fiction: Naruto, ItaSakuSasu
prompts: rehab, "look at the mess we made tonight", "why is it always the backseat?", Breakfast at Tiffany's, "what shall i say from a heart that loves you?" (see notes)
notes: This is using the December 11 prompt of "what shall i say from a heart that loves you?" for the 31 days LJ community.
summary: This is not just for himself- it's for him and her. The only real tragedy is that she will never quite realize it.

disclaimer : i do not own naruto or anything affiliated with it.
dedication : hey twinnie- i love you & HAPPY UNBIRTHDAY. in, uh, five days. yes. I AM ON IT, 'KAY? =D i hope your day is wonderful, & that you appreciate all of the amazingness not being a teenager entails. ;)

He is disregarding tradition and thousands of years of cliché each time the dial tone whines in his ear.

Sasuke is standing beneath her window in a small mine field of pebbles, waiting casually for her to pick up on the other end of the line. The ring of her cellphone (you are my world, my everything, you stupid girl, you're gonna be the death of me) is audible through the glass, and he's just wondering how she isn't awake yet.

But then it is quiet, and he can only hear the quiet hiss of wind on rattling branches and the click as the phone is picked up.

"Hello?" Her voice sounds like someone waking from a drugged slumber, slow and raspy, wispy like smoke in a rainstorm. "Sasuke-kun?"

He has never heard anything more beautiful.

"Come to the window." It's not a request, nor a suggestion, nor an order- it's… It's something he just says and she simply listens, isn't it? This circle of life, death, and all of those little spaces in-between- it's how they play that game as they're circling the board.

"Why?" she yawns. "It's… it's late, Sasuke-kun." But even as she says that, Sasuke hears the sound of her throwing her bed covers off. In his mind, he can see her dragging lazy fingers through the messy strands of pink as she pulls herself to her feet. There's a crash, as she adjusts to the sticky feeling of contacts on her eyeballs. She manages, though, to shuffle over to the window.

He can see her now, through the fog on the glass. It's ethereal- like Nimue rising from the lake with Excalibur; the way one moment the space is empty before she fades into existence with the grace she always swears she doesn't possess. His heartbeat is thundering and he wonders from down there on earth, if she can hear it up there. There's a slight click in his ear as Sasuke watches her flip her old phone close and he puts down his, knowing that the call would've ended already.

Sakura slides the window open and pokes her head before withdrawing quickly, a small gasp breathing through her mouth. Her shock is electric and it releases calm through his body. "It's cold, Sasuke-kun. Can't this wait till later? Maybe tomorrow morning, when it'll be at least twenty degrees Fahrenheit and not below zero?"

Giving a slight smile- she can't see it, can she, because it's from behind the collar of his jacket- he stuffs his hands in his jean pockets and slouches a bit further down. "Grab a jacket. Let's take a walk."

She gives a huff of white air in exaggerated annoyance. "It's cold. I'll become a popsicle if I go outside." But she flounces away from the window anyway. As far as she knows, she has never denied Sasuke anything.

Sakura doesn't remember close the window and he doesn't remind her.

:::::

They're walking down the main street that runs through their suburb of Tokyo, past rows of pine trees, their needles fresh even in the dead of winter. The shoulder of his jacket brushes against a branch once, scattering snow all over his right side. He sulks and she giggles and the birds do not sing.

Then there is just silence for a few minutes as they each wait. He's looking at her, admiring the beauty she poses in stardust quantities, sparkling and dazzling when you don't look straight at it. Sakura shivers at the cold through the black of her peacoat and he pretends that he doesn't feel a thing.

The bitter norm.

He knows they are postponing the inevitable, waiting for the other to break the delicate quiet first. Neither are particularly willing, but Sasuke is the master of waiting and Sakura is always impatient, so he breaks it first.

"Father found three bottles of vodka missing from the cupboard this evening."

At his words, she misses a step. Arms are flailing in the air and Sasuke is trying to avoid them- though trying really is the wrong word because he remains perfectly still and is not hit in the slightest. When the moment is right, he grabs her right arm quickly, pulling her to him, lending her his motionless balance. Her ear is pressed into the wool of his jacket and his arms are securely around her.

For a little while, he pretends that she belongs there, listening to the steady thump-thump-thump beat of his heart.

She does fit with him like a piece missing in a jigsaw puzzle, so he lets her go the second he knows she won't fall down.

Sakura whispers something and he doesn't catch the words floating on a small zephyr bound for a higher plane, though he guesses what she said.

(What did you say?

That summer night we were growing up and I let you go but I didn't know it then?)

"There were three bottles of vodka missing from Father's collection." Sasuke sucks in a quick breath before blowing it out silently through his nose, relaxing a heartbeat that is threatening to speed up. He starts moving again and she reluctantly keeps up. "They're looking for him, Sakura."

She hisses. "He didn't, Sasuke." Her eyes aren't looking at him; they're pinpointed to some distant star. The boy doesn't tell her that he's worried she'll slip on ice because she isn't focused on where she's going, but he says nothing.

Because that's what he's good at, isn't it.

"Then how do you explain it?" He resists the urge to rake his hands through ink colored hair in small frustration. "Do you-." The words stop in his throat before he can say them, so he doesn't try to force them.

Sighing, he pinches the bridge of his nose before rephrasing. "Itachi… he's made a promise to a lot of people, you know?"

"I know…"

Sasuke continues. "He… said he'd stop it- stop all of the shitty things he's made a habit in his life. He said he'd try something new- make something good for himself. Put down the bottle, pick-."

"I know," she snaps, turning to give him a hard glare. He doesn't recoil from her; nor does he give her a disapproving glance. Instead he levels her with a look and she looks away again. It's not because of guilt, he knows, that she doesn't want to look at him.

"I know," Sakura repeats and he barely catches the words. Her shoulders slump slightly and he knows her- how she's wondering how much longer she can hold this together, this train wreck of a relationship she has had with his older brother.

His hand finds its way to her shoulder and grips it securely (it fits? yes, it fits, doesn't it.)- reassuringly, really.

It's silent again as they stroll along and Sasuke is wondering how much longer he can do this and she's probably wondering what to do. Her face is troubled and his is eased, but inside, they're both the same, aren't they? He wants to believe she is as torn as he is, but Sakura has never been a good actress. She's always gone after what she wants and she- she's a chaser, and good at what she does.

(She tells truths, he deals in lies and perhaps other things on the side- he doesn't know anymore.)

"So…"

"I don't know what to-." Her voice breaks off at that point. It doesn't crack, because it's a lie and they both know it, so she revises her statement. "I… I don't know if I can deal with this."

"Sakura."

His voice is firm- as firm as his eyes as he gently lifts her chin with his hand so that she looks him in the eyes. They're teary and red and he wants to wipe the pain away just as easily as his thumb could a tear trailing down her cheek; but he can't, so he settles for just watching misery settle upon her.

"What's wrong?"

"It's just…" She hiccups softly, but it's almost a short gasp of air. "This is… How many times has it been? I love him- I… I do. He's… complicated. It is something you lot simply are, in insurmountable amounts. He…

She gives a soft breathy laugh and the empty space a little bit off-center and to the left in his chest throbs. "He watches silly rom-coms with me… The old ones too! Not just 27 Dresses and Pretty in Pink but… Breakfast at Tiffany's. Of course he didn't laugh at the right moments or even really at all…

"And he's not the type to say how he feels- surely you understand, for you are the same in so many ways. Twins, from two different times. He… I still remember the first time."

At the barely squelched look of revulsion on his face, Sakura giggles softly. "Do you really think I'd tell you about that?"

For the first time in his life, he recognizes the feeling in his chest- the one like a million wriggling worms are contained in a small space- as something that isn't simply disgust at the idea of his… special person and his brother getting it on in a backseat (No, he didn't always think of them in the backseat of his brother's black Mercedes- why is it always the backseat, really?).

It's a million of identifiable things that he refuses to recognize it.

But Sakura has continued talking past the thoughts in his head. "… I'd never asked him to say it, you know? I always assumed and for me, it was enough. But it's… you know him- he is your brother, after all- how he arises to every challenge to surpass it. We were in the backseat and he was like… God, I have to get the wording perfectly- else… you'll miss all of it."

How he'd give to miss it (or to have said it, but he doesn't think about that).

"He said," she said dreamily, "'What shall I say from a heart that loves you?' Like love is the only word to describe it- a truth and no poetic verses are needed…"

But they're getting off topic (and he doesn't want to hear, you know, he doesn't) so he interrupts.

"You should go to him."

Her words stop and he doesn't think- the words are tumbling out in a quiet mess and there's… whatever this was for- that's all that grips him.

"I heard Father say that he wants to send him to rehab, to get the… the problem under control."

Their feet are still walking and he can't tell where they are anymore because his world- his eyes- everything are focused on this moment- series of events that could bridge one side of a canyon to the other and bring things together. Breath is bypassing her teeth and hanging out of her mouth and she's gaping at him. "What?"

"They're going to send him away- to Ame, or something- so you- you have to make sure he has the strength to make it through."

"What?"

It's frustrating and he's nervous. He grabs her shoulders to hold her (No, it's him- she's fine, he's not. Why is he such a liar?) together and gives her a small shake. "You have to stay strong. For him. Because… he needs this, you know? And he needs you. Don't… don't make him feel there's nothing left for him afterwards."

She's staring at him with those wide green eyes of hers and he wonders if he heard a single word that came out of his mouth. The concepts aren't flying over her head, exactly- they're running through her and she's still trying to put the picture together.

"Sakura."

The girl jerks together and looks at him solidly. There's determination in her eyes and he's pleased by it.

It worked.

"I love him," she state baldly, and he pretends the declaration doesn't hurt him. On tiptoes, she presses her hands on his shoulders to lift cold lips to his right cheek and freezes him to death. When she lets go of him, she stares into his eyes.

"He's lucky to have you, you know? To have a brother like you. I am lucky, too, to have a best friend like you."

She pauses before adding, "And Naruto. I don't know what I'd do without you."

A smile from the girl he loves graces him before she's heading away, purpose and pronounced bounce in her steps. She was going to try and fix his brother. Fix where there was nothing but damned perfection.

Because that's who Sakura is- she likes to fix people- she's attracted to pieces so that she can try and glue them back together again. A healer in all senses of the world.

He feels bad, for doing that- and this- to her.

Almost.

He pulls out a small stainless steel flash from his coat pocket. He doesn't bother with casting it a dubious glance- he had done that already, when he first poured the glass of Grey Goose into it. Having run out of time for reflections and self-incrimination, he tilts it back and grimaces at the burn on the back of his throat

If his brother- what his brother is like- is what she wants, he will become that.

She will be sent back soon enough.

Itachi isn't the only one who'll do anything for her.

(He is

circling the drain)

... Don't even ask.
Or do.
I don't bite. :)