This is my very first fanfic.
Please be gentle.
I do not own Naruto.
Rated M for future chapters, which WILL contain one or more of the following: sex between men, drug use, abuse, self harm, profanity.
Reviews are good, yes?
When given a choice between sleep and madness, he would always choose madness. Sleep, no matter how needed or craved, could be the end of everything for him. He feared, more than anything, slipping into a dream and not being able to find his way out.
So he didn't sleep. At all.
His bus pulled into the station just past noon on the last day of summer. Sauntering down the metal stairs, he slung the worn and faded duffel bag – containing everything he owned in the world – across his back. As his sandal-clad feet touched the concrete of his new home, his stomach growled. He frowned, trying to remember when he had last eaten. He hand dropped to the front pocket of his jeans, and his fingers tapped against the money he had tucked away.
$20. His last $20. All that was left of the prize money he had received 3 days ago, after paying for a Greyhound ticket out of town, was twenty-fucking-dollars.
"Shit," he said to himself.
He needed to find a shower, somewhere to sleep, and hopefully, a job. His stomach rumbled again, louder this time, and a little old lady walking past threw him a look of pity. Embarrassed, he turned away, arm snaking around his traitorous body. Yes, a shower and a bed would be good, but food needed to come first.
He closed his heavily lined green eyes and inhaled deeply, hoping to get a whiff of something cooking. Faintly, he smelled cooking meat, and his stomach flopped in anticipation.
"Probably can't afford it," he muttered to himself, but his body did not listen. His feet began to move in the direction of the delicious smell. He tried to keep track of the street signs, of the turns he made, but nothing mattered to his mind at that moment except the promise of food. He sniffed the air. The smell was stronger now. Glancing up, he saw thick cooking smoke, which he assumed came from some sort of grill.
Hurrying, he rounded the corner, already tasting the charbroiled hamburger he knew that he would have to order -
-and ran smack into a young blond, sending the stack of papers he was holding every which way.