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The Threads that Bind Us	By : Rosebud Category: Naruto > Yaoi - Male/Male Views: 1294 -:- Recommendations : 0 -:- Currently Reading : 1
Disclaimer: I do not own Naruto, nor any of the characters from it. I do not make any money from the writing of this story.

Chapter List
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Author’s Note: This story is about seventeen year old Sasuke and twelve year old Naruto—their friendship and eventually the relationship that they will share. There will be nothing sexual between them until they are much older, so please don’t expect to see any shota. I will be working on this story in my spare time, and it will be updated whenever I get around to it. Sorry if this bothers anyone…

For those of you from AFF who may read this, I am updating this story again…

Warning! This story contains: Yaoi, death (not main characters), suicidal themes, self-mutation, angst, profanity, abuse, and dark undertones. There’s also a shit load of WAFF. This Chapter is not BETA’d! It may also contain: vague mentions of nonconsensual sex and mentions of Incest. I'm currently re-writing part of this story.

Disclaimer: I don’t own Naruto or anything else that may have copyright. I make no money from writing this.

Text Keys:

Refers to past text/Flashbacks

Emphasis

’Thoughts’

“Talking”

...breaks/time gap…

The Threads that Bind Us

Written By: Crimson2006

Prelude

Every afternoon, for more then a year, Naruto had sat outside on the steps in front of the apartment complex where he lived; his blue eyes locked across the street, watching the raven haired man who lived there come and go. He didn’t know the pale man’s name, but nevertheless he watched with curiosity. Always wondering why the man looked so angry at the world and even more perplexed as to the sadness that was stratified beneath that.

Naruto was only twelve years old –though his appearance could easily be mistaken for nine, if not younger– yet his ability to read people was very well place. He held an air of knowledge to him; one that was coupled with experience, something that was akin to mystery and innocence so that you couldn’t help but feel alive when you were a around him. The whispers of sadness did not make it past his smile and the turmoil of losing everyone who was precious to him at the young age of seven did not reflect back in his eyes; for he had learned to mask his pain well.

His outer image was ostensible, the epitome of perfection as the deepest scars that he bore in regards to his past were imbedded inconspicuously within the threads of his tattered heart. And that was a secret that he kept to himself for the most part, not letting his outer appearance falter in the least.

But the man that he watched from afar, that man was different. Naruto could see the pain in his endless black orbs; he could feel the heartache in every step taken and each breath that was drawn. There were days that the man hurt so bad that it made Naruto cry. And perhaps what was worse was that he was the only one who could see it. It was only his azure orbs that withered away the threshold of the raven’s stoic expression and cold impassive eyes; truly seeing what laid there beneath the well crafted coldness.

It was sad, and in so many ways ironic, because their internal pain seemed to be the same.

“Naruto, stand there next to your father and give me a big smile... And no rabbit ears in this shot! I want to hang this picture in the living room.”

The pair of blonde’s smiled. Father and son, an image so perfect that it made the sunshine envious.

”Ok mommy, my BEST smile it is!” Naruto exclaimed.

Vaguely, the child pondered –on more then one occasion– who it was that the older man lost. Maybe it was his mother and father? Or a sibling that he was close to. Naruto had been an only child so he never was able to understand the bonds of brotherhood, but imaged that they were probably the strongest ties in the world. Something that went deeper then what your mother and father could give, a link of comprehension that was not bias in accords to unconditional love. It was hard for him to explain, but Naruto just felt that way. Siblings could keep secrets, they could relate to one another; it was like there was an unspoken bond between them. He had seen these interactions in other people, and that was how he knew them to be true.

The world was not always a kind place, yet family often served as a safe haven. It had been so for Naruto, for the first seven years of his life, and he was sure that it was the same for the man who lived across the street, in the old spook house that none of the other kids would go near.

All in all, the place wasn’t that bad. There was just an old giant oak tree that sat mid center of the lawn. The bark twisted in a bizarre pattern making the limbs stretch far and wide, overcastting a shadow of forlorn on the estate. In many ways it looked like the set of a horror movie, spun from the pages of some supernatural thriller or hack-and-slash flick. But that was only if one degraded the other features of the estate. The small little garden that was nestled against the northern expanse of the house, the well cut grass and perfect paint job to the exterior. These aspects toned down the spooky properties that seemed so apparent to most people and it was almost if people wanted to avoid the man; refusing to look past what was obvious, to see something more.

Naruto knew that his assessment of that topic was wrong though. Instead, he purposed that it was the other way around. That the man was the one that didn’t want to be bothered; that he painted the picture of something dreadful and cold and expected people not to look beyond that. It might have worked too; if Naruto had not sat there everyday and watched the navy blue house and the man that lived there, before looking past that to actually see what resided beyond them.

…

The man had a routine, one that seemed so well planned out that it was horrifyingly monotonous. On Monday’s he tended to his garden. Although Naruto couldn’t see exactly what he had planned, he did in fact know that it was vegetables of some sort. The blonde was a gardener himself, his back patio over flowing with bright red tomato’s, bell pepper, squash and strawberry’s. It was like a smorgasbord of color, and when you sunk your teeth into whatever fruit or vegetable that had been picked, it was like an explosion of flavors in your mouth.

The man’s garden, however, was different. It was colorless and bland, and everything was buried in the ground. Naruto partially wondered if the garden was somewhat symbolic, that maybe the man was trying to bury something more then just a few onions and potatoes –or beets or turnips, the child didn’t know for sure what he had planted– but whatever it was, it was hidden like a secret. And that puzzled the boy who was surprised by such an act.

To him the garden was the most obvious aspect when you looked beyond that hauntingly withered tree, something so clear and defined, and yet nobody saw it…really saw it. Was it the man’s silent plea for help? Naruto knew that it might sound strange, or even crazy to some people, but he strongly felt that there was something emblematic about the whole thing. And why not; everything about his neighbor seemed exceed a normal perspective?

Tuesdays were market day and the dark haired man always wore black slacks on that day with some sort of button-up shirt. Sometime the shirt was a solid color: white, grey or black and other time’s it was strips: a combination of the three aforementioned colors, or those of dark blue. Naruto marveled at the fact, that again, the man associated himself with dark undertones. He didn’t wear anything bright. No reds, greens or oranges– nothing that would signify happiness or pleasure. Instead his clothes seemed to be as melancholy as the pain hidden within his eyes, and it bothered the blonde that nobody seemed to care.

With all due respect, Naruto had tried once before to talk with the man, and what he had received was a death glare that would have scared the devil straight. The blonde of course, had taken the look in stride. Simply knowing not to push the subject, but rather opted to sit back and wait for the right time to approach. Something told him that there was away to get past the man’s defenses, it was just a matter of opportunity. He didn’t know what it was or when it would occur, just that it would happen and that he should be ready.

Wednesday’s were the worst, because the man always looked exhausted. It wasn’t something that had happened just once or twice –or even a handful of times– but it was every Wednesday that the raven stepped out the front door with the disheveled appearance that implied a restless night of sleep and major coffee compensation to make up for it. But perhaps what was even stranger; was that in his hands he always carried a dozen red roses.

Naruto never saw him bring home any flowers, so he speculated that perhaps the man grew them in his backyard. He also wondered what else was concealed by the houses foundation, but didn’t dare tread where he didn’t belong.

Still, curiosity beseeched the child in more then one way on those days, if only because of the color of the flowers. They were red; the color of blood, sacrifice and redemption. It was only color that the man seemed fond of other then the dismal, or neutral ones that he normally associated himself with. The fact that the presences of the color in association with the depressed attitude, and how the reoccurrence of the display were all linked—was something that did not go unnoticed by the blonde. He also observed that the man left early in the morning and didn’t come home until the late afternoon—void of the roses that he had previously carried.

If Naruto had to guess, he’d say the man went to the cemetery on those days.

Thursday’s and Friday’s were uneventful. The man didn’t come out of his house unless it was to collect the morning paper or fetch the mail. It was almost like he was trying to recuperate from whatever he did on Wednesday. This only fueled Naruto’s belief that the man went to the cemetery or perhaps a memorial to grieve for who ever he had lost; the flowers a remembrance, but maybe an atonement for all the things that he never said, or maybe the things that he had.

Regret was such a strange emotion, the way it made your heartache with sorrow, clenching down on your chest to constrict your breath. It was a sensation that Naruto perhaps knew a little too well, having regretted so many things when it came to his past. How many years had he wasted, how many days had he let wash by unfulfilled? He wished with all his heart that he would have helped his mother out more often; that he would have listened to her and behaved like a good son. He dreamed of having that second chance –a foolish child’s dream– of spending more time with his father; of making every moment count and not just the ones that he deemed fit. But most of all, Naruto regretted his actions of that fateful day when everything he loved slipped through his fingers.

“Oh, damn it. I think you were supposed to turn right back there.” Minato mumbled, flipping the map around, his blue eyes focused on trying to find the right exit. It was their first family trip together and Naruto had been adamant about them going to the Ramen factory. Minato could never understand what his son’s fascination with that food was, but if it made Naruto happy then that was all that mattered.

‘If I hadn’t wanted to go there...’

“Its ok honey, I can see you were busy talking to Naruto. I can just get off at the next exit, it won’t be a problem.”

‘If I hadn’t been talking to dad...’

“Naruto, what are you doing now?” A pair of green eyes flashed in the rearview mirror, their owner eyeing her only child.

“I want to look at the pictures that we took at the zoo… the one of me and dad.”

‘If I had just waited...’

“That’s a very expensive camera Naruto, please don’t mess with it!”

“But mom...”

‘If I had listened...if I had been a good son...’

“Listen to your mother, “Minato warned, his eyes drifting off the map to look back at spinning image of his youthful self.”I don’t want to have to punish you for disobeying.”

‘I’ll never forget that look in your eyes; you were so disappointed that I wasn’t behaving...’

Naruto just shook his head. “But I wanna see the pictures…”His tiny hands fiddling with the digital camera, trying to figure out how to make it work.” I’m a big boy, I can do it myself. I don’t need you...”

‘My stupid words that still haunt me now...’

Minato shook his head and reached back towards his son, trying to grab the camera. But Naruto had anticipated his father’s intervention and was holding it out of arms reach. “I just want to see the one picture. I’ll put it away when I’m done.”

“Naruto, give me the camera! Now!”

‘Why didn’t I just listen?’

“You heard your father,” Naruto’s mother replied, her voice tired from a long day of driving.” Just give your father the camera.” Turning around she looked at her son, her green eyes drifting off the road for no more then a few seconds. But that was all it took.

‘You were both looking at me, so you didn’t see it coming…’

The car hummed along happily, unaware of the drunk driver that was weaving in and out of the oncoming traffic. The thick shrubbery that lined the medium obstructing the view, preventing anyone from seeing the misfortune that was about to occur.

‘They all said it wouldn’t have mattered, that the truck would have hit us whether mom had her eyes on the road or not. But in my heart, I knew differently. I knew she could have swerved. I’ve always blamed myself for what happened... if not for the cause, then because I’d seen it coming.’

‘In that moment I had been a coward and voiced myself just a second to late.‘

“Mom...” Terror filled Naruto’s blue orbs and his life flashing before his eyes.

‘You turned around, but it the truck was already hitting us...’

The sound of glass shattering and the eerie crunch of metal colliding with metal reverberated down the coastal highway. In that moment, three lives faded away.

‘It was all my fault... And I was supposed to die with you.’

“Charging to 200, clear!”

‘I didn’t want to come back...’

“Charging to 250, clear!”

‘I didn’t want to be alone, lost in this world all by myself...’

“Charging to 300! CLEAR!”

‘But my heart betrayed me...My lungs filled with air.’

“He’s back!” A doctor’s voice confirmed.

One of the many nurse in the ER smiled. “Oh thank god!”

‘I suppose that it’s what I deserved, though…My punishment for killing the two people I loved.’

“Where’s my mom! Where’s my dad!”

“I’m sorry Naruto.” The nurse fidgeted with the blonde’s medical chart; trying to find an easy way to inform the boy, who had just woken up from a six week coma, of his tragic loss. ”They... they didn’t make it.”

‘It was all my fault...’

With genuine interest, the blonde wondered if the man across the street had lost his precious people in a similar manner. Was it guilt that drove the pale figure to the graveyard every Wednesday, or was it simply to respect the dead? To remember what he had, and cherish that moment?

It was really hard to say, but Naruto deemed that it might have been a little of both. And to be honest, if that was indeed true, then he envied the man for those capabilities; for being able to remember the good times without feeling a cloak of loneness and despair overshadowing it. For Naruto he was always reliving that one moment in time. And it was slowly killing from the inside, taking away the years that he had left so that death could find him sooner. It was a measure that he hid well. Smiles that were fake, false laughs that sounded real and the simple answer of: ‘why would something be wrong?’ the perfect tools to his quiet suicide. He wanted to die and maybe the man across the street wanted that fate too…And maybe that was the only thing they had in common. But it gave Naruto better insight as to why he was drawn to watch the figure so avidly.

Unlike the weekdays, the weekends were a little more time consuming. Save for Monday, Naruto would only get to see the man entering his house or leaving it behind. Saturday however, was the day the raven did all his yard work. From seven to eleven-thirty a.m. the man was outside, mowing the lawn, raking the leaves, cleaning the windows and trimming the hedge.

Naruto would neglect his morning cartoons; throw a cup of instant noodles in the microwave and hurry outside to watch the display. The man –much like on Tuesdays– always wore the same outfit to work in. An extra pair of baggy, black sweat pants that hung of his slender hips in a dangerous fashion, accompanied by a heather-grey tee shirt and navy blue flip-flops. Naruto wondered if anyone had ever told the man not to wear sandals while mowing the lawn, but figured that even if they had, the man wouldn’t have listened.

Sunday’s were Naruto’s favorite day to watch the man. Punctually at Three p.m. every Sunday afternoon, the raven would step outside his home, looking around his yard and then proceed to a lounge chair that was under a small shade tree near the eastern half of the estate. Once there, he would sit down and read. The act in itself was never very fascinating, but it was everything else about the situation that the child lavished in. This was the one day that the man wore regular, unexpected clothing. Sometime he was in a tee-shirt, other times it a button up short sleeve. He varied from blue jeans to shorts to lounge pants. And sometimes, if was it was really hot out, he’d wouldn’t wear a shirt at all. Naruto liked those days best, because then he got to see more of the man. It was odd, but he felt special for being able to see the display –though he was quite aware that anyone walking down the street would see the exact same thing. Still, it was a different kind of feeling. The man obvious knew that Naruto was watching him –how could he not? But the older boy never seemed to mind the young admirer. In fact from time to time the raven would even glance his way. There was never any expression to the pale face, but Naruto was content with just being acknowledged. It was almost as if he and the man were keeping each other company. Grant you that it was a distant and silent sort of companionship, but nevertheless there was some sort of unspoken connection between them.

Or that’s what Naruto liked to think.

Having observed the monotonous seven day pattern for exactly one year, five months, three days, fourteen hours, twenty-six minute and four seconds –not that Naruto was keeping count or anything– he was surprised when at exactly nine-thirty a.m. the front door to the man’s house did not open. What was even more shocking was that it continued to stay closed for the whole week. The man did not tend to his garden. He did not go to the market or to the graveyard. Nor did he make the effort to rectify his missed actions on Thursday or Friday—though Naruto didn’t honestly expect to see him compensate those actions on days that he normally stayed inside, else it would mess up the meticulous schedule.

Naruto was however, worried. And by Friday night he swore to himself that he would go over and check on the man if he didn’t come out at exactly seven a.m. on Saturday morning.
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The Threads that Bind Us