Naruto's apartment resembled a natural disaster zone. Manuscript pages formed precarious towers on the coffee table, stained with week-old coffee. Three crusty mugs surrounded empty ramen cups and snack wrappers. The couch cushions had become a storage unit for everything from royalty statements to his long-missing hoodie.
He paced between kitchen and living room, counting steps like they might reveal some answer. Each lap ended at the window, where he'd stare at the amber-lit street before turning to start again, muttering continuously. Night had fallen, the dirty windows letting in only that particular urban gloom that created more shadows than light.
Naruto paced his apartment, muttering curses that did nothing to slow his racing heart. His palms left damp prints on his jeans as he checked his phone again: 7:11. Still an hour before Sasuke's. When the phone buzzed, he nearly dropped it—just spam. He tossed it down, only to snatch it back up seconds later to check weather (clear), email (junk), and texts (just his mom's brunch invitations). The group chat showed nothing from Lee or Gaara since yesterday, though they'd seen his message.
In the hallway mirror, he confronted his reflection: wrinkled shirt, pallid face, dark-circled eyes. His attempt at a confident smile twisted into something desperate and wild. He flipped himself off and turned away.
What was wrong with him? He'd dated before. Fucked before. It wasn't like Sasuke was a complete unknown. That was the worst part—years spent building walls of resentment and meaningless hookups, all to prevent exactly this. Now here he was, an hour away from breaking his one post-graduation rule, his body betraying him completely.
He checked the time again: 7:16 p.m. Time was slowing down, each minute dragging its feet just to spite him. He considered texting Sasuke to cancel, to say he'd come down with something contagious, but the thought of actually pressing "send" made his stomach twist. He tossed the phone onto the couch, where it promptly slid into the crack between the cushions and vanished.
He tried to imagine how the night would go. Sasuke opening the door, eyes widening with instant regret. No—Sasuke letting him in but barely speaking, both of them choking on wine and silence until someone says "high school" and everything explodes. Or worse—Sasuke answering the door shirtless, water droplets still clinging to his collarbone, that half-smile that used to make Naruto's knees weak. And what if—what if they actually connected? What if Sasuke's laugh still sounded the same? What if they talked until 3 AM like they used to, and Naruto woke up with Sasuke's arm around him, and then what? Then what?
He wandered into the bathroom, flicked on the harsh overhead light, and stared at his reflection again. He splashed water on his face, scrubbed his hands with soap, and tried to calm the tremor in his jaw. He dug out his deodorant and reapplied, then sprayed himself with an aftershave that was probably past its expiration date. He considered changing his shirt, but ultimately decided that anything he put on would just end up wrinkled and sweat-soaked anyway.
He checked the time: 7:24. Still too early.
He drifted back to the living room, dropping onto the couch with a noise somewhere between a grunt and a sigh. The phone was still missing. He groped between the cushions, found it, and clutched it to his chest like a lifeline. He thumbed open the last text from Sasuke—an address and a single-word message: "Tonight?"
Naruto stared at the screen until his eyes burned. He typed a reply, then deleted it. He typed another, then deleted that too. He tried to conjure up a memory of the last time he'd actually let himself want something this much. He came up empty.
He sat up, the nervous energy returning full force. He checked the time again: 7:35.
He stood, squared his shoulders, and walked to the door. He slipped on his shoes, tied them with hands that only shook a little, and took a last look around the apartment. It was still a mess, but maybe that was okay. Maybe you didn't have to be perfect to show up. Maybe it was enough just to go.
Naruto's keys jangled in his hand as he stood frozen at his apartment threshold, one foot in the hallway, one foot still anchored to his living room carpet. The door frame pressed against his shoulder as he leaned there, suspended between action and retreat. He exhaled sharply, stepped backward, and let the door swing shut with a soft click. His fingers were already swiping through his phone, muscle memory finding "Squad Goals" in his contacts. Before his courage could desert him, he jabbed the video call icon, the screen's glow illuminating his face in the half-dark apartment.
Lee picked up before the first ring finished. His face filled the screen at extreme close-range, a neon green headband gleaming with sweat, eyebrows arched in kinetic optimism. Behind him, Gaara's pale, impassive gaze hovered just above his shoulder, chin propped in one palm. If Lee was a live wire, Gaara was the grounding point.
"Naruto!" Lee beamed, voice a stadium cheer compressed to phone speaker. "We were just about to call YOU!" He shook his phone for emphasis, the camera wobbling so violently that Naruto's own face flickered across the corner, blurry and panic-eyed.
"Please don't," Naruto said, flopping onto his couch and pulling a pillow into his lap. "I need to talk. About… stuff."
Lee exchanged a look with Gaara, who blinked with the faintest suggestion of concern. "Are you injured? Bleeding? Have you been challenged to a parking lot brawl?"
"No, it's not—" Naruto pinched the bridge of his nose, then wiped his hand on the pillow as if afraid the nervous sweat was contagious. "It's a people thing, Lee. An emotional thing. Like… a feelings thing."
A beat, then Lee's face lit up with the realization that only an optimist could muster. "Aha! Romantic entanglements! Is it the Uchiha?"
Gaara's gaze sharpened by a millimeter. He said nothing, but the judgment was palpable even through the phone.
"Don't call it that," Naruto groaned, but there was no real bite to it. "But, yeah. Him. I'm… I think I'm dating him?"
Lee let out a war whoop loud enough to trigger his phone's noise filter. "THE FLAMES OF YOUTH BURN ANEW!"
Naruto grimaced, heat rising to his face. "It's not—it's not like that. We've barely done anything. I mean, sure, there was kissing. Maybe some touching. But it's not like I've already slept with him—"
"Technically, you have," Gaara said, voice flat as pond water. "Several months ago. During the unfortunate Christmas party."
Naruto covered his face. "That was a one-time thing. Also, I was blackout drunk."
"People can change," Lee said, pumping both fists. "You have changed, Naruto! You are more powerful than ever! The only question is, do you want this? If you do, then you must seize the opportunity with all your youthful might!" He leaned in closer, nose nearly pressed to the camera. "Do you want this, Naruto?"
Naruto stared at the screen, at the ridiculous, supportive faces of the only two people who'd stuck by him through every catastrophe and bad haircut. For a second, he considered lying—saying it was all a misunderstanding, or that he was just doing it for the drama. But the words dried up before they reached his mouth.
"Yeah," he said, soft and honest. "I really do."
Lee whooped again, startling Gaara into shifting his weight. "That's what I'm talking about! You're the bravest person I know! If you can fight through all that pain and still say yes, then nothing can stop you—"
Gaara cut in, efficient as ever. "You need to stop holding back. If you're going to do this, you have to actually do it. No more one-foot-out-the-door nonsense."
Naruto blinked. "What does that mean?"
"It means," Gaara replied, "that you're always bracing for the worst. Always ready to run, even when things are good. You can't make this work if you keep sabotaging yourself." His eyes were steel. "If you want it, act like you want it. Don't make us drag you to the altar."
Naruto gaped, unsure if he should laugh or argue. "You guys are supposed to be on my side."
"We are!" Lee insisted. "But you have to go all in, Naruto. If you don't, you'll regret it forever. Remember when you almost backed out of the triathlon because you were afraid of embarrassing yourself? Did you regret it when you finished second-to-last?"
"Yes?" Naruto said.
"But you finished!" Lee thundered, pumping a fist for emphasis. "And you got the t-shirt!"
Gaara's lips twitched, just shy of a smile. "You wore that t-shirt for a year."
Naruto remembered the shirt—garish orange, three sizes too big, with the word "FINISHER" across the chest. He'd hated how it looked but loved how it made him feel.
"Fine," he said, rolling his eyes. "I get it. Stop being a coward. Go for what you want. Is that the advice?"
Lee nodded so hard the camera nearly slipped from his hand.
Gaara, quieter, added, "Just remember that forgiveness isn't a one-time thing. If you want to make this work, you have to let go. Really let go. Even when it hurts."
Naruto let the words settle, weighted and real. "How do you do that?"
There was a pause. Then Gaara, looking off to one side, said, "You just keep choosing it, over and over. Until it sticks."
Lee, moved by some force of nature, tried to put his arm around Gaara on the screen and nearly knocked him over. Gaara endured the hug with deadpan stoicism, but didn't shake him off.
Naruto felt the tension bleed out of his neck and shoulders, replaced by a warmth that was almost, but not quite, contentment. "Thanks, guys," he said, and for the first time in a long time, meant it.
"Anytime!" Lee crowed, beaming at the screen. "You go and get your man! And if he hurts you again, I will destroy him with my fists of justice!"
Gaara raised a single eyebrow. "I'll hold him down."
"Dudes," Naruto said, fighting a laugh, "you are the weirdest support group in the world."
"You wouldn't have us any other way," Gaara said, this time with the faintest glint of mischief in his eyes.
Naruto nodded, grinning like an idiot. "I really wouldn't."
They said their goodbyes, and as the call faded out, Naruto stared at the black screen for a minute, letting the echo of their words fill the apartment. He breathed in, slow and steady. He felt lighter, less alone. More ready, maybe, than he'd been in years.
He checked the time: 7:55 p.m. Fifteen minutes to go.
At the door, he hesitated only once. He looked back at the apartment—messy, imperfect, and entirely his own. He remembered a time when he'd have locked himself inside, convinced that the world outside had nothing better to offer. But tonight, for the first time in years, he was ready to believe it could.
Naruto stepped out, letting the door close behind him with a soft, decisive click. The hallway was empty, the city stretching out ahead, full of promise and risk and everything he'd ever wanted.
He went.