Chapter Text
Winter arrived in Konoha like a cruel omen, without gentle warnings or kind transitions. The air grew heavier, and the streets were cloaked in an unusual silence, as if the village itself were holding its breath. The sky, covered in a dull gray, seemed sunken under the weight of thick, dark clouds that heralded not just a fierce storm, but something deeper, quieter.
Something approaching slowly, but surely.
The branches of the trees creaked under the icy wind, and the ground—though not yet snow-covered—felt hard, dry, as if the cold had drained even hope itself.
There was something different in the air that day, something even the ANBU couldn’t name, but that slipped through the cracks in the walls, beneath the doors, and settled in the chest like a weight—tight and unshakable.
Sasuke walks, hoping the unease inside him will dissolve with training. There’s a knot beneath his sternum that not even the cold has managed to tighten completely. Maybe, if he tires himself enough, if he focuses every muscle, everything will fall back into place.
He can make good use of Naruto’s hyperactive energy. Channel it. Turn his clumsiness into challenge, his shouting into rhythm. Maybe he can even shut him up for a while.
That would be enough.
“Sasuke-kun!” Sakura greets him.
She’s wearing a light sheep wool coat and dark boots that stand out against the damp ground.
She walks up to Sasuke with her hands in her pockets, her steps light, almost teasing the threat of rain that still hasn’t fallen.
“Kakashi-sensei canceled today’s mission,” Sakura informs him with a brief smile. “The whole village is getting ready for the storm.”
Sasuke nods without fully looking at her.
His attention drifts past her figure, to where Naruto is talking with Kakashi under the overcast sky.
There’s a soft blush on his cheeks and at the tip of his nose. His blond hair, unruly as always, seems to burn against the gray light. His skin, still sun-warmed, stands out with a quiet intensity. Unsettling.
In the middle of the dull day and the heavy humidity, Naruto shines.
He looks like summer.
He looks like he doesn’t belong in this gray world.
“What’s going on with those two?” Sasuke asks, making a slight gesture with his head toward Kakashi and Naruto, still talking beneath the leaden sky.
Sakura follows his gaze. She narrows her eyes, assessing the scene with the interest of someone who’s been paying close attention for a while.
”I’m not really sure, but it looks like Kakashi is scolding Naruto.” She sighs, a mix of exasperation and resignation. “Can you believe he didn’t even bring a coat? I had to give him my gloves so he wouldn’t get sick.”
Sakura frowns deeply, crossing her arms.
She mutters something else—quick words about how distracted Naruto is, how one day he’s going to give her a heart attack with his impulsive decisions. She says it with irritation, but there’s worry in her voice too. It’s the kind of complaint that only comes from closeness.
The conversation between teacher and student seems to be ending.
Kakashi pats Naruto on the back, like he’s passing on some invisible burden.
Naruto nods, half-silent, and walks away with heavy steps.
Kakashi calls Sakura over with a gesture, and she obeys without thinking much about it. Sasuke, on the other hand, stays where he is.
He watches Naruto walk away, his blond silhouette slowly disappearing down the streets that lead to the quieter part of the village.
He frowns.
It’s not like Naruto to leave without saying goodbye. Especially not without saying anything. Not to Sakura. Not to him.
Something’s off.
He thinks about following him, catching up with some casual excuse.
But then he hears his name.
“Hey, Sasuke.”
Kakashi’s voice stops him. It’s calm, but there’s a soft edge to it, like he knows exactly what Sasuke is thinking.
Like he’s waiting for that impulse.
Sasuke turns his head, looking at him with an expression that hides nothing—his face is serious, almost defiant. As if answering a question that hasn’t been asked yet.
“We need to make sure the village paths don’t get blocked by fallen trees from the storm,” Kakashi says, already turning on his heel.
Sasuke holds back a sigh of annoyance. He doesn’t want to spend the afternoon chopping down damn trees.
But he doesn’t want to spend it without Naruto either—though that second part isn’t something he’s willing to admit.
Not to Kakashi, not to Sakura.
Not even to himself, not too clearly.
He casts one last glance at the spot where Naruto’s silhouette disappeared into the streets. The wind picks up slightly, as if pushing that impulse to follow him.
But he doesn’t.
Against all logic—or maybe against all desire—he gives a curt nod and follows Kakashi and Sakura.
The latter seems uneasy too, maybe confused, but clearly less willing to follow Naruto. As if she doesn’t want to read between the lines of what wasn’t said.
“It will be. Naruto won’t settle until we get an S-rank mission,” Kakashi remarks with his usual casual amusement, as if everything in the world were just a lighthearted story.
Sasuke doesn’t respond.
No mockery, no sarcastic comment, not even an annoyed glance. The silence that swallows his words isn’t typical of him, and he knows it. But he can’t force himself.
The unease he felt upon waking hasn’t lessened; on the contrary, it spreads, growing sharper with every step away from Naruto. As if something important is happening just out of sight, and he’s walking in the opposite direction, unable to stop himself.
He looks up at the sky.
The clouds seem thicker now, darker.
There’s no rain yet, but the threat weighs down, gathering over rooftops and branches, pressing against his chest.
He can’t help but think that the storm brewing up there is forming inside him too.
That what roars in the sky isn’t so different from what burns in his chest.
Something is coming.
He doesn’t know exactly what, but he knows one of his worries has a name and blue eyes.
The sky darkens completely, and the storm arrives without breaking out, with a soft but steady rain—like cold fingers touching rooftops and stones. No thunder, not yet. Only the persistent murmur of falling water.
The locals lower their curtains, the lights go out one by one, and people disappear into the shelter of their homes. Families lock themselves inside, sharing the warmth of food and bodies. The village folds in on itself.
Sasuke listens to the rain hitting the roof of his house.
He is alone.
The Uchiha compound, once proud, now seems like a shadow of what it was. No candles are lit, no fire warms the cold hallways. Some empty houses have open windows, like sad eyes staring without seeing, letting the water in without resistance.
Everything feels stagnant, damp, abandoned.
It has never looked so dead.
Sasuke doesn’t know the exact moment he decides to leave—only that he does. He walks in the rain without caring about his coat, paying no attention to the path. The dampness soaks his clothes but doesn’t stop him.
It isn’t until several blocks later that he realizes how unsettled he is.
His breathing is ragged, even though he hasn’t run. His chest feels tight, as if someone is squeezing it from within. His throat is closed, as if he can’t swallow a single word. He trembles. But he’s not cold.
Sasuke closes his eyes and tries to control his emotions, but the storm won’t allow it. The rain intensifies, dense and determined, as if it also wants to drag everything away.
When he opens them again, the village looks unrecognizable.
The streets are empty, deserted as if the world has stopped. The wind shakes the tree branches, ripping off the last leaves of autumn and scattering them across the wet ground.
The houses are sealed, their windows firmly shut. Only a few let out faint lines of light through the cracks, like fearful sighs.
But then, something catches his attention.
Naruto’s house.
Unlike the rest, its windows aren’t completely covered. The curtains are thin, and the light shining from inside projects clearly, defying the darkness that blankets the village. It’s like a beacon in the middle of the storm, as if something inside still burns that no one has been able to extinguish.
Sasuke narrows his eyes.
The facade is guarded.
There are at least three shinobi posted around, moving discreetly. And on the roof, a familiar silhouette: Kakashi, with his unreadable expression, covered by rain, watching over the place as if protecting something that shouldn’t be touched.
Sasuke frowns.
He doesn’t like what he feels.
He approaches, determined. He’ll fight Kakashi if he has to. He’ll tear an explanation out of whoever is behind this.
But then, a roar cuts through the silence of the night.
An explosion shakes the village.
The sky lights up with an orange flash, and a column of smoke rises near the Hokage’s offices. Within seconds, chaos unfolds: screams, alarms, the crackling of flames devouring wet wood.
Sasuke watches it all for a moment.
If he were a better person, he would run to help. But he’s never claimed to be. And he won’t start now.
He takes advantage of the distraction without remorse and slips over the rooftops like a shadow, heading straight for Naruto’s house.
Something stirs inside him.
The anxiety, once so tight and tense like a poorly tied knot, begins to loosen, unraveling little by little.
It doesn’t disappear, but changes shape: turning into irritation, urgency, the tense impulse of someone who can’t stand not understanding.
He’ll demand answers from that usuratonkachi.
He’ll yell at him for not going to help so the roads wouldn’t get blocked, for disappearing without warning, for not showing up to training as promised.
He’ll throw one reproach after another, because Sasuke isn’t patient, and because not knowing what’s wrong with Naruto twists his stomach.
But those thoughts—those excuses to get closer—dissolve the moment he opens one of Naruto’s windows and slips into the room, sliding like a shadow through the rain.
The air is warm. And the scent hits him immediately.
Sweet. Intense. Unmistakable. Omega.
The world seems to stop.
Sasuke stays still, his hand still resting on the window frame. His breath catches, as if all the air in the room had suddenly thickened, becoming heavier.
His body reacts before his mind.
He feels it at the base of his neck, deep in his gut. A primitive warning, as visceral as it is ancient. Because that scent doesn’t belong to just any omega.
It’s Naruto’s.
His partner. Sasuke can’t say they’re friends, but neither can he say they’re indifferent to each other. He was willing to give his life to save Naruto, so Naruto could fulfill his dream.
His alpha stirs within him, a dull echo awakened by the scent in the air. It pushes him, almost urgently, to follow the trail.
Naruto smells like gentle summers and unspoken promises. Like warm jasmine, sweet milk, and the stillness of a dawn no one else sees.
It’s a calm, comforting scent, one that doesn’t belong to this world… but it settles deep in Sasuke’s chest as if it had been with him all his life.
Sasuke closes the window behind him and moves silently through the house. The scent grows stronger as he approaches the small futon spread in the middle of the room. There’s no heating, but blankets are carefully piled nearby.
And there, curled in a fetal position, lies Naruto, asleep.
Naruto trembles in his sleep. His cheeks are flushed, his body glistens with a thin sheen of sweat.
Sasuke stays completely still, watching.There’s no doubt. Naruto is in heat. And he’s completely alone.
Sasuke holds his breath. He keeps it in as if that could smother the fire starting to build inside him.
Naruto is in heat. And he’s an alpha.
He knows what that means. He knows what could happen if he lets go, if he stays too close, if he gives in even a little. Everything in him—his training, his control, his cold logic—screams at him to leave.
But he can’t.
Because he also knows—with unbearable certainty—that Naruto is alone.
And no omega should go through their first heat alone.
Sasuke moves carefully, like any noise might break something. He approaches the futon and kneels beside it. Naruto’s body trembles under the blankets, his breathing is uneven, and a faint sound escapes his throat—half whimper, half struggle, as if he’s fighting his own body even in sleep.
Sasuke gently brushes a damp strand of hair from his forehead. He’s burning up.
He gets up and checks the kitchen. No medicine. No regulating seals. No protective markings on the door.
“Idiot…” he mutters under his breath.
He prepares a cool damp cloth and returns, placing it carefully on Naruto’s forehead.
Then Sasuke stays there, sitting on the floor beside the futon.
He listens to the rain hitting the windows, feels the way Naruto’s sweet scent fills the house, and forces himself to stay calm.
“Sasuke,” Naruto murmurs, and his heart skips a beat.
He knows what happens when an alpha and an omega are together during a heat. Or at least, he’s read about it in medical scrolls. He’s heard the older chuunin whisper about it with half-laughs. Even if he doesn’t fully understand it—doesn’t know the details—he knows it’s something meant for adults.
Still, he remembers his mother’s voice one quiet night, soft and low, telling him that heats don’t always have to be sexual. At least, not the first ones.
The body craves comfort. Warmth. Company.
But if an alpha stays—if they remain until the end— a bond is formed.
An invisible link. Silent. Unbreakable.
Sasuke swallows hard. His face grows warm. A faint blush creeps across his cheeks.
He’s alone with Naruto.
Naruto, who trembles and calls out in his sleep without realizing it.
Naruto, who is just as young as he is.
Who should not be going through this alone.
He remembers how his mother spoke of her first heat. How his father—stoic and distant to the world—had stayed by her side without saying much. Just there.
“Since then,” Mikoto had once told him, brushing his hair, “I never felt alone again.”
Sasuke still doesn’t understand it. He hasn’t been an alpha for long, and he barely knows how to navigate his own biology. He’s never reacted to other omegas before—but this is different.
Because this omega isn’t just anyone.
It’s Naruto.
They already share a bond—but Sasuke knows the one his mother spoke of wasn’t the kind teammates have. Or even friends.
It’s something more intimate.
Something that reminds him of what he once had with his family.
Naruto keeps mumbling nonsense. He squirms, letting out the occasional pained whimper.
Sasuke watches him in silence and gently takes his hand—so Naruto can feel his chakra, his presence, his warmth.
And in the dark of the room, with the sound of the storm covering everything outside,
Sasuke closes his eyes.
He won’t let Naruto go through this alone.
Sasuke.
Sasuke.
Sasuke.
The scent of jasmine pulls him from the edge of sleep—heavy, enveloping, too real to be part of a dream. He feels warm. Too warm. Like he’s wrapped in another body’s heat.
He opens his eyes slowly. It takes several seconds to register where he is.
The futon isn’t his. The blankets aren’t his. And right in front of him is a tangle of blond hair.
Naruto is sleeping, curled up beneath thick covers, surrounded by the same scent that unraveled Sasuke completely the night before.
Sasuke’s arm is around him. Their legs are tangled naturally.
He’s pressed up against him, chest to back.
He’s the big spoon.
Sasuke blinks, disoriented.
He remembers staying at the house last night, sitting, keeping watch.
He remembers Naruto writhing in fever and muffled whimpers, seeking comfort from the pain inside him.
He remembers telling himself he’d just watch over him from a distance.
And yet...
At some point in the night, his body made the decision for him.
It got up.
Moved closer.
Climbed into the futon.
Claimed a place beside the omega.
Naruto is there, tangled around him like he’s always belonged.
Not just their bodies—something deeper, more instinctive, more unexplainable—seems to recognize the touch as necessary. The scent of jasmine and warm summer mornings lingers in the air like an invisible veil, soft and all-consuming.
Sasuke’s body reacts before his mind can stop it. His breathing slows, turns careful. His entire system is on alert—but not because of danger. Because of what this means.
What it is—to be here, with him. With Naruto.
He’s never seen him like this before.
Asleep, yes. Injured, too. Exhausted after missions, or thrilled over ramen. But not like this.
Not vulnerable. Not caught in the haze of heat, both restless and oddly peaceful in the way people are only when they’ve surrendered completely. Even now, Naruto’s brow is furrowed in discomfort, a reminder that this is only the beginning.
Sasuke knows heats vary for everyone, but for omegas, they’re raw. Visceral. And Naruto has always been physical—driven by his emotions, even when he tries to hide it.
He remembers his own first rut—not that long ago. It confused him. It hurt. It felt like the world had shifted without his permission. But he was prepared—at least in theory.
Naruto wasn’t.
No one warned him. No one stayed.
Sasuke swallows, his mouth suddenly dry.
He wonders where the hell Kakashi is. Or the Hokage. Or someone. No one should go through this alone. Naruto should’ve had people—people he trusted.
But he doesn’t even have curtains on his windows. He didn’t even know this was coming. What would’ve happened if Sasuke hadn’t shown up?
He had. Sasuke. He slipped into the house effortlessly, moved by an impulse he still doesn’t fully understand.
What if it had been someone else?
The thought sends a shiver down his spine. Because Naruto is an omega.
And he smells…too good.
He doesn’t want to think about tragic things. He doesn’t want that part of him to take control. It’s already hard enough to be here, to be this close, to feel Naruto’s warm breath against his chest. He has to be stronger. More rational.
And yet…
If someone is going to be by his side in a moment like this… it has to be him.
Naruto’s voice pulls him out of his thoughts. It’s low, barely louder than the sound of rain tapping against the windows.
“Sasuke…”
“Naruto?” he replies, keeping his voice soft, calm. Or at least, he tries to.
Outside, the wind keeps blowing hard. The village is silent, like the storm has blanketed everything in stillness. Sasuke doesn’t know how long it’s been since he fell asleep, or how many hours they’ve spent tangled up on that shared futon. The heat between their bodies is almost unbearable, but he doesn’t move. He can’t.
“Stay…” Naruto murmurs, barely audible.
Sasuke doesn’t need to think.
“I’m not going anywhere, usuratonkachi.”
The words are dry, but there’s no harshness in them. He says it the way you say a promise you don’t break. He says it like someone committing to something he doesn’t fully understand, but still wants to protect.
“Thank you.”
Just one word. But it breaks him.
Sasuke blinks, unsure how to react to that gratitude. It’s not something he usually receives. It’s not something he seeks, either. But coming from Naruto… it feels different.
The omega shifts against him, and Sasuke feels his warmth, his breath, his vulnerability. He wants to stay like this. Forget everything else. Bury his nose in the curve of Naruto’s neck and let that scent lull him to sleep. But he’s not here to give in to his instincts. He’s here to take care of him.
And Naruto hasn’t had a single sip of water.
With effort—and some reluctance—Sasuke begins to sit up. The heat of the futon pulls him back, and so does Naruto’s body. But he forces himself to move. He can’t afford to let his guard down.
Just as he’s about to get up, Naruto turns and grabs him tightly. His arms wrap around Sasuke’s waist like an anchor.
“Naruto…” he says patiently, “you need to drink some water.”
“No,” Naruto mumbles sleepily. “Stay with me.”
And then, in a breath that brushes softly against his neck:
“You smell so good, Sasuke…”
Sasuke goes completely still.
His heart leaps violently in his chest, and for a moment, he forgets how to breathe. He feels Naruto’s nose pressing into his skin, feels the weight of his body curled up against him… and blushes all the way to his ears. Literally.
Aren’t those things you’re not supposed to say to a teammate?
Sasuke isn’t sure. No one ever explained how any of this works. He knows the basics: biology, instincts, hierarchies... what they teach at the academy and what he’s overheard in half-whispered adult conversations. But he never stopped to think about what you’re supposed to do when one of those adults… is you.
The only example he has of a bonded pair is his parents. His mother with her soft voice, and his father so stoic he might as well have been a piece of clan furniture. They were already married. They already knew what to do. But Sasuke… Sasuke barely understands how liking someone even works. He doesn’t know what happens after holding someone. He doesn’t know what it means to wake up with someone’s scent still clinging to his clothes.
Is he supposed to court Naruto?
The thought hits him so hard he blinks, stunned. Is that how it works? Going through heat together—does that mean they’re already… bonded? Committed? Sleeping in the same futon, holding each other—does that make them something more than teammates? Is he expected to do something now? Buy flowers? Ask the Hokage for permission? Get married?
They’re still too young to marry, he tells himself, throat tightening. But… maybe someday. When they’re older. When all of this stops feeling so overwhelming. When he understands what someone’s supposed to do when they wake up with an omega whispering things into their neck.
“Why do you smell so good?” Naruto asks suddenly, lifting his head.
His voice is hoarse and sleepy, his eyes barely open. His pupils are blown wide, so much so that only a thin rim of blue remains. And he looks at Sasuke like he’s the only thing that matters.
Sasuke swallows hard. He can feel the blush coming back, stronger now, clumsier.
“I don’t know,” he answers quietly, eyes turning away. “It’s not something you can control…”
Naruto squints, as if thinking. But he just looks more confused. Or more attached.
Sasuke clears his throat.
“You need to eat something,” he says quickly, almost like an escape. His tone sounds firmer than he feels, and that grounds him a little.
Because if there’s one thing he does know how to do… it’s take care of Naruto.
Naruto doesn’t protest when Sasuke slowly sits up, but his fingers cling to Sasuke’s shirt like his body doesn’t know how to let go yet. Sasuke lets him. He doesn’t dare push him away. Instead, he places a hand on his back—steady, but gentle.
“Come on,” he says. “You won’t be able to stand if you don’t eat something.”
Naruto nods slowly, eyes heavy, cheeks still flushed. He walks with clumsy steps, as if his body is still learning how to move under this new rhythm, this new skin.
Sasuke guides him down the hallway, dimly lit only by the muted light of the overcast sky and the soft glow of the storm. The rain hasn’t stopped, and every drop against the windows is a reminder that outside, life goes on. But in here, the world has shrunk. It’s smaller. Warmer. Quieter.
They reach the kitchen. It’s a mess.
Sasuke’s never cooked more than the bare essentials, and Naruto… well, Naruto lives off instant ramen and cold rice.
He stares at the drawers like he’s expecting one of them to reveal the right answer. He takes a breath.
“I’ll make you something,” he says—like a promise. Like Naruto’s recovery depends on it. Like his entire life hinges on whether he can boil water without burning the kettle.
Naruto slumps into a chair. He rests his arms on the table and drops his head onto them, like the walk from the futon to here drained the last of his energy.
Still, he doesn’t stop watching him.
Sasuke pretends not to notice. But he does. He feels it. Like a constant current under his skin. The heat Naruto gives off. That soft scent of jasmine and summer that still lingers in the air. His presence fills everything.
He looks for rice. Finds something that might be eggs. There are barely any seasonings, but there’s a small pot, and that’ll do. He makes something simple, his movements tense and silent. Not because he’s uncomfortable, but because it feels like any sound might break the fragile stillness between them.
He serves the hot rice in a bowl and brings it to Naruto with trembling hands.
“It’s nothing special…” he mumbles, avoiding his gaze.
Naruto lifts his head. His blue eyes gleam just a little brighter. He picks up the chopsticks slowly, takes a bite, and then—smiles.
“Thanks, Sasuke.”
And just like that, Sasuke’s world shrinks again—to that moment. To a half-asleep omega, smiling with rice on his cheek… and to an alpha far too young to understand everything it means, but sure enough to know he wants to protect him.
He stays close as Naruto eats, watching every bite like it’s an S-rank mission. The omega seems more aware now, but still exhausted, like every movement costs more energy than he has. Sometimes he pauses mid-bite, chopsticks hanging in the air, and Sasuke, without a word, offers him water or cuts the food into smaller pieces.
Naruto doesn’t resist.
He lets Sasuke care for him in silence, as if he’s slowly adjusting to this new dynamic that settled between them without warning.
“Feeling better?” Sasuke asks as Naruto leans back in the chair.
Naruto nods with a soft sigh. “Yeah, I think… I needed that.”
He sets the bowl aside and rests his cheek against the table, eyes half-lidded. He doesn’t say anything more, just lets the silence return—like the food calmed his body, but not quite his mind.
Sasuke feels like he should do more. Just being there doesn’t seem enough. Not when Naruto still looks so vulnerable.
“You should…” he starts, and his voice catches. He swallows hard and tries again, steadier: “You should build a nest.”
Naruto blinks slowly, as if he misheard.
“A what?”
Sasuke clears his throat, a faint blush creeping up his cheeks.
“A nest. It’s… something omegas do during their first presentation or when they go into heat. It helps calm the symptoms. Regulates your body temperature, your scent. Makes you feel… safe. Protected.”
Naruto watches him as if trying to piece together a new puzzle. His pupils are still dilated, dark, but his expression is clearer than it was a while ago.
“A nest, like a bird’s?”
Sasuke looks away, uncomfortable. “More like… a pile of blankets, pillows, clothes. Things that smell like you. Or someone who makes you feel safe.”
The silence that follows is different from before. Naruto processes it. He doesn’t mock, doesn’t protest. He just nods very slowly.
“Does that work?” he asks quietly.
Sasuke nods.
“That’s what they say. It’s… natural. Instinctive.” A pause. “I can help you if you want.”
Naruto looks at him in surprise, and for the first time in hours, his lips curve into a small, genuine smile.
“You’d come with me?”
“Yes.” The word comes out before Sasuke can even think it. “You’re not going to go through this alone.”
Naruto straightens up, still trembling, and reaches out his hand. Sasuke takes it firmly, feeling warmth run through his arm as if he just sealed a promise.
Walking back to the room isn’t easy. Naruto stumbles a little, and Sasuke offers his shoulder. They say nothing; they don’t need to. Once there, Sasuke pauses for a moment, assessing.
“The bed won’t do,” he finally says. “It’s too open. We need a corner.”
Naruto nods as he surveys his room. He moves instinctively, and this time Sasuke doesn’t follow but stays close in case the omega trips. He lets Naruto choose a spot, and when Naruto seems satisfied picking the corner against the wall near a low bookshelf, Sasuke steps back to give him space.
“Blankets, pillows, clothes?” Naruto murmurs, repeating Sasuke’s words.
Sasuke watches him from the doorway. Naruto is crouched over the futon, surrounded by crumpled blankets he shifts from one side to the other without conviction. He throws them over his shoulders just to take them off immediately. He rearranges one pillow, then another, grumbles softly under his breath, and finally falls back into the middle of the makeshift mess, arms spread out like he’s surrendering.
Sasuke has read about this. About the biological need omegas have to build a nest during their presentation. A safe, soft, warm space. A refuge that smells like protection, like belonging. Like home.
But Naruto doesn’t seem to know how to do it. And for some reason, that hurts Sasuke more than he expected.
“I don’t have anything that smells like you…” Naruto murmurs, frowning. He doesn’t say it as a request. It doesn’t sound like a complaint. He says it like it’s just a fact — something missing that he doesn’t know how to fix.
Sasuke tenses from head to toe.
Naruto doesn’t know. He doesn’t understand. But that comment is everything. It’s a bridge, an invitation, an involuntary offering that screams louder than anything else he’s said.
In the world of alphas and omegas, offering or asking for someone’s scent is sacred. And Naruto, unaware, innocent, just did it without blinking.
Sasuke lowers his gaze and slowly takes off his jacket. He holds it for a moment in his hands. It still carries the warmth of his body, its scent mixed with street dust and the humidity in the air. Something of his, deeply his.
He approaches without a word and offers it to Naruto.
Naruto takes it instantly, breathes it in without hesitation, and curls up with it as if it’s the most natural thing in the world. He closes his eyes and lets out a small, relieved sigh, as if his body can finally let its guard down.
“Thank you…” he says softly. “It smells warm. I like how you smell, Sasuke.”
The name leaves his mouth like a warm breeze, and Sasuke finally understands what it means to feel butterflies in his stomach.
“You’re just going to stand there?” Naruto asks without opening his eyes, gesturing with his hand. “Come. There’s space here.”
Sasuke doesn’t move.
He looks at him. Watches him. That figure tangled in blankets with his jacket held close to his chest, messy hair, cheeks still flushed from the inner heat, his body slightly trembling.
And that outstretched hand.
“Naruto…” he tries to say something, anything. Stop him. Warn him. But he can’t.
Because Naruto doesn’t understand what he’s doing. He doesn’t know how intimate it is to invite an alpha into his nest. He doesn’t know what it means. What it could imply for both of them.
He doesn’t know… but he trusts him.
And that hurts even more.
Sasuke takes a step. Then another. With measured movements, as if he could break something just by breathing too hard, he kneels down and slides into the nest.
The air changes immediately. It smells of warmth, sweetness, jasmine, and gentle summer. Everything is soaked in Naruto. But what unsettles him the most is the sense of peace inside that small space of blankets. As if the outside world stopped existing the moment he crossed that invisible boundary.
Naruto instinctively settles in, curls up against him without thinking, and rests his head on his chest.
Sasuke stays still. His heart pounds in his chest so hard he’s sure Naruto can hear it. The omega says nothing. He just sighs, clutching Sasuke’s jacket like an anchor, a lifeline.
And for a moment, everything is silent.
Sasuke closes his eyes. He takes a deep breath.
He knows he should pull away. Keep his distance. They’re crossing lines they don’t even fully understand. Naruto is vulnerable, and he’s an alpha. If anyone saw them like this, they could misinterpret everything. Or worse… they might be right.
But he also knows he can’t leave him. That night, in that quiet room, beneath the never-ending rain, something is happening between them.
Something as soft and silent as the scent that lingers in the air.
“Are you comfortable?” he asks, his voice hoarse, almost a whisper.
Naruto nods against his chest. “Yes… with you, yes.”
Sasuke clenches his teeth. He says nothing.
He just strokes Naruto’s hair with awkward fingers. The same gesture he remembers his mother using when he was a child. The same one she used to calm him when everything felt too overwhelming.
Maybe, Sasuke thinks, the nest isn’t just for the omega.
Maybe, Sasuke thinks, the nest isn’t just for the omega.
Maybe he needed this too. To be chosen. To be needed. To be part of something beyond the war, beyond duty.
And within that small universe of blankets, warmth, and ragged breaths, Sasuke silently promises—without saying it out loud—that no matter what happens when this is over, tonight he’s going to stay.
Because Naruto chose him.
And he chose Naruto.
Sasuke.
Sasuke.
S-Sasuke.
He snaps his eyes open.
The ceiling he sees isn’t the one from the dream, but for a moment, he can’t tell where the fantasy ends and reality begins. The air in the room feels heavy, dense, as if it still holds the warmth of the entwined bodies his mind had conjured.
His chest rises and falls sharply. He’s sweating. His forehead is soaked, his neck damp, and his underwear sticks to him with a damp heat that won’t go away.
The same dream again.
Naruto.
But not the Naruto he left behind at twelve years old. Not the loud, stubborn, energetic kid who insisted on calling him “teme.” No. This Naruto is older. Stronger. More real. His arms are defined from training, his neck longer, his voice deeper. His chakra is thicker, more enveloping. And yet, when he calls Sasuke in the dream, his voice is soft, almost vulnerable.
“Sasuke.”
Naruto says his name with a sigh, his eyes shining in a way Sasuke doesn’t remember ever seeing awake. He approaches him in that dreamscape — a clearing bathed in blue moonlight — and reaches out his hand as if he knows Sasuke will take it. And Sasuke does. He always does.
In the dream, their fingers intertwine, as if they fit perfectly. As if they’ve always been parts of the same divided body.
And then there’s the scent.
That damn scent.
The same one he’s been chasing for years, even when he swears he’s forgotten it: jasmine and summer. A gentle summer, not the scorching kind, but one that invites rest, staying. Belonging.
In the dream, Naruto smells just like that night of his presentation.
And Sasuke gives in.
He takes him in his arms, hugs him from behind. He listens to him whisper his name like a barely contained plea. Their bodies fit so perfectly that for a moment, Sasuke forgets it’s all just the product of a desire he’s tried to deny.
Sometimes he dreams of stroking his cheek, kissing his collarbone. Sometimes he stops there. Other times, when his body loses control, he dreams of having him pinned to the floor, hips aligned, breath ragged, lips inches apart, the need vibrating between them like electricity.
But the worst part isn’t the desire.
The worst part is the tenderness.
He looks at him and loves him.
With a softness that shatters him. And that’s the part that haunts him the most when he wakes up.
Because Sasuke doesn’t allow himself to feel this way. He doesn’t allow himself to long. He doesn’t allow himself to desire a future he can’t build.
He sits on the edge of the futon, elbows resting on his knees, head in his hands. Sweat slides down his back. His body still trembles, his groin burns, but what hurts the most is the hollow in his chest.
Because Naruto is far away.
Because he chose to walk away.
And yet… still, there isn’t a night when he doesn’t feel it.
That bond hasn’t broken.
He knows it. Not because he’s an alpha and Naruto an omega, not by instinct or inheritance. He knows because sometimes, when his chakra expands in dreams, he feels a response.
A presence calling him from somewhere else.
As if Naruto dreams him too.
As if, even asleep, their souls search for each other in the darkness.
Sasuke slowly stands up, walks to the sink, and splashes cold water on his face. He looks at his reflection. He looks older, more distant. But his eyes still betray him. They still carry Naruto’s name written at the center.
He hasn’t moved on yet.
Neither of them has. And maybe… maybe they never will.
Sasuke dries his face with a rough towel. The cold steam from the water has already faded, but the heat left by the dream still remains, anchored in his chest like a slow poison.
He can’t keep going like this. He can’t allow himself weaknesses. He can’t allow himself feelings.
He looks at his reflection once more, this time harshly. As if he could reproach the face in the mirror for every night lost thinking about Naruto. As if he could force himself to stop feeling.
He clenches his fists. He has to cut that bond.
That invisible tie that still vibrates in his chest every time he thinks of Naruto’s name. Every time he falls asleep. Every time he breathes.
“This isn’t real,” he whispers to himself. “It’s just a remnant… a shadow of what was.”
But he knows it’s not true. He knows Naruto is searching for him.
Sometimes, when he sleeps in distant places, when he hides under broken roofs or among cold branches, he feels the pull of Naruto’s chakra, like a thread that doesn’t break, no matter the distance between them. He knows the idiot hasn’t moved on.
Hasn’t given up.
And that makes him furious. Because he has. Or at least he tries every damn day.
He has chosen a path of no return, one stained with blood, hatred, and silence. A path that ends with his brother’s death, and maybe his own. There is no room on that path for caresses. For warmth. For jasmine. For Naruto.
He needs him far away.
He needs to forget him.
Because if he remembers, if he allows that bond to pierce him once again, if he feels it again like he did in that dream — so vivid, so present, so his — then he won’t be able to raise his sword. He won’t be able to kill Itachi.
And he promised.
He promised himself, his clan, the shadow that was his family.
Love has no place in his revenge.
And yet… every time he closes his eyes, Naruto calls him by his name. And he does it with such sweetness, such certainty, that Sasuke almost convinces himself he’s not lost.
But he is.
He has chosen the abyss. And the abyss is not shared.
He turns around with determination, sheathing his sword on his back. Another day. Another training session. He must make the most of his time and improve his skills.
As he walks, he roughly wipes the sweat from his forehead. His body still trembles; the heat consuming him feels like a curse he cannot extinguish. He hates waking up like this, with Naruto’s memory burning in his skin, with his name echoing in every beat of his chest. He hates that, even in dreams, that connection grips him and confuses him.
He finds himself walking down one of the corridors of Orochimaru’s headquarters, where the air is thick, heavy with humidity and a metallic smell of medicines and poorly sealed experiments. He thinks he’s alone, that he can regain control, but a too-familiar voice breaks the silence.
“Your chakra is unstable, Sasuke-kun. Are you sleeping poorly?” Kabuto asks, appearing at the end of the hallway with a folder in hand and a calculating smile.
Sasuke stops, clenching his teeth.
“That’s none of your business,” he replies dryly, trying to hide the tremor shaking his body.
Kabuto steps forward, never losing the smile, that mix of mockery and control.
“Oh, but it is. Everything about you is our business. Orochimaru-sama wants you in your best shape, especially now that your body is starting to react,” his tone becomes almost playful, “Could it be that you’re about to go through your first full heat? You should have passed it by this age, or are you repressing it for someone?”
Sasuke frowns, one hand instinctively reaching for the curse mark on his neck, tension rising in every part of his body.
“What did you say?” he mutters, voice low and dangerous.
Kabuto shrugs, feigning indifference.
“Nothing important. I’m just saying we know about that bond you have with that omega… Well, it might help you get through your rut. I can bring him to you whenever you want. You know, to help you finish waking up.”
Sasuke feels rage rise like a tidal wave. Kabuto doesn’t need to say the name; the word hangs in the air like invisible poison.
Naruto.
He takes a step forward, chakra beginning to spark across his skin. The Sharingan activates, veins around his eyes becoming pronounced. He’s a breath away from plunging his dagger into Kabuto, from unleashing all the fury he’s held back.
But a cold, serpentine voice stops him.
“Enough.”
Orochimaru emerges from the shadows, his presence looming and sinister, filling the hallway like a predator’s shadow.
“Kabuto,” he says with an enigmatic smile, “now is not the time to rattle Sasuke-kun’s temper. Can’t you see he’s exactly where we want him?”
Kabuto lowers his head, obedient.
“Of course, Orochimaru-sama.”
Sasuke doesn’t look away. His hands are trembling, not from fear, but from the fury and confusion threatening to consume him.
“You’ll have time to release that energy, Sasuke-kun,” Orochimaru murmurs, his gaze piercing, “but save it for what truly matters. Your training. Your revenge.”
He pauses. His voice turns to a poisonous whisper.
“Your destiny.”
Sasuke clenches his fists tightly, as if he could hold onto his thoughts and push them away.
Naruto is not his destiny. He can’t be. Not if it strays him from the path he’s chosen. Not if it weakens him. Not if it makes him feel.
“Understood,” he says quietly, though he’s not sure who he’s talkin.
From atop the ruins, the sky shines a sharp, almost painful blue. The sun beats down on the ancient stones, casting long, jagged shadows along their edges. It’s a clear day, not a single cloud in sight— as if the world itself refused to mirror the storm raging inside Sasuke. The sun’s warmth doesn’t reach him, doesn’t penetrate the shell of his body. There’s only emptiness. And the echo of a name he’s been repeating in his mind for days, weeks, years.
There they are.
Sakura. More grown, her chin held high, eyes hardened by things he doesn’t know. Kakashi’s replacement. That new boy, with an empty gaze and expressionless face. And—
Naruto.
His body freezes. Every muscle goes rigid. His pupils dilate just slightly, and for a second, his breath catches—held in as if something far too dangerous had just been summoned before him.
It’s him. There’s no doubt.
But he can’t smell him.
Sasuke frowns, irritated, uncomfortable, disoriented. Naruto’s chakra still burns like always—chaotic, unpredictable, bright. His presence is there, pulsing in the air like a constant. But the scent that once was unmistakable—sunlight, jasmine, and hints of lemon, something that could only be described as home—has vanished completely. It’s as if someone had ripped away a part of their bond. As if a veil now blocks that secret frequency only alphas can perceive.
That sensory absence unsettles him more than any threat.
He clenches his jaw, but he can’t stop the memories that flood him violently. Naruto’s scent mingled with the fabric of his own jacket in that makeshift nest. Those small but determined hands clutching him like his presence alone was enough to steady the world. His trembling voice asking him to stay.
And now there’s nothing.
The bond shouldn’t persist, and yet it does. Not with the same intensity as before, not with the clarity of heat during that first rut, but it still pulses—faintly—like an ember beneath the ashes.
This isn’t Team 7.
Kakashi isn’t there. He isn’t either. And that boy—that replacement, that stranger walking beside Naruto with the ease of someone who’s taken up an empty space—he doesn’t belong there. Sasuke feels a sharp, primal stab of something dangerously close to territorial jealousy. A senseless need to claim what is no longer his. Something he left behind. Something he chose to abandon.
So why does it burn?
Why is Naruto still looking for him?
Because he knows. Even from this distance, he can feel it. Naruto has been looking for him. The bond still exists—stretched to the point of breaking, but still intact. And that should make him angry. It should drive him to end everything once and for all.
But he can’t.
Not while he still doesn’t understand why his body trembles when he sees him.
The sun beats down harder, and sweat runs down his back. Or maybe it’s not the heat outside. Maybe it’s his own routine approaching—that dense energy that has been rising up his spine for days. Orochimaru has noticed. Kabuto has mocked him. And now, in front of Naruto, it all spills over. As if his body knows that what it needs is right there, just a few steps away, and it can’t reach it.
And then it happens.
Naruto lifts his face.
And says it.
“Sasuke.”
It’s not a shout. There’s no anger. No reproach. Just his name, spoken as if that alone could stop the years that have separated them.
And something in Sasuke breaks.
The sound cuts through him. It freezes him. Every fiber of his body vibrates with a mix of recognition and loss. His eyes lower, searching for him with almost instinctive urgency. And then they meet—blue against onyx.
Naruto looks at him like he never left.
As if there were no emptiness, no war, no desertion. As if their bond were so strong that not even distance could wear it down.
And Sasuke, who has endured a thousand storms, feels he can’t hold that gaze for long.
He can’t smell him.
He can’t know if he’s okay.
And that ignorance pushes him to the edge.
He has to go down there. Not out of nostalgia. Not out of longing. He repeats that to himself, furiously.
He has to go down because if the bond still lives, if Naruto still says his name in that voice... then he has to end it.
But his body doesn’t move. Not yet.
Because no matter how much he denies it, instinct stops him. Holds him back.
The bond keeps him grounded.
And for a moment—for one long, excruciating moment—Sasuke wishes Naruto would run to him.
He wishes it with such raw, violent force that his chest tightens. That he would hug him, call him by name like before, demand explanations, look at him with that desperation he used to hate... and secretly longed for.
But Naruto doesn’t move.
“Naruto?” Sasuke says, his voice feigning distance, as if he doesn’t recognize him, as if he hasn’t dreamed of him again and again.
“So Kakashi is here too?”
“I’m sorry, I’m not Kakashi-san. I’m his replacement,” says the dark-haired man in a neutral tone.
“The new Team Kakashi has come to take you back to Konoha.”
The silence that follows grows thick, motionless, unbearable.
Naruto remains still, rigid like a statue. He hasn’t said a word since their eyes met. His expression is pure shock. And that, far from satisfying Sasuke, irritates him.
“Team Kakashi?” he repeats softly, like tasting poison.
His gaze slowly moves across the faces present until it lands—cold and sharp—on the new member.
Sai. The replacement.
The stranger holds his gaze without blinking, drawing his sword calmly, never breaking eye contact.
“So he’s my replacement?” Sasuke scoffs, letting his voice swell with disdain. But his eyes remain fixed on Naruto. Always on him. “You said you wanted to protect my bonds. Protect the bond between Naruto and me.”
Sakura says something. Her voice slips through the air—useless, irrelevant. Sasuke doesn’t hear her. His entire body is taut, like a bow about to release. His mind can only focus on Naruto, on the way he remains silent. On the way he doesn’t stop him. On the way he doesn’t touch him.
“I want to act on my own whims,” Sai says suddenly, breaking into the electric field forming between the two.
“I think Naruto-kun will help me remember the emotions I used to feel.”
Sasuke raises an eyebrow, barely.
The irritation settles like molten lead in his stomach. That name. Naruto-kun. Spoken in someone else’s voice. Spoken by someone else.
“I severed my bonds,” he declares, voice cold and sharp. Every word is a blade thrown without remorse. “I only have one bond. A bond of hatred toward my older brother.”
Naruto looks at him. His eyes—wide, open, wounded. But he says nothing. Not yet.
“Too many bonds can confuse you,” Sasuke continues, and this time his gaze pierces through him. Holds him. Condemns him. “They weaken you. They blind you.”
And then Naruto truly looks at him. Sees him for what he is. And everything on his face becomes an impossible mix: anger, sorrow, disappointment… and a stubborn loyalty that refuses to die.
“Then why didn’t you kill me back then?!” Naruto shouts suddenly, and the tension snaps like a frayed thread. He takes a step forward, muscles trembling. “You think you cut it off with that, Sasuke?!”
Sasuke looks away for just a second. Just one. Then he meets his eyes again. His voice drops, as if the confession costs him.
“The reason is simple,” he says. He closes his eyes, opens them again—darker than before. “It’s not that I couldn’t sever the bond I shared with you.”
The world seems to stop. Even the wind holds its breath.
Naruto does too. His lips tremble.
Sasuke doesn’t want to remember. Doesn’t want to think of Itachi’s words. Of how even the freedom to choose how to hate was stolen from him.
“It irritated me to gain power through the method he told me,” he adds bitterly.
“What do you mean?” Naruto asks, sincerely confused.
“You don’t need to understand it.”
“Then why tell me?”
Sasuke’s voice lowers just slightly. His gaze cuts through him.
“The only thing you need to know is that I let you live on a whim of mine.”
Naruto doesn’t respond. His chest rises and falls, hard, with restrained fury. His eyes overflow with emotion. He’s about to explode. Or break. Or surrender.
And Sasuke can’t take it.
He still can’t smell him.
That olfactory void hits him harder than any kunai. Something is wrong. Something is… blocked.
With a swift, almost instinctive movement, Sasuke descends from his platform. In less than a breath, he is standing right in front of him. Just inches away. Almost touching him. The fabric of Naruto’s jacket brushes against his bare chest. And then he sees it. He understands. There’s a pheromone-suppressing patch stuck to his neck.
That’s why he couldn’t smell him.
That’s why he felt so blind.
“Wasn’t your dream to become Hokage?” he whispers into his ear, his voice low and rough, vibrating with a tension even he can’t control.
Naruto doesn’t flinch.
“If you had time to be behind me,” Sasuke continues without stepping back, “you should have spent it training. Don’t you think, Naruto?”
Sasuke draws his sword. He slides it out slowly, almost reverently.
“And now, on my whim, you will lose your life.”
Naruto doesn’t back down.
Doesn’t blink.
“A person who can’t even bring back their friend can’t become Hokage.”
The word “friend” poisons him. Naruto says it on purpose. Sasuke knows it. Because they aren’t just friends. Because they never were.
“Don’t you think, Sasuke?”
He says it mockingly. With a condescension that drives him mad.
Sasuke raises his sword with rage.
“Sasuke-kun!” Sakura screams, horrified.
But the sword doesn’t reach its target.
Before it can even touch Naruto, it’s stopped with force.
Sai has stepped in, his arm firm as steel.
“That kind of defense,” he says emotionlessly, “was the right decision.”
Sasuke doesn’t immediately lower his sword.
Sai’s strength is firm, yes, but his gaze means nothing to him. Nothing. He’s not here for Sai.
His breathing is heavy, though he hides it. The blade of his sword hovers millimeters from Naruto’s face, as if with just a flick of his wrist he could sever that bond once and for all.
But he doesn’t.
Because, deep down, he can’t.
And that infuriates him.
He doesn’t understand why he can’t cut. Why his arm won’t move. Why his body won’t obey.
That void. That pressure in his chest. That smell that isn’t there — that smell that always told him what Naruto felt before he could even put it into words — is now absent. The suppressor patch still covers his neck. Sasuke can’t read it. Can’t guess it. Can’t know if Naruto fears him, hates him, misses him. He’s in the dark. And that is intolerable.
Sasuke clenches his jaw.
He hates that darkness.
He hates not knowing.
He hates Naruto for letting him feel it.
And then, suddenly, Naruto grabs his arm. It’s direct contact. Skin on skin. A pressure that doesn’t hurt but burns.
His fingers are warm. Firm. Determined. As if he wants to stop him. As if he still thinks he has the right to touch him.
And that gesture — that intimate, simple, devastating gesture — is the limit.
Sasuke gives him no time.
No chance.
Chakra gathers with rage. With violence. With the fury of centuries. Of losses. Of betrayals. Of unwanted bonds.
In a single movement, Chidori bursts forth — roaring, electric, charged with intent. A shockwave cuts through the air like a lightning strike without warning.
Sai’s body is thrown backward like a rag doll, hitting the ground with a dry thud.
Naruto is pushed back too. He falls to his knees, gasping, his hand still trembling from the lost contact. From that connection broken before it could even form.
Sasuke stands still, his arm still tense, lightning crackling in his palm. The heat of the Chidori wraps around him like armor. Like an excuse. Like a wall.
He remembers Itachi’s words.
He remembers the weight of that night.
He remembers what was taken from him. What he chose to pursue. What he cannot forget.
Naruto is an obstacle. A reflection of a past he can never reclaim.
A bond he never wanted to accept… but couldn’t destroy.
“This changes nothing,” he says in a low, cutting voice. “This is what I am now.”
And he takes a step back.
The sky remains clear. Yet there’s something in the air threatening to break.
As if a storm were coming, even though the sun still shines.
Kakashi and Sakura’s replacements try to stop him. To catch him. They shout his name. Call him as if he were still the same.
Sasuke looks at Sakura and tries to convey all the indifference and disdain he feels. He suppresses the memories. The pink-haired girl’s concern. How she always stood by his side. The feelings she gave so freely without expecting anything in return. How disappointment never discouraged her. He sees the pain in her eyes. The worry. The unawareness.
But he doesn’t care.
He can’t care.
Everything happens quickly. He barely registers it in his mind as he moves automatically. The Sharingan activates with dangerous ease. Suddenly, he is inside Naruto’s mind.
A place red, wet. Dark as his hatred.
“Remove the seal, Naruto.”
That’s what Sasuke hears.
Naruto extends his hand to the Nine-Tails beast. He looks conflicted. Serious, as Sasuke has rarely seen him.
That’s when Sasuke decides to intervene.
To make his presence known. To remind him he’s not alone in there.
“So that’s where that power comes from.”
Naruto turns and looks at him in surprise but says nothing.
“Those eyes. The Sharingan,” the beast recognizes.
“So you’re familiar with my clan.”
The Nine-Tails watches him silently.
“Reminds me of Madara Uchiha.”
Then Sasuke touches it. His chakra imposes itself arrogantly. With determination.
He suppresses its power as if closing a door.
“I don’t know the guy.”
Naruto watches, shocked, as the fox disappears.
“Don’t kill Naruto,” the beast says one last time as it dissolves into the air. “You’ll regret it.”
Naruto approaches him, unsure about touching him again. His eyes still hold all those emotions Sasuke wants to tear out.
“How are you here?” Naruto repeats, but this time softer. More intimate.
Sasuke looks at him. Really looks at him. Sees him like the first time he did — when he was a noisy idiot with ramen on his face. Like when he jumped into the water to save him without thinking. Like when he held him as the seal consumed him. Like when he saw him bleed protecting him. Like when...
He hates him for still being the same.
He hates him for not having changed.
For still looking at him like that.
“That doesn’t matter,” Sasuke finally says, his voice deep, low. “The only thing that matters is that you don’t understand.”
“What don’t I understand?” Naruto takes another step closer. Almost chest to chest. His hands tremble, but he doesn’t back away. “That you’re alone? That you left to get stronger to kill your brother? That you convinced yourself this bond is a burden?”
“Because it is!” Sasuke spits, his eyes burning with rage. “You’re a burden. Your words, your stubbornness. This... bond —” he says it like it’s poison — “prevents me from doing what I must.”
Naruto lowers his gaze for a moment, as if something pierced him. But he doesn’t move away. Doesn’t give up.
“I don’t care what you say,” he replies. His voice is soft, steady. Hurtful in its honesty. “I’m not giving up on you, Sasuke. Even if you reject me. Even if you hate me. Even if you attack me.”
Sasuke trembles. Not outwardly. Inside.
Because he would. He could.
He could go to him right now, with that little chakra still vibrating in his body, grab him by the nape, and kiss him like it’s the last time. He could make him burn, mark him. He could break him, possess him, claim what was always his without saying it.
Naruto is there. Within reach. Looking at him without fear.
He could take him.
But he doesn’t.
Because if he does... there’s no turning back.
Because if he touches him, if he kisses him, if he allows himself to want him, he won’t be able to let him go.
And he needs to let him go.
“You’re such an idiot,” Sasuke whispers, his voice breaking, his heart beating with a rhythm impossible to ignore. “So damn stubborn.”
And then he pushes him.
Not violently. But decisively.
He breaks the distance. Breaks the tension. Breaks what he doesn’t dare to touch.