He loves her in the evenings

He loves her in the evenings. Their relationship is a strange thing, to be sure--but then, they are no ordinary two. In the mornings, he is kind, cordial, and approving, and everything a friend ought to be. They share jokes, they train, they sit in opposite corners of the room and read for hours, but there is a distance between them, a lack of attentiveness on his part. Eyes stray even as mouth smiles, yet there is no softness in their depths, no special recognition, no all-consuming interest in what she has to say.

It would hurt her very much, if she let it, but she finds it hard to blame him for what he does not know. She thinks it isn't so much a purposeful deception or apathy on his part so much as it is a genuine forgetfulness. She wonders if he no longer remembers he considers her so much more than a friend at times. And while she thinks she might love him all the day, she knows he only loves her in the evenings.

She wonders if he knows how much of an enigma he has become. Where once she knew her place in his life, now she is left wondering what she is to him. She tried to brush things off, tried to consider him as a friend, tried to ignore the beatings of her own heart. She accepts his cordiality in the early hours of the day, and she understands she is merely his friend and finds no bitterness within her at this knowledge. On the contrary, she is glad that he considers her more than an acquaintance.

But then the day draws to an end, and soon she finds his gaze resting on her and there's a softness in his eyes again, a quiet warmth that makes her throat tighten. He seeks her out among their peers, and when she leaves to walk home after a long evening with their friends, he is standing right beside her, zipping up his coat and tugging on his boots and smiling those lovely pale eyes at her.

And unwillingly, unstoppably, she finds herself falling more in love with him everyday. And because he loves her in the evenings, she finds herself anticipating the grey strokes of twilight, the brilliant golds and reds of sunset, the cool breeze that winds itself around and between the harshly glowing streetlamps. Where before she woke with the sun, alone in her small, yellow flat with the broken shutters and leaking refrigerator, now she finds herself sleeping in later and later just so that she can stretch out the evenings as long as possible, revelling in his uncharacteristic tenderness while it lasts.

Because she knows—oh, she knows—that one day he will find someone to love all day long. One day he will find that woman who will capture his attention not only in the evenings, but also in the mornings and his gaze his soften on her all throughout the day, not just at the end of it. In that time, she supposes she will go back to being a dear friend, genderless for all that it matters. She hopes with all her heart she won't be bitter about it, because while she's never been a particularly selfish person, she knows that this time she will be asked to give up too much, because she's come to care for him far more than she should have, and its no longer safe and no longer easy and she's fallen far too deep.

But for now, she'll cherish the intense warmth of his eyes, the attentive tilt of his head, the small secret smile he bestows only on her, because she knows its temporary and therefore all the more precious. She loves him all the day and while he loves her only in the evening, somehow, it's still enough.

.:And she will be loved:.


AN: Well, I never thought I'd see the day when I'd write a TenTen/Neji one-shot. However, plotbunnies care little for expectations or assumptions, so now I'm the (proud? I suppose thats up to you, kind reader) owner of a non-Team 7 Naruto fic. Brownie points, anyone?

Besides. TenTen is pretty much awesome, and Neji needs a girl to melt that nasty ice-cube thing he has going on there.

EDIT: Yeah. Had to reload the chapter. Neji's eyes had a spastic change in colour for a bit there.