Sometimes jokes aren’t funny at all. Sometimes they drag on. Rarely, but still — they’re cruel, vicious. And sometimes, they tear everything alive apart from the inside.
“So you’re a faggot?” Sasuke hissed venomously in Naruto’s face.
Just a second ago, their lips had touched. Now, a bottomless chasm yawned between them. Nothing was clear yet, but one thing was — something had gone terribly wrong. Inside, something crashed and collapsed with a deafening roar. The lockers behind Naruto clanged in unison as he was shoved hard into them. It wasn’t even the pain — it was the betrayal. Sharp, confusing, and cruel.
Sasuke’s loyal entourage had already surrounded them, leaving Naruto no room to breathe. But he wasn’t looking at them. He looked only at Sasuke, searching for a reason. The angry face. The venomous words. The cruelty in his voice. None of it matched the messages. None of it made sense. Just last night, they had agreed to meet here — in the locker room before the match. To take the next step.
So what the hell happened?
Naruto could barely breathe — not from fear, but from the creeping realization. He’d been played. It was a joke. A setup. A mockery. Even if it turned into a fight, his numb arms and shaky legs wouldn’t save him.
Sasuke’s lips were still damp from the kiss, but now they held no warmth, no desire. His hand, raised to strike, froze mid-air. Only his clenched fist tightened — his knuckles turning white.
It looked like Sasuke realized it too.
Voices echoed in the hallway, counting down the seconds to public humiliation. Sasuke still had him pinned to the lockers.
Then the laughter burst into the locker room with the crowd — sharp, predatory, like a pack of hyenas waiting for the lion to tear apart his prey so they could feast on the scraps.
The hyenas laughed, pointed fingers, shouted crude remarks. But Naruto heard none of it. He looked at Sasuke and saw his face shifting. He saw recognition flash in his eyes. Felt the grip on his shirt loosen. And just as clearly, he felt something inside himself give way — a tidal wave of rage smashing through every dam inside him.
“Not fucking funny,” Sasuke spat, dropping his fist.
“Oh, it’s fucking hilarious,” Sakon shot back.
“Three whole months and this loser thought you two were in loooove.”
Sasuke walked out into the gym — the match was in ten minutes.
And Naruto? His heart had already dropped through the floor, leaving a grave-cold void in his chest. The match was already lost. In every possible way.
While the shrapnel of broken hopes scattered in every direction, Suigetsu leaned in close, smirking.
“Sasuke’s not a faggot,” he whispered mockingly. Then added, just loud enough for Naruto to hear:
“…but I wouldn’t bet on it.”
Sometimes jokes are just stupid.
Sometimes they humiliate, strip away dignity, destroy you.
Sometimes… they’re just jokes.
But every joke carries a grain of truth.
