Title: Monochromatic.
By: Kaara.
Disclaimer: Don't own them. Kishimoto does, but he sucks at it.
Note: Been quite some time since I last wrote angst. And I'm getting rusty. An advanced apology if it does not reach my usual standard.
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Monochromatic
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She was coughing out blood. A lot. He noticed, because the crimson liquid seeped through his shirt. Growing into an even larger stain. A dark contrast against the white fabric. He hated it. Though his hands were also stained with blood, mostly from the scattered limbs around them. Dead bodies. And under the glowing chakra around the edge of his palm that was firmly pressed against her chest, against the gaping wound, her skin felt disconcertingly cold. And damp. Was that a bad sign?
As another fit of rasping coughs racked her body, he couldn't stop the touch of desperation from lining his voice. Definitely a bad sign, that. "Shit, don't die on me!"
A sliver of grey blue squinted up at him with something akin to amusement, before she convulsed again in his arms and her eyes screwed firmly shut. Still coughing, her hand trembled upwards and pressed shakily against his whiskered cheek. Cold and damp. "I— Idiot… M'not… gonna die…"
He managed a strained bout of dry chuckles, his eyes narrowing as he concentrated on closing the bleeding wound. Damn, but he was never good in this entire medical jutsu thing. Where was Sakura when he needed her? Right now, she should stay conscious. He vaguely remembered the lesson that Shizune-neechan had given to him years before. He wished that he had paid more attention then. "You better damned not. You make a lousy ninja, you know that? Can't even dodge a stupid blade."
"Was… trying to stop… from you—" the sentence turned into coughs and gasps, and he propped her up against his thigh in panic, afraid that she was choking on her blood. Her hand had dropped onto her bandaged stomach, worryingly motionless in his opinion. He splayed his free hand across the back of her head, allowing his fingers to twist into silken strands of bleached golden hair.
"Shut up and stay awake," he whispered hoarsely, stooping low enough so that his face hovered only inches above her. He could feel his chakra seeping into her inner coils, mingling with her own chakra. Felt the two different flows twisting and coiling inside her. That should be good, right?
He wished that someone was there to answer his questions.
She coughed a few more times, before the red painted lips curled into a pained, humourless grin. "Can't… sleep with you… yellin' like that…"
"Good," he nodded, though he was sure that she couldn't saw the nervous bops of his head. "Good."
"So tired…" the irregular rhythm of her chest rising, falling, rising and falling again faltered for a split second and his own heart froze. Her voice was a fleeting whisper carried by the wind, but he heard it nonetheless. Despite the odd ringing inside his ears. And the erratic beats drumming against his ribcage.
He forced more chakra into her upon hearing the admission, a fresh wave of panic crashing against his resolve. He could feel her slipping, could feel the slowing thumps of her heart. Could feel the life draining from her, even as he tried to create a wall in between the blurring lines. "You can rest once we go back to Konoha," he growled through clenched teeth. "Sakura-chan's on her way. Others too, I'm sure."
Eyelashes fluttered weakly as glazed grey-blue eyes stared up at him. "Sakura?"
"Yeah," he nodded again, staring back at her with fierce conviction. "That… that pink-haired Forehead Girl."
A hand flew up and smacked him on the shoulder, not hard because of her seeping strength, but with enough force to tell him without words that she was definitely not dying anytime soon. He exhaled the breath he didn't know he was holding, but frowned when a coughing fit followed the sudden action. Her eyes were slightly more focused as she murmured, "Don't… Sakura's not that…"
"You're the one who calls her that," he pointed out, fear mixing with anxiety. Her skin was becoming steadily colder and clammier since he had first placed his hand on her. When she didn't answer the jibe, he peered down at her pale, sweaty face and shook her shoulder gently. "Oi, wake up. It's rude to fall asleep in the middle of a conversation." Receiving no whatsoever response, he hesitatingly slapped her cheeks twice, wincing inwardly as he did so. "Ino! Wake up!"
She stirred and the eyes cracked open for a few seconds. "Naruto… shaddup… M'so tired… need sleep…" She trailed off, growing limper and less responsive to his constant poking and prodding, verbally and physically.
"I told you, wait until we get back!" His voice was rising to a crescendo, and the fine control that he had over his chakra was starting to waver. "Stay awake, dammit!"
"Shaddup, am awake a'ready…"
"So… um, I forgot to tell you that I was the one who finished up that soup you made for Shikamaru and Chouji last week," he rambled on, unknowing of the content but knowing for one that he had to make her listen to him. "It's terrible; you should go to cooking class. And I lied about the Icha Icha book; the subscription isn't for Kakashi. It's for Gaara's birthday."
"Knew you were lying… bastard…" She didn't move a muscle, but he knew that she wanted to slap him. He wished that she would slap him. "Saw… your name…"
"It was Kankuro's idea, thought it's a good thing to get porn for Gaara," tears, hot, humiliating tears were pricking at the back of his eyes and he had to blink them back forcefully. And she was coughing again, before the fit receded into laboured breathing and short gasps. Not good. "And stay the fuck awake, or I'm gonna slap you again!"
It took him more effort (slapping and cursing) than before to arouse her. "… shitty bastard… stop yellin'… m'head hurts…"
Her voice, raspy and dry, cracked into broken coughs. There was no more blood, only dry heaving.
He grimaced, brows knitted in tension and held her closer. That sounded bad… very, very bad.
"Sakura-chan will come, and Shikamaru too, because he said so," he was rocking her back and forth, trying to make her concentrate on his voice. Stopping her from slipping away. "You know, I'm going to tell you a secret. Do you wanna hear it?" A slight incline of her head told him that she was listening, barely. Or was that because he had shifted to make her more comfortable? He bent closer, whispering into her ear, "I love you."
There was deafening silence, and he thought that his heart would burst from the sheer effort it needed to keep breathing. She was unresponsive, eyes closed, body oddly lax. Her pulse, under his quivering fingers, was throbbing softly. Much too soft for his liking. But it was still there, and that was what mattered. He continued whispering, afraid that if he muttered the words any louder, they would affect her almost nonexistent breathing pattern. "I've got the worst timing possible, I know. You told me that, remember? When I kissed you in the middle of that Chuunin meeting?" He chuckled bitterly at the memory, hot air gushing over her cold skin. Wishing, praying it would somewhat warm her. "Iruka-sensei almost got a heart attack."
Still, no response. And the pulse was slowing in a terrifyingly rapid speed.
"Aren't you going to say something? I wish we had more times to talk to each other, instead of just shagging," he demanded in a low growl, desperate for any sort of reaction. He needed to know that she was listening. "You never listen whenever I say something. Not that I blame you, but really… Ino! Hey, wake up! Ino!"
Maybe it was his imagination, maybe it was the trick of light because rays of sunshine were angled against her face from the sheltering canopy above in such way that it reminded him of the shadow play he had seen with her in the last Summer Festival. Was that only a week ago? Hadn't it been longer?
He saw, or more like felt, her breath on his chapped lips and the fleeting whisper.
And then, there was silence too loud for words.
"… Love you… too."
He remembered her smile when he asked her to marry him that day.
Something inside his chest froze. And shattered.
Bad… very, very bad.
END