Decadence

Decadence

Chapter 1

Disclaimer: I do not own Naruto or the song Pretty Girl.

A/N: This is my first Naruto fic and honestly it is not what I would have expected as my first considering I am, for the most part, a slash writer and I used to find Sakura so annoying that I was tempted to reach into my computer screen and strangle her with my cable wire. (That is until I saw Shippuuden, now she kicks ass) However, the song honestly made me think of this plot, so I had to write it. I know most people don't like song-fics, but eh, just skip over the lyrics if they bother you that much. Reviews are like crack, or some other form of addicting substance, and I'm an addict!

Warning: NOT A HAPPY FIC!

Decadence

Pretty girl is suffering
while he confesses everything

He was leaving again.

Only four months after being drug back home by one Uzumaki Naruto he was once again walking past that figurative border and out of her life.

As she watched his retreating back, bag slung casually over one shoulder, she felt a stab of sickening familiarity at the sight. She had seen this before. Years before she had stood in nearly this same spot and watched as he killed her with each step he took. It was a sharp slap to the face. Completely expected, but no less painful. She had known, all along she had known, and yet she had let him do it again.

Pretty soon she'll figure out
what his intentions were about.

After he had left the first time the sensation the was left to run loose in her body was more than anything she had ever felt. No past account of happiness or anger, not even when she had seen him lying on the ground, presumed dead, could match the overwhelming weight of devastation. He had left and she was ruined, because no matter how much of an annoying fan girl she might have acted like, no matter how much she had clung and whined and cooed and stalked around like some school girl drooling over the "cool guy", it had been so much deeper than that. His looks were nothing. His talents, while impressive, those too were nothing. She had wanted everything from him, not selected and trivial perks, but everything.

Everything he had never been willing to give her.

She had loved him and because of that she was beyond repair.

She had spent so long trying to look past what every part of her was screaming for. She had fought to destroy the image of coal eyes and sneering lips. She had thrown herself into her training, partly because she longed to be strong enough to one day bring him back and partly because she prayed to one day be strong enough not to need him back.

Eventually she had pushed herself to find comfort in the arms of someone who was more that willing to give away the love that she had for so long wanted to feel from another. He was there to press her lips to. He was there to be an anchor. He was there to say the words that would mean so much more if they ever came from the lips of someone else.

She used him.

Used him, because if she didn't she would surely collapse. It wasn't hard to imagine the tan hands that traced gently along her skin were paler, colder, crueler, what did take more time was accepting the fact that they weren't.

She had let those blue eyes love her, though she knew that she would never fully be able to return the gesture, and she had forgot the black ones that were never soft for her. She had convinced herself that if he ever came back she would not give him the power to break her again.

She had been a damned fool.

And that's what you get for falling again
you can never ger him out of your head.
that's what you get for falling again
you can never get him out of your head.

And then, though at the time her eyes would not let her accept it, he was back. Uzumaki Naruto had finally succeeded in completing the promise he had made years before. He had brought him home from the hands of that bastard snake, much to the raven haired man's chagrin. He was pissed about it, whether it was because he didn't want to be back or because Naruto had completely defeated him, she wasn't sure, but he was home. She had watched with disbelieving eyes as they had both set foot inside the city, her ears deaf to the shouts of joy around her as she stood silent. Even as tan hands had drawn her in for a kiss, her eyes had stayed wide and directly planted on him.

All that work to try to forget him was completely destroyed under his cold, vacant stare.

It's the way that he makes you feel.
It's the way that he kissed you.

He was still cold to her, perhaps even colder than he had been before, but she couldn't help but notice the way the tips of his fingers would linger on her skin when he would accidentally brush against her.

Whether or not these were movements exaggerated by her own self conscious, she wasn't sure, but they made her shiver anyways.