So, here we are. Here's my first attempt at writing. Let me know if it's a complete disaster or not! By the way, as it's said on my profile, I'm French, my english is consequently far to be perfect, so feel free to make me know if there are some mistakes (or words and expressions that don't exist; I tend to invent them, even in French). Last, I suggest you to listen to "A beautiful lie" by 30 seconds to mars while reading, since it's the song that led me to write this text.
And now, let the show begin! Enjoy!
A beautiful lie
A lie. All of it was a lie. She knew it. She had since the beginning, since that rainy day when her best friend came to her house, drowned into darkness and infinite loneliness. And indeed, Sakura's solitude had no end, as eternal as death.
The team seven wasn't anymore. Naruto and Sasuke killed each other, pushing their rivalry, their friendship, to its ultimate point. Kakashi died during the war. Only Sakura remained. And then Tsunade died, murdered as her diplomatic convoy was ambushed, the betrayal of one of her guard guaranteeing the success of the attack. Sakura was left behind. Again. Forever.
She was a powerful kunoichi and a perfectly skilled medic-nin, the number of the lives she'd saved as high as the one of the lives she'd taken. She'd become the Fate of Konoha, able to either lengthen or cut the thread of anyone's life.
Life which had definitely left all of her heart, all of her soul, all of her body. Her eyes, which used to sparkle an enchanting emerald color, were now a dark and dull shade of green, a gloomy sea giving evidence of all the sorrow and emptiness that had settled within her.
And this hurt Ino to death, because it reminded her of a fragile and crying seven-year-old Sakura, sitting all alone in the middle of a florid meadow, all those years ago. But this time, her sole friendship couldn't bring Sakura's smile back. Neither could their rivalry. She was useless and Ino hated it.
So, when Sakura roughly pinned her against her entry door, all soaked for having crossed the village under an apocalyptic rain, and kissed her, Ino thought that maybe it could make her friend feel happier, or at least ease some of her pain. And thus she responded to Sakura's kiss. A hard, painful, loveless kiss.
Saying that they made love would be wrong. There was no love. There were no caresses, no lips softly brushing other ones, no tender words. No. Instead of these were bites, nails scratching each other skin, throaty sounds, blood, pain. No love.
Sakura came back to Ino's regularly, her hollow body always and only giving rough and cold touches. It became such a routine that she moved in Ino's apartment.
And suddenly, Ino Yamanaka found herself tightly wrapped in the lie that was their faked couple, desperately and pathetically unable to get away from it. She loved Sakura. But Sakura couldn't love anymore. The immobility settled in her chest prevented her from doing so.
Ino knew their relationship wasn't a romance. And that knowledge hurt. A lot. So she kept trying to fight the pain caused by her unreturned feelings by telling herself that, still, she was with the woman she loved, that her presence, even mute, was enough and that finally life was fair and worth it.
A lie. That was what her life was, what their love was.
A beautiful lie.