Disclaimer: Naruto © Masashi Kishimoto
Warnings: Shounen-ai, coarse language, AU
Un_Love_You Challenge #28: Author's Choice
Summary: Not every term of endearment needs to be said. Sometimes, silence is just enough.

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Author's Note: I have updated. Miraculous, really. I do hope that you'll enjoy this eight-part mini-series (no matter how much that sounded like a television program advertisement). Grab a quick mug of hot cocoa, some delicious morsels, and have a fantastic time reading this; I'm praying that towards the end, you'll think it wasn't a complete waste of time from your life. It's ten minutes that you'll never get back, you know.

Eight Ways to Not Say I Love You
By Orange Coconuts

There will come soft rains and the smell of the ground,
And swallows circling with their shimmering sound.
- Sara Teasdale

o1) There Will Come Soft Rains

That day, it rained.

Naruto Uzumaki stared relentlessly out of the window, azure blue eyes studying the slowly darkening sky with a worried glance. The ominous thunder clouds hanging menacingly over the nearby park promised a destructive storm, filling the streets with a small flowing flood as cars swerved and screeched on the busy roads, people's footsteps thundering through the air as they ran towards a covered area, and a brief flash of light appearing in the sky, crackling in the atmosphere. Raindrops landed on the windowpane like hurled pebbles, the impact deafening and heart shattering. It didn't help that the blonde sat right next to the window, either. In his mind, he was already contemplating on how the hell he was going to get home.

Iruka sensei was too occupied with dictating the notes for their Biology class ("- and that is why the nucleic acid is so -") to notice when two male figures – one bored and one clearly irritated – standing underneath the frame of the classroom entrance, the elder of the duo blatantly coughed for attention. The young brunette instructor ceased his lecture in mid rant, the lifeless class stirring with anticipation and curiosity to their newfound visitors.

"May I help you?"

From Naruto's seat at the rear of the classroom, he could barely distinguish the features of the two intruders, and his weak eyesight only hindered his attempt. However, at the sudden white line across the older man's right eye, the blonde teenager could only assume that it was a nasty scar. His silver hair was slightly mussed and combed over, but his stance betrayed the idea that he was old. Confused but uninterested, Naruto returned to gazing out of the window, counting the seconds as each drop of cold liquid tried to penetrate through the glass (thud thud thud). The translucent barrier shook slightly with the force.

"This is Sasuke Uchiha," began the male, looking down at his temporary ward. "By the order of Headmistress Tsunade, he is to transfer to this class. Sorry about the inconvenience and short notice, Umino-san." ...sixty-nine, seventy, seventy-one, seventy-two…

Somewhere in the room, someone sighed.

"Very well. Sasuke-kun, why don't you take a seat behind Shikamaru? Shikamaru, raise your hand so that Sasuke will know who you are."

…one hundred-five, one hundred-six, one hundred-seven, one hundred-eight…

Naruto briefly glanced at Shikamaru beside him, who lazily raised his left hand as demanded. The blonde shot the blackhead an amused smile, who merely replied with a troubled expression and a stifled groan. Naruto chuckled at his friend's bothered posture, but immediately stopped as the newcomer came walking – brooding – his way, hands inserted deeply into his jeans' pockets, head down as he took each step. His dark obsidian mop of hair was styled elegantly, the long strands brushing the pale lilac skin of his lower cheeks. His shirt was a blinding white with splashes of russet brown – fresh mud stains, and the grey patches that adorned his upper torso suggested that he was wet.

Naruto wondered if he had went out into the storm earlier.

Wordlessly, silently, the Uchiha floated toward his desk like a phantom, and as quickly as he had passed, disappeared. A soundless atmosphere abruptly engulfed the room, and the foreign teacher had long taken his leave. It wasn't until Iruka sensei had cleared his throat and resumed on with his lesson did the class get back to a fully functioning and orderly state.

Naruto had given up his visionary exploration of the world outside the glass, and this time focussed his (fleeting) attention to the black board in front of him. Bad eyesight aside, he was thankful for Iruka's slow pace and projective voice as he preached about bacteria and binary fission; without him, Naruto would probably have been failing (or close to it) Bio 11.

He had never stopped counting, though.

The back of his neck heated with an awkwardness as it felt the full intensity of the raven-haired boy's glare, and judging by the way that Shikamaru was sitting up straight for once, he wasn't too comfortable with the new student positioned behind him either.

…one hundred eighty-seven, one hundred eighty-eight, one hundred eighty-nine…

The legible blue script that adorned the notepad paper offered no understanding to Naruto, despite his continuously working right hand as it jotted down every important detail that left his teacher's mouth. For a curt moment, he looked down at his collection of scientific jargon, and for the life of him, could not remember when he had written the last sentence.

He blamed the boy sitting one seat back, to the left. After all, it was because of his sudden appearance did his mind unconsciously begin to try and decode the mystery of where (and when) he had seen those (piercing) onyx orbs before. Naruto sighed and threw down his pen with a noticeable tap; no point in going on if he wasn't able to concentrate.

…five hundred and fifty-three, five hundred and fifty-four, fiver hundred and fifty-five…

Somewhere, out there, a cloud began to rumble as it awakened from its slumber.

----

It was during lunch period did Naruto finally realize where he had seen Sasuke.

The thought had come to him as he was finishing off the remains of his sandwich, half tempted to toss the egg salad innards at Kiba's obnoxious head, while only a quarter tempted to surrender to Choji's whining and give him his meal. It was amusing how the images of tropical fruit (pineapple and banana, 100% from concentrate) on the front of a juice box could trigger such a memory: it was always between aisles forty-three and forty-four, meshed between the piles of dusty canned soup, boxed biscuits, and hard pink liquorice packages. On certain days (Thursdays, 5:27 pm), he'd see him choosing Kraft Dinner over ramen – which is blasphemous, in Naruto's opinion – long and elegant fingers ghosting over the labels of the nearby products, dark eyebrows furrowed in what seemed to be concentration (or perhaps annoyance). On other days (Saturdays, 1:13 pm), Naruto would hear the vanishing footsteps as Sasuke turned around the corner, grocery basket clanking accidentally against the metal shelves as bottles of salad dressing rattled within the plastic cage. And on rare days (sometimes Tuesdays, 8:42 am – 9:21 am), the blonde would actually be buying the same product as the dark-haired boy, hands brushing gently (nonexistent) against one another's skin, eye avoidance and mumbled "excuse me"s and tripping over untied shoe laces all at the same time.

Funny how he thinks of these things now.

"Hey, does anyone even know that kid?"

This was said with a mouth full of potato chips by Choji, a pudgy finger pointing aimlessly in the vague direction where an aloof individual sat, a lone male save for the ten to fifteen girls swarming around him in a possessive (and slightly feral) manner. Kiba looked over his shoulder at Sasuke and sneered.

"What's he got that I don't got?"

"Intelligence." Neji looked as if he hadn't said anything at all.

"Shut up! Anyway, I heard that he's a delinquent, or some shit like that; no wonder he's switched classes so early in the year."

Choji murmured in agreement, Neji barely looked up from his novel, Shino was silent (as per usual), and Shikamaru snored.

Naruto sighed as he decided that it was healthy for one's mental state to give into temptation every once in a while. Wordlessly, the egg salad sandwich went airborne as it sailed towards Kiba's unknowing head.

----

That day, it had begun.

Heavy raindrops fell from the clouds like bullets, piercing through the plastic material of passing umbrellas and soaking their owners thoroughly, the fabric of cloth sticking mercilessly against their skin. As Naruto had predicted before, the streets were flooded with small lakes in random patches, dirty-coloured autumn leaves floating on the surface of the murky water. Little children splashed around, giggling, their boots futile against the offending water. Lightening flashed and thunder announced its presence; in the midst of all this, Naruto Uzumaki stood underneath the covered area of the high school, partially angry at the gods for condemning him to such a fate, and partially relieved that he'd have some sort of excuse to not return home (because the words "home" and "empty" should never be placed together in a sentence).

He could run home in the horrid weather and risk catching pneumonia, but seeing as he could hardly even afford the utility bills at the moment (government compensation for orphans cover only the basic necessities: food and schooling), he decided that he'd rather not face consequences of unpaid hospitalization debts. Which left him with no other choice: he'd just have to wait (in the shivering cold) until the rain lets up.

It was Monday (middle of October, close to the Biology final), 16 hours 29 minutes 43 seconds.

The dwindling number of parked cars in the school lot suggested at how late it was, and Naruto cringed involuntarily when his stomach complained audibly at his ignorance for food. A sleek black BMW slowly approached towards him, and despite his curiosity, the tinted windows allowed no outsiders to view the driver.

"The hell do you want?" Much to his annoyance, Naruto's teeth chattered at the end of his question; he knew he should have worn that sweater today – pink be damned.

The front passenger window rolled down (expensive car – fit for the wealthy) and in turn showed an impassive (but at the same time, amused) faire ravenhead as his obsidian eyes scrutinized the blonde's shivering form. "You do realize that you're the last person here, usuratonkachi?" Please insert cocky and overly-arrogant smirk here.

Despite the numbness coursing through his veins (the blood in them had long ago frozen over with the winds), Naruto felt his cheeks flare at the petty insult. "You bastard. What's it to ya, anyway?"

He was rewarded with a Are-you-stupid? look.

"A dobe such as yourself shouldn't die so pitifully; actually, the world might just benefit from it."

If Naruto's stiff limbs weren't already up from the indecision of whether or not to strangle the boy or punch the said boy, he would never have caught the black object that was thrown carelessly towards his head (aiming for his left eye).

An umbrella. A fucking umbrella.

But it has also ended –

Before Naruto could protest (or look up in gratitude), the Uchiha had driven off hastily, never caring how the speed of his tires allowed a tsunami wave of rain water to crash against lithe body of the blonde, soaking him like he had just crawled out from the depths of the ocean.

Naruto was too angry (and too shocked) to react immediately. What was the point of the umbrella, then?

The bastard.

Pneumonia sounded good just about now. Who gives a rat's ass about hospital bills and life-threatening situations?

– instantaneously when it had commenced, 16 hours 35 minutes 26 seconds (sort of).

----

Needless to say, the umbrella was useless to him that night.

It was just a dead weight; it was just an unnecessary reminder of how easily he could be swayed (and how rotten his fortune could be at times – Madame Fate wasted no time on useless boys). It dragged him down as he had trudged home, him having lost all hope at the thought of the storm ceasing as the night neared. And when he had finally arrived to his little haven (down on 54th Avenue, apartment room number 229 on the left; blue door, brass knob, chipped paint), he stripped himself of his clothes and flung the offending object, somewhat grudgingly, towards the loveseat. It refracted from the impact and ended up on the carpet.

It remained there for the night, until he needed it again in the morning (the clouds had returned at 4:13 am – wee hours of tranquility gone).

Strange how Sasuke never asked for it back the next day.

To Be Continued...

Author's Note: I hope this was somewhat acceptable! I haven't written in a while, and well, this was somewhat of an experiment. To be honest, I have not the clearest notion as to where this plot is headed. I guess all shall be revealed in the next installment, then. Ta-ta for now! I shall now be slaving away, ten thousands mugs of steaming coffee by my side, working faithfully on my other (dying) projects.

Constructive criticism will be much appreciated. Flamers will be forced into a hole and can suck it.

- Coco