Desire

Chouji reflects on desire. What does he desire? Shikamaru, and to be thin for him. (Contains mentions of eating disorders)

DO NOT OWN.

Chouji Akimichi was lying on his stomach, head cradled in his hands, watching him. Shikamaru was working on his new plan, he was trying to checkmate Asuma-sensei in under four moves. So far he had made it down to seven. Shogi was the only motivation Shikamaru had ever been known to have, and even then their wasn't much motivation. Shikamaru moved his silver general, and obviously check mate. But… Five moves. They started again.

No matter how Chouji looked at his best friend, he only saw perfection. Everything that people in the village prized, rolled into one flawless individual. Beautiful, by far. Dark skin, dark eyes, beautiful lips and glossy hair. Smart, obviously. He was by far the most intelligent person in the village, that should be respected. Honest. Inspiring. Courageous. Straight-forward. Confident. Loyal. Strong. Intuitive. Mature. And of course, most importantly, thin.

None of these traits where wasted on Shikamaru, however. People thought they were. He was lazy, there was no denying that, but he did fulfill his potential. He was just so lazy no one noticed. He pushed himself when he needed to. When people depended on him. That didn't happen often, however. Shikamaru's father was something of a drunk, his mother a screeching banshee. He wasn't depended on very often.

They played again. Shikamaru spent a good ten minutes before making his first move. Chouji watched those lithe fingers move the small, flat, boat-shaped object. They were perfect, too. Not like Chouji's stubby, round, sausage-shaped things. Shikamaru had beautiful hands.

The next game, four moves. Asuma-sensei was excited, Shikamaru just shrugged and fell backwards. Now that he had achieved his goal, he didn't care anymore. He just fell backwards and watched the sky like he always did. Not a word about his victory. But, that was just Shikamaru. He wasn't arrogant, he wasn't exactly modest, either. He just didn't care either way.

Every time Chouji looked at Shikamaru he felt like his heart would burst. He knew it was love, but he also knew it didn't matter. They headed back to their homes when the storm clouds started to look a bit more treacherous. Shikamaru walked Chouji home first, like he always did because it was on his way. Their goodbye was silent, talking was too troublesome to Shikamaru and Chouji didn't have much to say.

Chouji went to his bedroom first thing, he didn't want to see his mother or father. They always tried to feed him. His father for the obvious reasons; being proud of being an Akimichi, wanting his son to follow his stead. His mother for less obvious reasons (though Chouji understood now); she wanted to be seen as a good mother, she loved Chouji, she wanted her son to be happy. In that order for both of them. Chou didn't really mind, he just wasn't in the mood. He was having one of those days. One of the days where he hated himself more then usual.

It happened often, mostly when he spent too much time thinking about how perfect Shikamaru was, or anything along those lines. Snide comments from others did that too, or judging looks, or even some simple touching. Ino's hand brushes past his stomach. He spends the rest of the day tugging his already extra-large size shirt down. Asuma-sensei looks at his stomach while they're training. Chouji tries to throw up the lunch he's eaten hours ago. Some random ninja on the street calls him a pig. He doesn't eat for three days. It happened often, but he tried not to let other people know.

He knew when exactly it had first started. The exact moment. He was at some stupid party, they always threw a party after a particularly dangerous mission that went particularly successful. Shikamaru had led the group, which was Chouji, Ino, Kaiba, and Naruto. They were all there, along with almost everyone else in the village. Chouji had metaphysically handcuffed himself to the buffet table for comfort.

Everyone was staring. Some people were snickering. Nothing new. He honestly was used to this at this point. This was before he became a hyper-sensitive person, but he wouldn't stay that way for long. Ino came over with a few jabbing insults, and Chouji's muscles tightened. He pointedly ignored her and kept eating. That was, until Shikamaru grabbed his wrist.

Chouji looked over at his best friend, and stopped breathing. Shikamaru looked mortified. He didn't look Chouji in the eyes.

"Chouji, don't you think you've had enough?" he whispered. "You know how it is. You eat one thing, and then you eat everything. You can't help it… Just not tonight, alright?"

He barely remembered the rest of the night. To be fair, their wasn't much of a rest of the night, for him anyway. He did as Shikamaru asked, went to the other side of the room to avoid letting himself give in to the temptation. He didn't stay for long, only fifteen minutes. Then he slipped through the doors and ran back home, and he spent the rest of the night crying.

It wasn't that no one had ever called him on his eating before. Obviously. It happened all the time. He ate with Ino on a daily basis after training, the subject came up. But… This was Shikamaru. His best friend. Shikamaru was the only person in the world who never called him a pig, or picked fun at him, or even brought up his weight.

And the look on his face when he said that… Chouji didn't think he'd ever seen Shikamaru have that many emotions on his face. Embarrassment, shame, and a trace of anger. Chouji would never forget that look. He replayed it in his mind over and over again. He still did. Shikamaru, the man that Chouji was in love with… completely mortified to be seen with him.

The next day Chouji didn't leave the house. The day after he avoided Shikamaru but went into the woods and watched the clouds. The third day… It was like nothing had ever happened. They met up for training, then after they watched the clouds. The only thing that changed was that they didn't eat afterwards. Chouji claimed not to be hungry. It was odd that Shikamaru believed him, but Chouji didn't mind.

For two weeks Chouji barely ate anything. He had enough food to live, obviously. As an Akimichi, he had to eat a lot all the time, even if he felt disgusted at himself while he did. He tried not eating, the first few days, but he ended up doubling over in pain.

It had been a few months since then. Chouji never mentioned that day to Shikamaru, or how he felt afterwards. Shikamaru never brought it up, either. He was a genius, but Chouji figured something like this would just escape his notice. It wasn't like Chouji had been ranked very high on anyone's priorities list, anyway. He had thought… Well, he had hoped that Shikamaru was different, but he wasn't.

Shika acted liked he didn't care about things like looks and popularity. Chouji almost fell for it, but no one is that good of a person. Any crush that Chouji had was pointless. He plopped down onto his bed and slipped his hand up his shirt. He could feel his excess belly with his fingers.

"Why do I have to have this?" he asked himself, staring at the ceiling with misty eyes. "Why can't I just look like the other guys? I'll never have anyone, all because of this stupid gut."

He sighed and pinched himself on his belly, hard enough to hurt. He didn't want to exist anymore. He couldn't even hang around with Shikamaru anymore. All he could think about was how much Shikamaru must want him to… not exist.

Chouji spent the next few hours pretty much doing the same thing. Thinking about how gross he was, pinching, biting his lip and wishing he were different... Thinking of Shikamaru… Reminding himself he didn't have a chance and never, ever would.

When his father came to knock on his door and told him to come down for dinner, Chouji simply shrugged and walked out. Did it even matter anymore anyway? He'd stuff his face, he'd complain about it later, probably hate himself, he might even try to throw up, but it wouldn't make any difference.

Shikamaru was perfect. Chouji just had to remember that one of the key factors of being perfect was recognizing what was imperfect. And what was shameful… Like being seen with an Akimichi.

Continue? What do you guys think?