Naruto shook his head, panic rising. "No, I'm serious—"
"Stop," Sasuke snapped. "Just stop. This isn't funny."
Naruto flinched as if struck. "I'm not joking—"
Sasuke's face contorted, transforming into something Naruto didn't recognize—lips pulled back in a snarl, nostrils flaring, eyes wide with something between fury and panic. "Why would you say that?" His voice cracked, splintering between octaves. "After all this time, you pull this shit on the night of my graduation?"
Naruto reached out, fingers trembling so badly he could barely control them. Sasuke jerked away like Naruto's hand was a live wire, stumbling backward. "I'm not pulling anything," Naruto whispered, chest collapsing in on itself. "I just... I couldn't keep pretending. Not after tonight."
"Pretending what?" Sasuke's voice exploded outward, ricocheting off the garden stones. A person appeared at the edge of Naruto's vision, then vanished just as quickly. "That we're friends? That you actually gave a damn about me and not—" His words choked off, Adam's apple bobbing violently as his jaw locked so tight a muscle jumped beneath his skin.
Naruto's heart slammed against his ribcage with such force he thought he might vomit. The world tilted sideways, his lungs refusing to fill. "I do care about you, idiot," he gasped, voice breaking on every syllable. "That's the point—"
Sasuke's face went blank. "You're nothing but a liar."
"No—" Naruto's chest caved in, each heartbeat a stutter. "I wouldn't lie about this—"
"You're a fag," Sasuke spat, the word slicing through the night air. His lip curled up, eyes narrowing to dark slits. "You think I'd ever want that? From you?"
Naruto reached out, fingers trembling in the space between them. "Please, I just thought—" His voice cracked, words disintegrating. The garden lights blurred into watery stars.
"You thought what?" Sasuke's voice rose, sharp with disgust. "That you're special? That I'd want your hands on me? I always knew you were pathetic."
"It's not like that," Naruto whispered, but the words died as his throat closed up. The soda can slipped from his grip, aluminum crunching against stone before rolling into the grass. Cola foamed over his sneakers.
"Don't ever talk to me again." Sasuke's shoulders hunched forward, knuckles white. "I could never love someone like you."
Something fractured in Naruto's chest—a clean, terrible break. He opened his mouth, but only a small, wounded sound escaped. Sasuke's face wavered through his tears, and Naruto tasted salt and copper where he'd bitten the inside of his cheek.
Sasuke held his gaze for one more second, then turned sharply away. His silhouette cut across the garden path, swallowed by lantern light. Naruto couldn't move, couldn't breathe—just stood there with his arms half-raised in a plea that would never be answered, while cicadas screamed in the trees around them.
He sank to his knees, the world collapsing with him. Each tear burned like acid, carving paths down his cheeks that felt permanent, scars forming in real time. The garden lanterns blurred into smears of light that mocked him with their cheerfulness. Inside, people laughed—people who didn't know his heart had just been ripped from his chest and stomped on by the only person who'd ever truly mattered.
"I could never love someone like you."
The words burrowed into his skull like parasites. Naruto clawed at his own face, desperate to tear out the memory of Sasuke's disgust. Eighteen years of friendship. Thousands of shared secrets. The way Sasuke had once promised they'd always be together. All lies. All fucking lies.
He pressed his forehead against the pond's edge until stone bit into skin. His stomach convulsed, rejecting everything—the confession, the slurs, the realization that the Sasuke he loved had never existed. The cicadas' screams matched the howling inside his head. A glass shattered somewhere, the sound of his future breaking apart.
His first sob ripped through him like a blade, so violent it scattered the koi in panic. Naruto's body shook with each wail, grief and humiliation pouring out in sounds he didn't recognize as human. This was dying. This had to be dying. How could he possibly survive this?
The moon witnessed it all, cold and distant as Sasuke's eyes had been. Naruto curled into himself, arms wrapped around the hollow where his heart should be, rocking back and forth as the lanterns extinguished one by one. In the darkness, he became nothing but raw nerve endings and the echo that would haunt him forever: "I could never love someone like you."
By the time he staggered upright, the party had begun to break up, guests trickling out with the slurred, syrupy cadence of people who'd eaten too much and stayed too late. Naruto wiped his eyes with the heel of his palm, only managing to grind the tears and snot deeper into his skin. His throat was raw, mouth dry as though he'd spent hours screaming into a pillow. He stumbled along the path, legs numb and uncooperative, nearly toppling into a clump of ferns that lined the stone walkway.
He'd made it only a few steps when a silhouette separated from the darkness of the veranda. Itachi, ghostlike in the dim light, leaned against the doorframe with an unreadable expression.
Naruto froze. For a moment, the two simply stared at one another—one devastated, one inscrutable. Itachi's gaze dropped to Naruto's hands, still shaking, then rose to meet Naruto's bloodshot eyes. He gave the barest inclination of his head, a gesture so minute it might have been a spasm.
Naruto opened his mouth—apology, explanation, something—but nothing came out. He skirted past, refusing to look back, and heard nothing but the distant whine of cicadas and the slow, measured tap of Itachi's fingers against the railing.
The front gate stuck on its hinges, requiring a shoulder-shove to budge it open. Naruto half-fell through, breath stuttering in his chest. He kept his head down, ignoring the call of his own name from one of the Hyuga girls waiting for a ride. He ran, not for speed but out of necessity, as if the only way to outrun humiliation was to move faster than sound itself. The whole way, his mind screamed with what-ifs and should-haves and every memory of Sasuke's face, now ruined by that last, hateful glare.
He didn't stop until he reached home. The Uzumaki house stood silent in the moonlight, the porch lamp flickering with the rhythm of his heart. He fumbled with the lock, hands slick and unresponsive, before managing to force the key into the slot. The entryway was dark, save for the dim glow under the living room door, which Naruto avoided like it was radioactive.
Inside his room, he slammed the door and twisted the lock, then pressed his back to the wood and slid down until he was a crumpled heap on the floor. Only when the cold seeped through his shirt did he realize he was still wearing the suit, tie askew and shirt buttoned wrong. He clawed at his own throat until the tie came loose, then tossed it across the room where it landed, limp and defeated, on a heap of old sneakers.
The sobs returned, this time deeper and more guttural, tearing through him with the violence of a body purging poison. He curled into himself, knuckles pressed to his forehead, shivering despite the heat that clung to the air.
He didn't hear the knock at first—only the softest rattle at the door. Then came Kushina's voice, muffled but so heartbreakingly gentle it nearly undid him all over again.
"Naruto? Sweetheart, what's wrong? Open the door."
He squeezed his eyes shut, willing her to go away, to not see him like this. The handle jiggled. "Naruto, please. I just want to make sure you're okay."
He almost answered. Almost. But what was the point? He couldn't even form words without dissolving. He dug his nails into his palms and rocked back and forth, letting the pain anchor him to something, anything.
After a few minutes, Kushina's footsteps retreated, leaving him alone with the thrum of his pulse and the ache inside his chest.
When he finally stood, the room swayed beneath him—familiar walls now closing in like a trap. Every corner held fifteen years of memories he couldn't bear to face. The photos mocked him from every surface: Naruto and Sasuke building sandcastles, Naruto and Sasuke at graduation, Naruto and Sasuke beneath cherry blossoms. Naruto-and-Sasuke, Naruto-and-Sasuke, a hyphenated existence he'd never questioned until tonight.
His fingers trembled as they found the photobooth strip where Sasuke's half-smile—the one reserved only for him—now felt like the cruelest lie ever told. His chest caved inward, a physical collapse to match the emotional one. How many nights had they fallen asleep in this very room, shoulders touching, heartbeats synchronized? How many secrets had they whispered that now felt poisoned?
The paperback on his dresser—the one Sasuke had pressed into his hands last birthday—caught his eye. Inside was Sasuke's handwriting, each perfect letter a knife twist: "You'll never beat me in Mario Kart. Stop trying." The casual intimacy shattered something vital inside him.
"Liar," he whispered, voice breaking on the word. "LIAR!" The book flew across the room, pages fluttering like dying birds. His hands moved without conscious thought, tearing photos from walls, each rip a physical manifestation of what Sasuke had done to his heart. Tears blinded him as notebooks crashed to the floor, years of shared stories dissolving into meaningless scraps.
In the center of destruction, he collapsed again, a marionette with cut strings. The hollow where his heart should be pulsed with phantom pain. How could he still feel Sasuke everywhere when Sasuke had never truly been his at all?
That's when he saw the stack of envelopes on his desk. The top one, with its glossy blue and gold crest, stared back at him like an accusation. Naruto picked it up, hands steadier now, and slid his finger under the flap. The letter inside was stiff, formal, congratulatory. "Dear Mr. Uzumaki, We are pleased to offer you admission…"
He dropped the letter onto the desk and reached for the other envelope, the one from the local college. It felt lighter, sadder, like a vestige of a life that no longer existed.
He set them side by side and stared at them until his vision blurred again. He didn't need to read the words to know what he wanted.
His phone buzzed on the nightstand. Naruto's heart leapt into his throat. He stared at the lit screen, fingers hovering, suddenly unable to breathe. Maybe Sasuke realized. Maybe he was sorry. Maybe everything could still—
He swiped open the notification. His chest collapsed like a punctured lung when he saw the name wasn't Sasuke's.
From Old Perv
Hey Kid, was wondering if you changed your mind yet about joining for the summer for the book tour. I can have you on a plane tomorrow. Let me know.
Naruto stared at the admission letters until something clicked into place. He wiped his nose on his sleeve and crossed to the closet with sudden purpose. The battered suitcase he dragged out—the one from all those childhood sleepovers at Sasuke's—felt like it belonged to someone else now. He flung it open on the bed and watched his hands move of their own accord, stuffing in clothes without folding them: jeans still warm from yesterday's wear, t-shirts with memories stitched into their seams, socks that would never again walk the path to the Uchiha house.
His fingers brushed against the orange hoodie with its fraying cuffs. "A war crime against fashion," Sasuke had called it once, nose wrinkled but eyes soft. Naruto held it to his face for one breath, two, then folded it deliberately—the first thing he'd folded—and placed it at the bottom of the suitcase where it couldn't hurt him anymore. He zipped everything shut with finality.
Naruto then grabbed his phone and sent a quick reply to Jiraiya, letting him know that he would be waiting at the airport.
A final sweep of the room: pages on the floor, photos torn, the tie draped over the sneakers. Naruto stared at the admission letters side by side on his desk. The out-of-state school's embossed logo caught the light. His fingers traced the edge of the paper, and something cold and certain crystallized in his chest.
He grabbed a pen, scribbled a note to his parents: "Traveling with Jiraiya. Starting fresh at Konoha State in August. Don't worry." Each word felt like shedding weight.
In the mirror, his reflection startled him—red-rimmed eyes, yes, but his jaw was set in a way he'd never seen before. He nodded once at himself, a silent pact.
The hallway stretched before him, suitcase bumping his leg with each step. His parents' voices drifted from downstairs, but he moved past them like a ghost, already gone in all the ways that mattered.
Outside, the night wrapped around him, warm and anonymous. Each step away from the house felt more certain than the last. The pain was still there, a dull throb beneath his ribs, but with every block between him and everything he'd known, it became something he could carry rather than something carrying him.