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“You’re selfish,” Naruto would say, his voice high and angry. “You’re stupid, and obsessive. You think nobody knows that?” And Sasuke would keep silent, black eyes dead despite the emotion Naruto was showing.

It annoyed the blond - no, more than that, it made him furious - and Sasuke knew it. That was not why he did it, though. He drew no pleasure from the rising cadences of Naruto’s voice - angry, overstretched, guilty over something Sasuke couldn’t quite fathom - he simply could not bring himself to answer. There were reasons to explain what he’d did (they weren’t as black and white as Naruto seemed to believe), but they were awful ones that made him feel selfish.

“I mean,” Naruto would bluster on, rambling now, “you stole my car, you left it out in the rain with the doors open and I don’t even want to know why you didn’t just ask, but stealing my keys, Sasuke? I can’t believe….” On and on and on, making Sasuke feel sick and horrible and just like punching Naruto in the face to shut him up.

The bed he lay on (in Naruto’s guest bedroom) was lumpy and rather uncomfortable, but he’d lain on it for two straight days smoking cigarettes and staring at the ceiling. Naruto had ranted about Sasuke’s actions until the other boy found it easy to shut him out. He was angry - that stupid bright blue car was his baby - and he made every effort to make sure Sasuke knew it. Leaving his window open; stomping down the hall at four o’clock in the morning; refusing Sasuke’s single request for painkillers. He began to bring food only when Sasuke had lain there for a night and a day, and he’d begun to get worried. Sasuke hadn’t eaten it.

Two days after Sasuke had stolen the car, Naruto’s anger began to fade. He closed the windows and made an effort to be quiet on his midnight trips to the bathroom (managing to wake Sasuke up anyway), and, when he came in to say goodnight he even asked Sasuke if there was something wrong. Was he sick? he asked, leaning in from the doorway in a stupid yellow bathrobe. Sasuke had made a noncommittal noise in the back of his throat, which really could have meant anything, but Naruto took it to be an assurance that he was alright.

The third day in the afternoon, when the sun washing through Naruto’s white curtains had dyed the white walls a lovely, fascinating gold, the blond actually came and sat on the edge of Sasuke’s bed. The black-haired boy wore the same clothes he had three days ago; he needed a shower and a shave but Naruto knew Sasuke would refuse. He cleared his throat.

“I’m going to the grocery store,” he said, staring at Sasuke’s closed eyes. “Do you want anything?”

“No.”

“You’re out of cigarettes,” Naruto pointed out. Two empty boxes lay on the floor, a silver lighter a few feet farther, as if Sasuke had thrown it.

“Good. I’ll live longer.”

Naruto waited a while more and then left, shutting the door gently behind him. Out of sight, Sasuke had clapped a hand to his mouth. Once he heard Naruto’s car start out front (those damp seats were full of mildew by now) he lurched out of bed, stumbling awkwardly down the hall where he knelt over the toilet, hands on either side. He vomited, twice, then dropped wearily to the floor, mechanical little dry heaves jerking his body. Silver bolts sunk through the porcelain - a detail Sasuke was certain no one but drunks and sick people noticed, curled up on the floor just like he was, after exactly the same performance he had made.

When he felt steady enough to get to his feet, he rose and flushed the toilet, then splashed a little water over his face and washed his mouth out. The water was generously flavored with chlorine and other chemicals, but it was better than nothing.

He took a few pills and lay down again, throwing an arm across his eyes. Allowing the pills to take effect, he watched the patterns that played across his eyelids, black and white pictures reminding him of rain. It had been raining lightly when he borrowed Naruto’s car, and by the time he reached his destination it had gotten much worse. It was pouring, but he’d gotten out anyway, no umbrella and soaked to the bone by the time he reached the door. He knocked, four times, then rang the bell.

It was a bad night to be going anywhere - he’d hardly been able to see past the windshield it was so bad - but Naruto had been busy in the kitchen and he’d seen a chance.

The door swung open, spilling false yellow light onto the doorstep. There were a few people spread out in the living room playing poker, and their voices drifted out to the porch in a pleasant, senseless murmur. Sasuke was shivering a little, but his brother’s eyes were colder than Sasuke was.

“Yes?”

He let out a white breath, watching it cloud and dissipate inches from his nose. Twice more, then: “I need some money.” In the living room one of Itachi’s guests had gotten to his feet and was coming over, one hand held out toward the wall. He looked a little drunk, calling something indistinguishable back over his shoulder.

“It’s your turn next, Itachi,” he said. “Who’s this?” He had stopped just behind the elder Uchiha, peering over his shoulder despite that he was least a foot taller.

“My brother,” Itachi murmured softly.

The door shut in Sasuke’s face and, stunned, it took a moment for his anger to rise. But when it did it came fast, quickly, and he began to pound on the door, yelling obscenities.

He didn’t remember with much clarity what happened next, only that someone (it wasn’t Itachi) threw open the door and shoved him off the porch. He was kicked a few times, a sharp pain blossoming in his side, then left quite alone. The door slammed shut, and it began to rain a little harder. After a minute or two, soaked to the bone, Sasuke got to his feet and staggered back to Naruto’s car, dripped water on the already soaked seats, and drove back the way he’d come.

Naruto’s house was completely dark, not a single light on anywhere, but he came in as quietly as he could manage just the same. No sense in waking him up now…. He left the keys on Naruto’s kitchen table, then made his way, still dripping, to the guest bedroom. The next morning he’d woken to Naruto yelling about the car, that Sasuke had left it out in the rain with the door open, that he couldn’t believe….

When Naruto got back from the store, he came right into the guest room and tossed Sasuke a pack of cigarettes. Sasuke reached for his lighter, inhaling greedily and exhaling smoke. Naruto watched him from the doorway with an strange, intent expression on his face.

“Where did you go the other day, anyway?” he asked, leaning on the doorpost with his arms crossed. Sasuke looked up, exhaling a thick grey cloud.

“To see my brother.”

“Why?”

“I needed some money,” Sasuke said flatly. “The place I was working at shut down, and I can’t pay my rent. I thought he might help me out.”

“Oh…. Did he?”

“No.” He shifted on the bed, wincing when the movement put pressure on his side. He’d probably cracked a rib (two, actually); he’d have to be careful. Naruto noticed.

“What is it?” The blond came forward, obvious concern in his eyes. “Did… did he beat you up or something?”

Sasuke paused, his second cigarette hanging from his lips. He removed it, ground it out on Naruto’s beside table. It left a sizzling black mark on the veneer, bubbling into a thin, crackling mess. He nodded vaguely, looking back to Naruto. “He didn’t,” Sasuke said, “but he had some people over. He shut the door in my face and I guess they got sick of me knocking.” He broke into coughs then, sneezing twice before settling back onto the blankets.

“You sound like you’re sick too. Why don’t you take a shower or something? I’ll make us lunch.”

Sasuke shook his head, reaching instead for another cigarette. Naruto still stood in the doorway, biting his lip now as if unsure about something. “Look,” Sasuke said. “I appreciate it Naruto, I really do. But I don’t want it.”

“But they beat you up, Sasuke!”

Rolling over, Sasuke lifted his shirt, baring his back and a few large bruises there, the two cracked ribs Naruto couldn’t see. “You think I don’t know that?” he said, laughing bitterly. “You should be more worried about your car, anyway.” He sat up, looking toward Naruto blearily as he tugged his shirt down. He got to his feet and walked (a bit unsteadily) to the door, ignoring the look on Naruto’s face. Shocked, confused and unsure, one hand against the doorframe as if seeking support.

“But… Sasuke, don’t you think -”

“I’ve overstayed my welcome?” Sasuke gave the blond a slightly bitter smile. “Thanks anyway.”

“But….” Naruto stopped, unsure of what to say. How to say he really didn’t care about the car at all? How to say he was happy knowing Sasuke was alright? To apologize…. Sasuke walked past him, black eyes flicking to his face only once, then walked down the hall and through the living room, one hand trailing along the wall to his right. (Seeking support?) Out of Naruto’s view, the front door clicked shut and Sasuke’s footsteps vanished. The sun had faded from the guest bedroom with his absence, leaving the walls an unremarkable off-white that was somehow sadder, now, without him. He had left the room a mess: sheets rumpled, the lamp on and the air reeking of cigarette smoke, and for whatever reason, Naruto didn't particularly care.

It was nearly empty now, but for the pack of cigarettes he had left behind.