All I Need (1/1)
Like everything I else, I fought with this. Didn't know where I was going. Just made it something else to check off the list, yeah. What can I say? Stuff went down at that wedding.
Because it's Naruto's turn to be the one sleeping. Which got muddled in all the word vomit. Writing Sasuke usually gives me whiplash.
Years later, I still don't know where this originally came from. Nothing I do ever turns out right, anyway, although this especially, since I couldn't get what I think I wanted from Mikoto. I just took cues from Itachi, I guess. Very understated, with a kind of roundabout shrewd personality, because I think Sasuke's more like his father.
In the end, it's just more soppy crap. Somehow a little lonely, too. Maybe? It's not that Sasuke doesn't like Naruto, but he's that overwhelmed by how much he feels for Naruto, and I think here (or just my Sasuke in general) that's why he seems to fight it so much. So, it's still keeping the whole "Uchiha theme", but not as shounen as in canon.
Lost the original draft after quick a restart applying changes to my partitions (gd feckless os), and yeah, yeah, I really do know better, but I'm trying really hard right now not to flip over my brand new computer. ┬─┬ノ ( º _ ºノ)
Also, for the record, Naruto said those three words way past cool before I got both Sam Smith's and Taeyang's songs simultaneously stuck in my head.
***
Characters: Naruto/Sasuke, Mikoto
Rating: PG-13
Words: 5572
Summary: "...the only thing he did was ask me to stay."
Legs folded beneath him, back propped against the headboard, Sasuke gives a quick tap to the screen of his phone, placing the call on speaker mode. The gentle cadence of his mom’s voice weaves itself through the already comfortable lull in the hotel room, and he lays the phone beside him on the bed, breath caught by a delayed sense of encompassing familiarity, wallowing in the sudden ache from being home.
“-has the kinds of features that aren’t easily overlooked. But because he also attends an art university as prestigious as Tama, studying photography at Namikaze Minato’s alma mater, I wouldn’t think it’d be too much of a stretch to at least wonder if it wasn’t simply coincidence.”
Slow to inhale, Sasuke concedes with a low hum, looking away from the large flat-panel TV, towards the open recessed cabinet revealing an ironing centre.
“…I guess not,” he says, gaze trailing over Naruto’s suit jacket thrown carelessly over the cabinet door, and the meticulously folded grey tie lying on top of the ironing board.
“And you know how Aunt Kayou’s weddings are.”
Sasuke doesn’t hold back a snort, shifting slightly beneath the heavy weight comfortably sprawled across his lap. After her third marriage fell through, more or less, there’s been this sort of implicit understanding that his aunt’s weddings have become a pretext for relatively informal family gatherings; honestly, they’re just an opportunity to catch up on the latest gossip and an excuse to start spreading new rumours, which, in this case, have mostly centred around too much decidedly embellished speculation surrounding how he and Naruto first met.
“At best, everyone was just curious. That much couldn’t be helped. No one expected you to bring anyone home. You didn’t even tell us about Naruto, at least not in that capacity. Well, your brother already knew, but…”
“I wasn’t…” Sasuke licks his lips, turning his attention back to the TV he’s not really watching. His eyes settle on some music variety programme from KBS World, vaguely following the Japanese subtitles on the screen. “I didn’t mean not to say anything.”
“I wouldn’t expect that of you, Sasuke. I wouldn’t-” There’s an abrupt pause, followed by a muffled shuffling sound emerging from the background. “Does it have anything to do with Naruto being Minato’s son?”
“It’s more on my part,” Sasuke says, attempting to hedge the shrewd concern. “Naruto already knows it’s unavoidable. Whenever he’s in that situation, though, he always worries about being treated differently. Especially since he’s following his dad into the same field, it’s inevitable that people will make comparisons between them.
“Naruto realises that. For worse or for better, he accepts it. But I think it also makes him feel as if he has to try that much harder to make people notice him. So as much as he still looks up to his dad, using his mom’s name instead, Naruto stands by that.”
“Your father told me he suspected something along those lines-which isn’t so surprising, maybe, considering he’s somewhat more familiar with Uzumaki Kushina.”
“Really?”
“He came across some of her earlier articles once. A series on cultural dissemination in Japan, I think he said. It was a few years ago, before her career began to take off.”
Sasuke blinks. “That’s a little…”
“It is a strange sort of coincidence, isn’t it? Although given how often Kushina collaborates with Minato, it’s a wonder how she became much more well-known outside of Japan. Still, Naruto seems like the kind of person who’d rather be acknowledged for his own merits.”
“Mm.” Sasuke gives a slight nod, a subconscious gesture his mom can’t see. “That’s why I asked Itachi not to say anything, either. Actually, Naruto’s the one who didn’t mind. He tried to convince me he doesn’t let it affect him like it used to, but I know it still gets to him sometimes, even if he doesn’t like to show it, so I just…”
Slowly, Sasuke breathes out, teeth dragged along the corner of his lower lip. “I just wanted to make sure everyone would see Naruto for who he is. The Naruto I see. Because he’s always been just Naruto to me, and I don’t want him to feel like he has to be someone else. Not if I can help it.”
“I understand. The resemblance is definitely there, though,” his mom muses. “He looks so much like Minato.”
Glancing down, Sasuke allows himself to smile a little, fingers idle playing with strands of coarse blond hair. “He really does. You should see them standing next to each other.”
There’s an uncharacteristic hesitation from his mom, another pause less pronounced that Sasuke nearly misses, and his smile fades when he realises the implications of his own words.
“…I didn’t realise you were already so close to Naruto’s family. I see why he was so excited to meet us.”
“I only met them in January,” Sasuke rushes out, adding just as quickly, “and only because Naruto was being so pushy about taking me to Mobara, because he kept complaining it was only fair, since he already knew he was going to meet you, and by the time we-”
He cuts himself off with a quick exhale, pursing his lips, more than a little self-conscious about getting so carried away, the same thing he accuses Naruto of doing too much.
“Actually, I…I know you’re back at the firm now, and Dad’s been busier lately, but maybe, if you have time, if you want to visit us in Narita, so we can show you around, Naruto and I, we’d really like that.”
“…I’d really like that, too. No longer having you home, it’s still taking some time to accept. Of course, with the two of you leaving so soon, if I’d known you were close to such a celebrity beforehand, I would’ve taken the initiative to ask for Naruto’s autograph during the reception.”
The fingers playing with Naruto’s hair go still. “Please, don’t ever let him hear you call him that. Please.”
“Everyone else thought his personality was charming enough.”
“He doesn’t need to know about that, either.”
“Although it was more so his behaviour towards you that ultimately fuelled a rumour or two,” she says, wholly unapologetic, and too clearly can Sasuke hear the quiet laughter in his mom’s voice, too easily can he imagine the subtle gleam in dark eyes so closely mirrored by his own.
“Constantly held beneath the spotlight, a lonely actor seeks to escape the pressures of his rising popularity, falling headfirst for the one person who’s finally able to see through his cheerful façade.”
Somewhat stiff, Sasuke raises his head. He stares at the TV, not quite frowning at the smiling host introducing the small, all-male pop group sitting across from her. When it comes to entertaining any kind of family-related gossip, he’d almost forgotten how…intense his family could actually be.
Fortunately, typical flair for the melodramatic aside, rumours aren’t something that anyone takes too seriously. And while he’s just as culpable, maybe even more so in this instance simply for not going into detail about how his relationship with Naruto began, effectively leaving his family to their own devices, he still hadn’t expected returning to Yamaguchi with someone would attract this much attention.
“Or at least that’s what Tamaki claims Aunt Hatsue and Uncle Fuyuki have been trying to convince everyone to believe.”
Resigned, more so than suffering any true sense of exasperation, with a sigh, Sasuke lets his shoulders sag. As if they have nothing better to do, the older members of his family-the majority of his family-were usually liable for spreading the more colourful gossip, especially the rumours that had those kinds of overstated, near starry-eyed undertones.
“…I wish everyone would stop trying to turn my life into some kind of romance drama.”
“I’m assuming that particular rumour is also something you don’t want Naruto to know about,” his mom teases. “Although I do think he’d probably enjoy hearing it-is he still awake?”
“No, he’s sleeping.” Sasuke gives a light nudge to the arm casually flung around his waist, snorting at the sight of Naruto’s other arm listless dangling near the edge of the bed.
Unsurprisingly, the touch doesn’t wake Naruto, doesn’t cause him to move-doesn’t even dissuade the sporadic sort of obnoxious, hacked snoring that always seems louder paired with the unattractive sight of Naruto’s mouth hanging wide open.
Again, Sasuke reaches for the arm around him, this time with both hands, absently straightening the cuff of the white sleeve rolled up to Naruto’s elbow. He’d warned Naruto to change before going to sleep, so he wouldn’t ruin the brand new suit, but after kicking off his shoes by the entryway, Naruto only took the time to carefully fold his tie, throwing his jacket at the closest garment hook before plopping himself on the bed.
Scooting closer, with one arm draped around Sasuke, it didn’t take long for Naruto to fall asleep, body stretched across Sasuke’s lap, yet somehow still managing to monopolise the entirety of the generously sized bed.
But Sasuke can’t say he minds.
Naruto’s shirt was already wrinkled, anyway.
“Despite the impression Naruto’s seemed to make,” he says, reaching towards his phone and tapping the screen to display the time-only a little after eleven, it’s late but not quite midnight. “I really think you’re giving him too much credit. Believe me when I say there’s nothing charming about a guy like him.”
His mom agrees with a low murmur, the sort of marginally amused, if not outright appeasing sort of sound he’s received from Itachi far too many times. “Maybe Naruto doesn’t have to be a celebrity in the conventional sense,” she says, “but even after suspecting he’s Namikaze Minato’s son, I doubt that’s why everyone was so eager to meet him.”
“That’s the kind of person Naruto is, though. He just tends to attract attention. It’s natural for people to gravitate towards him.”
“Your brother seems to dote on him.”
“I don’t know why,” Sasuke murmurs, not entirely petulant, although his mom must have heard some of it in his voice, because this time she does laugh aloud, making it even harder for him to curb his own smile at the apparent ease from her soft laughter.
Before his relationship with Naruto, even before they could be considered friends, Itachi was the first person in his family Sasuke told about Naruto, the first person in his family to meet Naruto, and having that opportunity to introduce Naruto to his brother, it really did mean a lot to him.
He just hadn’t anticipated that the two of them would end up getting along so quickly, a little too well, especially when it involved embarrassing stories from his childhood, near mortifying stories Itachi seemed to all too willing to share with Naruto.
He’d confronted Naruto about it for a second time, on their way back from the roof. Somewhere between complaining about receiving death threats from Itachi (perceived death threats in the form of Itachi’s insistent offers to treat him to fugu in Shimonoseki), and his boisterous, obnoxious teasing of Sasuke for a childhood nickname Itachi wasn’t even supposed to tell him, after he’d finally made a connection between the two, Naruto admitted that he and Itachi kept in touch on a pretty regular basis.
Sasuke still hasn’t decided what to make of their strange relationship.
“I guess you can say it was really easy for us to come to a sort of understanding,” Naruto had said, laying emphasis with a simple shrug, not really volunteering much else until Sasuke pushed for more.
Supposedly, it’s an older sibling thing, alongside having a few other things in common, but that’s something else entirely Sasuke refuses to put any more thought into.
Yet, like he told his mom, people genuinely do gravitate towards Naruto. Itachi isn’t the only one.
Despite his own initial reservations about returning to Yamaguchi for the first time in years, alongside bringing Naruto to his aunt’s wedding, unable to avoid the connotations of inviting someone to such a close-knit family occasion, everyone seemed to like Naruto.
Although considering Mei’s playful flirting, Sasuke would think she was just as bad as Itachi, if not worse, openly complaining about her so-called predicament trying to decide which of Naruto’s features she fell for first: his gorgeous blue eyes or his very handsome smile.
Then again, everyone’s sudden focus on his relationship with Naruto temporarily diverted attention from the more prevalent rumours surrounding when Itachi and Mei were going to get married.
“…you really were worried, weren’t you,” his mom says, curiously soft, a near whisper hushed even against the subdued sounds coming from the TV already turned low.
He blinks at the unexpected, almost soothing tone. Back pressed against the headboard, he sits up a little, careful shifting beneath Naruto’s weight. He makes another quick reach for his phone, pressing the side button twice to turn up the speaker’s volume.
His mom remains quiet, however, leaving an expectant silence he knows from experience she won’t be the one to fill.
The host of the music variety programme waves an enthusiastic farewell to the audience as credits begin appearing on the screen, smiling and laughing when members of the boy band she was interviewing join in with more cheerful goodbyes to their fans.
“…maybe,” he finally allows himself to admit, if only because it’s fruitless to deny something his mom’s too perceptive to miss. “A little. About Naruto meeting Sai, at least.”
“That’s your father’s side of the family.”
At his mom’s quick dismissal, Sasuke can’t help the snort that comes out, the ebbing tension from his shoulders allowing him to relax a little more. It’s not necessarily untrue, since it is his dad who married into the Uchiha name, but it’s more of a long-standing joke rather than his mom making a serious claim to renounce Sai and his many, many times off-putting sense of humour.
Aside from the near embarrassing fiasco that was the short-lived confrontation between a purposely antagonistic Sai and an initially dumbstruck Naruto torn between highly inflated insult and imagined injury, as inappropriate as it was for Sai to make blatant assumptions about his and Naruto’s sex life, family will always be family-Sai still included.
“I know Sai was just being Sai, but…”
“He’s always had a tendency to express his concern for you and Tamaki in very surprising ways, even when you three were much younger. Probably more insightful than he’d like people to believe, but I’m not in a position to make apologies for Sai. I will say, at least for myself, Naruto has made a definite impression.
“Although I guess I can speak a little for your father, too, when I say that neither of us was expecting that kind of bold declaration in the middle of an introduction, especially from someone we’ve never met. I honestly wasn’t sure what to think.”
She laughs a little, obviously teasing him again, but the warmth in her voice regarding Naruto brings a heavy sort of ache to Sasuke’s chest.
To be less obviously direct, he remembers Naruto telling him, the advice Naruto admitted he’d taken from Itachi.
And maybe Itachi was right after all, because his parents hadn’t seemed to mind. Despite how straightforward Naruto had been, if anything, Sasuke was the only one seemingly bothered by it.
“…I didn’t realise he’d do that,” he whispers, gaze falling to the arm wrapped loosely around him, fingers tracing along Naruto’s wrist, absently picking at the overturned cuff of Naruto’s sleeve. “But I guess, really, it’s something Naruto would do. The kind of thing he always does without thinking that I can’t expect him not to do.
“For the past week, all he kept talking about was how much he wanted to impress you and Dad, how excited he was to get the chance to meet everyone, and see Itachi again. He just tends to get caught up in things too easily. That’s part of who he is. But when he introduced himself to you, saying something so careless without considering how it affects the people around him, how it affects m-making that kind of propos-”
He hadn’t taken Naruto seriously earlier, the way Naruto kept referring to Itachi as his brother-in-law. He thought Naruto was joking, trying to distract him, trying not to let him think too much about what it meant for him to return to Yamaguchi after so long.
In the grand scheme of things, they’ve only known each other for a little under three years, having been living together for barely one. But when he saw the utter surety on Naruto’s face, saw Naruto wearing that readily earnest expression, caught in a haze listening to Naruto declaring their relationship like the two of them being together was some kind of goddamn inevitability-Naruto, whose personality has always been too loud and brash and overbearing-suddenly, there was this image of Naruto with his head politely bowed, arms held rigid at his sides, the arrant lack of hesitation regarding Sasuke’s parents with the serious kind of formality nothing could’ve prepared Sasuke for.
“As long I’m able to take care of Sasuke, for as long as I promised to stay by his side, please accept me as a member of the family, and treat me like a son from now on.”
So he ran.
Without waiting for anyone to speak, he excused himself, even by his family’s standards overly polite, unable to face his parents’ expressions. Maybe even more so, unable to bear the open vulnerability in blue eyes too wide.
He escaped the ballroom in relative quiet, without making a scene, managed to reach the stairwell before the blare of the door being slammed open behind him, the resounding pound of rushed footfalls, the heavy rasp of his name following him all the way to the roof of the hotel, to the open-air bath where Naruto had found him.
“It’s still a wedding, isn’t it?”
That was when it hit him.
The enormity of the situation, the absolute gravity of Naruto asserting himself in his life, alluding to that level of commitment with nothing less than conviction-it was staggering, coming to terms with the depth of his relationship with Naruto, the realisation that somehow all at once he’d become so wholly dependent on this same ridiculously brash and overbearing guy who still doesn’t know how to let him go.
But there’s no indemnity against someone like Naruto.
“…I still don’t understand any of it.”
His voice begins to waver, falls with a slight hitch, fingers dropped away from Naruto’s sleeve, and he clenches his teeth, tries to fight back a hapless sense of frustration, because he doesn’t trust himself to speak.
The air around him shudders as he takes in a harsh breath, as he pulls tighter the arm around him, caught beneath the familiarity of a comfortable weight, but his hand fumbles towards Naruto’s blind, holds Naruto’s palm warm pressed against his own, bringing within reach Naruto’s fingers that lay still.
“When he’s with me, it’s-being with Naruto, sometimes, the way he looks at me, it feels like being trapped between needing something I don’t want, and wanting something I wish I never knew how to need.”
Because Naruto still doesn’t know the meaning of personal space, still doesn’t know he’s not supposed to laugh when Sasuke calls him too clingy, always touching, always making such stupid faces when he teases Sasuke about the stupidest things, this guy who never stops whining, never stops watching, never stops trying too hard to make him smile-this utterly stupid, stupid guy Sasuke wouldn’t hesitate to do anything for.
“I don’t know what I could ever see in someone like him, or what he sees in someone like me-if there’s anything about us that’s supposed to work. But even though we didn’t meet under the best circumstances, no matter how much I really didn’t like him at first, for some reason, all he wanted was to be my friend.”
“Sasuke…”
“It’s almost too much. Everything about Naruto, just being around him is so much, and it makes me wish I…but what he said to you and Dad, after he found me, when I told him I didn’t-when I told him I didn’t know what I was supposed to do, Naruto, he…”
He lowers his head, searches for the words that won’t easily come, words that won’t fully form, grasps for shallow impressions of sounds. A sharp inhale leaves his chest hollow, forces his eyes clenched shut, and his grip tightens, clutching at the fingers that aren’t squeezing back.
“…the only thing he did was ask me to stay.”
A steady stream of Korean becomes a low drone in the back of his mind, and he opens his eyes, swallows, breathes in careful, chest falling slow. Again, he squeezes Naruto’s hand, holding on a little tighter waiting for a response that won’t come.
There’s no response from his mom, either, but he doesn’t expect one. He doesn’t even know what he’s looking for, if there’s even an answer to any of this, so he isn’t surprised by her silence, because he already knows there’s nothing she can say.
But if Naruto were to see him like this…
Except Naruto won’t. Naruto can’t. He doesn’t want Naruto to worry about him, doesn’t need Naruto getting worked up for his sake over something that probably doesn’t mean anything at all, because Naruto would…
Without pause, without any will to relent, Naruto just takes and takes, keeps on taking until Sasuke can’t be sure there’s much of anything left, because there’s still that nascent fear, that once upon a time trepidation that Naruto would one day go away, it ended up turning into this-this, the only side of him he’s seemingly able to keep to himself, the same irrational part of him that can’t help but wonder if Naruto will still be here if he has nothing else to give.
And he knows it’s stupid. It’s all so damn stupid, not being able to say these kinds of things to Naruto without feeling helpless, without feeling this pervasive sense of loss, because he’s never been good at expressing the kinds of things he wishes Naruto didn’t somehow already seem to just know.
Pried from his throat is a meagre sound, this grating, deprecatory thing that comes out a little too bitter, too hoarse, leaves his mouth uncomfortably dry, but he only has himself to blame for always, always letting Naruto affect him so much.
“…I’m sorry. I don’t know why I’m acting so-I didn’t mean to-”
“No, you’re fine, Sasuke. You’re not-it’s fine. You don’t have to apologise. You have nothing to apologise for.”
He hears her sigh, almost forced, a slightly shaky sort of exhale.
“Even with you inviting Naruto to the wedding, bringing him home, I guess I didn’t realise the extent of how much you…”
The light from the TV flickers over Naruto’s skin, colours dark the white of Naruto’s shirt. Chest rising, Sasuke breathes out, releasing Naruto’s hand he lays on the bed. He makes a slow reach for his phone, tapping the screen twice to turn it off speaker mode, and then placing the phone against his ear.
“I’ve always worried about you, Sasuke. Your father and I, we both have. I know you’re old enough to understand a little better now, why we don’t really talk about it, but after waiting so long to even have Itachi, we’d expected your brother to be an only child.
“We were older when you came along, much older. Neither of us was really prepared for another pregnancy, and I’m not sure how we even it made it through that first year.
“All those nights we stayed in the hospital, all those wasted moments we weren’t even allowed to touch you, it was-” She inhales soft, even, but the sigh she releases comes out noticeably strained.
“Mom…”
“It’s amazing how much you really do take after your father. He won’t readily admit to these kinds of things, either, but after we were finally able to take you home, as determined as he was to watch over you every night- sometimes, your father would be too afraid to hold you, afraid anything he’d do would somehow manage to take you away from him, but even more so, he was afraid to leave your side, afraid for the day he’d never be able to hear you cry again, because you were small, Sasuke.
“You were still so small, and I don’t think either of us truly learned to cope with how many times we almost...”
Lips pressed together, gaze back towards the TV, Sasuke tries to focus on Gag Concert, tries to follow the end of the Veteran skit, barely able to register the beginning of Wiggle Wiggle.
He knows he was an unexpected pregnancy. With his parents already in their late thirties, there were complications, serious complications that led to his premature birth. Those first twelve months, he was in and out of the hospital, with his health more than a few times touch-and-go.
Even now, it’s still hard for anyone to talk about it, and not just his parents or his brother. Most of his family, because most of them did know, they kept it from him for a while. His parents didn’t decide to say anything until much later on, only a couple years ago, but finally knowing did help put a few things into perspective: why his relatives treated him so carefully, why his parents had so easily overlooked the fact he wasn’t as receptive to anyone outside of their family, let alone other kids his own age.
As large as his family is, growing up so close to everyone, it wasn’t something he began to notice until he was older.
“…maybe that’s why we tried so hard to hold onto you a little longer,” she says, “kept you sheltered you a little more. You’ve always been different, Sasuke. But that’s never made us view you as less than your brother. It just…it just made it harder for us to accept the idea of letting you go.
“I really don’t think we meant to treat you so differently. But maybe we were pushing you away. Instead of keeping you so close, maybe we should’ve-”
“That’s not why I...it wasn’t you or Dad. Or even Itachi. In the end, I don’t think it ever was. I just needed some time. To figure out what I was looking for.”
“Did you?”
“Not yet, but I think…” Sasuke licks his lips, giving a quick glance to the dark grey tie neatly folded on top of the ironing board. “I think I’m getting there.”
“Are you happy?”
“With Naruto?”
“That’s all we could ever want for you, Sasuke. Even if it means letting you go, whatever you decide to do, we only want you to be happy.”
“...well, I’m glad everyone liked Naruto.”
“After seeing you two together, I’m glad you gave us the opportunity to meet him.”
Sasuke ducks his head, unable to curb the small upturn of his lips. “I am, too.”
“Do you take care of him?”
“...I try to.”
“That doesn’t mean you cook for him, does it?”
Remembering his poor attempts preparing nearly inedible lunches for Itachi, Sasuke stumbles on a choked sort of mangled protest, fully blaming it on the effect of having spent too much time around Naruto. It’s still a little embarrassing, though, being reminded of that phase he went through when he was five, even coming from his mom, who was the one who actually encouraged his determination to cook for his brother.
He didn’t have an inherent knack for it, but he learned, gradually, discovering he was better off sticking to traditional Japanese food and, surprisingly enough, baking.
“I remember the first time you tried to make ganryu yaki,” his mom says, “when you dragged your bathroom stool into the kitchen in order to reach the stove. You’d already made a mess by the time your father and Itachi reached you. Somehow, they couldn’t agree on who would get to take care of you, but they both wanted to complain when you ran into my arms asking me to try the burnt dorayaki you made.”
“I don’t burn food anymore,” Sasuke says, purposely omitting all the times Naruto complained about being forcibly subjected to taste-testing the questionable looking food inspired by the recipes Kushina often found through highly questionable means. “I’m doing better now. A lot better.”
“You are,” she says simply, with an agreeable hum. “I only ask because the food you mentioned earlier, the raspberry white chocolate mousse cake and the braised pork, those are the ones you want to make for Naruto? The ones you said he liked the most? If they are, let me get the recipes before you leave.”
“We’ll be fine. That’s too much trouble to-”
“Humour me. Please.”
“Really, though, you don’t have to-”
“It’s not about whether or not I have to, Sasuke. I want to. I’m your mother. I don’t mind doing things for you. Considering how much Aunt Kayou spent leasing nearly the entire hotel, I doubt it’ll take much to pull a few strings with the staff. I just need to find out which of the restaurants did the catering. Your father’s still with Itachi and a few others at the bar. I’ll send a message to let him know.”
Wanting to recreate the food Naruto ended up liking so much, it was just something Sasuke mentioned in passing. He wasn’t actually expecting his mom to trouble herself going through the hassle of trying to get the actual recipes.
“If you have a chance to at least try the recipes, I think Naruto would really appreciate that.”
His mom’s one of the most obstinate people he knows, probably where he and Itachi get it from, so Sasuke accepts the subtle gesture for what it is, appreciative for it all the same. “Thank you, even though you don’t have to.”
“What time does your flight leave tomorrow?”
“Not until three.”
“At least it’s an afternoon flight. I’m only sorry you and Naruto won’t be able to stay longer.”
“Yeah.” Even if he and Naruto didn’t have their responsibilities at MOS Burger and Happy Camera, Sasuke isn’t sure he’d be comfortable staying in Yamaguchi much longer. After being separated from his family for so long, intentionally creating that distance between them, it’s not that he doesn’t miss it. Because he does.
Yamaguchi’s the home it’s always been, the home it always will be, but Narita has become a different kind of home, in that tiny little apartment he shares with Naruto a different part of his life that maybe doesn’t mean he has to leave everything else behind.
“Everyone still misses you, still talks about you. Your father and I, we…”
“...I miss being in Yamaguchi, too.”
“As often as you like to keep in touch, though, don’t forget your brother isn’t the only one who raised you.”
His days of being Itachi’s little shadow, how close he and his brother were-still are-that’s probably one of those things that’ll never go away, but Sasuke still manages a small smile at his mom’s quiet offer of understanding.
“Even though you live in Narita now, even though we still live in Yamaguchi, we’re still your parents. We’re always going to be your parents, Sasuke. Just...don’t be afraid to call us a little more often, all right.”
“I won’t.”
“Not to mention, the fact Naruto travelled all the way here to be with you, he’s already become popular, especially now that everyone knows about him making such a bold proposal, creating that kind of mood between you during a wedding.”
“It was only the four of us then. And that was five hours ago. How does everyone else know about it after five hours?” Sasuke’s left eye begins to twitch. “And what kind of mood is there supposed to be between Naruto and me? There is no kind of mood between us.”
“Apparently, everyone’s still trying to decide how you met. With his obvious dedication to photography, it’s only natural there are rumours that the first time Naruto saw you was from behind his camera.
“A misunderstood artist with a pure heart, by chance capturing a faraway silhouette, inspired by the moment their eyes first met, the return of his curious gaze instils a natural longing between two strangers.”
His mom’s too casual attempt at evasion not completely lost on him, again, with a sigh, Sasuke lets his shoulders fall, a little more resigned, that much more grateful Naruto isn’t awake to preen about his family’s seeming new pastime of coming up with scenarios trying to portray Sasuke’s life as some kind of too obvious romance drama.
If this is what Itachi has to deal with because of all the speculation surrounding his relationship with Mei, especially when it comes to the rumours about their possible marriage, well, maybe Sasuke shouldn’t have started some of them.
“…that sounds like something Uncle Obito would say.”
“It is.” His mom pauses. “At least according to the message Kagami sent your brother.”
Because it's Naruto's turn to be the one sleeping. Which got muddled in all the word vomit. Writing Sasuke usually gives me whiplash.
Years later, I still don't know where this originally came from. Nothing I do ever turns out right, anyway, although this especially, since I couldn't get what I think I wanted from Mikoto. I just took cues from Itachi, I guess. Very understated, with a kind of roundabout shrewd personality, because I think Sasuke's more like his father.
In the end, it's just more soppy crap. Somehow a little lonely, too. Maybe? It's not that Sasuke doesn't like Naruto, but he's that overwhelmed by how much he feels for Naruto, and I think here (or just my Sasuke in general) that's why he seems to fight it so much. So, it's still keeping the whole "Uchiha theme", but not as shounen as in canon.
Lost the original draft after quick a restart applying changes to my partitions (gd feckless os), and yeah, yeah, I really do know better, but I'm trying really hard right now not to flip over my brand new computer. ┬─┬ノ ( º _ ºノ)
Also, for the record, Naruto said those three words way past cool before I got both Sam Smith's and Taeyang's songs simultaneously stuck in my head.
***
Characters: Naruto/Sasuke, Mikoto
Rating: PG-13
Words: 5572
Summary: "...the only thing he did was ask me to stay."
Legs folded beneath him, back propped against the headboard, Sasuke gives a quick tap to the screen of his phone, placing the call on speaker mode. The gentle cadence of his mom’s voice weaves itself through the already comfortable lull in the hotel room, and he lays the phone beside him on the bed, breath caught by a delayed sense of encompassing familiarity, wallowing in the sudden ache from being home.
“-has the kinds of features that aren’t easily overlooked. But because he also attends an art university as prestigious as Tama, studying photography at Namikaze Minato’s alma mater, I wouldn’t think it’d be too much of a stretch to at least wonder if it wasn’t simply coincidence.”
Slow to inhale, Sasuke concedes with a low hum, looking away from the large flat-panel TV, towards the open recessed cabinet revealing an ironing centre.
“…I guess not,” he says, gaze trailing over Naruto’s suit jacket thrown carelessly over the cabinet door, and the meticulously folded grey tie lying on top of the ironing board.
“And you know how Aunt Kayou’s weddings are.”
Sasuke doesn’t hold back a snort, shifting slightly beneath the heavy weight comfortably sprawled across his lap. After her third marriage fell through, more or less, there’s been this sort of implicit understanding that his aunt’s weddings have become a pretext for relatively informal family gatherings; honestly, they’re just an opportunity to catch up on the latest gossip and an excuse to start spreading new rumours, which, in this case, have mostly centred around too much decidedly embellished speculation surrounding how he and Naruto first met.
“At best, everyone was just curious. That much couldn’t be helped. No one expected you to bring anyone home. You didn’t even tell us about Naruto, at least not in that capacity. Well, your brother already knew, but…”
“I wasn’t…” Sasuke licks his lips, turning his attention back to the TV he’s not really watching. His eyes settle on some music variety programme from KBS World, vaguely following the Japanese subtitles on the screen. “I didn’t mean not to say anything.”
“I wouldn’t expect that of you, Sasuke. I wouldn’t-” There’s an abrupt pause, followed by a muffled shuffling sound emerging from the background. “Does it have anything to do with Naruto being Minato’s son?”
“It’s more on my part,” Sasuke says, attempting to hedge the shrewd concern. “Naruto already knows it’s unavoidable. Whenever he’s in that situation, though, he always worries about being treated differently. Especially since he’s following his dad into the same field, it’s inevitable that people will make comparisons between them.
“Naruto realises that. For worse or for better, he accepts it. But I think it also makes him feel as if he has to try that much harder to make people notice him. So as much as he still looks up to his dad, using his mom’s name instead, Naruto stands by that.”
“Your father told me he suspected something along those lines-which isn’t so surprising, maybe, considering he’s somewhat more familiar with Uzumaki Kushina.”
“Really?”
“He came across some of her earlier articles once. A series on cultural dissemination in Japan, I think he said. It was a few years ago, before her career began to take off.”
Sasuke blinks. “That’s a little…”
“It is a strange sort of coincidence, isn’t it? Although given how often Kushina collaborates with Minato, it’s a wonder how she became much more well-known outside of Japan. Still, Naruto seems like the kind of person who’d rather be acknowledged for his own merits.”
“Mm.” Sasuke gives a slight nod, a subconscious gesture his mom can’t see. “That’s why I asked Itachi not to say anything, either. Actually, Naruto’s the one who didn’t mind. He tried to convince me he doesn’t let it affect him like it used to, but I know it still gets to him sometimes, even if he doesn’t like to show it, so I just…”
Slowly, Sasuke breathes out, teeth dragged along the corner of his lower lip. “I just wanted to make sure everyone would see Naruto for who he is. The Naruto I see. Because he’s always been just Naruto to me, and I don’t want him to feel like he has to be someone else. Not if I can help it.”
“I understand. The resemblance is definitely there, though,” his mom muses. “He looks so much like Minato.”
Glancing down, Sasuke allows himself to smile a little, fingers idle playing with strands of coarse blond hair. “He really does. You should see them standing next to each other.”
There’s an uncharacteristic hesitation from his mom, another pause less pronounced that Sasuke nearly misses, and his smile fades when he realises the implications of his own words.
“…I didn’t realise you were already so close to Naruto’s family. I see why he was so excited to meet us.”
“I only met them in January,” Sasuke rushes out, adding just as quickly, “and only because Naruto was being so pushy about taking me to Mobara, because he kept complaining it was only fair, since he already knew he was going to meet you, and by the time we-”
He cuts himself off with a quick exhale, pursing his lips, more than a little self-conscious about getting so carried away, the same thing he accuses Naruto of doing too much.
“Actually, I…I know you’re back at the firm now, and Dad’s been busier lately, but maybe, if you have time, if you want to visit us in Narita, so we can show you around, Naruto and I, we’d really like that.”
“…I’d really like that, too. No longer having you home, it’s still taking some time to accept. Of course, with the two of you leaving so soon, if I’d known you were close to such a celebrity beforehand, I would’ve taken the initiative to ask for Naruto’s autograph during the reception.”
The fingers playing with Naruto’s hair go still. “Please, don’t ever let him hear you call him that. Please.”
“Everyone else thought his personality was charming enough.”
“He doesn’t need to know about that, either.”
“Although it was more so his behaviour towards you that ultimately fuelled a rumour or two,” she says, wholly unapologetic, and too clearly can Sasuke hear the quiet laughter in his mom’s voice, too easily can he imagine the subtle gleam in dark eyes so closely mirrored by his own.
“Constantly held beneath the spotlight, a lonely actor seeks to escape the pressures of his rising popularity, falling headfirst for the one person who’s finally able to see through his cheerful façade.”
Somewhat stiff, Sasuke raises his head. He stares at the TV, not quite frowning at the smiling host introducing the small, all-male pop group sitting across from her. When it comes to entertaining any kind of family-related gossip, he’d almost forgotten how…intense his family could actually be.
Fortunately, typical flair for the melodramatic aside, rumours aren’t something that anyone takes too seriously. And while he’s just as culpable, maybe even more so in this instance simply for not going into detail about how his relationship with Naruto began, effectively leaving his family to their own devices, he still hadn’t expected returning to Yamaguchi with someone would attract this much attention.
“Or at least that’s what Tamaki claims Aunt Hatsue and Uncle Fuyuki have been trying to convince everyone to believe.”
Resigned, more so than suffering any true sense of exasperation, with a sigh, Sasuke lets his shoulders sag. As if they have nothing better to do, the older members of his family-the majority of his family-were usually liable for spreading the more colourful gossip, especially the rumours that had those kinds of overstated, near starry-eyed undertones.
“…I wish everyone would stop trying to turn my life into some kind of romance drama.”
“I’m assuming that particular rumour is also something you don’t want Naruto to know about,” his mom teases. “Although I do think he’d probably enjoy hearing it-is he still awake?”
“No, he’s sleeping.” Sasuke gives a light nudge to the arm casually flung around his waist, snorting at the sight of Naruto’s other arm listless dangling near the edge of the bed.
Unsurprisingly, the touch doesn’t wake Naruto, doesn’t cause him to move-doesn’t even dissuade the sporadic sort of obnoxious, hacked snoring that always seems louder paired with the unattractive sight of Naruto’s mouth hanging wide open.
Again, Sasuke reaches for the arm around him, this time with both hands, absently straightening the cuff of the white sleeve rolled up to Naruto’s elbow. He’d warned Naruto to change before going to sleep, so he wouldn’t ruin the brand new suit, but after kicking off his shoes by the entryway, Naruto only took the time to carefully fold his tie, throwing his jacket at the closest garment hook before plopping himself on the bed.
Scooting closer, with one arm draped around Sasuke, it didn’t take long for Naruto to fall asleep, body stretched across Sasuke’s lap, yet somehow still managing to monopolise the entirety of the generously sized bed.
But Sasuke can’t say he minds.
Naruto’s shirt was already wrinkled, anyway.
“Despite the impression Naruto’s seemed to make,” he says, reaching towards his phone and tapping the screen to display the time-only a little after eleven, it’s late but not quite midnight. “I really think you’re giving him too much credit. Believe me when I say there’s nothing charming about a guy like him.”
His mom agrees with a low murmur, the sort of marginally amused, if not outright appeasing sort of sound he’s received from Itachi far too many times. “Maybe Naruto doesn’t have to be a celebrity in the conventional sense,” she says, “but even after suspecting he’s Namikaze Minato’s son, I doubt that’s why everyone was so eager to meet him.”
“That’s the kind of person Naruto is, though. He just tends to attract attention. It’s natural for people to gravitate towards him.”
“Your brother seems to dote on him.”
“I don’t know why,” Sasuke murmurs, not entirely petulant, although his mom must have heard some of it in his voice, because this time she does laugh aloud, making it even harder for him to curb his own smile at the apparent ease from her soft laughter.
Before his relationship with Naruto, even before they could be considered friends, Itachi was the first person in his family Sasuke told about Naruto, the first person in his family to meet Naruto, and having that opportunity to introduce Naruto to his brother, it really did mean a lot to him.
He just hadn’t anticipated that the two of them would end up getting along so quickly, a little too well, especially when it involved embarrassing stories from his childhood, near mortifying stories Itachi seemed to all too willing to share with Naruto.
He’d confronted Naruto about it for a second time, on their way back from the roof. Somewhere between complaining about receiving death threats from Itachi (perceived death threats in the form of Itachi’s insistent offers to treat him to fugu in Shimonoseki), and his boisterous, obnoxious teasing of Sasuke for a childhood nickname Itachi wasn’t even supposed to tell him, after he’d finally made a connection between the two, Naruto admitted that he and Itachi kept in touch on a pretty regular basis.
Sasuke still hasn’t decided what to make of their strange relationship.
“I guess you can say it was really easy for us to come to a sort of understanding,” Naruto had said, laying emphasis with a simple shrug, not really volunteering much else until Sasuke pushed for more.
Supposedly, it’s an older sibling thing, alongside having a few other things in common, but that’s something else entirely Sasuke refuses to put any more thought into.
Yet, like he told his mom, people genuinely do gravitate towards Naruto. Itachi isn’t the only one.
Despite his own initial reservations about returning to Yamaguchi for the first time in years, alongside bringing Naruto to his aunt’s wedding, unable to avoid the connotations of inviting someone to such a close-knit family occasion, everyone seemed to like Naruto.
Although considering Mei’s playful flirting, Sasuke would think she was just as bad as Itachi, if not worse, openly complaining about her so-called predicament trying to decide which of Naruto’s features she fell for first: his gorgeous blue eyes or his very handsome smile.
Then again, everyone’s sudden focus on his relationship with Naruto temporarily diverted attention from the more prevalent rumours surrounding when Itachi and Mei were going to get married.
“…you really were worried, weren’t you,” his mom says, curiously soft, a near whisper hushed even against the subdued sounds coming from the TV already turned low.
He blinks at the unexpected, almost soothing tone. Back pressed against the headboard, he sits up a little, careful shifting beneath Naruto’s weight. He makes another quick reach for his phone, pressing the side button twice to turn up the speaker’s volume.
His mom remains quiet, however, leaving an expectant silence he knows from experience she won’t be the one to fill.
The host of the music variety programme waves an enthusiastic farewell to the audience as credits begin appearing on the screen, smiling and laughing when members of the boy band she was interviewing join in with more cheerful goodbyes to their fans.
“…maybe,” he finally allows himself to admit, if only because it’s fruitless to deny something his mom’s too perceptive to miss. “A little. About Naruto meeting Sai, at least.”
“That’s your father’s side of the family.”
At his mom’s quick dismissal, Sasuke can’t help the snort that comes out, the ebbing tension from his shoulders allowing him to relax a little more. It’s not necessarily untrue, since it is his dad who married into the Uchiha name, but it’s more of a long-standing joke rather than his mom making a serious claim to renounce Sai and his many, many times off-putting sense of humour.
Aside from the near embarrassing fiasco that was the short-lived confrontation between a purposely antagonistic Sai and an initially dumbstruck Naruto torn between highly inflated insult and imagined injury, as inappropriate as it was for Sai to make blatant assumptions about his and Naruto’s sex life, family will always be family-Sai still included.
“I know Sai was just being Sai, but…”
“He’s always had a tendency to express his concern for you and Tamaki in very surprising ways, even when you three were much younger. Probably more insightful than he’d like people to believe, but I’m not in a position to make apologies for Sai. I will say, at least for myself, Naruto has made a definite impression.
“Although I guess I can speak a little for your father, too, when I say that neither of us was expecting that kind of bold declaration in the middle of an introduction, especially from someone we’ve never met. I honestly wasn’t sure what to think.”
She laughs a little, obviously teasing him again, but the warmth in her voice regarding Naruto brings a heavy sort of ache to Sasuke’s chest.
To be less obviously direct, he remembers Naruto telling him, the advice Naruto admitted he’d taken from Itachi.
And maybe Itachi was right after all, because his parents hadn’t seemed to mind. Despite how straightforward Naruto had been, if anything, Sasuke was the only one seemingly bothered by it.
“…I didn’t realise he’d do that,” he whispers, gaze falling to the arm wrapped loosely around him, fingers tracing along Naruto’s wrist, absently picking at the overturned cuff of Naruto’s sleeve. “But I guess, really, it’s something Naruto would do. The kind of thing he always does without thinking that I can’t expect him not to do.
“For the past week, all he kept talking about was how much he wanted to impress you and Dad, how excited he was to get the chance to meet everyone, and see Itachi again. He just tends to get caught up in things too easily. That’s part of who he is. But when he introduced himself to you, saying something so careless without considering how it affects the people around him, how it affects m-making that kind of propos-”
He hadn’t taken Naruto seriously earlier, the way Naruto kept referring to Itachi as his brother-in-law. He thought Naruto was joking, trying to distract him, trying not to let him think too much about what it meant for him to return to Yamaguchi after so long.
In the grand scheme of things, they’ve only known each other for a little under three years, having been living together for barely one. But when he saw the utter surety on Naruto’s face, saw Naruto wearing that readily earnest expression, caught in a haze listening to Naruto declaring their relationship like the two of them being together was some kind of goddamn inevitability-Naruto, whose personality has always been too loud and brash and overbearing-suddenly, there was this image of Naruto with his head politely bowed, arms held rigid at his sides, the arrant lack of hesitation regarding Sasuke’s parents with the serious kind of formality nothing could’ve prepared Sasuke for.
“As long I’m able to take care of Sasuke, for as long as I promised to stay by his side, please accept me as a member of the family, and treat me like a son from now on.”
So he ran.
Without waiting for anyone to speak, he excused himself, even by his family’s standards overly polite, unable to face his parents’ expressions. Maybe even more so, unable to bear the open vulnerability in blue eyes too wide.
He escaped the ballroom in relative quiet, without making a scene, managed to reach the stairwell before the blare of the door being slammed open behind him, the resounding pound of rushed footfalls, the heavy rasp of his name following him all the way to the roof of the hotel, to the open-air bath where Naruto had found him.
“It’s still a wedding, isn’t it?”
That was when it hit him.
The enormity of the situation, the absolute gravity of Naruto asserting himself in his life, alluding to that level of commitment with nothing less than conviction-it was staggering, coming to terms with the depth of his relationship with Naruto, the realisation that somehow all at once he’d become so wholly dependent on this same ridiculously brash and overbearing guy who still doesn’t know how to let him go.
But there’s no indemnity against someone like Naruto.
“…I still don’t understand any of it.”
His voice begins to waver, falls with a slight hitch, fingers dropped away from Naruto’s sleeve, and he clenches his teeth, tries to fight back a hapless sense of frustration, because he doesn’t trust himself to speak.
The air around him shudders as he takes in a harsh breath, as he pulls tighter the arm around him, caught beneath the familiarity of a comfortable weight, but his hand fumbles towards Naruto’s blind, holds Naruto’s palm warm pressed against his own, bringing within reach Naruto’s fingers that lay still.
“When he’s with me, it’s-being with Naruto, sometimes, the way he looks at me, it feels like being trapped between needing something I don’t want, and wanting something I wish I never knew how to need.”
Because Naruto still doesn’t know the meaning of personal space, still doesn’t know he’s not supposed to laugh when Sasuke calls him too clingy, always touching, always making such stupid faces when he teases Sasuke about the stupidest things, this guy who never stops whining, never stops watching, never stops trying too hard to make him smile-this utterly stupid, stupid guy Sasuke wouldn’t hesitate to do anything for.
“I don’t know what I could ever see in someone like him, or what he sees in someone like me-if there’s anything about us that’s supposed to work. But even though we didn’t meet under the best circumstances, no matter how much I really didn’t like him at first, for some reason, all he wanted was to be my friend.”
“Sasuke…”
“It’s almost too much. Everything about Naruto, just being around him is so much, and it makes me wish I…but what he said to you and Dad, after he found me, when I told him I didn’t-when I told him I didn’t know what I was supposed to do, Naruto, he…”
He lowers his head, searches for the words that won’t easily come, words that won’t fully form, grasps for shallow impressions of sounds. A sharp inhale leaves his chest hollow, forces his eyes clenched shut, and his grip tightens, clutching at the fingers that aren’t squeezing back.
“…the only thing he did was ask me to stay.”
A steady stream of Korean becomes a low drone in the back of his mind, and he opens his eyes, swallows, breathes in careful, chest falling slow. Again, he squeezes Naruto’s hand, holding on a little tighter waiting for a response that won’t come.
There’s no response from his mom, either, but he doesn’t expect one. He doesn’t even know what he’s looking for, if there’s even an answer to any of this, so he isn’t surprised by her silence, because he already knows there’s nothing she can say.
But if Naruto were to see him like this…
Except Naruto won’t. Naruto can’t. He doesn’t want Naruto to worry about him, doesn’t need Naruto getting worked up for his sake over something that probably doesn’t mean anything at all, because Naruto would…
Without pause, without any will to relent, Naruto just takes and takes, keeps on taking until Sasuke can’t be sure there’s much of anything left, because there’s still that nascent fear, that once upon a time trepidation that Naruto would one day go away, it ended up turning into this-this, the only side of him he’s seemingly able to keep to himself, the same irrational part of him that can’t help but wonder if Naruto will still be here if he has nothing else to give.
And he knows it’s stupid. It’s all so damn stupid, not being able to say these kinds of things to Naruto without feeling helpless, without feeling this pervasive sense of loss, because he’s never been good at expressing the kinds of things he wishes Naruto didn’t somehow already seem to just know.
Pried from his throat is a meagre sound, this grating, deprecatory thing that comes out a little too bitter, too hoarse, leaves his mouth uncomfortably dry, but he only has himself to blame for always, always letting Naruto affect him so much.
“…I’m sorry. I don’t know why I’m acting so-I didn’t mean to-”
“No, you’re fine, Sasuke. You’re not-it’s fine. You don’t have to apologise. You have nothing to apologise for.”
He hears her sigh, almost forced, a slightly shaky sort of exhale.
“Even with you inviting Naruto to the wedding, bringing him home, I guess I didn’t realise the extent of how much you…”
The light from the TV flickers over Naruto’s skin, colours dark the white of Naruto’s shirt. Chest rising, Sasuke breathes out, releasing Naruto’s hand he lays on the bed. He makes a slow reach for his phone, tapping the screen twice to turn it off speaker mode, and then placing the phone against his ear.
“I’ve always worried about you, Sasuke. Your father and I, we both have. I know you’re old enough to understand a little better now, why we don’t really talk about it, but after waiting so long to even have Itachi, we’d expected your brother to be an only child.
“We were older when you came along, much older. Neither of us was really prepared for another pregnancy, and I’m not sure how we even it made it through that first year.
“All those nights we stayed in the hospital, all those wasted moments we weren’t even allowed to touch you, it was-” She inhales soft, even, but the sigh she releases comes out noticeably strained.
“Mom…”
“It’s amazing how much you really do take after your father. He won’t readily admit to these kinds of things, either, but after we were finally able to take you home, as determined as he was to watch over you every night- sometimes, your father would be too afraid to hold you, afraid anything he’d do would somehow manage to take you away from him, but even more so, he was afraid to leave your side, afraid for the day he’d never be able to hear you cry again, because you were small, Sasuke.
“You were still so small, and I don’t think either of us truly learned to cope with how many times we almost...”
Lips pressed together, gaze back towards the TV, Sasuke tries to focus on Gag Concert, tries to follow the end of the Veteran skit, barely able to register the beginning of Wiggle Wiggle.
He knows he was an unexpected pregnancy. With his parents already in their late thirties, there were complications, serious complications that led to his premature birth. Those first twelve months, he was in and out of the hospital, with his health more than a few times touch-and-go.
Even now, it’s still hard for anyone to talk about it, and not just his parents or his brother. Most of his family, because most of them did know, they kept it from him for a while. His parents didn’t decide to say anything until much later on, only a couple years ago, but finally knowing did help put a few things into perspective: why his relatives treated him so carefully, why his parents had so easily overlooked the fact he wasn’t as receptive to anyone outside of their family, let alone other kids his own age.
As large as his family is, growing up so close to everyone, it wasn’t something he began to notice until he was older.
“…maybe that’s why we tried so hard to hold onto you a little longer,” she says, “kept you sheltered you a little more. You’ve always been different, Sasuke. But that’s never made us view you as less than your brother. It just…it just made it harder for us to accept the idea of letting you go.
“I really don’t think we meant to treat you so differently. But maybe we were pushing you away. Instead of keeping you so close, maybe we should’ve-”
“That’s not why I...it wasn’t you or Dad. Or even Itachi. In the end, I don’t think it ever was. I just needed some time. To figure out what I was looking for.”
“Did you?”
“Not yet, but I think…” Sasuke licks his lips, giving a quick glance to the dark grey tie neatly folded on top of the ironing board. “I think I’m getting there.”
“Are you happy?”
“With Naruto?”
“That’s all we could ever want for you, Sasuke. Even if it means letting you go, whatever you decide to do, we only want you to be happy.”
“...well, I’m glad everyone liked Naruto.”
“After seeing you two together, I’m glad you gave us the opportunity to meet him.”
Sasuke ducks his head, unable to curb the small upturn of his lips. “I am, too.”
“Do you take care of him?”
“...I try to.”
“That doesn’t mean you cook for him, does it?”
Remembering his poor attempts preparing nearly inedible lunches for Itachi, Sasuke stumbles on a choked sort of mangled protest, fully blaming it on the effect of having spent too much time around Naruto. It’s still a little embarrassing, though, being reminded of that phase he went through when he was five, even coming from his mom, who was the one who actually encouraged his determination to cook for his brother.
He didn’t have an inherent knack for it, but he learned, gradually, discovering he was better off sticking to traditional Japanese food and, surprisingly enough, baking.
“I remember the first time you tried to make ganryu yaki,” his mom says, “when you dragged your bathroom stool into the kitchen in order to reach the stove. You’d already made a mess by the time your father and Itachi reached you. Somehow, they couldn’t agree on who would get to take care of you, but they both wanted to complain when you ran into my arms asking me to try the burnt dorayaki you made.”
“I don’t burn food anymore,” Sasuke says, purposely omitting all the times Naruto complained about being forcibly subjected to taste-testing the questionable looking food inspired by the recipes Kushina often found through highly questionable means. “I’m doing better now. A lot better.”
“You are,” she says simply, with an agreeable hum. “I only ask because the food you mentioned earlier, the raspberry white chocolate mousse cake and the braised pork, those are the ones you want to make for Naruto? The ones you said he liked the most? If they are, let me get the recipes before you leave.”
“We’ll be fine. That’s too much trouble to-”
“Humour me. Please.”
“Really, though, you don’t have to-”
“It’s not about whether or not I have to, Sasuke. I want to. I’m your mother. I don’t mind doing things for you. Considering how much Aunt Kayou spent leasing nearly the entire hotel, I doubt it’ll take much to pull a few strings with the staff. I just need to find out which of the restaurants did the catering. Your father’s still with Itachi and a few others at the bar. I’ll send a message to let him know.”
Wanting to recreate the food Naruto ended up liking so much, it was just something Sasuke mentioned in passing. He wasn’t actually expecting his mom to trouble herself going through the hassle of trying to get the actual recipes.
“If you have a chance to at least try the recipes, I think Naruto would really appreciate that.”
His mom’s one of the most obstinate people he knows, probably where he and Itachi get it from, so Sasuke accepts the subtle gesture for what it is, appreciative for it all the same. “Thank you, even though you don’t have to.”
“What time does your flight leave tomorrow?”
“Not until three.”
“At least it’s an afternoon flight. I’m only sorry you and Naruto won’t be able to stay longer.”
“Yeah.” Even if he and Naruto didn’t have their responsibilities at MOS Burger and Happy Camera, Sasuke isn’t sure he’d be comfortable staying in Yamaguchi much longer. After being separated from his family for so long, intentionally creating that distance between them, it’s not that he doesn’t miss it. Because he does.
Yamaguchi’s the home it’s always been, the home it always will be, but Narita has become a different kind of home, in that tiny little apartment he shares with Naruto a different part of his life that maybe doesn’t mean he has to leave everything else behind.
“Everyone still misses you, still talks about you. Your father and I, we…”
“...I miss being in Yamaguchi, too.”
“As often as you like to keep in touch, though, don’t forget your brother isn’t the only one who raised you.”
His days of being Itachi’s little shadow, how close he and his brother were-still are-that’s probably one of those things that’ll never go away, but Sasuke still manages a small smile at his mom’s quiet offer of understanding.
“Even though you live in Narita now, even though we still live in Yamaguchi, we’re still your parents. We’re always going to be your parents, Sasuke. Just...don’t be afraid to call us a little more often, all right.”
“I won’t.”
“Not to mention, the fact Naruto travelled all the way here to be with you, he’s already become popular, especially now that everyone knows about him making such a bold proposal, creating that kind of mood between you during a wedding.”
“It was only the four of us then. And that was five hours ago. How does everyone else know about it after five hours?” Sasuke’s left eye begins to twitch. “And what kind of mood is there supposed to be between Naruto and me? There is no kind of mood between us.”
“Apparently, everyone’s still trying to decide how you met. With his obvious dedication to photography, it’s only natural there are rumours that the first time Naruto saw you was from behind his camera.
“A misunderstood artist with a pure heart, by chance capturing a faraway silhouette, inspired by the moment their eyes first met, the return of his curious gaze instils a natural longing between two strangers.”
His mom’s too casual attempt at evasion not completely lost on him, again, with a sigh, Sasuke lets his shoulders fall, a little more resigned, that much more grateful Naruto isn’t awake to preen about his family’s seeming new pastime of coming up with scenarios trying to portray Sasuke’s life as some kind of too obvious romance drama.
If this is what Itachi has to deal with because of all the speculation surrounding his relationship with Mei, especially when it comes to the rumours about their possible marriage, well, maybe Sasuke shouldn’t have started some of them.
“…that sounds like something Uncle Obito would say.”
“It is.” His mom pauses. “At least according to the message Kagami sent your brother.”