Sasuke wakes to the soft light of predawn filtering through the cracked shades of the window, casting a silver filter over the shadows of the room. Even though he knows he 's only been asleep for a few hours at most, right now he 's never felt more awake.

Naruto 's story lingers in his ears, and he 'd spent the night dreaming about what it must have been like, reading the pain and drive between the lines of Naruto 's story, imagining how it would have forged him. That night they met on the street makes so much more sense now, now that Sasuke knows the force behind the fury.

Naruto is lying on his stomach on the bed above him, his arm thrown carelessly over the side so that his knuckles brush the floor by Sasuke 's futon. Sasuke curls his own hand just shy of the blond idiot 's fingertips, and even though they 're not actually touching, Sasuke can still feel the warmth radiating off the idiot 's calloused hand.

The hell. He 's like some kind of furnace.