Naruto Fan Fiction ❯ Black Eyes Blue ❯ Prologue: One of those days... ( Prologue )
[ X - Adult: No readers under 18. Contains Graphic Adult Themes/Extreme violence. ]
By: EpitomeXKirai 
It marked the beginning of something new. It was beautifully destructive. They'd never be the same again, but neither knew it yet, they just had that awful gut feeling.
SasuNaru, Yaoi/Shounen-ai, Angsty?
Anime/Manga: Naruto Fan Fiction | Genre(s): Psychological / Hentai | Type: Yaoi | Uploaded On: 04.15.2006 | Updated On: 04.16.2006 | Pages: 1 | Words: 1.1K | Visits: 682 | Status: Work In Progress
It marked the beginning of something new. It was beautifully destructive. They'd never be the same again, but neither knew it yet, they just had that awful gut feeling.
SasuNaru, Yaoi/Shounen-ai, Angsty?
Anime/Manga: Naruto Fan Fiction | Genre(s): Psychological / Hentai | Type: Yaoi | Uploaded On: 04.15.2006 | Updated On: 04.16.2006 | Pages: 1 | Words: 1.1K | Visits: 682 | Status: Work In Progress
Disclaimer: Of course I don't own Naruto. If I did, there would be some freaky stuff comin' out of Konohagakure...well there is some pretty crazy stuff there, but that's not the point. It would be crazier...trust me.
So here's my first fanfic. No preamble. Well maybe a little. So here's my first fanfic. Hope it isn't too atrociously monstrous. That would be a bit disappointing. It'll be a multi-chapter affair of course, and this is just a prologue, so bear with me here folks. I plan to update as often as I can of course. Unless you all decide to tell me to shut up in which case I'd be a bit saddened, but would have to comply on the grounds of not wanting to be a nuisance.
The perspective from the prologue is nothing like what the perspective of the rest of the fic is going to be. I do love this prologue, but not that much. It would get much too tiring after a short while. Since I am still a student with a job, I may not be able to update as frequently as some people, but I do try my best and hopefully I can get you an update by tonight. I really don't like just leaving it as a prologue. Enjoy mon cher. And no, I do not speak a bit of French, I just like the sound of their endearments.
Hajimemashouka. Or, Shall we begin?
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Prologue: One of those days...
Written by: EpitomeXKirai
So here's my first fanfic. No preamble. Well maybe a little. So here's my first fanfic. Hope it isn't too atrociously monstrous. That would be a bit disappointing. It'll be a multi-chapter affair of course, and this is just a prologue, so bear with me here folks. I plan to update as often as I can of course. Unless you all decide to tell me to shut up in which case I'd be a bit saddened, but would have to comply on the grounds of not wanting to be a nuisance.
The perspective from the prologue is nothing like what the perspective of the rest of the fic is going to be. I do love this prologue, but not that much. It would get much too tiring after a short while. Since I am still a student with a job, I may not be able to update as frequently as some people, but I do try my best and hopefully I can get you an update by tonight. I really don't like just leaving it as a prologue. Enjoy mon cher. And no, I do not speak a bit of French, I just like the sound of their endearments.
Hajimemashouka. Or, Shall we begin?
----------------------------------------------------------- -
Prologue: One of those days...
Written by: EpitomeXKirai
It was one of those days where you just couldn't ever understand the important things. The important things like why there was currently a stranger in your house-- a stranger who apparently thought that you wanted him to undress as soon as he got in the house. Of course you had finally convinced him to at least wear an overly large shirt.
It was one of those days where time just stops and you'd kill for it to just start again and the funny thing is you're dead serious. So dead serious about not ever knowing this man who insisted that you were the keeper of his soul. And even though living a life on somebody else's terms is a half existance, you can still see the light reflecting so magnificently from his eyes. God, for some reason you wished you could yank those eyes out and have that stare just fall apart.
It was one of those days where you feel like you're in a daze and your ears plug up so sound scarcely registers with you. Just like the fact that you didn't register that he was scared of you. You had never met him before, but he said you owned him as if it were the easiest thing to say, but you knew that deep down inside he was scared to death and you realized you just killed him. He's hurt you can't remember him. You killed. He hurts so badly inside. You killed....and time started back up again.
It was one of those days where your stomach wouldn't agree with you whether you gorged yourself far past satiation or purged and just got rid of it all. Did you get rid of those memories? It was like a dulled down version of deja vu. Just an inkling of remembrance, but you know it's odd when you turn to look at him. He's sitting there with his legs spread open upon the couch. You can't see anything and you're glad.
It was one of those days where you breathe and the air tastes soured. Damn it's hot. You know he feels it too because his head falls to the side, exposing a slightly tanned neck, unmarred-- that surely wasn't something you were too used to seeing-- by some unseemly scar. He was sweating and the long strands of white-blonde hair stuck to it, making him imperfect again.
It was one of those days where you don't have to stop to smell the damned roses. He's asleep and you walk away. There's no point in staying now. If he really needs you as much as he says he does, he'll wait for those bloodied eyes to return to black. It's only natural that you're suspicious of him. You walk away and suddenly, all you can smell is the overwhelming smell of salt tears. It feels like you're choking.
It was one of those days where you forget just how strong you are. You're so strong and it makes you remember how when he first saw you, he complimented you on that self-same strength. You're so strong; why can't you get rid of this horrible smell? Maybe it meant something, an omen from the past or the future to come.
It was one of those days where you remember exactly why you don't give a shit about omens and what they may or may not mean. Did you really mean that much to him? There were so many questions you had thought up-- ideas with potential-- but you weren't about to admit that you needed him to fill in the blanks. People always lied, especially when they wanted something.
It was one of those days that was slowly falling back into repetition. It seemed so right and yet so wrong at the same time. Everything was cliché and soon you knew you'd wake up from some wonderful nightmare or a terrible dream. You knew either way it wasn't going to turn out too well. Maybe it was time to start from the beginning. Someone famous who you never took the time to really remember once said:
“We are doomed to repeat history if we do not learn from our past.”
It was one of those days where time just stops and you'd kill for it to just start again and the funny thing is you're dead serious. So dead serious about not ever knowing this man who insisted that you were the keeper of his soul. And even though living a life on somebody else's terms is a half existance, you can still see the light reflecting so magnificently from his eyes. God, for some reason you wished you could yank those eyes out and have that stare just fall apart.
It was one of those days where you feel like you're in a daze and your ears plug up so sound scarcely registers with you. Just like the fact that you didn't register that he was scared of you. You had never met him before, but he said you owned him as if it were the easiest thing to say, but you knew that deep down inside he was scared to death and you realized you just killed him. He's hurt you can't remember him. You killed. He hurts so badly inside. You killed....and time started back up again.
It was one of those days where your stomach wouldn't agree with you whether you gorged yourself far past satiation or purged and just got rid of it all. Did you get rid of those memories? It was like a dulled down version of deja vu. Just an inkling of remembrance, but you know it's odd when you turn to look at him. He's sitting there with his legs spread open upon the couch. You can't see anything and you're glad.
It was one of those days where you breathe and the air tastes soured. Damn it's hot. You know he feels it too because his head falls to the side, exposing a slightly tanned neck, unmarred-- that surely wasn't something you were too used to seeing-- by some unseemly scar. He was sweating and the long strands of white-blonde hair stuck to it, making him imperfect again.
It was one of those days where you don't have to stop to smell the damned roses. He's asleep and you walk away. There's no point in staying now. If he really needs you as much as he says he does, he'll wait for those bloodied eyes to return to black. It's only natural that you're suspicious of him. You walk away and suddenly, all you can smell is the overwhelming smell of salt tears. It feels like you're choking.
It was one of those days where you forget just how strong you are. You're so strong and it makes you remember how when he first saw you, he complimented you on that self-same strength. You're so strong; why can't you get rid of this horrible smell? Maybe it meant something, an omen from the past or the future to come.
It was one of those days where you remember exactly why you don't give a shit about omens and what they may or may not mean. Did you really mean that much to him? There were so many questions you had thought up-- ideas with potential-- but you weren't about to admit that you needed him to fill in the blanks. People always lied, especially when they wanted something.
It was one of those days that was slowly falling back into repetition. It seemed so right and yet so wrong at the same time. Everything was cliché and soon you knew you'd wake up from some wonderful nightmare or a terrible dream. You knew either way it wasn't going to turn out too well. Maybe it was time to start from the beginning. Someone famous who you never took the time to really remember once said:
“We are doomed to repeat history if we do not learn from our past.”
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Hope that was bearable. CONSTRUCTIVE criticism is always welcomed, but not always taken to heart. I try my best, but I'm still only human and therefore still affected by my pride and anger.
J'adore
XKirai