Bruises & Bitemarks (SasuNaru)

100.

I'm finally convinced by at least five people to return to classes on Thursday. They couldn't have picked a worse day – it's Japanese first, and Sasuke's in my class. I arrive as late as possible, hiding out of sight of the classroom and slipping in just as the bell rings. I sit down at my own desk, right next to Sasuke's, steadfastly looking away, my heart beating like a war drum.

"Where've you been?" asks a condescending voice.

I glare at Sasuke. He's regarding me with icy eyes. They scare me – I hate that look. It's one I rarely see, even more rarely directed towards me.

"If you miss any more classes your grades will drop beyond salvation," he says, his tone utterly flat.

I take a deep breath and do my best not to rocket out of my chair and punch him. Kyuubi's already roaring for blood; I can imagine him, ears pulled back flat, hackles raised, fur on end. Enunciating every word, I snarl, "We're not on speaking terms."

If I could leak Kyuubi's aura through my eyes, through my pores, even from my saliva, I would do it right now. I'd poison Sasuke, I'd stab him, I'd do whatever it takes to see him dead. But he just looks at me with that unknowable stare. There's something about those eyes that I can't read. I've come to know Sasuke's eyes like my own heart, and despite his usual distance I can generally figure out what he's thinking. But the look he's giving me now – it's not that he's blocking me off, it's as though he's taking the offensive, attacking me so that I don't even want to try reading him.

"Fine."

That's all he says before turning looks back to the board to take notes. Whispers explode around the room like land mines. I feel every pair of female eyes, and many male ones, fix on us. No – on me and on Sasuke. There's no "us" anymore – not one that I'll acknowledge, anyway.

I sink further down onto my desk, folding my arms and resting my chin on them, feeling distinctly like something's missing. And it is. The absence of my necklace is like losing the anchor that weighed me down. I've become so accustomed to its presence, the feel of the fine chain around my neck, the pendant warm against my skin or, if I'm hovering above Sasuke, dangling, pulling me closer to him. Now I'm drifting away from the dock, lost in a stormy, turbulent ocean with no land in sight. Sasuke was my land, my port, and I've got nowhere to call home anymore.

The minute the bell rings, people swarm towards me and Sasuke. He ignores them all and pushes through the crowd, even though they're trying their hardest to bombard him with questions. It's with irritation on his face that he finally makes it out of the room and disappears. The ones who haven't followed him snap back to me.

"Naruto-kun, what's going on?" someone asks, fear in her voice.

"Why are you two acting like this?"

"Where's your necklace?"

At this question, everyone who hadn't noticed my missing pendant suddenly does. I scowl and slam my textbook shut.

"I'm gonna be late for class," I snap. Kyuubi adds a snarl for good measure, and the circle of people closest to me backs away a little, almost as though they could hear him. No one stops me from leaving.

I hear footsteps hurrying to catch up with me as I stalk down the hall, then Sai appears by my side. I manage to at least slow down a little for him.

"Rumours are going to fly," he says quietly.

"Let them. I don't give a shit about what the school says; it's got nothing to do with the truth."

"What is the truth, then?"

"You know it already."

"I want to hear it from you."

"What, so you can watch me suffer?" This reminds me of what someone said in the GSA. A kid who was closeted came out to the whole room that he was gay, then went on to say it never gets easier – every time you have to tell someone, you go through the same stress, the same uncertainty, never knowing how they'll react. Only now I'm not being judged for my orientation; I fear no disgust or hatred. It's just hard to have to say it again and again, like telling people someone has passed away. Because deep down inside you never stop hoping, wishing, maybe only dreaming that it's not true.