I Really Don't Want to Know

A/N: most of you don't know, but i had a little minor surgery about one and half weeks ago that left me unable to write. but i received so much kindness and get well soon messages from friends, that today, when i finally had the urge and energy to write, i wrote this as a thank you for their support. you know who you are.

a little heartbreaking piece for you to enjoy, meant to be vague and fit the song, which is "i really don't want to know" by various, though the one i listen to is by elvis.

song lyrics

enjoy, and thanks!


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I Really Don't Want to Know
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We’ve been a couple for four months now. He smiles only at me, holds me every chance he gets, and doesn’t hesitate to tell me he loves me. And that makes me so fucking happy, because I have loved him for so many years. And during those years, he’s come and gone from our little village a fair number of times since he’d first appeared when he was fifteen. Sometimes it was just a stop over, sometimes an extended stay; until that last time he’d passed through the gates and lighted on my doorstep four months ago. But even though I hold him to me now, even though he belongs to me, it still leaves me with some uncomfortable questions….

Oh, how many arms have held you
And hated to let you go?

I’m not stupid enough to believe that I’m the only one who loves him or has loved him, nor am I naïve enough to think that he hasn’t had other lovers. He has a bedroom finesse that gives me wondrous pleasure even as it fills me with curiosity over where he’s acquired such skills. There are times he speaks of a memory, a thing he saw that called it forth, when he’d been in the company of a boyfriend, sometimes even a girlfriend, and he just shrugs it aside like those past relationships were nothing. That should put me at ease, to know that he isn’t hung up on anyone from his past, but it doesn’t quiet the questions that ravage my heart from time to time.

I want to know!

Don’t I?

How many, oh, how many, I wonder
But I really don’t want, I don’t want to know.

There are other questions that I have, ones that don’t tear at my heart quite so much. He doesn’t talk much about his past, where he comes from, or what he did as he wandered the country for so many years. It makes me think that perhaps his past is quite painful despite the effort he goes through to make it apparent he doesn’t care, especially when I catch the dimming of his brilliant eyes and a slight frown pulling at his lips from time to time. He doesn’t think I notice, but how can I not when it’s so off from how he usually acts?

What peaks my curiosity about those sad looks is the subject matter that brings them about. They almost always follow or precede a story he quietly tells me about his best friend from his childhood, someone he’d always had an intense rivalry with and yet admired more than he ever cared to admit. Once I asked him why they were rivals, and he surprised me with the answer, because it actually revealed to me a great deal of his past, whether he knew it or not.

They were ninja, assigned to the same genin team. He almost smiled as he told me of their meeting with their sensei, the man’s little ‘retrieve the bell’ test, and there was no small amount of pride when he related that his team had been the first that their sensei had ever passed. He had chuckled at that point, telling me that it was surprising to think about how they passed as a team when, on the day they’d gotten their team assignments, they’d wanted to kill each other. I was going to reply when I caught the slight pain in his eyes, a brief gesture of fingers on his lips, before the dimming and the frowning and the turning away from me.

Ninja. That was the cause of his traveling, I assumed, the reason his eyes looked far older than his face. But I didn’t care. Still don’t. It’s obviously a life he’s left behind. But every now and again, that genin story will pop into my head, and I’ll see him sitting by the window, smiling as he talked and then quiet and contemplative, the flit of fingers on lips….

Oh, how many lips have kissed you
And set, set your soul aglow?

No names; there are never any names when he tells his stories, nor absolute details, though I get the glimmer of some, so the terms ‘best friend’ and ‘first kiss’ often plague my dreams, to the point that I want to punch something in my frustration. This ‘best friend’ isn’t in the picture anymore, and yet after a night of intense orgasms and declarations of love, I drown in dreams where my lover has been reunited with this mystery man, and a love that had never been realized so many years ago is revealed. And I’m left all alone.

These dreams often follow me into reality. He and I will be out and someone I don’t know will wave and say hello to him, maybe come over to talk, and I’ll be gripped by a fear that it’s someone from his past that’s come to remind him of the life he used to have and take him away from me. At first, it was just a fear of this mystery best friend, but as time passed, it became a fear of anyone that he once knew in that life that I’ve never known.

I want to know.

I think.

How many, oh how many, I wonder
Yes I do.
But I really don’t want to know.

Four months of torturous happiness. Four months of bliss and joy coupled with fear and uncertainty. He doesn’t notice my unease, and I’m of the mind that he also doesn’t realize how much I truly love him. And sometimes, I wonder if he truly loves me.

Oh, he says it, and at times it sounds so damn sincere. Other times, though, it’s sincere, but there’s a shade to the voice, a tone that speaks of an immense sadness, perhaps even regret. It makes me want to sit him down and flat out ask him what’s going on in his head, to question whether that regret is for leaving behind someone else, or for setting foot into this village and coming to me.

And suddenly, I don’t want to know a damn thing about then or now.

I just want him.

So always make, make me wonder
And always make, make me guess
And even, you know even if I ask you
Oh, darling, oh don’t you, don’t confess.

As a ninja, former ninja – whatever – he goes along with some of the merchants in town as protection when they travel to a place he knows is a hostile territory. It makes me worry for him, and for me. Will he realize how much he loves his old life and leave me? Will he meet someone else while on the road? Does he meet someone else while on the road? Do I embrace someone who’s been unfaithful to me every time he comes home?

Something deep inside tells me that a relationship with this many doubts on the part of one person is doomed to fail. But I love him too much to ever let him go.

I love him. That’s all I need to know.

Unless…

Just let it, let it remain your secret
Oh, for darling, I love you so.

The door to our flat opens, and I jump as the quiet projects that soft sound of the closing door into a slam. He’s back from escorting another merchant home. I haven’t seen him in five days. When our eyes meet from across the room, I don’t smile a welcome because he’s not smiling at me.

He’s not alone.

No wonder, yeah, no wonder, I wonder
‘Cause I really… don’t want…

“Who’s your friend, Naruto?” My vision is getting a little hazy.

“This is…” His eyes dim, the little frown. Will he flit his fingers across his lips? “…Sasuke.” He looks back at his best friend – a mystery no longer. “We need to talk.”

I don’t want to know.

~owari~

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ah, i felt in a maudlin mood, i guess. but the song is really good. so inspirational.

thanks for reading!