Where is Home

Woah, pretty much first fic ever written. Especially in English.
If that sentence alone isn’t enough to make you hit the backspace, do keep reading!

Don’t own it.


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I didn't like him. Straight from the start. He was so loud and so very there.
His energy alone was enough to make me take a big step around him.
Whenever he got near me, it would feel like he'd absorb me. Draining every bit of
my personality and invading that circle that I drew around me back when I was eight.
His happiness and loud mouthed bragging made me want to lash out at him.
He just wouldn't shut up.

//Sasuke...//

Even know I cannot explain why or when exactly we shifted from mutual disliking each other
to toleration, and in the end perhaps the most intense friendship I have ever experienced.

//Sasuke!//

Sometimes I wonder if in any other team, with any other team-mate, I could have experienced
the same bond.
At times I blame it on my own loneliness. The absolute secret craving for
human interaction. I was so starved for a person who would interact with me like normal
people do. Perhaps, because in a way we shared the same childhood, we just latched on to each other.
Both in our own way emotionally and socially stunted, but that worked in our favour as well.
In the end; who needs words when you can convey a whole range of emotions in just one look
or one punch in the gut.
We could have worked so well, a tight bond, so intense we were almost like brothers.
Such a shame I had to kill the original one first.

"Sasuke!"

I feel a dull pounding vibrate through my entire body. Groggy, feeling raw and not even close to having
a clear mind, I try to shift my head to the persistent noise I keep hearing on my right.
I see a flash of wild red hair, but am unable to keep me eyes open for longer than a few seconds.

"Sasuke! Oh god, help me push him on his side. I think the wound is on his back!"

After a few seconds I hear several noises of acknowledgment. A few seconds after that
I feel several pairs of hands on my body trying to turn me over.
Coherence is coming back to me and I should try to make them understand that I'm really
not that bad off and they really should keep their hands to themselves.

But I don't. Because for some incomprehensible reason, the feeling of their hands gently
helping me roll over with such care, is about the closest thing I have felt to being loved
in a long time.

I silently thank whoever is in charge of small blessings that my team-mates are too busy
checking my wounds to notice a bit of liquid leaking out of my eyes.

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Hmm…This can be read as a one shot, though it’s not meant to be. We’ll see.