Disclaimer: I don't own Naruto.
A sort of an idea, I think. Not the best, but not too bad.
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Waiting:
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He is waiting in the rain, in a world of grays and black-and-white.
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It is raining, and he is standing on a street corner.
It is raining, the cloudy sky a murky gray, the raindrops and the slight misty fog obscuring one's vision, blurring the lines of reality.
It is raining, and the raindrops soak into his clothes, his hair, sliding down his back and raising goose bumps on its way down. He is cold and wet and he stays there.
He is facing the sky, his face turned upwards, his mouth slightly open and his eyes closed, his long eyelashes a delicate black against his pale skin. The rain falls into his mouth, pinpoints of chilliness and he is so cold, but he stays there, eyes closed and tasting the gray rain, clean and impure and cold. Mostly cold, a chilly sort, soaking into his body and brushing against his bones.
He is there, not-sure-why, but there, and there is a sense of waiting and of a thought-that-is-not-a-thought of Will anyone miss me, notice that I am gone, come find?
If I disappear, will anyone notice?
He does not know the answer, and he does not like thinking these thoughts, so he forgets and pushes away all of these dark thought and instead, he merges the line of something and nothing and he does not think, but waits for something.
He does not know who or what that something is, but he is waiting.
And so he waits, patiently, as the rain falls and the wind moans softly, as the water plasters his hair down and soaks all of his clothes until he feels as though he has never been this wet and never would again.
He hears a distant voice through his musings, like sunlight through clouds. "—suke? Sasuke?"
He turns and sees him, his blond hair bright, as though the only color in this damp world of rain and grays and black-and-white.
Like me, he though dazedly. Nothing but black and white, stark and clear and blurry.
"Sasuke," the blond scolded, sounding worried. "Sasuke, what are you doing? You're all wet; you might get sick..."
Worried for me, about me, he thought, taking one last look at the gray sky, dull and wet and plain. He looked down, smiling serenely. "Naruto."
"Sasuke!" Now he sounded irritated, scowling slightly. But his wide eyes were still that bright blue, his hair still vividly golden even wet, full of color.
Not like myself, he thought distantly. Nothing but black-and-white and white-and-black, black hair and white skin and black eyes and pale lips. Colorless.
"Sasuke," he sighed. "Come on. You'll get sick if you stay out here too much. See? You're shivering."
And he was right, goose bumps tingled all over his body, and he couldn't stop shivering; if he could see himself, he would bet that his lips were blue.
Then, the blond led him away, grabbing his hand, scolding all the while about keeping dry and staying out of the rain and frowning and pouting all the while, as he smiled serenely and nodded, warmth spreading from the other's burning hot hand throughout his body.
Later, it is raining, but he is no longer outside in the world of grays and black-and-white.
It is still raining, but he is warm and content, and he watches Naruto's face as the other sleeps, wrapping his arms around the other, and he is—happy.
It is raining, but he is no longer waiting.
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I hoped you like it.
Please review/critique either way. Thank you.
Written: July 26, 2008
Words: 569