Shikamaru did not encounter Naruto or Sakuro in the few days that he kept away from Sasuke's prison cell. It meant that neither of his friends knew of the incident still, which then meant he only had to worry about whether or not the Copy-ninja would finish him off when they run into each other again.

In the last three days he'd seen more of Kakashi than he ever did in the entire year, and that was too much for it to be a coincidence. The silver-haired jounin was there when he went by Hokage-sama's office to drop off a report. When he came around the Yamanaka flower shop to talk to Ino, Kakashi suddenly popped in to ask random questions about flowers and gardening. While out on the streets he'd seen the flash of spiky silver here and there. And then there was that one time as he exited the drugstore, the one-eyed glare fastened on to him from right across the street.

Thankfully though, Shikamaru had not been alone during those encounters. In fact, he made sure that there was always a companion with him. Never mind that he might not completely like the person accompanying him. It wasn't much of a defense, but at least it seemed to be keeping him safe for the time being, and that was the important part.

He sighed loudly. He'd never thought that he'd ever find himself in such a humiliating and mortifying situation. He'd always been a logical man, but what happened at that room was anything but rational. His emotions had taken reign, and as much as he hated himself for what he'd done he knew that some part of him liked it very much.

Whenever he closed his eyes he would go back to that time that his mouth melded with hers, her soft chest pressed against his with the cold, obstructing bars between them, and his hands in her hair, on her neck, and everywhere.

Damn it.

He clenched his fists.

Damn it!

His body was burning.

His heart was aching.

He was so damn hard, he groaned long and painfully.

"What's wrong?"

Shikamaru looked up. The great surprise on his face confused his current companion and shogi opponent. Pale eyes surveyed him carefully and thoroughly and the lazy genius decided that if he didn't do anything soon his arousal could be exposed to the ever-observant Hyuuga. The shogi board between them was nowhere near high enough to cover him, so he obscured the bump between his legs with casually clasped hands.

"I… uh… I'm suddenly not feeling too well."

For several moments Neji only looked at him, and then nodded at him with patient understanding and Shikamaru knew that his friend thought that he was mulling over Chouji's death. He certainly still grieved deeply, and his best friend occupied a significant part of his everyday thoughts, but it was Sasuke who conquered it. He couldn't understand why she had so much power over him, and he could only deduce that Chouji left such space that he desperately wanted to fill it with something like that beautiful little dark-haired girl he'd admired the moment he had spotted her on the very first day at the academy. She'd been a shining girl then, full of love and proud smiles for the brother she always excitedly talked about to anyone who would listen. It was not long before she became the quiet, brooding girl who was always alone. But his eyes would still always rivet to her whether they were in class, or out on the playground, or whenever he spotted her somewhere in the village. It wasn't love, but she was creating such an impact on him. It was driving him crazy.

"I'll leave now then." Dark eyes swept back to Neji's rising figure. Again, he'd forgotten that he wasn't alone, and secretly glad that he was finally going to have a much needed moment of privacy. He always enjoyed Neji's presence, and admired the coffee-haired shinobi's intellect, but today really wasn't a good day for him. And something needed his full and urgent attention.

"Yeah, thanks. We'll finish the game another time," he said, rising quickly from the floor and ushering the older male out of his room, down short hallways to the front door. Neji barely uttered his farewell before the door was slammed to his face and he heard his friend's footfalls rushing back presumably to the bedroom.

He usually doesn't move so hastily, Neji thought to himself as he turned toward the quiet street. He must be especially unwell.

He'd also heard about the brawl with a mysterious opponent, and he'd come by the Nara household with the intention to get more information beside their usual game of shogi, but as soon as soon as he'd seen the weary face of his friend he decided that another day would do as well. He knew that Chouji's death nearly destroyed Shikamaru's own will to live and that it was hard for him to go back into a sense of normalcy. It would happen in the right time. He himself experienced the heartbreak of loss, and it had taken him nearly a decade before he completely let go of the sadness and anger that consumed him. In time, Shikamaru would become with peace.

It was hot. His blood was raging with lava despite the shower he'd just taken. Still damp and naked on his bed he touched himself. Gripping his hard penis, he pumped himself, her face and body on his mind. If Sasuke was actually present a single caress of her hand on his member would probably end him. He yearned for her and he didn't understand why.

Why.

Why.

If sexual outlet was his need then it didn't have to be her. If Ino wasn't available there were a few other girls he'd messed around with before. All of them pretty in their own way, and each had something he'd found interesting about them.

Although it was true, Sasuke's beauty made them pale in comparison. Even Ino in full glamour couldn't compare to the goddess-like appearance Sasuke possessed naturally. But he was never one who went for looks, nor did he like trouble. And the Uchiha was trouble itself.

He felt a pull and it was powerful. He didn't know if it had to do with his loss or of it was inevitable and why oh why was this happening without his best friend by his side!

There was a clash within him. One of grief, yearning, confusion and frustration. He couldn't calculate a way out; neither could he analyze what moves to make so he could feel better. He realized he had stopped pleasuring himself and both his hands were clenched around the hair on top of his head.

And once again, he wept.