She opens her eyes thinking of the black of his eyes, reflected on the cold cup of tea before her face, of his voice, like it used to be, how his hands were so dry and warm. She reaches for her face and she can still feel his touch.

One second she's thinking the most random things, everything to throw sand into her eyes. Not to let her think.

Thewindowsneedtobecleaned,thebedsheetshavetobechangedandgodohgoddon'tfallasleepagain.

As she pondered whether to replace her red curtains with green or white ones, she turned her face to find him knelled on the other side of the kang table.

He looked much better than her - it didn't surprise her though - with his hair combed, his skin a healthy shade and his eyes pure black and white. He seemed to know this as well, as the first thing he did was look at her up and down with a disapproving look, reflecting his thoughts on her pale skin, thin appearance, frail hair and irritated eyes. Truly not the best of her appearances.

It'sallyourfaultallyourfaultallyourstupidfaultohgodhowIloveyousomuchhowIloveyousoverymuch.

"You're here." His square jaw tightened, and his eyes flashed.

(His eyes, those beautiful onyx eyes. I always thought they were somewhat enchanting.)

"Only because you want me to." Her lips curled into the slightest of smiles. It hurt less than she expected it would.

"How could I not?" She noticed, to her great relief, that he had lowered his wall of detachment, his shoulders relaxed, and his eyes turned into the most solemn shade of black, filled to the very top with sorrow.

"Sakura." The way her name sounded coming from his mouth, how, even if he was Sasuke, he could speak her name so softly, so gently. He could get her to do anything saying her name like that.

Silence overcame the pair, nothing but the sound of the wind lightly disturbing her worn curtains. Nothing but Sasuke, her, and the darkness of the room.

Some things never change, so she decided to initiate the conversation.

"I still love you." His gaze flickered from the cold tea cup to her face, and the simple beauty of those eyes and his handsome face made her give in a shuddering breath, and she never thought that one could feel the sheer taste of bittersweet on her tongue.

"I know." Her right hand came to brush her left arm softly, back and forth, and her gaze fell to his hands.

"I know you love me." This time he simply turned his palm up, allowing her to rest her hand in it. It no longer had the warmth it used to have, but Sakura guessed she was already asking too much."

"I know."

"I could die for you." The way he gripped her hand harshly in no way scared her. She knew there would be no bruises waiting for her tomorrow. Just the sound of loneliness and the taste of bitterness in her mouth, all of it's sweetness vanishing into the long hours of the evening.

"Then live for me." The sense of vertigo came, and she gripped his hand tightly.

"Do you know what you ask of me? Do you know what you're sentencing me to?" Silence, because not even she knew how to vocalize the colossal extent of the answer both of them knew.

"...Yes." He knew very well, and it pained him.

There was nothing else to decide apparently.

Sakura, ever since she was a small, frail child, with all too big eyes and too curious hands, was destined to suffer. Beauty came with a price, his mother had once told him.

The shadows began to lurk further into the room, and she could barely see his figure, gazing at her apologetically.

Time was running out.

Closing her eyes tightly, she allowed the shadows to lurk further, and leaned forward to his figure.

It was all a rush of air, the spicy smell of his skin, the smoothness of his lips on the corner of her lips, the smoothness of his hands holding her lovingly, the echo of his voice saying her name, and it was over all too soon, as the tea cup was knocked to the floor, and Sakura was alone in the living room, torso and head resting on the table. The sensation of the smell of earth after raining washed down on her like the one of cold realization.

By now, darkness had fully swallowed the room, and the glow of the clock on the wall mocked her, as her face finally began to twist into one of mourning, hot, scorching tears making a burning trail down her cheeks, lips curled in despair, trying to bury her face in the table as she cried in malaise, her nails scratching a violent path down the wood beside her.

Four hours, thirty five minutes and six seconds since Uchiha Sasuke's execution.

Four hours, thirty five minutes and seven seconds since Haruno Sakura finally pondered insanity to be her final diagnosis.