Playlist:Touched and Is it me, by Vast. Tell Me Goodbye, by Big Bang.

A/N: Next chapter will be the last, and it will be the epilogue. (Not proof-read.) Do leave a review before leaving the page!


Written by Venerate

Chapter four: Is it me


It is burning, stinging, hurting. My cheeks are on fire under a fine layer of binding. It feels strange; I can't understand that there is something changed with my scars. I don't know how, I don't really know if there was laser and big knives, I never listened to the doctor.

I have no money left. A few dollars for the trip home, back to school. I need a few more days here, resting, recovering. There is a lot of stress on my body, the nurse says each time she comes to check my band-aid. I want nothing more but to rip them off and see for myself. Is it good, is it gone, am I perfect now? After this, I can finally focus more on my body. Scrawny, it is ugly and I want to be as strong as Sasuke.

Strong, beautiful and absolutely handsome Sasuke. Strikingly gorgeous, I want them to describe me. I don't want to be 'the one with the good-looking, pale man'. I wonder, and think, what will Sasuke say? I think he will be happy for me. I think he will understand. He can't really mean that I am beautiful. He is just mocking me with his lies. Bastard.

Now he will finally be able to look at my face without nausea. Perhaps, when I buy new hazel contacts, he will even be able to look me in the eyes.

Returning, returning, returning. There are faint lines where my scars used to be. They will be gone after summer, when the sun has done its job to even out my skin.

I am at my regular corner. Mini shorts and a small shirt, revealing too much tan skin for my personal taste. Heavy make-up, foundation and powder to hide the faint lines that soon will be gone forever. Brown pencil has been used to enhance my eyebrows, and after tonight, my eyes will return to hazelnut.

The one who stops first is a handsome man. He doesn't look the type to cruise through these neighbourhoods, but I am not here to judge. It is not in my place, I know, and I grin widely when he motions for me to climb into his sports car. It smells new, lovely, but the man reeks of cigar smoke.

"Hey there," he says with a nod of his head, one of his thick eyebrows rising flirtatiously. "Aren't you a pretty boy?"

Not for long, I want to say. I will be handsome. I will be more than long limbs and lanky arms, I will. I will show them all, I won't be clumsy no more.

"How much?"

"A hundred bucks an hour."

"Hm. I guess you could be worth it."


I am going to get sent to jail for killing an innocent girl, but it will be worth it. I can't help but stare at her as she cries and cries, snot and tears covering her flushed face. Bangs of rosy hair stick to her forehead and cheeks. I must admit that Sakura is usually rather pretty, but in this state, I wouldn't touch her with a stick.

She whines out words that I can't understand, but I guess that they are all guilt-ridden and sad. It's just us, for now.

Her car is uncomfortable, and I have tried to find a comfortable position behind the steering wheel since we started driving, five minutes ago. Five minutes of me shifting, five minutes of her crying. Sobbing, drooling, clawing at her face as if trying to remove it with her long, painted fingernails.

"Shut up," I whisper. She can't hear me, and I take a new grip on the wheel to avoid harming her.

"H-how could I not–" She takes a deep breath, hitching dryly in her throat. "His parents will– will kill–"

I roll my eyes, pushing the old vehicle over its limits to get to our destination faster. She acts like a poor guide, when it is the only reason I brought her along. Hopeless, completely worthless, but at least she knows that her job on helping him is pitiable. More tears, causing the front of her blouse to turn a darker shade of cerise.

I recognise the neighbourhood we are in as rather high class; the gardens green and the houses big, not what I would have expected Naruto to origin from with his nasty habit of prostitution. "Which house?" I ask, not bothering with caring tones or gentle words. It doesn't matter if she's upset or sad – not to me – because it isn't about her. Not at all.

It is about Naruto.

I want him. Now, by my side in the passenger seat as we drive to meet his parents. These are not in the circumstances I wish to meet his father. It is wrong, and I blame everyone and everything.

Sakura points at a house, her hand shaking and her chest heaving as she tries to calm down. It is not until I have parked the car by the two-story Victorian house that I realise that I am tense. Sakura gets out of the car, practically running over the grass and heading to the French blue doors. I follow; my steps slower than I intend them to be.


The voice is unfamiliar, belonging to a female with red hair reaching her waist. She doesn't look like the mother of a whore, her eyes kind and her face filled with worry as she pulls Sakura into an embrace. Those green eyes, so unlike Naruto's, stare at me with caution and it makes me annoyed.

I want her to know. I want her to push away Sakura and take my hands in hers, saying 'thank you'. Thank you for taking care of my son, thank you for giving him food, thank you for loving him.

However, she doesn't know squat and her prejudices are aimed towards me. What have I done? Nothing, nothing.

She hushes Sakura, hugging her closer, saying, "darling, come inside. Tell me what's wrong."

Uzumaki Kushina is not married to Naruto's father. In fact, Minato isn't even at home. The closest I get to first impressions with the man is the picture on the refrigerator. There, blue eyes and hay-blond hair, he is smiling warmly and holding his wife in his arms, from behind.

Sakura has spilled the beans, her explanation to our presence jumbled and rushed. I butt in then and there, correcting wrongly made assumptions and adding trivial fact. It does not make Kushina feel better, and perhaps it would have been better if I kept my mouth shut.

She is greedy for more truth, demanding details upon details from the girl that really doesn't know anything. At first, she yells, then she cries and Sakura cries with her. Then it is an act of compose – 'I need to find my son' – it is primal, survival and she gets herself together for her son.

I stand there, by the fridge, staring at the man that Naruto is so alike yet so horribly different from. Blue eyes, blond hair that Naruto got from heritance, now fake hazel and platinum. Minato doesn't have any scars. He is of strong build and he is tall; proud, happy. Not a man that would succumb to others' ideas of beauty, not someone that would sell himself for money. Different.


Exhausted. The shirt – expensive, designer brand – is soiled. There is dirt on my back and my knees are scraped. I should have worn jeans, not shorts. They are for girls, some people say. They are the ones that fit, the ones I can wear. The kind that my customers want me to wear.

My surroundings are beautiful, but I should head to my dorm. Excited, excited. I need a shower, some eye contacts and new clothes. I need Sasuke's money. No, I need Sasuke. Horribly so, I feel the need to show him my change. It is a step in the right direction, and perhaps it will inspire him to stay.

Stay for a little while longer.

My hair is still damp when the door is forced open. Despite a minor heart attack I almost get upon seeing him again, I am relieved that I managed to shower and change before anyone showed up. The sores on my knees sting and I feel tired. Tired, but glad to see his face again.

"Let me see."

He doesn't sound worried, he doesn't sound angry. He sounds bored, he sounds like he always does. He grabs my chin harshly, forcing our eyes to meet. I close them – don't want him to see these horrendous blues – and his breath is hot on my face. He reeks of sweat, and I wonder if he just paid the school gym a visit.

"You stupid, stupid idiot." He pushes me down on the bed, and I bite my lower lip with annoyance. "Do you think your beautiful now? Do you think you're pretty?"

"Wha– no, no, I–"

My chest contracts painfully, and I can't help the tears. Of course not, I want to say. Of course, how could I be beautiful? My eyes are blue, my clothes are cheap and I don't know. I don't know anything; all I know is hunger and brittle hair and dry eyes. All I know is buying cosmetics worth more than my pride, buying clothes worth more than my comfort.

"Don't you know what makes you beautiful?"

He sits down by my side on the bed, avoiding looking at me. I look away as well, unconsciously hurt by his lack of eye-contact. Am I that horrid to look at, still?

"What makes you beautiful is your smile. Your ability to make everyone around you smile. You make me smile." He sounds a little put-off at the thought, but the tone is honest. Sasuke is a poor liar and, yet, I feel that this must be the biggest lie he has ever told. I know where to find beauty – I just haven't reached it yet. He continues, "I think you're beautiful."

Liar, I want to say. Liar, liar, because I'm not beautiful. I am not attractive, pretty, handsome and I'm not even worth looking at without my make-up, hair dye and designer clothes. What would I be without them? Doesn't he understand that I'm nothing without it? Does he still not understand anything, after all this time?

I look at him, unshed tears causing my cheeks to flare in embarrassment. He stares, dark eyes staring straight into mine as if he isn't disgusted. As if it doesn't matter that my eyes are watery blue, as if they shouldn't be brown.

He takes my hand in his, breaking eye-contact for a mere second, and then he smiles,

"I love you."


"I met your mother."


"…yes," I insist. Perhaps it is not the best time to tell him this, but I did promise to bring her home her son as soon as I found him. Sighing, I add, "I told her."

"You did what? Why would you do that? Are you insane?"

"I did it because I love you. Didn't you hear? I love you."

The words are foreign, strange on my tongue. It feels so right to say them, so right to finally let him know. The world must know, everyone should know – I love him. With these words, I declare that I belong to him. That he belongs to me, that he is mine. Everything – from his bittersweet taste to his crooked smile, from his fake-blond hair to his intruding ribcage. It can't be taken away from me when I use these words.

"Don't you know what you've done? She'll take everything away from me." He looks devastated, "She'll force me back home; I can't live there anymore. They'll take you away from me."

"What?" I frown, confused by his words. My hand, once on his elbow, moves to his hand as I try to figure out what he means. What does he mean?

"My father will blame everything on you. On you, your pretty hair and your expensive clothes. He'll blame the school for letting you manipulate me. He'll think you're my–"

He stops himself, looking up, and his breathing fast. The scars on his cheeks are so faded that I can barely see them, even now, without his make-up. He must be lying. I want him – I have him – no one can take him from me. Why should they, when I have saved him?


He smells delicious, sweet and sugary. He tastes differently, his caramel skin leaving a bitter tone of coconut on my tongue. My lips sting from harsh kisses, but it is a good tingle. It is a small cost to pay, seeing him gasp and flutter his eyes when my tongue reaches his ear. His lanky arms, wrapping around my neck, attempting to keep me there forever, until the pleasure fades.

His sounds arouse me to the point of insanity, my hands eagerly exploring his too slim body. The ribs I feel doesn't matter, the hip bones poking me doesn't matter and the collar bones against my lips doesn't matter. It doesn't matter, this is Naruto, and I want him. I've always wanted him, and now I have him. One would think the desire would weaken, but I was sorely mistaken.

Everything about him, bucking up and moaning in my ear when my wet fingers circle his hole. I push one in, and he whispers my name. He is so warm, so hot, and he appreciates my touch to a whole new degree. His hands holding onto my shoulders, one sneaking down my arm to make my fingers move faster.

"Sasu–ke," he whispers against my lips. His eyes are closed, trying to escape reality and succumb to pleasure. "Sasuke, ah, God."

I could do this forever, moving my fingers in and out of him and watch bliss roll off of him in waves until he climaxes, sucking on his lower lip and listen to his heavy breathing.

"I'm…" He pauses mid-sentence, his mouth millimetres from mine, and he gives a small whimper as he finally reaches his orgasm. His body tenses up, clenching around my fingers and causing me to groan. It would be so lovely to have my dick there, tightly buried in his wet hole. "Sasuke," he breathes out, his forehead against mine.

He stays completely still for a few seconds, just breathing, caressing with smooth hands over my arms. I move first, sitting back slightly and whipping out my erection from my underwear. I give it a few pumps, spreading pre-cum and lube from Naruto's ass onto it. It feels so good, knowing that he is watching. Blue eyes, hypnotised by my hand's movements.

He scrambles up from his sprawled-out position, standing on his knees between my spread legs. He presses his lips against mine, our tongues meeting and touching. He is the one to end it, lying down on his stomach with his nose bumping into the head of my dick. I can see the small smile before he swats away my hand, his fingers wrapping around me and guiding my cock to his mouth.

"A-aahh…" My hands are in his hands immediately, and I close my eyes. His mouth is wet and warm, his tongue playful. There are no teeth involved, and he sucks expertly, eagerly. "Yea–"

My head lolls back, and nothing matters as the man of my dreams sucks my cock. I won't let them take him away from me.

To Be Continued