Naruto One Shots

Kiba x Reader | Consumed (Part One)

♥ Modern AU ♥

♥ Angst ♥

Word count:  1,270

Requested by: SpecialOddball

*~*~*

"I cannot let you burn me up, nor can I resist you.
No mere human can stand in a fire and not be consumed."– A.S. Byatt

*           *           *

The sky was black. Plumes of dark smoke spun and churned in angry spirals, folding and reaching towards the light blue sky above. Red-hot flames broke through the house, reaching out to consume anything those dangerous, scorching fingers could grasp. Charred bits of wood fell from the roof, tumbling into the fiery depths below. Any minute and the house would collapse within itself.

From the living room window, a figure stood – a silhouette among the flames and smoke. Her blistered fists pounded on the glass desperately in her attempt to escape, but with each hit the flames grew bigger.

The glass would not break.

Kiba watched in terror from across the street. He tried to run forward, tried to reach out for her, but his feet were cemented to the ground in a paralyzing fear. He could only look forth as the woman he loved burned away with the remnants of the home that they had built together only months before.

The woman's name ripped from his throat in a broken cry. She had stopped in her effort to escape. Her face looked out sullenly, her eyes accusing.

Kiba called out desperately to her, pleading for her to understand. He screamed until his throat was raw, until nothing more came out, aside from a strained rasping noise. He screamed again and again, frantic, crying out until the roof finally collapsed and (F/n) disappeared within the wreckage.

*           *           *

Kiba shouted, jolting upright in his bed and kicking the tangled covers from off of his body. He was completely drenched in sweat, and his heart was hammering painfully in his chest. Tears prickled at his eyes. He swiped at them angrily, dragging deep breaths of air into his lungs and releasing them slowly. Once the frantic pounding of his heart subsided, he ran a shaky hand through the tendrils of his damp hair.

The nightmares were getting worse – more detailed with each passing day.

It had been nearly a year since his fiancée, (F/n), had perished in a fire that had completely demolished their home. Nothing had been salvaged; everything within had been reduced to mere piles of ash in the wake of the destructive flames.

Not even (F/n)'s body was recovered from the wreckage – according to the officials, there was not a single trace left of her to be found.

Kiba grimaced as the memories resurfaced – memories of the stupid fight they'd had, prior to the fire; memories of him leaving the house in a storming rage, only to return later that night to find that his home had burnt to the ground. He recalled the terror, the paralyzing terror, of not knowing whether (F/n) had managed to escape, whether she had survived, and then to find out that she hadn't.

The pain of losing her was relentless, but it was nothing compared to the overwhelming sense of guilt he felt knowing that (F/n)'s last memory of him was one of anger. What's more, he couldn't handle knowing that maybe – just maybe – had he not left that day...

Well, maybe she would still be alive.

*           *           *

A week later Kiba found himself standing before an empty plot, staring down at a grave marker that marked nothing more than a barren piece of land. His fingers traced the indents spelling out her name, and he closed his eyes against the tears.

I'm so sorry.

Those were the words he should have said to her that day, rather than storming out in anger just to protect his precious ego. Why did he have to be so damn stubborn? The fight was his fault, really, not hers. Had he not been so overprotective of her, so smothering all the time, maybe she wouldn't have been upset with him in the first place. But those were his instincts – protect what's yours, what's precious to you, no matter the cost. And yet, he hadn't been there to protect her when she actually needed him.

Of course, he could see it now – now that it was too late to do anything about it. Now that she was already gone. He cursed under his breath, pressing his palms against his eyes to stifle the endless flow of tears.

It'd been a year, yet the pain was still as fresh as the day he found out he'd lost her – lost everything. He swallowed the knot that had formed in his throat and rose from his kneeling position on the ground, heading towards his car.

However, as he was leaving Kiba felt his phone vibrate in his pocket. It was a text, he noticed once he pulled his phone out, but he did not recognize the number. In fact, he did not understand what the text itself was trying to say – it was nothing more than a series of numbers, none of which made sense to him. He scrunched his face as he pondered over the message, but assumed its sender had texted the wrong number.

He decided to ignore it, but as he was preparing to pocket his phone once more, it vibrated again – this time with a message that made his stomach sink. Kiba recoiled, almost as though he had been electrocuted, and the phone dropped from his hand, toppling to the grass with a soft thud.

'You are my heart, my life, my one and only thought'  

The words beamed at him from the ground, scorching his mind with a fire of racing thoughts. How was this possible? What did it mean? Someone was playing a cruel, twisted joke on him, surely.

But who – and how? He wracked his brains but found no answers.

There was no way anyone else would know the significance behind those words, aside from himself and (F/n). No one else could possibly know, because they had been alone the night he had spoken them – the night he had proposed to her.

Kiba trembled as he stared at the message, the words swirling around his head like a broken record. He knew them by heart, of course – he'd picked them out himself, taking the quote from one of (F/n)'s favorite novels. He'd used the quote countless times as well, as his own special way of letting (F/n) know just how much he truly treasured her.

And here they were now, these very words, mocking him. Kiba stared at the message, a mix of torment and anger on his face, until the screen went black and the message disappeared. He stood motionless for several minutes, frozen to the spot. The thought of touching his phone made him cringe – he felt almost as though it would explode the moment his fingers brushed it.

But as the sun sunk lower in the sky, he finally decided it was time to go. With a withering glance, Kiba gingerly picked the device up from the ground and all but ran to his car, tossing the phone in his backseat as he peeled out of the cemetery and raced home.

It wasn't until he was turning onto his street that he realized something crucial.

The numbers from the first text message – they weren't sent by mistake. Nor were they random, meaningless digits. They were coordinates; a location that the sender wanted him to find.  And with a slow, sickening realization, Kiba finally understood.

The second message wasn't someone's idea of a joke. It was a hint.         

And (F/n) had been the one to send it to him.

*~*~*

A/N: I'M BACK YOU GUYS! And I feel so guilty for another huge gap in updating. My requests have piled up like crazy and it's been really difficult finding the motivation to tackle them all (but I'm working on it, I promise <3).

I decided to split this one shot into two parts. Mainly because I was getting impatient and I really wanted to update, and also because this one shot was getting pretty lengthy! The second part is nearly finished, though, and should be posted some time this week.

I hope you enjoy! <3