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It's in your fifth period class, the 93rd day of your freshman year that you realize that you are going to die.

The teacher, a middle aged man who honestly hates his job but will not quit because he needs the money to pay the hospital bills of his sick wife, stands near the white board, scribbling down information you knew three years ago. Peers rapidly jot down notes in an attempt to keep up with the teacher. Their efforts will always be futile as the instructor erases the information almost immediately after he writes it. "It's to improve your paraphrasing skills" the man would remark if a complaint was lodged. "When your in college nobody will wait for you to finish."

You resist the urge to sigh. Nothing taught here was going to help you in the future. What do you need to know for the afterlife?

Your best friend breathes deeply beside you, leaning back on two of the legs of the orange plastic chair. His blond hair shadows the cerulean eyes you hate to love so terribly much. He too finds displeasure in the course your currently in, but for a completely different reason. The males' intelligence had never compared to that of your own and the only reason he continued to pass was due to pure determination.

Dotted among those you consider mere strangers, you spot the few others who fill in the remaining spaces of your limited group of friends. Shikamaru has his face buried into his folded arms, spiky hair sticking up as if it were the crown on a pineapple. Neji attempts to fake the process of diligently taking notes (he is ranked at number 2 of the 2015 class, his GPA only .17 below your own, meaning it is not necessary for him) by scratching out random phrases in his spiral. Gaara sits listlessly, staring out the tinted windows at nothing in particular.

Someone incessantly clicks his or her pen.

You fail to withhold the sigh this time, one so deep that it makes your bones quake. Attentive blue orbs glance over towards your shaking form, concern dancing in their depths. With a quick movement and a loud thump that causes the rest of the classroom to turn and stare (you can't help the tinge pink that dusts your cheeks due to such) the two legs of the chair that had previously been suspended in midair and reunited with the cool tiled floor. The blond ignores the scolding of the professor in favor of peelings off his sweatshirt. You feel heat you in your groin as his black t-shirt rides up to reveal delectable tan skin underneath. The piece of clothing is shoved toward you moments later, accompanied by a goofy smile. Although you aren't exactly cold, you accept because it was generous of him to offer and somewhere in the back of your muddled mind you hope that the familiar scent would bring inner peace.

Your not sure how it's going to happen yet, how you're going to die, but a nagging feeling in the back of your conciseness says that you won't live for too much longer. The ideas that you will marry, will graduate, will go to senior prom, all seem rather preposterous now. Maybe instead of directing your energy solely on your studies as usual, doing all the things that you want to accomplish or take part in would be best. Going to college would be unattainable of course, but there were other things too. Visit your relatives you have only spoken to through the phone, e-mail, and video chatting in Japan, meet your favorite band, have sex for the first time...

There's suddenly a hand gripping your own tightly. It's digits are rough and calloused, and after opening your dark eyes that had drifted shut without you even noticing, you can see that it is of a caramel complexion. Before thanking the lord that you sit in the back of the classroom where nobody can see the affection action, you give a gently squeeze and a weak smirk in response.

Naruto and yourself had become boyfriends over the summer vacation of eighth grade after several years of being rivals. The events leading up to the decision were jumbled, but it had been one of the best of your life thus far. The boy was one the most supportive and caring people you had ever had the privilege to meet, even despite your all-around moodiness and tendency to jump to conclusions. You two had a tendency to bicker a lot, but it never caused any serious issues in the relationship. As being a gay couple was rather taboo in your school, however, you kept the fact that you were dating under the radar and only told your friends and some family about it (you were almost positive your parents would disown you if they knew).

The bell that signals the end of the class and beginning of lunch trills loudly at exactly 11:47. Students all around you begin to chatter enthusiastically, their voices accompanied by the scraping of chairs and zipping of book bags. The teacher screeches a reminder to finish the practice sheets over the long weekend, fully well knowing that the majority of the class would return saying that he never gave such a requirement on Tuesday.

Almost robotically, you pull away from Naruto and heave your black backpack over your shoulder. He clutches your bicep before you can walk away, and tells you to wait for him by the gymnasium before leaving for lunch as he has to go to his locker first. Lines of worry are barely visible around his lips and crinkled eyes. You give a curt nod and walk out of the class.

It's considered very rude, but you decide to ditch the blond. He will wish to interrogate you about your behaviors earlier, something your really not up to. Sharing feeling with other people, even the ones who care about you the most, has never been your favorite activity nor strong point. Burdening others with your own problems and troubles was pathetic (at least in your opinion), dealing with them on your own made you stronger. You knew Naruto would be quiet upset that you went on ahead without him- he always hated falling behind- but it was the best for both of you.

You go to the roof, as nobody normally sits up there. In technicality it was out of zone, but nobody really did anything about it unless you were doing something terribly wrong, and you don't do anything that could get you in trouble. It would look bad on the transcripts sent to the colleges you will (would have) apply for.

The crisp autumn air feels good against your ivory features as you shove open the rusted door and step out onto the paved roof. The vines of dying, untrimmed foliage wrap themselves around the metal fencing that surrounds the perimeter, trying to suck any nutrients out of the damned thing. It's an attempt that is bound to end in failure, just as his classmates' frantic note taking from before.

You meander over to your left and press your back against a gray concrete wall, sliding down to the cool stones of the ground to sit. You remove your pack, but opt out of retrieving the lunch your butler packed from it's depths. You weren't anorexic, just nauseous.

The school you attended was bland. Any and all colors used to paint the building were neutral in an effort to calm the rambunctious youth inside, although in the end it just made them antsy. The landscaping job was kicked and trampled by a particularly disrespectful student body a few years back, leaving a depressing scene of dead flowers and grass in their wake. In an attempt to compensate for the destruction, the current student counsel attempted to grow a garden on the roof. The project originally had plenty of support, and the area became a hot spot among the teens during the lunch hour. Everything changed when a rebellious boy known as Kyuubi scaled the fence and fell to his death 20 feet below, however. From then on out, the roof became an off-limits area and the plants had been abandoned. Such restrictions had never halted the traffic of the troubled who climbed up in order to sort things out in privacy though.

You can tell who the person joining you is even before they move to sit down beside you. The elegant footsteps and natural grace you can see in their shadow cannot be mistaken for any other soul. Itachi.
Your brother and you had a falling out over a girl when you were in 7th grade. Haruno Sakura had been your best friend since Kindergarten when she had defended you from a bunch of bullies who called you derogatory names. She was there for you when your parents went through a terrible cruel divorce. She didn't judge you when you admitted you were probably bisexual. She was also your crush and two years your elder.

Everyone believed that you two would have made the perfect match and go on to get married and live in a beautiful Victorian-Style house. You would become a successful lawyer, her a brain surgeon. As a couple, you would have three beautiful children all with gorgeous onyx hair and stunning emerald eyes. Itachi did not think the same way. He did not have feelings for the girl, per se, but she did end up in his bed when they were both naked. One thing led to another, and the two had hot, ravaging sex.

You, as fate would have it, walked in while the act was occurring and found yourself feeling heartbroken and betrayed. Sakura had been your first crush, and your brother had known this fact (at the time, you were naive and shared everything with the man), yet here he was, fucking her brains out! A fight that spanned weeks had ensured that ended with the Harunos moving out of town. Itachi had apologized multiple times, but you had never forgiven him due to your stubborn nature.

"Sasuke," he murmurs your name in his deep voice as he sits down next to you "why aren't you at lunch with your friends? Naruto is looking for you."
You refuse to humor him with a response, instead cranking your head in the direction opposite direction to where he is.

The senior is silent for a few moments. "You do realize how childish you are acting towards them, correct? Giving me the silent treatment is almost understandable, but locking them out is going to do nothing but hinder you."

The sky is awfully blue today, spattered with pure white clouds that remind you of marshmallows. Unfortunately, the thought of any type of food makes your stomach churn more than it had been before.

"In the long run you will regret acting like this."

In your head, you silently respond that a dead man can't feel remorseful. Or maybe he can, maybe those who die have to atone for their sins. Maybe you have to watch how your life would have played out had you not died.

"I don't understand who you're trying to impress little brother." Irritation is beginning to seep into your brothers' tone.

You don't care. All you can think about is how the science department chair head is sucking off the bitter teacher with the sick wife.

"Sometimes I wonder if you are even listening! I love you so much little brother, you need to take into account what I'm saying!"

You can lead a horse to water, but you cannot make them drink.

There is a sudden force on your chin, and your face is yanked over to meet Itachi gaze. His eyes, so similar to your own, are alight with an anger you have scarcely seen "Dammit Sasuke, fucking respond you little brat!"

Your breathe catches in your throat at the venom laced into his tone. You have never seen him this enraged before, not even when you rolled the brand new Bugatti your father had purchased him for his 18th birthday. Perhaps responding would have been the better option. "I-I..."

The shrill sound of the bell cuts your statement off. Five minutes until the tardy bell for 6th period will ring. "I will see you at home Itachi," you state before rising from your place, black backpack in hand, and head towards the rusted door that leads into the stairwell. Internally you celebrate the amazing luck you are experiencing today.

The last two periods of the school day pass by incredibly slow. In world history you manage to down a bottle of water without vomiting, only to find yourself almost gagging in Home Ec. In the flurry of trying to prevent your body from expelling it's mixture of bile and water all over your partner and into the cake batter, flower and eggs end up all over Naruto sweatshirt. While your boyfriend probably would just laugh about the situation and pull you into his soothing embrace, it's embarrassing to give something back ten times dirtier than when you received it.

When the day is finally over, you can hardly manage to move. Your bones and muscles ache, nausea has taken control of your digestive system, and your headaches as if someone was chiseling away at your skull. Originally, you were planning on going to apologize to Naruto for being such a dick, but now all you want to do is go home and sleep. You hope a phone call would be sufficient enough.

Unfortunately, the plan is foiled when the blond is standing on the sidewalk near the student parking lot. It doesn't look like you were who he was waiting for, as he is chatting animatedly with some kid named Kiba, but when he spots you attempting to sneak past with a group of large girls, his prospect changed.

"Hey, bastard!" he snarls, blowing off the other brunet "where the hell did you go at lunch! I was lookin' all over for you!"

You flinch, eyes squinting as Narutos loud voice makes you head burn with a new passion. "I went to the roof, I needed time by myself to think."

The other man growls "So it was necessary to just ditch me? You could have just said something, like 'hey, I need to go be an emu loner for a while, brb!' or 'I need some space' I'll talk to you after school!"

You don't have a legitimate response to that "Look Naruto, I'm sorry, I really have to get going though so can we talk about this la-"

"No, you know what, we are going to talk about this here and now!" the blond screeches, shoving you a little. People are beginning to stare at the scene, hoping a fight will break out between the two of you. "Where do you get off thinking you can be such a dick all the time? If I acted anything like you, you would have broken up with me ages ago! But nope, I just lay down and take all your bullshit all the fucking time!"

You feel tears prickling at the back of your already stinging eyes. Fuck, you are Uchiha Sasuke, you will not cry!

"this isn't how it's supposed to work, it's not healthy! You need to stop acting like you're better than me and that I'm some sort of trash that you can just do whatever you want with!"

The salty tears are pooling in the corners of your eyes now, clearly visible. You rub at them with the palms of your hands, attempting to wipe away the evidence. The fire that previously burned in Narutos' eyes seemed to die down as he realized you were close to crying.

"Sasuke, I'm sorry, d-don't cry. Come here," he says with regret dripping off his words like rain drops off a tarp. The boy has his arms spread wide and is moving forwards, as if he were to hug you.

"No, Naruto, it's fine, I understand. I promise I will change," you state in a cracking voice, moving in the opposite direction. Why the fuck did your chest hurt so much suddenly?

"Sas, come back, stop," Naruto begs, using his pet name for you as he moves a little faster towards your form.

"No, just leave me alone idiot," you reply, also increasing your speed.

"Sasuke! Stop now!" the blond screams, his footfalls behind you increasing rapidly.

Instead of responding, you just break into a run. You can hear your boyfriend pleading for you to stop from a ways back, but you pay it no mind and run right into the lot. Liquid still fogs your vision.

Suddenly, a bone-crushing force hits you from the right side, sending your body flying. Pain, worse than anything you've felt before, envelops your form. You can hear the shattering of glass and strangulated cries before your world fades into a bleak darkness.

A/N: Hooray, something new despite the fact I haven't even come somewhat close to finishing my other two works! This one, however, is a NaruSasu.

I'm not sure whether or not to continue this. Originally it was to just be a one-shot, but then the plot bunnies began to run rampant in my mind. Please review and let me know what you think of this, and whether or not I should continue it. Critiques are wonderful, and flames are accepted as well (they are used to start a fire for me, as it is rather chilly out).

Disclaimer: I do not own the series Naruto or any characters that go along with it. I also do not own Bugatti. The plot, however, is my own.