Flibber T. Gibbet
Disclaimer: I don't own anything of any value, of which Naruto is. Does that make any sense?
Notes: An even shorter fic with no hopes of good writing redeeming its almost invisible length. Let's blame the horrendous quality on the uncomfortable-ness of a sixteen-hour flight this time.
At the age of sixteen, Uchiha Sasuke realized that he had never giggled before. He supposed it was because he had never had a reason to do so. Was giggling not a sign of happiness, of amusement, of glee? A sign of emotions he had felt little of in his life.
Memories floated lazily in his mind. Every time he had smiled, or laughed, came back to him in a punctuated, yet still continuous, sequence. A five-year old Sasuke smiling as his aniki gave him his first kunai. An eight-year old Sasuke racing home, eager to tell his mother something long forgotten. Smiles had morphed into hoarse cries that day, and that was the last time he had smiled for four long years. A twelve-year old Sasuke sparring with someone who had unconsciously become his best friend, his closest person, determination bringing hollow black eyes animation and a grin curving a pale mouth, an odd pair of emotions for an emotionless boy. Laughing at Naruto, a sincere sound, almost ending before it began.
People who giggled were happy. Sasuke was not a happy person. Therefore he did not giggle. Perfectly sound logic by most standards. But there was one more reason for the noise, one that much more sense to Sasuke. This giggle was not a happy sound; this was a mirthless laughter that stood in danger of falling off the precipice of hysteria. A mad sound, an insane noise.
Sasuke was sixteen before he ever giggled. The sound was a harsh, discordant one, hysteria lacing every ragged breath. He thought it ironically apt that the person who made him laugh for the first time since he was eight would be the one to make him giggle for the first time ever. Sasuke stabbed a kunai, the one Itachi had given him all those years ago, into the warm, bloody chest of a fresh corpse repeatedly, mechanically, tears tracing jagged paths down his cheeks. The corpse someone he once loved more than anything else, the corpse of someone he maybe still loved, the corpse of his best friend. He stabbed, and he giggled, blood soaking through his white shirt in almost artistic splotches.
Because even in death, Uzumaki Naruto was the only one who could make Sasuke laugh.
Oh, look. There's a little SasuNaru in here. I swear it just grew legs and walked in there by itself. Okay, maybe I don't swear. I'm just a slightly obsessive SasuNaru fanatic. Nothing too fatal, really. Well, at least, not until my parents find out. If this story deserves a review, praise or flame, please review. Not many people review my fics, so you could make the difference in my childish glee or depression. Yeah, I know. Great motivation.