.:Living, of Course, Isn't Any Newer:.

PART I

Disclaimer: I do not own Sergei Yesenin's poem, the reference for the title, and of course, I do not own Naruto.

Warnings: There will be abuse in this story. If you are easily affected by things like that, or have just come here to flame my awfulness, please refrain from doing so. I am looking for constructive criticism to better myself, and would appreaciate reviews. The abuse may include NCS, and there may be yaoi in later chapters. If you don't know what yaoi is, either look it up or don't read the chapters that it will be included in. I will warn before them.

There was a chill mist blanketing the world outside the window. The grass was frozen; each blade coated in ice, footsteps printed in a path through the lawn. The moon hung low in the sky, the surveyor of all, denizen of the night. Rooftops grazed the sky further along the street, each house filled with the same grandiose dreams. So much wealth; so little time to put it to use. When you were obscenely rich, the cash flow never stopped.

The street was still, silent, its roads beginning to freeze over in the cold night air. The night sky was clear, cloudless; the stars twinkling brightly above the quiet world beneath it; or, at least, just in that neighbourhood.

A thin, pale face surveyed the scene with an odd expression; perhaps disdain, or maybe just emptiness; the boy's face was difficult to read. Dark lashes curled over empty eyes, and porcelain skin gave him a doll-like appearance; had he not been blinking, one could have mistaken him for a mannequin.

With a sigh, the boy turned away, looking back into the grand room he was stationed in, or rather, what should have been a grand room. Instead, this place was completely the opposite of every other room in the house, the antagonist to the plot. There was no grandeur here; it was as if the room was taken from somewhere else, a much poorer neighbourhood.

There were no intricately-designed curtains gracing his window, and the room was not large. The walls were blank and bare; revealing nothing about the boy who stayed in there. A carpet-less stone floor drew the warmth from the room, leaving it cold and not at all desirable. No furniture was on display; and for a bed, there was simply a small bundle of blankets, hidden away in the corner.

His footsteps were almost silent as he walked over to the place in which he stepped, ignoring the cold of the floor beneath him. He crouched, wincing, and lay amongst the blankets, trying to pull them around himself to preserve what little warmth he had. His breath was visible on the air, and with every breath he took, his lips grew colder.

He was not lucky tonight; just as he had not been lucky for a long time. Luck avoided him like he was cursed; sometimes he wondered.

The boy's stomach growled, protesting at the lack of food he had given it. The hunger was making him feel faintly sick, and he prayed that some divinity would take pity on him, and spare him another day without food. Ribs were curving from his chest nowadays, and it pained him to be still for more than a few minutes. His appearance sickened him; his arms and legs looked wrong. He flexed his aching fingers, the tendons in his hand clearly visible as the protested against his movement.

Sleep did not come easily that day; he was not blessed enough to be granted that one solace.

The sunlight burned into his eyelids as the sun rose that morning, paining his tired eyes. It was not any warmer in his room, not even with the sun weakly attempting to shine its warmth upon him. He did not look forward to each day, and he doubted the day looked forward to greeting him. He arose swiftly, noting that he had his chores to do before anyone else awoke with the coming of the dawn.

The warmth of the rest of the house shocked him slightly as he left his room. He had never realised why, but it always surprised him to be reminded of how much colder his room was. Delighting in the sudden cosiness, he begrudgingly walked towards the family kitchen. There were a few stacks of dirty dishes stacked by the sink, but apart from that, the room looked relatively clean. Not clean enough, though, the boy thought sadly.

He ran the warm water from the tap, letting his hands heat up underneath it before it got too warm to touch. He reached forward for the brand liquid they had for washing up; after all, just water wasn't going to kill the germs left on their dirty dishes. Not his dishes, of course; he had gone hungry.

Almost robotically, the small boy picked up dish after dish, methodically cleaning and checking them, one after the other. He stacked each plate neatly on the other side of the basin, making sure to be careful as he placed them. After all, a smashed plate now wouldn't fare to well on his behalf, especially not this early in the morning.

He allowed his mind to wander as he washed the dirt from the dishes, pondering on nothing in particular. He hadn't even bothered to pretend to care about anything for years; why should he bother with himself?

Footsteps behind him caught his attention, and he was glad as he placed the final plate on the pile. He spun around as fast as he could, knowing he would need to greet and apologise to whoever was gracing him with their presence.

A tall, black-haired boy entered the room, eyes dull and uncaring.

"Good morning, sir." The smaller boy bowed. The other boy just gave him an odd look, and walked over to the bread bin. He sliced himself two pieces of bread, then placed the emotionlessly into the toaster.

"Father says it is time for you to attend school again. You will do or say nothing to arouse suspicion." The taller boy stated, blankly. He was much larger than the smaller of the two of them, though he was not large in the slightest. He was rather slim, actually, but the boy facing him was tiny and undernourished. The younger nodded.

"Yes, sir."

The toaster popped and the taller boy pulled out the toast and left the room, leaving the younger to stare after him, almost longingly.

The ice from the night before still coated the paths, making the ground hazardous. The young boy was having difficulty keeping his balance, and his arms were raised slightly by his sides, trying to assist him in his quest. He could see other children laughing as the skidded along the surfaces of the pavements, pushing each other recklessly in what he regarded as a crude game. It was unnecessary and trivial.

"Nice ankle swingers!" a grinning boy yelled at the young boy, grinning and full of bravado. The child simply ignored him; years of practice meant that insults simply bounced off him without drawing a reaction. It was true his trousers were too short, and the sleeves of his shirt were slightly too short, but hand-me-downs that hadn't been changed in years were bound to be slightly too small. Not that he had grown much since then, however; the nutrition, or rather, lack of it had seen to it that his growth was particularly slow.

He barely noticed the chill air as he arrived at the school gates, as his body had become accustomed to it some time ago. He had stopped hoping to be given more layers for years, now, as he knew the hope was foolish. Nobody had given him anything for a long time.

He joined the steady flow of students pouring into the school grounds, and was once again reminded of an ant colony. So methodical, repetitive and boring; the students also sometimes reminded him of lemmings, all following each other and conforming to the un-said rules. They bored him, and in turn, he supposed, he bored them. Not that anyone had taken the time to get to know him, of course; no-one had bothered with that.

He sat, stock-still in his allocated seat, not even bothering to watch as his fellow pupils filed into the classroom for the morning roll call. His eyes remained fixed on a particularly boring patch of wall and the front of the room, and he ignored the strange looks his other students were shooting him. Their teacher entered the class, scarf piled up to his nose as usual, and an eye patch covering his left eye.

"Sasuke." The man stated, noticing him sitting there, "You're back."

Sasuke didn't acknowledge that he had heard his teacher, but this was not unusual for him. Barely a word had passed his pale lips in his entire time spent at the school. Nobody bothered to chastise him for his rudeness anymore; everyone was used to it by now.

He walked around to his lessons, barely aware of who he was or where he was going; he was paying so little attention that he didn't realise he had been sat in his fourth lesson for ten minutes more than he should have been after the lunch bell had rung.

"Are you alright?" his teacher asked, concern written all over her face.

"Fine, miss." He replied stiffly, and gathering his books together, got up and left. The little part of him that still existed inside his empty shell wondered where he should go; having no friends meant that lunchtime was spent alone, either wandering around or sitting in one of his many hiding places that he had found over the years.

He finally settled on sitting behind a large oak tree, its branches stretching towards the sky as if begging for freedom. From what, he absentmindedly wondered, what could it possibly have to escape from?

Sasuke pulled out his sketchbook, thankful that it had been given to him by the school art department. He had no money, and so would have gone without if it hadn't been for the kindred spirits who worked there. He owed the drawing pencils he owned to them too.

He genuinely enjoyed drawing. It took him to a different planet, one where he no longer had to worry about anything, where he was the only person in existence. No-one was there to ignore him, and no-one could hurt him. It was just him and his drawing, at peace. He flicked through the pages, wondering what to draw next.

"That's good, you know."

Sasuke spun round, hands raised up to protect his face. The boy kneeling behind him gave him a strange look, and then grinned, rubbing the back of his hair in an embarrassed manor. "A little jumpy, huh?" Sasuke didn't reply, lowering his fists but still keeping his expression guarded. "Not very talkative, either..." the other boy mumbled. "I don't think we've met, but I'm in a few of your classes." The boy babbled on, "and you've been away for quite some time. Skiving?"

"...What?"

"Y'know, playing tardy."

Sasuke had no idea what 'playing tardy' was, and nor did he care. He fixed his best blank stare onto his face and gave the other boy a look that most people would realise meant he didn't want to talk to, see or know them. This boy, however, seemed completely impervious to his now-glare. He was still rambling on, so Sasuke simply switched off. He did not care for mindless drivelling; his father had always said it dulled the mind.

"...and so I told him, you can't say that! It'll—Hey, are you listening?!" Sasuke looked up, finally brought out of his reverie. Thank god, he's stopped talking. "That's really rude, you know."

Sasuke could have cried with joy when the bell finally rang, enticing him back to the classroom for more lessons. He had been stuck under the insufferable blond's presence for the entire lunch break, and he now wished he had gone to one of his hidden places. He cursed his stupidity.

The school day ended, and Sasuke walked down the streets towards his home, alone. This was not unusual for Sasuke; he was always alone. He couldn't remember a time when anyone accompanied him anywhere; not that he would want anyone to, of course. He was happier alone, with no-one to ask questions or pester him.

The door to the beautiful house of perhaps an oriental origin was thankfully open that day. Sasuke remembered the last time he had walked home from school, it had been locked, and he had been forced to wait for hours until someone opened the door. Ringing the doorbell was forbidden to him, and so was knocking. If the door was locked, it was hard luck. If he knocked, he might interrupt someone, them thinking it might be someone important, then it turning out to only be him.

He slipped his shoes off before entering the house; the floors had to be kept immaculately clean, as did the rest of the house, and if he dirtied them, it would only be more work for himself.

He slipped quietly into his room on the ground floor, thankful that he had been moved out of the basement a few weeks ago when guests had attended a formal meal. He had also been required to attend, and cook the meal. It had been the first decent meal he had eaten in a long time, and so he had been thankful for the opportunity. 'Sir' believed that bad children should get what bad children deserved, and one of his forms of punishments was lack of food. He resented the punishment system.

Laying his school bag down in the corner of his 'bedroom' by his 'bed', he left the room to start his chores before They arrived back.

Sasuke journeyed down into the cellar, taking out a mop and a bucket. He filled the bucket with a mixture of water and bleach, and began to bleach the tiled floors of the front hall and kitchen. He found this cleaning strangely calming, as if he was washing his own troubles away with the bubbles that formed as he scrubbed.

Lost in his own thoughts, he was shocked when the door suddenly opened, to reveal a laughing young woman and a smiling man. They noticed he was standing there, and the expressions slid from their faces like the dirt from the floor he was cleaning. They were early.

"Why haven't you finished?" the now stern-faced man asked, anger entering his tone, "You were supposed to be finished before we arrived back." His tone was low and dangerous.

Sasuke looked desperately at the woman, recognising his fear rising again. She just looked at him with a disappointed expression on her face; always disappointed...

"I-I'm sorry, sir, I'll work faster in the future, I promise." Sasuke managed to say, his voice sounding higher and more scared than usual. His breath hitched in his throat and he choked, eyes watering as the woman continued to frown at him. The man was suddenly there, next to his face and hissing in his ear.

"Damn right you will, boy." He sneered, glowering at Sasuke, who silently begged himself not to cower. "Well, what are you waiting for? Get on with it!"

Sasuke looked at the floor and began scrubbing again, heart sinking. It wasn't any different. He still disappointed Her and He still hated him.

"I said, get on with it." The man hissed, grabbing Sasuke's hair. The young boy yelped, he couldn't help it as he felt several hairs permanently part from his scalp. "Pathetic." The man hissed, shoving Sasuke away. He hit the floor, noting that he was going to bruise where one of his bony hips hit the floor. The pain didn't hurt nearly as much as Their rejection. He scrambled to his feet as They started to walk away, getting back to the task at his hands.

He was finally finished, much later when it was dark. Everyone else in the house had gone to bed long ago, tired. He was starving; it was his second day without food. Stomach screaming, he crept silently into the kitchen, begging that he had been right and that everyone had gone to sleep. Silently praising the heavens as he found the kitchen empty, he opened the fridge, flinching slightly as the light made a whirring noise as if flashed on. He looked rapidly around for something that wouldn't be missed, eyes finally settling on a container that had some slices of ham still left in it. He took the plastic package out, mouth watering. In his haste to get something to eat, he stepped backwards and collided with something very hard, something that was definitely not air.

"And just what do you think you're doing?" He hissed, eyes slits as he glared Sasuke down.

"N-nothing, sir, I'm sorry, sir, I'm just so hun—"

"Did I say you could eat something?"

"No sir, b-but please, my stomach hu—" Sasuke was cut off as something smashed into the side of his face, sending him reeling into the fridge.

"You will not disobey me!" the man cried, his voice becoming steadily louder, "You will obey, and you will have discipline!"

Sasuke whimpered and shrank back into the fridge as a fist curled into his stomach, feeling liquid surge up his throat. He coughed as it seeped out over his lips and onto the floor beneath him as he bent double in pain. He was still punching him as he retched, nothing coming up but a watery liquid. Sasuke screamed as something in his side cracked, red-hot pain shooting through his side as tears flooded his eyes. The man punched him in the side again and he reeled back again with the pain, this time his head cracking into the side of the kitchen counter. He felt something warm and sticky gently trickling down the side of his forehead, his head feeling as though it had been split in two. He could barely see anymore from the pain as he was just repeatedly punched, again and again.

He was suddenly aware he was being kicked, with no memory of having fallen to the floor, ribs screaming in agony. He could hear someone actually screaming far away, and he wasn't sure whether it was him or not. His mouth was open, but he felt so disconnected from it and distracted by the pain that he wasn't so sure it was him anymore. Something cracked in his side again, and he screamed, fully aware this time as his tears poured from his eyes, begging Him to stop, pleading again and again. The man kicked him in the stomach again then stepped back, admiring his handiwork. Sasuke felt his stomach heave again, and he retched up the liquid again, this time its colour more pinkish. He retched again, over and over, blood finally spilling over his lips as he collapsed, shaking and sobbing. The man was still standing there, watching him with a disgusted expression on his face.

"Maybe this will finally teach you." The man hissed, and before he turned to go, he spat on the small, shaking boy at his feet. The boy just lay there, sobbing in a small puddle of his own blood, tears and stomach acid, crying as the darkness threatened to swallow him.

As the older man walked away, Sasuke was sat there, muttering something over and over without stopping. He was staring forward, unseeing, as he murmured to himself, not blinking, tears leaking from the corners of his eyes, occasionally letting out a small whimper.

His blood-flecked lips were still moving the next morning when the older boy who had eaten the toast the morning before came down for his breakfast. The elder stopped and looked down at him, a disgusted expression on his face as he regarded the pitiful mess of a boy in front of him.

"I don't want to die, I don't want to die, I don't want to die..." Sasuke muttered, gaze still frozen, staring off at something no-one but him could see.

A/N: I'm really bad at this, but I tried my best. I also tried to make it as long as possible, because I fail at making stories last .

Please review, I would love to hear your feedback.

As always, review = cookie (: