about class.

By the time Naruto got home in the afternoon, Sasuke hadn’t moved.

He heard the door open, the familiar shuffle of footsteps, and his entire body tensed.

For a moment, he thought— maybe—Naruto would just go to his room. Pretend he wasn’t here. Ignore him like Sasuke wanted him to.

But of course, he wasn’t that lucky.

A hesitant knock.

“Sasuke?”

Sasuke clenched his jaw, his fingers twitching against the sheets.

Naruto was quiet for a moment. Then—

“Did you go to class?”

Silence.

He could feel Naruto standing there, waiting for an answer.

Another breath. “Are you—” A pause, like he was debating his words. “Are you feeling any better?”

Nothing.

Sasuke refused to acknowledge that he was even standing there. If he just ignored him, maybe he would leave.

Another pause. Then, a little softer—

“Sasuke, I’m sorry.”

His stomach twisted violently, but he still didn’t look at him.

Naruto sighed, and he heard the sound of him shifting, lingering in the doorway. “Can you—” Another hesitation. “Can you at least say something?”

Sasuke didn’t.

He stayed silent.

Another sigh. And then, finally Naruto’s footsteps retreated.

Sasuke exhaled, but it didn’t make him feel any fucking better.

—

Naruto stood outside Sasuke’s door for a long moment, staring at the closed space between them, his fists clenching and unclenching at his sides.

That had gone about as well as he expected.

He knew Sasuke wasn’t going to talk to him, knew he wasn’t going to make this easy, knew he’d rather die than acknowledge what happened last night.

But fuck, it still sucked.