Whoooo! Been a while, Internet! My absence was partially due to drowning in my tears and devastation over SnK's Petra (Petraaaaaaaaa-) and partially to a ruthless, blood-thirsty monstrosity called standardized testing (namely the SAT). Not to mention I'm in the prime of my high school career (which is another phrase for "susceptible to death by homework").
Today, by the way, is March 3, which means that Japan is celebrating Hinamatsuri (which is basically an entire day dedicated to the well-being of girls. Don't worry, there's one for boys on May 5)! Just some cool culture to add to your endless knowledge and wisdom!
Enjoyyy~
She's the most annoying organism on the face of the Earth. It's inexplicable. She just gets under his skin like nothing else can. He can handle snide teenage girls with flirty, swaying hips (read: Ino); he can run for a slipper when a spider crawls into his bed; he can even manage to shut Naruto up, when necessary. But her? She's a walking, breathing, living contradiction, and he wants to run for the hills whenever he sees her face.
It was easier when she was younger, when her cheeks were still round and her chest was still flat. It was easier when her hair was long and luxurious and her smile was blindingly brilliant and it was easier when she called his name in that soft, pealing voice of hers.
It was easier when she quivered and cried and when she was delicate; made to be broken.
It was easier to bear.
And now?
Now she's a young woman with gentle curves and graceful slants, and she's hard as steel. Her hands are soft and calloused, and her eyes melt and spark like two glinting shards of jade. And last he checked, the incarnates of smoke and blood and shadows weren't supposed to be the epitome of spring itself, with petal-pink hair, no less, and skin smooth and creamy white. Those slender fingers, beautiful and tapered and dainty and flawless, have curled in on themselves and smashed through tissue and bone; they've wrapped around a man's heart and crushed it like it was made of eggshells.
And she's taken those very self-same fingers and mended it all back together.
She slays and she saves and she's so very fragile, so very frail that all he has to do is fold his hands around her elegant, sloping throat and she would shatter into a million mesmerizing pieces. And a part of him wants to. A part of him longs to smear blue-black bruises across the ivory of her perfect flesh and trail red, red cuts down her lovely figure. He wants to feel the supple skin give way to the blood bubbling underneath.
He wants to mar her.
And at the same time he wants to hold her and never, ever let go.
He is, of course, aware of the scars that stain her. They're lighter than the rest of her, and in the sun they glisten and dazzle him. But scars are a given; they come with the job, and they're a part of her. The scars are inevitable.
The scars don't make it any easier.
She giggles and she dotes and she snaps and she destroys.
She's a hypocrite.
And he can't stand her.
"Take me with you."
She said those words once and once again three years later.
And she tried to kill him.
She is breakable and she can break.
Sasuke hates contradictions.
Sasuke loves her.
He's a contradiction too, he supposes.
Short little piece, ain't it? :3
As always, the teeeeniest, tiiiiiiniest morsel of a review sates me entirely and infinitely~
And now it's back to academic asphyxiation for me.