Sai didn’t understand how it happened. Perhaps it was because today’s morning sparring demanded too much out of him. Perhaps it was because Sai had overslept late into the morning and was startled awake by an irate and obnoxiously loud shinobi. All he knew was that at one moment, Sai had pinned the blonde boy into the grass, kunai against his neck in a show of triumph-- and in the next moment, Sai’s head had moved with of its own volition, and he had breached the distance between their lips.

Naruto’s lips were warm and wet, like he’d been licking them all throughout their sparring. For a moment Sai closed his eyes, trying to memorize the feel of hot breath, the small, slightly open soft shape and the smell of sweat and cut grass.

But what Sai really noticed was that Naruto didn’t pull away. He was more amazed, even, when the blonde seemed to be responding—growing taut, giving tentative soft licks. It filled Sai’s head with a lightheaded buzz. Never in his life did he think he could feel this sudden rush of something from the depths of his stomach, and just by that one touch alone—it made him give a small, involuntary gasp. The kunai in his hand fell harmlessly onto the grass, and Sai moved his hands to cup whisker-marked cheeks.

How long had Sai wanted to kiss, but was unable to understand how it should begin? And he had always thought of Naruto, in his dreams, in his kiss-fantasies. He had always watched out him, all through the three years they’d known each other. Sai had been attentive, unblinking as Naruto vented out frustrations over his own failures. He’d been gentle, treating Naruto’s wounds both from fights and from emotional strains. And he’d always been patient--even when he accompanied Naruto for ramen for the enth time in the same week.

Sai had stood by his side when Naruto worked himself to the point of death, so plainly determined to get Sasuke back. Suddenly, Sai felt tears on his fingers, and pulled away, watching Naruto’s wet blue eyes with a guarded expression.

“S-sai, wha-?” Naruto asked, his voice uncharacteristically unsure as he hurriedly wiped tears with an orange sleeve. Something twisted in Sai’s gut as he looked upon the blonde boy beneath him. It was uncanny, and he was not a psychic, but he knew exactly what Naruto was thinking.

Sasuke.

How could he forget that no matter what, Sasuke was always going to be part of Naruto’s life?

Of course, the story between Naruto and Sasuke’s kiss was much common knowledge in Konoha. On occasion, it had still been the butt of Kiba’s jokes and the target for Shikamaru’s sharp, sarcastic innuendos. And this knowledge hurt. I am no one.

Sai closed the distance between them again, this time resting his forehead against Naruto’s. “sorry,” he whispered, before stepping off the other boy and conjuring a wholly uncomfortable smile on his face.

“I’m sorry, Naruto,” he reiterated, as Naruto sat up and stared, “I seem to have done something –unconventional—again.” Sai gave this a lighthearted tone even if he knew exactly what he’d done and what exactly it had meant. Naruto opened his mouth to retort, but Sai beat him to it, “—Don’t worry… I won’t do it again.”

Before the blond could react, Sai had already leapt out of sight, bounding far from the Konoha grasslands and into the village. A part of him wished the blonde would chase after him, even if he would do so in a noisy, deafening rage. Even if he demanded answers. Even if he just tried to.

But Naruto didn’t.

Again, this knowledge hurt. Naruto wouldn’t chase him half the mile into Konoha, even if he’d chase Sasuke for years unending, past several countries and into the belly of the most dangerous sort of felons. Sai’s smile fell; he pressed his lips into a tight line, trying to will that strange, heavy feeling away. He tried not to think of how Sasuke would always be one step in front of him, shrouding him, pushing him into the sidelines. It was an added bonus that Sasuke even resembled him. Or to put it precisely: that he resembled Sasuke. Sai was merely a replacement. Merely his shadow.

I do not exist.

By the time he dropped soundlessly in front of his apartment, Sai realized that his throat was tightening and there was something rather hot and stinging on his temples. He shook these feelings off, but could not derail the path his thoughts were taking him.

When he was in Root he’d learnt that he was a tool, that he was no one, that he did not exist. But-- but it seemed wrong somehow, especially when he painted, especially when he thought of his brother. And it was Naruto that made him realize that Sai was something more than a fake name, that Sai was something more than a vessel. Sai was an actual person, someone who had talents, ideas and opinions as important as anyone else’s. It was Naruto’s purity that gave Sai the strength to push out of his facelessness and make him truly understand why he why he was who he was, why he was a shinobi, why he had to protect Konoha.

But Sasuke’s memory made it hard to breathe. Sasuke’s memory made it hard to live. Sasuke’s memory made Sai feel as if he was merely saving a place for the Uchiha for when he’d return. Or as if Naruto couldn’t bear the empty space beside him-- that he somehow had to fill a gap for what had once been the Sasuke he knew and loved.

Sai tried not to think as he entered his room. But he leaned against the door and looking into the stillness of his own abode, thinking anyway. His lips still tingled from the kiss, and for a moment—the memory seemed to uplift his spirit. Tentatively, he touched his mouth with a finger, tracing where Naruto had been moments ago.

When Sai closed his eyes, something warm trickled down his own cheeks. And he would laughed at himself later when he realized that he had finally had his first kiss- and with the one person whom he had always wanted to share it with.

It was the best thing that ever happened to him.

And it was the worst thing, as well. For he understood that Naruto only thought of this kiss as a reminder something he could never have again. Fin