For Nao.

The white French doors have been drawn open, revealing a small but cozy balcony adorned with scores of fragrant red dahlias and fresh herbs planted in shiny terracotta pots. Across the Rue des Beaux-Arts, the Gothic bell tower of the Church of St Germain l’Auxerrois stands imposing, obscuring a piece of the midnight blue of the sky where the late evening lights of Paris cascade over the city like an umbrella of fireworks collapsing upon La Bastille. An unkempt man stands in the doorway leading to the balcony, staring out into the breathtaking scenery with a subdued but appreciative gaze. He holds a cigarette in his left hand while the right gathers and pushes aside the opulent drapery. The location--room number 16 of the Hôtel d'Alsace--happens to be the very same hotel where Oscar Wilde took his last breath. The old stone building isn’t more than a few blocks from the Seine. The room itself is a vibrant red, and its two occupants are bound together in a comfortable, transient silence. Outside, however, raucous noises from the alleys below blend into a metropolitan cacophony of bleating cars, drunken shouts, and an oddly vivacious violin solo escaping the open windows of a nearby café. The aroma of slow-roasted meats permeates the air like a perfume.

The two gas lamplights and four bronze sconces have been set to dim. An overstuffed and highly-detailed duvet drips along the foot of the European-styled mahogany bed. A second man lies in repose under a pile of creamy golden sheets made up of an exponential thread count. Above the headboard, an oil painting of a peacock looms with its regal aplomb aflare. Silken tapestries drape the walls, the décor not so much screaming but, rather, softly beseeching of fashionable, tasteful masculinity.

“Are you thinking about her?” the man in the bed asks, tangled dark hair in perfect contrast to the firm pillow on which he rests his head.

The voice isn’t entirely patronizing; in fact, there’s evidence of some sincere thoughtfulness, but not enough to move Naruto to respond immediately. He takes another drag of his cigarette, still staring at the river.

Eventually, because he knows how much Sasuke hates to be kept waiting, he responds dryly, “That would be rather rude, wouldn’t it?”

Surprisingly, Sasuke laughs softly, and Naruto smiles gently at the sound, but his preoccupied blue eyes are lacking humor. His short-lived smile degenerates into a pensive frown. Smoke leaks from his cigarette, stealing inside the room with the slight breeze. A mist of fog seems to apparate into the center of the room, hovering like an ominous storm cloud devoid of currents or electricity enough to spark life into a literary monster. Naruto tears his eyes away from the river, eyeing the antique typewriter that has been set on a gentleman’s rolltop desk. A handful of red Bic pens lay beside it like so many useless, scatter-brained accomplices. Naruto gazes back out into the night, watching a lone barge as it trudges along the river like an aquatic tank readying for a long battle. He feels the keen, analytical eyes of the man in the bed on him. Sedately, the 26-year-old fair haired American brings his beloved cigarette to his lips. He inhales sharply and then blows two lop-sided rings in the direction of the Port des Saint-Peres.

“Why do you always ask that anyway?” Naruto leans his head against the stark white frame, licking a line along his teeth, tasting the tobacco as it pervades his palate.

“Riles you up.”

Naruto nods nearly imperceptibly, almost unconsciously. “It annoys me, y’know.”

“I know,” says Sasuke, “That’s the point.”

“Yeah,” Naruto bites sarcastically, “Please bring up something like that as much as possible. One of the most painful and confusing relationships in my life. I love it when you do that.” It’s childish, but the last part he hisses under his breath before tapping his cigarette. The ashes drop lifelessly onto the concrete of the balcony. A casualty of the protagonist’s agitation.

“If you want to kid yourself, be my guest,” Sasuke replies without veiling his obvious indifference, “I’m just here to pay for the room.”

Naruto hears the self-satisfied smirk in his companion’s voice, so he sets his eyes toward the sky. It’s empty of starlight and ceilinged by a thick mass of cloud that covers the atmosphere like so much tangled sheep’s wool.

“You offered,” he says mildly and consciously relaxes his shoulders. They’ve become stiff and tense. Naruto wipes the hand holding the cigarette across his brow, and for a second, he slicks his bangs back to feel more of the wind against his face. His forehead and cheeks are warm.

Sasuke’s eyes glow like burning coals as he continues to taunt, “You don’t hear me complaining, do you?”

Naruto meets Sasuke’s gaze in the dark.

“Nope,” he answers stubbornly and takes another drag, twisting his head the other way to blow out another stream.

He curls the cigarette between his forefinger and thumb as he walks toward the bed. The lighting in the room creates a shadow on one of Sasuke’s cheeks.

“You never complain,” Naruto states wryly as he bends over and grabs a hold of the sheet covering Sasuke’s naked body. With a smirk, he begins to tug at it, resting a knee on the mattress, his next words carrying a bitter ring, “You’re always so good at taking care of yourself though, aren’t you? Never need help from anyone, am I right?”

Sasuke snatches the lit cigarette from his fingers and brings it to his lips, sucking in the smoke before Naruto can protest. A small crease forms between his pale brows, and he frowns. Unfazed, Sasuke stares up at him with that ever-present smirk. Now scowling, Naruto sighs reproachfully and kneels beside the man he calls his best friend, his suspenders hanging at the sides of his wrinkled pin-striped trousers.

“What happens if you get cancer? I don’t want to be held responsible for you dying of some terminal illness.”

Sasuke makes an amused sound in the back of his throat and reaches for the waistband of Naruto’s slacks, giving him a harsh yank forward as two fingers sneak inside. He catches himself with one arm and then balances himself with the other. The distance between their lips is not much, and the thought of kissing that mouth into silence doesn‘t at all seem a bad thing. Naruto finds some rhythmic relief in watching the ebbing orange glow of the embers inside the filter as Sasuke inhales enthusiastically, cheeks hallowing.

“How do you know I don’t have it already?” Sasuke sighs out, eyes hooded as he moves his head to the side to release the smoke.

The simple motion is surprisingly erotic in its aristocratic gracefulness. But before he got back into bed with Sasuke again tonight, he swore he’d pour his energy into writing and not the kind of sex that made his normally analytical brain slow to a much more primordial pace. Sasuke’s expression suddenly sobers and his face becomes as stony as a Druid’s.

“I suppose it’s less tragic that way,” Naruto muses in a quiet, intimate tone and dips his head, gingerly touching his lips to Sasuke’s jaw. Reflexively, Sasuke stiffens at the affectionate gesture, but Naruto ignores it. “If you already have it, it can’t be any fault of mine.” He continues, care for the other man evident in his voice, “So it’s not like you’ll die by my hands, eh?”

“Hn. And here I thought you liked to go around saving everyone. You used to be such a hopeless romantic.”

Naruto watches Sasuke thoughtfully, almost half in nostalgic wonder. In a sudden, swift movement, he hurries to remove the cigarette from the other man’s fingers, quickly swooping to cover Sasuke’s mouth. Dark eyes become hidden by lid and long, black eyelashes as Naruto’s hands roughly move to either side of Sasuke’s head. Aggressively he smoothes the hair behind his lover’s ears as he sucks the smoke into his own mouth. It burns all the way down into his lungs as if they can transfer sins this way, and now he can carry all of Sasuke’s like a cross. When Naruto gets to his knees again, he breathes a curl of silvery smoke out of his parted lips.

A feeling of moroseness begins to consume him as he stares at the pale skin of Sasuke’s chest. “That’s not who I am anymore,” he whispers as if to himself.

“Oh?” Sasuke asks patronizingly as he gets to his elbows and smashes the cigarette into the already overflowing ashtray. “And what happened?”

“I grew up? I dunno.” Then he ventures deeper, “Too much heartbreak, I s’pose.”

Sasuke studies him earnestly and then wraps his fingers around Naruto’s wrist. Naruto looks at the fingers in lethargic surprise, and before he realizes it, he’s being pushed flat on his back. Sasuke rolls on top of him, the familiar scent accosting Naruto’s senses. He shuts his eyes as strong hands restrain his arms and Sasuke’s fingers begin to dig into his biceps. He feels every muscle and contour of the other man’s body against his and sighs deeply. He’s not really in the mood for this, but Naruto lets Sasuke do as he pleases. Simply because it’s Sasuke, and it feels safe though it probably shouldn’t.

An illusion.

“Are you thinking about her now?” Sasuke asks, sounding more determined as he takes hold of one of Naruto’s nipples with his tongue and laps at it like a cat to its bowl of cream. He pinches it and stares into Naruto’s eyes although his listless and distant gaze is riveted to the vaulted ceiling.

Ruffled by the question, Naruto breathes out a whisper: “Are you tryin’ to set the mood or obliterate it?”

“Neither,” replies Sasuke and settles for resting his head on Naruto’s chest, skimming his fingers over sinew and rib as if they were the ivory keys of a piano. “I can make you happier than she can.”

Naruto raises an eyebrow at the unexpected comment, his eyes opening abruptly in shock. He inhales deeply to calm himself and begins running his fingers through Sasuke’s hair. It’s so soft. Like the down of a chick.

“I wonder,” he thoughtlessly blurts his skepticism, “But this feels good… Why can’t I be satisfied with this?”

Sasuke does not answer and, mindlessly, Naruto brushes his lips against the top of the other man’s head. Sasuke’s fingers are tracing a nonsense pattern over his heart. Or maybe it’s not nonsense to him. Neither talks as another passing barge blasts its horn. The fingers continue to trace patterns on his chest.

“What do you want me to do?” Sasuke inquires gruffly, slightly mocking him. “Should I cut it out for you so you no longer have to feel?”

“My heart?” Naruto laughs, mumbling, “It’s not like it’ll be of much use to you. Or anyone for that matter.”

“I could sell it on the black market,” Sasuke suggests with a raise of an eyebrow.

Naruto stops petting the back of Sasuke’s head. Half a minute passes, and the other man flips onto his back again, the sheets trailing over the both of them like a bridal train. Naruto folds his arms under his head, cradling it in his hands.

“How much do you think it would go for?”

“Ah, but it’s priceless,” Sasuke replies without missing a beat.

“Smartass.”

“Isn’t that what you love about me?”

“Is it?” Naruto ponders, but now he’s thinking about what he really does love about Sasuke.

“You love me.” An arrogant statement to some, yes, but to Naruto it’s nothing but an uncompromisable truth.

Naruto replies easily though it probably wasn’t necessary to do so, “I do.”

“Hm.”

Naruto turns his head in Sasuke’s direction before shifting onto his other side.

“What?” Sasuke barks, aware of Naruto’s staring.

“Nothing.”

“Naruto.”

In a light, teasing tone, “Sasuke?”

“Hn. Why don’t you go write?”

“M’blocked, Sasuke,” Naruto moans pathetically and covers half of his face with his arm in distress.

“So.”

Sasuke tilts his head and dark bangs scatter across his cheek. Naruto removes his arm from his eyes and rises to push the fringe back into place. A small gasp escapes his lips as Sasuke catches hold of his wrist. Their eyes meet, and for a moment, Sasuke seems something dangerous. Something Naruto should be frightened of, but he’s not, though maybe he wishes he could be.

“So then I can’t write,” Naruto says coolly and shakes his wrist free. His eyes are narrowed and focused on the hand that grabbed him.

“Fine.”

“What does it matter to you anyway?” Naruto asks broodily, becoming suspicious. Sasuke’s grip on him was rough, so he rubs at the abused skin with a frown.

“Of course it matters,” Sasuke replies as if disgusted.

With an exaggerated moan, Naruto grumbles and switches to his other side, showing Sasuke the outline of his back. He stares balefully out the French doors, watching the drapes blow in the wind, studying the clockwise movement of the twirling potted fern hanging in an iron basket. The sheets ruffle and an arm sneaks under his as Sasuke moulds his body to his, resting his chin on Naruto’s shoulder. Sasuke’s warm breath fans over his neck.

“Why don’t you two work it out if you’re so miserable?” Sasuke speaks near his ear, squeezing him closer.

“I thought we weren’t going to talk about this anymore.” A snip of anger seeps into his words. He’s beginning to get annoyed about how this topic always seems to come up no matter how many times he asks Sasuke to drop it. “Besides. There’s nothing to be worked out. She’s married.”

“Have an affair.”

Naruto shuts his eyes. “You’re an idiot. It’s not like that.”

“Morality is the weakness of the brain,” Sasuke recites and bites his shoulder, wrapping his arm more tightly around Naruto’s stomach, pressing a palm firmly to the tense muscles. “Despite what you may think, I want you to be happy.”

“Why?” He squints into the dimly-lit room as something takes hold of his chest, and it’s as sharp and tight as a vice.

“Stupid question, moron.”

Naruto pouts. “It’s not.”

The hand on his stomach travels lower. To the waistband, and then the fingers deftly unfasten the button, sneaking inside after lowering the zipper.

“Sasuke…”

“Hm?” Lips lazily kiss at his throat, expertly finding the most sensitive spot.

Naruto fidgets. “M’not in the mood.”

Sasuke smiles into the next kiss, which he places on Naruto’s shoulder. “You were earlier…”

Naruto covers the hand already moving inside his pants with his own sweat-dampened hand. “Well I’m not now.” The hand squeezes him anyway, one very slow, long stroke before it retreats out of his trousers and skims his stomach again, stopping in the middle of his chest.

“Your heart’s beating awfully fast…,” Sasuke teases.

Cheeks red, Naruto exhales sharply but manages a laugh, “Shut up.”

Playfully, Sasuke nips at the shell of his ear, murmuring against the delicate skin in a low, hushed voice that causes Naruto to shiver. Naruto growls, struggling to break free of the warm, inviting embrace. Sasuke’s arms fall limply onto the mattress beside his body as Naruto escapes to sit on the side of the bed. He leans forward with his elbows resting on his knees, gaze shifting to the neglected typewriter. An oncoming sense of hunger assaults him. It strikes him then that that’s what it feels like to be unable to write. Frustrating it seems to him and all too pathetic to want something he has no control over, no way of getting. No way to satisfy this urge and craving he feels restlessly growing inside himself.

He holds his head in his hands, inexplicably helpless in that moment, but it’s okay to admit so long as he’s with Sasuke. “I’m so fucking frustrated!”

“I know.”

Naruto sighs, dropping his hands into his lap and a single second of wistfulness takes hold of his otherwise foul mood. “You quoted Arthur Rimbaud before,” he whispers with a tilt of his head, “Wasn’t it him who said, ‘I believe that I am in hell, therefore I am there.’?”

Sasuke replies calmly and with a smirk, “Do I look like a walking copy of Bartlett’s?”

Naruto glances behind his shoulder, frowning at the other man. Sasuke shuffles around until he’s sitting up, back straight against the carved headboard. He modestly pulls the sheets over himself.

“I thought he was one of your favorite poets,” Naruto explains.

“Ah, he is,” says Sasuke, as he sweeps the hair that’s fallen in front of his eyes behind his ear. “He died young. He wrote beautifully. He was gay. Went to jail.”

With a light slap to Sasuke’s shoulder, Naruto laughs loudly and genuinely, “So you can relate? But you’ve only been in jail one time.”

Sasuke snorts. “So far.”

Naruto nods, a smile on his face as he makes a weak attempt at a scratch on his chin. His fingers curl and flex as they occasionally tap just above his right knee. “I remember that.”

“So do I.”

“Such a rebel,” Naruto sniggers while shaking his head.

“Don’t shake your head at me.”

He can hear the grin in those words, and it makes Naruto smile all the more. He laughs again and lowers his head, watching the back of his hands before he glances over at Sasuke.

He narrows his eyes at Naruto. “What’s with that face?”

Naruto shrugs at him.

“Are you sure you aren’t in love with me?” Sasuke asks in a way that sounds quite serious, folding his arms to his chest.

Naruto snorts and brushes it off. “Wouldn’t it be nice if it were that easy? Why would I ever wanna fall in love with a bastard like you?”

“Maybe in a perfect world,” Sasuke suggests sourly, a repetition of a previous conversation in an entirely different time and place.

“Hm.” Again, Naruto finds himself staring at the hands in his lap, tugging at a wayward white string that’s attached itself to his inner thigh. He picks at it, stares, and then lets it fall to the carpet. “I wish I could describe to you the way I feel about you… Sasuke.”

“I wouldn’t want you to go to the trouble.”

Naruto sighs in exasperation at the bitter sound of those words, the desire to make another attempt at writing biting at his bones. The horn of another ship blares, causing his gaze to return to the skyline and architecture of the city. Even with as many times as he’s visited Paris, it can be overwhelmingly humbling to walk amongst its streets, view its art, its culture, and be suffocated with the voices of its history.

“Y’know what I love about you the most?” Naruto rests his chin on top of his intertwined fingers.

“Hm?” Sasuke seems disinterested in the answer, but then he nudges Naruto’s hip with the bottom of his foot.

“You’re probably expecting a joke, but I was just thinkin’… what I like about you is that you’re one of the few people who doesn’t see me as a concept.” He feels his face flush in mortification, though he knows it’s an ambiguous admission at best.

There’s a pause before Sasuke responds, “… What do you mean?”

Naruto turns to him, offering a lop-sided smile, but then he shrugs as if he’s become self-conscious. “You know. Everyone else, I think, has this image of me set in their minds for whatever reason, but you’ve always accepted me and liked me for exactly who I am. The good stuff and the bad.” His voice falters toward the end, and the embarrassment is enough to make him stare out the doors again. But he keeps his smile.

Sasuke shifts, and Naruto shuts his eyes as strong arms wrap around his waist and a chin nuzzles his shoulder. Sasuke sighs against his skin, mouth very near to Naruto’s throat and chest pressed to his back. Naruto can feel his friend’s heartbeat as steady and strong as a tympani. As if it were his own.

“This is what you get for believing in soulmates,” Sasuke whispers, and it’s the pity in his tone that breaks Naruto’s heart all the more.

“I know,” he mutters bitterly. The arms around him squeeze tighter. “I didn’t say anything about that though. It’s not something I chose exactly...”

“Uh huh. I’ve heard this before, and I’m tired of being bothered about it.”

“Which is why I tell you not to bring it up!” Naruto’s voice grows heated. The arms around him and their warmth abruptly vanish. “You don’t have to be such a jerk.”

Sasuke snorts derisively and the sheets rustle as he moves even further away from Naruto, to the other side of the bed. “Don’t take your bad mood out on me, Naruto.”

A flash of guilt jolts Naruto’s ribs, but he’s too stubborn to apologize or even to truly be aware he may be in the wrong.

“You’re not the only one with problems,” Sasuke reminds him coldly. “You act like you don’t have a choice.”

“I know!” Naruto yells and glares at him as the corners of his mouth droop. “You’re not telling me anything I don’t already know, but what the fuck do you want me to do about it?”

“Like I care. Go write another best-selling novel. I think you enjoy your suffering. After all, you wouldn’t have anything without it.”

“Shut up,” Naruto growls, punching a spot on the mattress.

Sasuke smirks at him. Always better than Naruto at keeping calm. “Can you really give her up? She’s your muse after all.”

Naruto chuckles darkly and rubs his chest. “Hardly. If anything, she fucks it all up. Since I saw her again, after all that time… I haven’t been able to write a goddam thing.”

“Sure you have,” Sasuke interjects, mocking him remorselessly. “You’ve published. You’ve written several things since then.”

Naruto steeples his fingers together in his lap and hunches forward to rest his head on them, looking perplexed. He’s craving another cigarette as he catches the scent of tobacco on his fingers.

“You don’t understand,” he mumbles petulantly, “It was a struggle to write any of that. None of it meant anything to me! It’s all fucking lies. I can’t even remember the last time I wrote anything that resembles the person I used to be.”

Sasuke is silent. He’s thinking or maybe he’s being courteous enough to let Naruto vent, but that’s highly unlikely.

“It’s not like she and I can ever be normal friends,” Naruto softly comments, then speaks more gruffly, as if trying to convince himself, “I should end it.”

“That’s just as stupid,” Sasuke chastises. “I don’t get it, but she makes you happy.”

“Yeah, but she also makes me miserable as hell. So it’s a lose-lose situation.”

Despite himself, Naruto feels the prickling of tears in his eyes. He blinks them away and stands, unwilling to let Sasuke see him as weak. He walks to the chair where his dress shirt is hanging and begins buttoning it. In his haste, he misses one. He quickly adjusts it and tucks it into his trousers, pulling his suspenders up and fussing with the shirt collar.

“Think I need some air.”

“Where are you going?” Sasuke asks.

He sounds vaguely concerned, but Naruto ignores it.

“Down by the river. To think,” he answers as he searches out his shoes he kicked off earlier and slips them on his feet.

“Hm.”

“You gonna sleep?” Naruto asks as he finishes getting dressed even though he already knows the answer. Sasuke’s an insomniac after all.

“Probably not,” Sasuke replies as he itches an ear and then rubs at his right shoulder.

“Okay.”

They stare at one another, neither speaking. Naruto becomes aware of the fact his hands are fists and so he relaxes. Sasuke’s upset him more than he’s willing to admit.

Naruto has his hand on the doorknob, ready to turn it. “Nothing ever bothers you, does it?”

It slips from his mouth, and he can’t take it back.

Sasuke just looks at him, revealing nothing. Naruto nods, having decided everything on his own. He makes sure to grab the plastic card key off the desk and slips it into his pocket along with a handful of jingling Euro coins.

Without looking at Sasuke again, he turns the knob, opens the door, and leaves.

A half hour passes since he’s left the hotel and then another. The night air has a certain apathetic crispness to it, and the smells drifting from the Seine are far from agreeable. Not everything about Paris is ultimately romantic. It’s a city best fit for lost souls. Muddy-colored water laps against the concrete river wall as Naruto leans on the metal railing, his gloved hands stuffed in the pockets of his coat. From here, he can see the Louvre pyramid, but at this late hour, the museum is closed and all its treasures are sealed off. He’s left to wonder about the silence of the empty hallways at night and how each piece of art or sculpture feels as if the artists themselves are buried under the floors like the poets in Westminster Abbey. Do their ghosts converse and share the secrets of their trades? Do they argue or do they spout sympathies to each other about their untimely ends? Or are some of them grateful or happy with the accomplishments they left behind?

Naruto grabs the pack of cigarettes he’s hidden inside a back trouser pocket, but then he remembers he left the lighter sitting on the desk next to the typewriter. He hasn’t written anything tonight and an oncoming deadline looms over his head. He wants to blame Sasuke for distracting him, but that’s not entirely the case. The fault lies within himself even if the reason is buried so far underneath his obliviousness and denial that it’s honestly become hard to pinpoint. If he’s unwilling to discover the truth, it makes it even more difficult to find a solution to this long block in inspiration. The ideas still come, rattling around in his brain with the same level of enthusiasm as always, but when Naruto searches for the emotions to connect it all together, he fails. It’s a huge blow for someone like him.

On the other side of the river, a couple stops and gazes down at the water, conversing with one another. Naruto watches them for a while, still craving for a cigarette. The couple leaves after ten minutes, and he’s left feeling like a lonely voyeur. He folds his arms on the top rail, resting his chin near the crook of an elbow.

“Don’t jump!” A voice calls to him sarcastically.

Naruto freezes at first but relaxes as he instantly recognizes the voice’s owner. Though his heart skips a beat, happy Sasuke has come after him, he stubbornly buries his pleasure and glares down at the water.

“What are you doing here?” Naruto grumbles, biting at the corner of his lip because he knows he sounds like an asshole, but he can’t help it.

He hears a couple footfalls echo on the pavement. “I wanted to make sure you didn’t jump in.”

“Why?” Naruto asks. “Would you jump in after me?”

“Of course.”

“Uh huh,” Naruto says. “I wasn’t planning on it, but now that you mention it, maybe it’s not such a bad idea.”

“Naruto.”

Naruto doesn’t answer. He takes a hand out of his pocket and rubs at a piece of chipped paint on the rail. It flecks off and falls down to the water. He turns around and Sasuke’s caught in the glare of the streetlight. Sasuke takes a few steps toward him, moving out of the light. He has his hands in his jacket pockets. With a tilt of his head, Sasuke removes one of his hands and holds out the cigarette lighter. Naruto looks at it and then at Sasuke before reaching to take it.

“Thanks,” he mumbles as he digs out a cigarette and lights it, making a sigh of satisfaction as he breathes out his first puff.

“Maybe I should check your pockets for rocks?” Sasuke quips and takes his place beside Naruto.

“Are you just looking for an excuse to feel me up?” Naruto asks as he sticks the lighter in his pocket.

“I don’t need one,” Sasuke replies confidently.

“That’d be a tragic end, wouldn’t it?” Naruto muses thoughtfully as he bows his head, watching the river’s endless flow. “Then all the articles could read: ‘Who’s afraid of Naruto Uzumaki? Famous American writer dies at 26.’”

“That’s a long headline for an obituary,” Sasuke states morosely and grabs for the cigarette Naruto holds in his hand. Naruto’s quicker though and keeps it out of his reach, ignoring the growl he receives.

“Maybe you could write it for me?”

Sasuke sighs, and Naruto looks over at him. He appears tired and worn out. Naruto offers him the cigarette, and Sasuke takes it between his fingers, murmuring his gratitude.

“I don’t write anymore, you know that,” Sasuke tells him.

“I know.” He scoots closer to the other man, nudging him with his shoulder. “I thought maybe for my obituary you’d make an exception.”

“Stop being morbid. That’s not who you are.”

“Ah.” Naruto straightens and folds his fingers behind his head, stretching out his back. “I suppose you were always the one who ended everything in disease and death.”

“Ended?” Sasuke repeats. “When did I ever end anything?”

Naruto chuckles. “I admire that though in a way, I guess. I used to think it was somehow wrong to give up or whatever. You had your reasons, of course. But. Dunno. At least you could free yourself from the obsession. You don’t have to worry about being blocked. About the pressure, deadlines. It’s annoying.”

“Hn. You’re annoying.”

Naruto gives a frown, those words reminding him of something. He grabs for the cigarette, inhaling leisurely and exhaling in the same pace. “I remember when you called her that. I thought she was gonna beat the shit out of you.”

“Uh huh.”

“Even so… the way you quit. It was like one of those artists who burns all their work right in the middle of Paris. Sometimes I wanna do that. I understand I guess. At least more so after you did what you did… I guess it’d be empowering to destroy your own work. I don’t think it’s too selfish or anything. What we choose to share is ours, y’know? If we created it, we should be entitled to destroy it as well.”

“Look at you getting all philosophical on me,” Sasuke says, and when Naruto gazes over at him, he’s wearing a small smile. “What would Walter Pater say?”

Naruto groans. “I don’t care. So long as he keeps his mouth shut! That stuff makes my brain hurt.”

Sasuke reaches over and ruffles the hair at the back of Naruto’s head. The hand remains for a while until Sasuke drops his arm, but then he reaches for Naruto’s cigarette-less hand.

“What’s this?” Naruto asks facetiously, raising his eyebrow. “Are you holding my hand?”

“Shut up, idiot, and enjoy it while you can.”

“Heh.” But Naruto does hold it. He doesn’t squeeze him, just enjoys the bit of warmth seeping into his glove via Sasuke’s skin. “Right, I’ll try to enjoy it in the now as opposed to realizing in the future that this is one of those fleeting moments I should’ve appreciated.”

“Mm.”

Naruto takes another brief drag. “Should we head back then?”

“If you’re done moping.”

“M’not moping, bastard.”

Sasuke shrugs, and neither of them make a move to leave. The water slaps against the wall, a hollow echo amidst the silence of the riverfront.

“This is a happy enough ending… right?” Naruto asks.

Sasuke’s fingers twine with his in answer.

“Mah. When have either of us ever written one of those anyway?”

“You think too much. Tell your brain to shut the hell up. It’s getting on my nerves. I just want to watch the river.”

“Fine. Hey Sasuke?” Naruto drops the cigarette to the ground and squashes it under his shoe.

“What?” Sasuke grumbles.

“Nothin’.”

“Great,” Sasuke replies and lets Naruto’s hand go.

Naruto chuckles. “Aw. Is this you being adorable, Sasuke?”

Sasuke sneaks an arm around his waist, and Naruto’s left eyebrow arches in surprise. “I’m always adorable, Naruto,” Sasuke replies blandly.

Naruto rests his head against Sasuke’s shoulder. “Of course,” he says, smiling. “How could I forget?”