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Down the Rabbit Hole and Back Again	By : PrplGrl Category: Naruto > Yaoi - Male/Male Views: 1209 -:- Recommendations : 0 -:- Currently Reading : 0
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.

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Forever Needing

Pain.

It surrounded him, making him feel dazed. It could not be pinpointed and his nerves lashed out in protest. Concentrating only granted him more.

He needed something.

He didn’t know what.

His mind kept crying out, ‘I need it! Give it to me!’ It was something he had been looking for and had found but was now being denied. What was it?

Did he just hear a scream?

Was it his own?

Darkness was his only answer, flashes of light flickering now and then. However, with the light came the never-ending pain. Why wouldn’t it stop? Why couldn’t it just leave him be? If only he had… whatever it was his mind was begging for, he knew the pain would vanish.

His mind agreed.

Time passed, but in what fashion, he did not know. He didn’t know much, apparently. The darkness kept him company, whatever that was worth. There was nothing surrounding him, but he didn’t particularly care for it. If only he could… see something. Not knowing where he was or what was going on had him in a panic. Opening his eyes was impossible, as he tried several times.

Another scream.

His body jumped.

The pain was starting to dim a little, his skin becoming slightly more sensitive to his surroundings. Someone was grasping his arm. Something cold slid into his flesh.

He heard a moan.

‘At last!’ his mind cried out. ‘I need it!’

He was disappointed as nothing further happened. He waited….

Nothing.

He was supposed to… feel something, right? Didn’t the needle in his arm indicate that something… pleasurable was going to happen? Why hadn’t it?

Before he could think on it further, he was being swept into the unfeeling darkness once more. This time, however, it sucked him in so deep he completely blacked out. No memories, no thoughts… no pleasure.

Shikamaru was able to open his eyes, after a long battle with the consciousness and his own eyelids. He was nearly blinded by the whiteness of the room. His room wasn’t bright. It was dark reds, purples, blues and blacks. Those colors were more comforting to his clients. Why was he in such a bright and uncomfortable room?

Where was he?

“Shikamaru?” a deep, male voice called out, a warm touch to his shoulder.

Slowly, the teen turned his head. His heart stopped as he gazed upon his father standing over him, his mother at his side. Panic rushed through his system; he needed to run. These people he knew back then, during that sorrowful time of his life. He didn’t want to return to that!

Where was Deidara? He needed his friend, the one who gave him so much over the passed several months. Why wasn’t he here?

Shikamaru tried to get out of the bed, but found that his limbs were securely strapped down. Why would his parents condone such an action? Did they figure he would try to run as soon as he woke up?

“What’s wrong, son?” his father asked.

He tried once more to free himself and failed, his hand twitching. His arm itched and he wanted to scratch at it, as he usually did when needing his escape.

“I need a hit,” he mumbled.

His mother released a strangled sob from behind his father, who turned to comfort her.

Shikamaru looked around the disgustingly white room, noticing a few bunches of flowers sitting on the windowsill. They did little to stifle the medical smell surrounding him. He saw a bag full of clear liquid hanging beside the bed, slowly leaking into a tube that was connected to his arm. He scowled, knowing that was not what he wanted injected into him.

He turned back to his parents, as the door to the room was opened and closed. An older blonde woman walked up to them, white lab coat draped over her curves, clipboard in hand.

“Good afternoon, Mister and Misses Nara,” she said, voice old and wise. “I am Doctor Tsunade, I’ve been the doctor monitoring Shikamaru’s progress over the passed two weeks.”

His father wrapped an arm over his mother’s shoulders as the doctor continued. “First, let me apologize for not meeting you in person until now. Your son’s condition wavered very frantically and I was needed in his room most of the time.”

“We were just glad you could send someone who could tell us what we needed to know,” his father said, his tone quivering a little.

Tsunade nodded, looking at her clipboard. “It seems that most of the drugs have finally left Shikamaru’s body, but I’m afraid this is only the tip of the iceberg of that situation. It appears he had been taking all different kinds of narcotics since before living in the whorehouse-” his mother sobbed again “-so the addiction will take longer to overcome.”

Shikamaru turned his head away, forcing himself to ignore the conversation. What he had wasn’t an addiction; it was a need. He needed to get that feeling back, the feeling that nothing mattered. It was his only way to feel anything besides the lingering throb in his chest and heartbroken tears in his eyes.

He needed his escape.

Why were these people keeping it from him?

~ ~ ~

Nothing was simple anymore.

Shikamaru was free from the hospital, but he got thrown into a rehab clinic immediately after being discharged. Now, since he was still in police custody, he was confined to his room, only being allowed out with a police escort, the doctors of the establishment considering him a major flight risk.

Sure, Shikamaru wanted to run. The problem was, he had nowhere to go. Deidara was being held in a maximum-security prison. He couldn’t even begin to list everything the man was being charged for. It just made him sad. Shikamaru knew what he had been doing was illegal, but he didn’t care. It was something he liked to do.

He thought about his blonde haired friend a lot while sitting in rehab, ignoring the lectures and stories of fellow “addicts.” He wondered if the man was all right, if he could write him a letter, something! He missed Deidara.

Barely a week after being transferred to the clinic, Shikamaru was visited by the local district attorney. He was a tall man, features sharp and intimidating. He reminded the teen of a particular client he’d had, someone who had been extremely rough with him. So it was normal that Shikamaru would be quivering a little at his presence, right?

The attorney, calling himself Ibiki Morino, claimed he was the person who would be taking Deidara to court. He wanted the teen to testify….

Against Deidara.

Shikamaru had adversely refused, not caring that he’d get the charges against himself dropped. He couldn’t say bad things about his only friend, the one person who didn’t judge him so quickly as those jerks at school had. The blonde man had given him someone to look forward to seeing every day.

His father wasn’t happy about his son’s decision at all.

Shikamaru didn’t care.

He found he didn’t care about a lot of things anymore. All he wanted now was his escape, which he was having a lot of trouble grasping.

Ibiki was adamant about his testimony, though, and kept badgering him for three weeks about it. Shikamaru had finally had enough and agreed to tell his story to a jury, though he told the attorney that he’d only tell the truth, and in no way did the truth implicate that Deidara harmed him or was a bad man. He saw him as a very good friend.

That had apparently satisfied the lawyer, but instead of his charges being dropped completely, Shikamaru would only be charged for misdemeanors, granting him nothing but a very long parole period.

Shikamaru didn’t care.

~ ~ ~

The trial came and went swiftly. Shikamaru’s testimony did what he thought it would. Despite the fact that halfway through it he began scratching at his arm, he basically sugarcoated all that Deidara did. He told the jury that the blonde never once forced him to do anything. He took the drugs, became an entertainer (which he had to explain in great detail of what that was) and earned the money all on his own. His friend never once made him do anything he didn’t want to.

Deidara got a lenient sentence, considering everything he’d been charged with.

It would still be some time before Shikamaru could see him again.

He couldn’t wait.

Shortly after the trial, Shikamaru was released from rehab, the doctors claiming him to be “cured,” although he still had to see a psychiatrist once a week, which he hated. Talking to a complete stranger about why he turned to drugs and prostitution was something he was not keen to do. He tried to stay silent most of the time.

He wasn’t sure if it was working.

Only a week later, his parents began bugging him about school. He didn’t want to go back, especially since he knew everyone in the entire city had heard where the “missing Nara boy” had been found, and what he’d been doing. Shikamaru was already getting some dirty looks from people on the street.

His therapist, a young, beautiful, dark haired woman by the name of Kurenai Yuhi, suggested to his parents a special school, one that dealt with “teens like Shikamaru.” He wished he really knew what she meant by that. She gave them a brochure and the family discussed it.

By “family,” Shikamaru knew that really referred to his parents; he doubted he’d get any say in it at all. In all reality, he didn’t. The school was nearby, not overly expensive, and he could enroll right away.

That was the simplest way he could put it.

He didn’t like these complications.

Especially the newest ones. With Shikamaru being on probation, it was impossible for him to go out and find his escape. Without an escape, he was beginning to feel trapped. He snapped at his parents, his therapist, the television… anything to try and burn off this aching need quivering just beneath his skin. He scratched his arm a lot, causing him to visit the hospital on a few occasions to make sure he hadn’t started an infection in the ever-tender flesh. His parents bandaged him up, but that didn’t stop it. Shikamaru knew he wouldn’t stop until his need was fulfilled.

That time wasn’t coming any time soon.

Starting school again wasn’t something he wanted to do either. He had been “missing” for almost a whole year, so although he was the age of a sophomore, educationally he was still technically a freshman. This experience was not something to look forward to.

His parents drove him to the special educational facility and met with the principal, some tall, handsome blonde man Shikamaru was forced to call Namikaze-sensei. He missed the first name, not that he cared. The principal assured his parents that their “son will be happy attending classes here.”

Shikamaru wanted to punch the bastard; where the hell did he get off telling him what made him happy? Instead, he merely scratched at his arm again, his mother stopping the action almost as quickly as he started it.

His parents soon left after that, and Namikaze took Shikamaru to his homeroom, which almost looked like a battle zone. Desks had been pushed everywhere, and teenagers were sitting about in circles, some talking quietly amongst themselves, others shouting to high heaven about nothing.

Shikamaru cringed, not liking the sight at all.

He hated crowds.

Turning to get a glance at the teacher’s desk, he nearly jumped out of his skin as there was a very pale boy standing very close to him. His eyes regarded him curiously, and he leaned forward, Shikamaru swearing he could hear the boy inhaling the air around him.

“You’re new,” the boy stated.

Shikamaru scowled. “No shit, Sherlock.”

“Language, Shikamaru,” the blonde man said, gently.

The pale boy stuck out his hand, a small smile curving his lips. “I’m Sai.”

Why did that name sound familiar?
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Down the Rabbit Hole and Back Again