Morning came with a glaring sun. Naruto awoke first to see Roxie still passed out from last night. He smirked and got up, quietly putting on his armor. Once dressed, he called a cab.
As he got home, he immediately took off his top layers of armor, placing them inside a closet. He then headed to the bathroom, the sounds of the shower soon filling the quiet apartment. The running water must have roused Hinata and Kiba, because he heard shuffling feet from the bedroom. Naruto didn't care. He walked to his living room closet, grabbed a fresh set of clothes, and changed. Before heading to the basement, he left the envelope of money from his fight on the kitchen counter. He then gathered his armor and descended to the apartment's basement, where he kept a small storage locker for his gear.
He locked his armor away, then headed back upstairs and settled onto his living room couch. He turned on the TV, then went to the fridge to grab a beer. As he sat back down and sighed, the cold can condensation against his palm, a heavy truth settled over him. He had broken a rule last night – a rule made specifically for him. He wasn't good at just fuckingsomeone; making love, that was his weakness. He probably invented it, the way he did it, but it always came with consequences.
Naruto wanted to crawl out of his skin as his phone rang. He picked it up, and a shudder ran through him. Speaking of consequences, he knew the number without even recognizing it. He sighed, then answered, another song for some reason popping into his head while a band, translucent and shimmering, appeared in his kitchen and began to play.
(MUSIC CUE: "Lips of an Angel" by Hinder begins, performed by Naruto.)
NARUTO (Singing, voice low and strained, a desperate whisper): "Honey, why you calling me so late, it's kinda hard to talk right now…"
Behind him, Hinata and her lover of the night, Kiba, exited the bedroom, stretching lazily into the living room. Hinata looked on, inquisitive, a faint blush on her cheeks. Kiba tried to strike up a conversation with a casual greeting, but Naruto held up his hand, his gaze fixed on the phone. He turned, walking into his bedroom, the heavy smell of sex and condoms still hanging in the air, pulling the door almost shut behind him.
NARUTO (Singing, voice dropping to a harsh whisper, the band's music echoing his secret): I gotta whisper 'cause I can't be too loud
The voice on the other end, muffled and trembling, managed to ask why. Naruto didn't hesitate, his voice now a raw outpouring of conflicted emotion, the words from the song becoming his truth.
NARUTO (Singing, the band in the hallway, unseen but heard): Well, my girl's in the next roomSometimes I wish she was you I guess we never really moved on It's really good to hear your voice saying my name It sounds so sweet Coming from the lips of an angel Hearing those words, it makes me weak And I never wanna say goodbye But, girl, you make it hard to be faithful With the lips of an angel
Naruto slightly opened the door, peering out. He saw Hinata cooking, her back to him, and Kiba sitting on the couch, drinking his beer. The translucent band was now in the hallway leading to his bedroom, still playing, their phantom instruments urging him on. The voice on the phone, still crying, managed to ask if Naruto still thought of her.
NARUTO (Singing, a mix of honesty and guardedness): It's funny that you're calling me tonight And, yes, I've dreamt of you too And does he know you're talking to me? Will it start a fight? No, I don't think she has a clue
Hinata looked towards the bedroom just as Naruto moved away from the door, a man's gruff voice audible in the background of the call. She turned the stove on low and set the pan aside, a growing unease in her posture as she slowly walked towards his bedroom door.
NARUTO (Singing, the raw truth pouring out as he paces the room): Well, my girl's in the next roomSometimes I wish she was you I guess we never really moved on It's really good to hear your voice saying my name It sounds so sweetComing from the lips of an angel Hearing those words, it makes me weak And I never wanna say goodbye But, girl, you make it hard to be faithful With the lips of an angel
Hinata heard what Naruto said, her expression falling. She looked away sadly, turning back to her breakfast preparations, plastering on a fake smile that didn't reach her eyes. Naruto, meanwhile, went to his desk in his room and pulled out a photo.
NARUTO (Singing, voice thick with longing, as he holds the photo): It's really good to hear your voice saying my name It sounds so sweet Coming from the lips of an angel Hearing those words, it makes me weak And I never wanna say goodbye But, girl, you make it hard to be faithful With the lips of an angel And I never wanna say goodbye But, girl, you make it hard to be faithful With the lips of an angel
Naruto put the photo up to the light. It showed him with a beautiful woman with long black hair, her face smiling, full of life.
NARUTO (Speaking, voice barely a whisper): "Honey, why you calling me so late?"
The phone caller hung up. Naruto, his face a mixture of weariness and lingering pain, got up, put away the photo, and turned his phone on do not disturb. He was tired of phone calls today.
Naruto, his face a carefully constructed mask of apathy, placed the photo of the woman with black hair back on his desk and then set his phone to "do not disturb." He was done with phone calls for the day. The phantom band in the hallway had vanished with the click of the hang-up, leaving only the quiet hum of his own apartment.
He pushed off the desk and walked back into the living room. The smell of Hinata's cooking, something sweet and familiar, now mingled with the faint, lingering scent of sex from the bedroom. Hinata was indeed at the stove, stirring something in a pan, her back still mostly to him. Kiba was sprawled on the couch, beer in hand, his gaze fixed on the TV. Neither of them looked directly at Naruto.
He walked over to the fridge, pulled out another beer, and popped it open with a soft hiss. The cold aluminum felt good in his hand. He sat down on the opposite end of the couch from Kiba, not meeting anyone's eyes. The television blared, but Naruto heard none of it. The silence in the room, despite the TV, was deafening. He raised the beer to his lips, taking a long, slow drink. The bitterness settled on his tongue, matching the taste in his mouth.
He had walked into a mess last night, and this morning, he was just adding more layers to it. The rules were blurred, the lines were crossed, and the consequences of his actions were beginning to pile up.
Naruto sighed, closing his eyes, the recent phone call echoing in his mind like a chilling reprise. Kiba was on the couch beside him, a faint, almost nervous smirk on his face as he watched the news. Whether it was from his conquest last night or just something funny happening on the screen, Naruto couldn't fathom, nor could he bring himself to care. A part of him wanted to shatter the fragile peace, to shout, to demand answers, but the exhaustion was a heavy blanket.
The silence in the room was a thick, suffocating thing. Hinata was in the kitchen, and the soft clinking of plates, the methodical swish of a sponge against the counter, were the only sounds. Each movement was precise, almost too controlled, and Naruto could feel the tension radiating off her, a silent hum beneath his skin.
"Hey, Naruto," Kiba finally said, his voice a little too casual, a slight tremor under the forced cheer. He kept his eyes on the screen, avoiding Naruto's gaze. "How you been, man?"
Naruto took a slow breath, the metallic tang of his own blood in his mouth. "I'm fine, Kiba. How are you?" He tried to keep his voice calm, collected, but he felt the tremor in his own words. They made small talk, a ridiculous dance around the cobra in the room – not an elephant, he affirmed internally, because elephants were clumsy and obvious; cobras struck with silent, deadly precision. The semantics of the situation weren't quite what mattered, only the deed, and the piercing, agonizing 'why.' He could feel Hinata's presence in the kitchen, a phantom weight in his peripheral vision, knowing she was listening, assessing.
Hinata emerged then, carrying three plates of breakfast. The plates were loaded: toast, scrambled eggs, small pancakes. She moved with an unusual stiffness, her eyes darting between the two men before settling on a spot just above the TV. She handed Naruto his plate, their fingers brushing for a fraction of a second – a spark, or just nerves, he couldn't tell. She then settled on the opposite side of the couch from him, a deliberate, precise distance from Kiba, yet not quite close to Naruto either; a healthy, calculated middle ground. Was that her declaration of not picking sides, of the growing, undeniable chasm? He didn't know, and honestly, he was too tired to care. The wounds on his bandaged body were freshly opened for the world to see, each dull ache and sharp pain grounding him to the brutal reality of the morning. He needed this conversation to happen, yet dreaded every possible word.
Breakfast passed in a haze of forced normalcy, punctuated by the clinking of forks and the low drone of the news. Kiba cleared his throat several times, shifted his weight, glancing at Naruto, his usual easy bravado replaced by a palpable awkwardness. Finally, with a muttered excuse about needing to make a call, he stood. The unspoken words he wanted to say to Naruto were like ash in his mouth, refusing to come out. He paused at the door, a quick, uncertain glance at Naruto, before stepping out. Yet, as the door closed, Naruto knew Kiba still held a misplaced faith that he would be a man about the situation and talk to him privately.