A/N: Okay, so we've all resigned ourselves to the fact that, yes, Clay Aiken's first album sucks. I like the first track, though, and it inspired the beginnings of this story. Thusly, the lyrics are from "Invisible." And the title's kind of an adaptation of one I got off a Harry Potter fic. ^_^;;

Sasuke's POV. Shounen ai and only barely proofread.



"Sakura Is Sakura And You Are Yourself"



I saw your face in the crowd-

I called out your name,

You don't hear a sound.

I keep tracing your steps,

Each move that you make;

Wish I could be what goes through your mind.

Wish you could touch me with the colors of your life.



I see you everywhere. In everyone, in every face, I see you.


Something in the back of Sakura's eyes that laughs the way you do. Something in Haku's voice that was so like yours. In Iruka- sensei's grin, a shadow like the one in yours. In Kakashi's half-moon eye, a light like that in yours.

In the mirror, the same pain.

But you don't see me. You see Sakura's something. Sakura's smile. Sakura's light.

There is nothing of "Sasuke" in your heart.

Sakura is talking to me again. Your mischief is hidden in her eyes, where she thinks it can't be seen. And I need to know . . .

"Who are you?" I ask her, and she looks at me, confusion overpowering the sly mischief.

"Huh?" she asks, voice for once lacking the sweet sugar she so carefully applies to each and every syllable. She doesn't understand. Why did I expect her to?

"Who are you?" I repeat, never moving my eyes from hers.

"Wha . . . what do you mean, Sasuke-kun?" she stammers.

I don't say anything; just look at her. I can already tell that she doesn't have an answer.

That is why I will never love her.

Because when someone asks her, "Who are you?" her first assumption is that they have seen through her. Not that they are asking her name, or that they think she is someone else disguised by a jutsu, but that she has been undone.

Besides, when I ask you that question, you always reply immediately, usually grinning like you know how the world is going to end.

Sometimes I think you do. Sometimes I think that's because you're the one who's going to arrange it.

But that is only on my darker days, when I see corruption in everything. Even in you, with your wild laughter and silly games. And those days are the darkest of all. Those are the days that I see the badness in everyone, instead of seeing you.

Do you ever see the badness too? Or is it always her, who sits next to me, trying to cover the glimmer of truth that I can see in her eyes? Is it nothing and no one but Sakura for you?

Or is it just anyone but me?

Did you cry, when I "died?" Myself, I don't remember . . .

What I remember is your eyes, and your voice, and our shared confusion at my stupidity. I remember the way it felt to be held by someone again. The way it felt to be really warm. At the time, I thought it only figured that I wouldn't get that feeling back until I was already dying. And it would have to come from someone like you, who was just as alone as me.

The orphans, being alone together. Me, the one everyone thought was supposed to achieve great things, and you, who everyone hated.

I wonder why they hated you. Were your pranks really so bad? Were you really so annoying?

Even I . . . even I was never sure why I hated you. Even when I "died."

I never understood that part of myself.

But at least I always had an answer when people asked the question.

Once more.

"Who are you?"

Sakura just looks at me helplessly, searching my face for the "right" answer. Like she expects there to be one.

You are not too far away, practicing your aim resignedly. Used to being forgotten.

"Hey," I say, throwing a pinecone at you. My aim is perfect. "Who are you?"

You look at me and automatically respond, "I'm me. Who else would I be, you idiot?" You are distracted by your training and for once do not offer anything more complicated. I smile at that. I don't mean to, but I can't suppress it. The surprise in both your and Sakura's eyes is unmistakable.

"That's the answer?" she asks meekly, but I don't respond. In her eyes, so carefully hidden, I see irritation and the ugly feelings- the parts of her that she won't let me touch because she's afraid I won't care for her.

Do you think it would bother her to know that I'd probably like her a lot better if I could see the ugly parts more clearly? You give me anger and grief and love. She gives nothing but smiles and sweetness. If I did love her, that lack of true sustenance would kill me.

But you smile and you laugh and you don't lie to me about your feelings. I love you more because you love her, in fact.

"So who are YOU, asshole?" you demand sourly, waving your kunai at me. This time I let the laugh escape too.

"I am myself," I tell you, and for the first time since my "death," I let you see everything that I am feeling in my eyes, in my smile.

You don't quite return any of it, not right now, but the way you look at me reminds me of the look I gave myself in the mirror the day I started to realize the strangeness of what I felt for you.

I love seeing myself in you.

I hope you can too.



If I was invisible,

Then I could just watch you in your room.

If I was invisible,

I'd make you mine tonight.

If hearts were unbreakable,

Then I can just tell you where I stand.

I would be the smartest man,

If I was invisible-

Wait: I already am.



* ende *



. : mirror, mirror, on the wall: this is how the mighty fall : .