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“Sasuke.”
The air is heavy, dense, suffocating; it is as if the earth itself is holding its breath. The name cuts through the silence, quiet but enough to make him freeze mid-step. His back remains to Naruto, spine stiff, breath caught like he’s bracing for impact. He exhales once, slow and shaky, before forcing out a single word.
“No.”
It leaves his mouth with that practised firmness he’s clung to for years, the kind of decisive finality he’s always wanted to believe in. But never—not when it comes to Naruto—has he been certain.
Naruto takes a step forward, the leaves crunching beneath his sandals loud in the still night. “Sasuke, please—”
Sasuke’s fists tighten until his nails dig crescents into his palms. His chest feels too tight, his voice rough when he snaps, “Just don’t.”
Naruto exhales sharply, his breath uneven, ragged like it is tearing his lungs apart. “But why—”
“Because, Naruto,” Sasuke says, turning around just enough for the moonlight to catch the sharp line of his profile. His voice wavers once before he clamps down on it. “Because.”
The weight of that word hangs between them like a blade, and neither needs to ask what it means. Sasuke does not need to elaborate, because it is known. It is a mutual understanding between the two.
Sasuke knows it, Naruto knows it.
It is known.
It is known, and therefore, it should not be voiced out loud. It should not be expressed, it should not be conveyed, it should not be brought to life. It should remain forbidden and trapped strictly as a whispered conversation between their souls that can never surface.
But Naruto…Naruto is not one to go down without a fight. Naruto has never been the type to let things die in silence. Acceptance has never really been his thing, after all.
And so Naruto fights for it like he always has.
“Sasuke,” he tries again, crossing the short distance until he’s close enough to reach out. His hand—his only hand, Sasuke is forced to remember—trembles as it lands on his shoulder. The warmth of his touch seeps through the fabric like fire, like shackles, like salvation.
Sasuke tenses, his entire body going rigid.
His instinct screams at him to shove it away, to spit venom and tell him to fuck off and die until Naruto retreats, except Naruto himself has already offered to do that once for him out of his own free will, and he almost fulfilled the request alongside him at the Valley of the End, which makes Sasuke unable to bring himself to say it.
It wouldn’t be fair.
It would be too cruel.
It would hurt too much.
So, all Sasuke is brave enough to say with his voice breaking against his will is, “Don’t do this.”
He wants it to come off as an annoyed request, a sharp dismissal. Instead, however, it sounds like it is coming from a place of desperation. It is a raw plead, a desperate cry, and everything in between.
Because he knows Naruto understands.
He knows Naruto understands his language. It is a language that, to Sasuke’s demise, Naruto has been fluent in since the very beginning, and one he’s spent years perfecting—that is, the language of what he doesn’t dare express.
Please don’t do this to yourself, is what Sasuke really meant, and don’t do this to me.
Naruto stills, his breath shuddering. His shoulders shake faintly, his voice cracking like it is splintering under the weight of something enormous. “But I can’t,” says Naruto. “I can’t, Sasuke. It’s just not in me to.”
And Sasuke knows this to be true. Sasuke knows it to be true because, for one, Sasuke knows Naruto through and through.Sasuke knows him to the very fibers that make up his being. Sasuke has known him in ways he can never properly articulate.
I know your heart well, he had said once, and you mine.
And you mine.
Secondly, Sasuke knows this to be true because Naruto is not a liar. Naruto voices truth like it is running in his veins—because it is. Naruto is truth and light and honesty and righteousness and goodness incarnate. These qualities are etched into his very being, spoken in every glance, every broken syllable.
But Sasuke?
Sasuke is not.
Sasuke is dishonesty and darkness and iniquity and unrighteousness, and worst of all—a liar. It comes easy to him, because it seems like that’s all he’s ever been constituted by. After all, it is what he has survived on. The one constancy in his life besides Naruto is his tendency to lie; his tendency to hide the true sentiments of his heart.
Nonetheless, the one thing Sasuke has left to pride himself on is not giving into his desires. The only honour he has left is in that denial, in refusing to crave what he cannot rightfully claim. He may be a liar, he may be a sinner—the worst of all, even—but what he is not is a covetous person. His wants have never been fulfilled, and he has intended for it to remain that way for as long as he can remember.
And so, because Sasuke is a liar and only honourable in his ability to not give in to his greedy wants—even as the personification of his desires stands before him—he does not give in.
Therefore, Sasuke says not what his heart wants to say, and instead says nothing.
And yet—
And yet they are yin and yang, after all, so Sasuke doesn’t mind being the worse half to his better half. Not when Naruto perfectly balances them out and completes them.
Naruto tries again, voice trembling. “Sasuke…“
Sasuke inhales sharply, as if the air itself burns to breathe. His lips part, ready to say something, anything—everything—but the words choke him, caught and strangled before they can escape. Nothing will ever escape him, because what he really wants to say is kept safe in his dark, wretched and twisted heart.
Except the fact remains that they are yin and yang, after all—a fact that will remain until the very end of time and begin—and so, as always, Naruto says what Sasuke cannot.
“Sasuk—“ Naruto swallows, his throat bobbing hard, a sob tearing free, and Sasuke’s heart breaks once more and continues to do so all over again, “—Sasuke, I…”
Please don’t say it, he pleads silently, because his being is not worthy of being the receiver of the words Naruto means to convey. Not in this lifetime, and not the next. Accepting it—let alone hearing it—would be his worst sin to this day.
But Naruto is brave, which makes sense because he is everything Sasuke is not, and so he turns him around with a sorrowful mix of conviction and desperation.
Naruto doesn’t flinch as he comes face to face with Sasuke’s silent tears flowing freely down his pale face, because it mirrors his own expression.
Sasuke decides it is worth hoping one last time. Please don’t say it, please don’t—
But Naruto says it. His voice fractures like brittle glass. “I am…” He vacates his trembling hand from Sasuke’s shoulder to bring it flat over his chest, where it seems like his heart trashes against his ribs like it is trying to break free. “I am for you.”
And Sasuke’s lungs seize, his throat burns—because he understands. He understands, and yet he does not respond, only because he physically cannot. But when Naruto’s trembling fingers bring Sasuke’s hand to the same spot against that frantic heartbeat, he lets him.
Sasuke does not pull away. Sasuke’s pulse stutters violently, his skin hot where they connect, but he does not pull away. He lets him. He will always let him.
A silent tear falls from Naruto as he carefully encloses their hands together over his heart. “I am for you,” he repeats, still brokenly, still pleading, but with a little hint of credence.
Sasuke’s throat tightens until he can barely breathe. The air feels too thick, too heavy, pressing down on him until every breath hurts. The gesture makes everything become too much to bear. It makes everything become too much to feel.
And so Sasuke squeezes his eyes shut, doing his very best to make the tears stop flowing at once. But because Naruto is his better half, and not one to go without a fight—no matter how much effort, time, or strength it takes—Sasuke’s efforts are in vain.
The blond takes a breath, and Sasuke knows by now it is his version of willing himself to invoke every ounce of courage inherited in his lineage.
“I am for you,” Naruto repeats, his voice coming out as a croak. “Because when I wake up, I only want it to be you. Because when I laugh, I only want to share it with you.”
Sasuke averts his gaze, but Naruto wills his attention back to him with a light squeeze. The blond’s shoulders shake with a silent sob, but still, he continues with a convicted nod. “Because when I experience anything from this point on, positive or negative, I only want it to be with you.”
Another pair of tears fall from his eyes—those big, hopeful, beautiful pools—and Sasuke’s own dark eyes cannot help but follow.
Naruto’s voice crumbles, blue eyes wet and raw, but still he forces it out. “You, Sasuke,” he chokes out. “You.”
And now Naruto has said it. Now, Naruto has laid it out bare.
Sasuke’s vision blurs. His jaw trembles despite his clenched teeth. He knows he should scoff. He knows he should do his very best to refute it, to force the truth back into the darkness where it belonged. But he cannot. He cannot because—
“Sasuke, it’s always been you,” Naruto emphasises, squeezing their hands together, searching his red-rimmed eyes. “My existence is defined by you. I have orbited you for as long as I can remember. I have felt your absence for as long as I can remember. S-so, please. Please stay. Please.”
Naruto grips tighter. Sasuke’s brows furrow as his tears keep falling.
“Call me an idiot,” Naruto continues. “Fight me, if you must. Again and again and again. Break my heart as many times as you need to. I’ll let you. I’ll let you, Sasuke. Do what you will, but please—just stay. Please, Sasuke. Don’t leave me again, don’t separate us when I will always ache and gravitate to where you are.”
Sasuke’s breath shudders, his chest aching so violently it feels like something inside him might rip apart. And he….
He takes a moment to do what he is best at doing: think.
He thinks about how he could turn away. He thinks about how he should turn away, simply because he is not deserving of what Naruto has articulated and proposed to him, and he will never be. Not after he’s caused him too much pain, enough pain that it should scar for a lifetime.
And so Sasuke is forced to wonder. He is forced to wonder about why the hell Naruto remains. Why he continues to relentlessly devote. Relentlessly pledge. Relentlessly commit. Relentlessly offer himself so easily and tragically and unwaveringly—so completely, so ruinously?
Why? Why, why, why?
Why does he not realise how much of a piece of shit he is? Sasuke thinks. Why does he insist? Why does he—
And because Sasuke cannot wrap his mind around the matter to save his life, because it confuses him so much to the point of absolute perplexion, he musters up the courage to challenge him.
“One day,” he begins carefully, the words ragged as if they were scraping against his throat, “you will realise that I—“
But Naruto doesn’t let him finish the thought. “I don’t care, Sasuke,” he cuts in, shaking his head and gripping his hand tighter, his eyes burning through the blur of tears. “Understand that I don’t give a damn about what you think you deserve—”
Sasuke swallows hard. “But you will see—”
“But I won’t, Sasuke,” Naruto says softly, firmly, as though speaking law into existence. “I won’t. I never have, and I never will.”
And Sasuke doesn’t understand. He doesn’t understand. He cannot, and he probably never will no matter how much he tries.
But the thing about Naruto is that his form of expression is his greatest gift to the point where he makes a tiny piece of Sasuke believe he is worth something—something so tiny and insignificant, just a fragment, just a sliver—yet something nonetheless.
And the thing about Sasuke is that he is eighteen-years too old to be beyond the point of many things; the first being trying to understand, and the second is fighting.
He is so very tired.
And so, in that moment, Sasuke decides to commit his ultimate, greatest sin once and for all.
At least he’s conscious of it, he decides.
Sasuke’s conscious of it when he says, “Okay.”
Sasuke’s conscious of it when Naruto releases a breath that sounds like he has been holding in since their genin years.
Sasuke’s conscious of it when Naruto embraces him and grips him like it is a promise of never letting go and more.
Sasuke’s conscious of it when Naruto begins sobbing into his shoulder, whispering infinite Thank you, thank you, thank you’s that sound too much like whispered prayers he’s undeserving of.
Sasuke’s conscious of it when he tastes his own salty tears, and the corners of his lips betray him in the smallest of an upward twitch.
Sasuke’s conscious of it when Naruto pulls back only enough to wipe at Sasuke’s wet cheeks with his sleeve, his hand still trembling.
Sasuke’s conscious of it when he closes his eyes and feels Naruto’s lips finally—finally—pressing gently against his own. The action is trembling and hesitant at first, breaking apart in sobs even as they cling, as though Naruto were afraid, so very afraid that Sasuke will vanish if he touches him too firmly.
And, for once, Sasuke doesn’t resist. He leans into it, lets it drown him.
Because the difference between this sin and the others is that, this time, it doesn’t weigh as heavy.
Sure, it is release and punishment all at once, but it is a sin he’s willing to accept and carry—in this lifetime and the next.