Well, hello. I am mostly glad to be back to fanFiction and I dearly hope that some of you may like that story. It's a one shot but if anyone is interested in songFics, I might write other ones... We'll see I guess. Do not hesitate to comment or ask questions!Hope you like it!

Disclaimer: I DO NOT OWN Naruto, who belongs to Masashi Kishimoto or Instant crush that belongs to daft punk. This OneShot is written as a tribute to a very inspiring song. It is for entertainement purposes ONLY!

18 and already he had seen much more than anyone could bear.

The avenger, the hero, the orphan, Sasuke Uchiha. He was tall, dark, alluring, even, and so, so very broken. He had killed his brother and after the third War, with bare hands, sorry face and sad eyes. He had put an end to half of his life. Then he had returned: he had returned to Konoha, to what he supposed he could call Home. It didn't feel like home though. The humid, grey walls of his cell didn't feel like home either. He was a prisoner, for the time being, forced to stare and wait for the days to slowly unfold around him. It felt as though he had been locked in his own mind: it felt dirty, dark and dangerous, and somehow, familiar. He was at ease with the shadows that crept slowly towards him at night: he had lived in them most of his life. He was a body, he knew that was how his village saw him, his supposed home and strange enough, he couldn't bring himself to care. He kept rotting in his cell, alone, silently sulking and brooding.

He wanted company. He had always been afraid of being alone. Even when he first met team 7, and though he would have rather died than admitting it, he had been glad for the company they had provided. He didn't mind if they didn't like him, or hated him, or didn't care: this; he could handle. Yet, he wanted to see someone, anyone. After killing Oro-snake, that bastard, Sasuke had formed a team. He had felt necessary to do it, not to be alone. Karin had remembered him if sakura, with that hair, and that behaviour towards him. Juugo was Naruto, almost. Naruto who had come once and said he wasn't allowed to come until the Uchiha's fate had been decided. Naruto had changed. He was less brash and talkative. He had looked happy, back then, and then very tired. As though he had put an end to a quest by bringing him back, which, was probably the case. Upon leaving, he had said that kakashi sent his regards.

Kakashi, not Sakura.

Sakura hadn't come. She hadn't come at all. He had expected her to come, to see him, to reach for him the way she had done before, like that time at the hospital, and to start crying, saying that she loved him and that it was alright. He wanted her to cry for him, for all the tears that he knew he couldn't afford to share. Tears were a luxury he couldn't afford anymore. Boys don't cry, honey. Neither do Uchiha men. It was the bitter truth. Uchiha men didn't cry. Itachi didn't cry, so why should he? He had waited, and the walls now felt oppressing. He wanted to wish them away. He had tried training, to keep the boredom and the fear away and yet it remained.

That, and the emptiness, too.

I didn't wanna be the one to forget I thought of everything I'd never regret.

He had started to think about her after the other's visit. Her absence had stirred something in him and now raised a ton of questions, of old, buried and painful feelings, and memories of times tat were light, and bright and filled with promises. He remembered cotton candy locks of hair, jade eyes, pretty smiles, yukatas, fireworks and festivals.

The summer memory that just never dies

He felt used, empty, time had taken a toll on him and he looked and felt older, so much older. He was life-weary. Itachi was dead, and that was what tormented him most. Itachi was dead and he was innocent. Sasuke had nightmares, every night where he came back and apologized before him and started crying. Then, his father, bloody, a hole through his chest would arrive and with skeletal arms warp around Sasuke. "Don't listen to him, everything he says is a lie". Then, the whole clan would appear, his kaa-chan, uncles, aunt, young cousins, children, his ancestors: skeletons with bits of hair and flesh, torn, rotten, with worms inside their bellies and they would yell, and scream, and spit on Itachi, who would curl in a poor little ball on the floor and cry. Itachi would cry, little chocked sobs, like a child. Itachi the genius, the killing machine, the kin slayer would dissolve in broken sobs and look so small and so very pathetic, like the twenty one man that he had been when Sasuke had delivered the final blow. He had been so very, so insanely young. Sasuke would try to stop them, saying that he had to do that and but the clan wouldn't listen, they would carry one their tormenting. Sasuke would wake up covered in sweat and shaking, crying like the 5 years old child he had been had that time. Itachi had been forced into exile, away from home, he had lived his whole life in guilt, illness and horror. Itachi the pacifist, sweet itachi, oh the horrendous fate. Sasuke couldn't help but blame himself. If only he had been more clever, if only he had come to his brother, told him that he knew and that it was okay, and that he was now strong enough for them to come back home, together. He had not. He had been stupid and childish and stubborn. The signs had been there and he had ignored them all. He had sought revenge and that done, he had gone to Konoha and killed the elders. He had destroyed a part of what his brother had died to protect. He had been disloyal even to that. Sasuke was just what Itachi had said: "foolish little brother." A very foolish little brother, indeed. Sasuke could still hear the deep baritone of his brother. He could hear it perfectly.

"I'm sorry, there won't be a next time, Sasuke."

It felt caging. Sasuke wanted to see someone else, to get out of his own head, before insanity kicked in and he lost it. He knew he was close to losing it, to letting go and forgetting everything up to his own name. It would be so fine, to let it all wash away, mother, father, the clan, Itachi, revenge, hatred, love. Sasuke felt so tired on his 18 years. So tired. Dulled by the hardness of life. His shell felt ready to crack, to burst open and spill its very sorry contents on the cold concrete floor. He was the deranged son of a consanguine family. Itachi had inherited a heart disease, Sasuke the insanity, the instable mind that came with years and years of marrying between cousins. He was the product of a famous pedigree and what good had it done him? Everyone was dead. His family, the clan, annihilated. He was alone, like the monstrosity that he was should have always been. He was trash and felt as such.

Sakura came the following day. Because Naruto wanted her to, she said. Not of her own volition? He thought. He had seen her on the battlefield, when they had fought alongside and he hadn't had the time to really look at her. She had a yin seal on her forehead, like Tsunade, and she looked older too. Her body looked…

Soft

Tempting

Delicious

He wanted to hold her, and he felt she could be his solace, in a way. She would comfort him if he cried. Yet her eyes were not the same. She didn't have that look. Te one she had when they were twelve. She looked the way she had been when, at 16 they had found him in one of Orochimaru's lairs. She had wanted to kill him back then. She had almost done so too, a few months ago, after his fight with Danzo. She was suspicious.

"Make yourself home" he said with a dry look. The guard closed the steel door behind her in a loud metallic clang and left. He tensed, expecting her to throw herself at him. She didn't. Instead she took a seat on his bed, furthest from him as possible. She didn't say anything. The silence felt tense, and even for him who was a rather dense person. She stayed completely silent for a few minutes. He intently watched her, she didn't seem uncomfortable, not at all.

"What's the weather?"

He had blurted out the question awkwardly, wanting to know what the world felt like out of the darkness of his cell and trying anything to break the awkward silence. He had never been much of a conversationalist. If she was startled, she didn't show it.

"Sunny, a little bit of wind"

To him, it felt cold. She had schooled her features it appeared, as he couldn't read her thoughts. She wasn't as open a book as before. It seemed like she had finally come to follow the very last rule of the ninja code that she had always broken: " A ninja never displays emotions". That blasted rule number 21 that he had found so necessary before now felt so useless and annoying. She stayed for what seemed like an eternity and yet he hadn't mind. Her arms were folded on her chest, which had grown larger, it seemed. After a while she got up and called for the guard.

" Come back tomorrow"

It wasn't much a question, really, but more of a demand. She sighed audibly and left, without a word to him, without a smile. Without one of these smiles that she had kept for him only, these hot, flustered smiles that had seem to light up her whole being and made her shine with blushed cheeks.

He told himself that his cell didn't feel colder now that she had left.

She came back two weeks later. He didn't comment on how disappointed he had been not to see her the following day, and the days after her first visit. He didn't say anything and she sat on the bed in silence. After about a quarter of an hour. He lips moved, so silently he had thought it had been his imagination.

A little time with you is all that I get That's all we need because it's all we can take.

"I know for him you know".

Oh, him. Itachi.

Then, on autopilot, Sasuke had started telling her. He had told her the whole story from his point of view. After one hour the guard fetched her back and took her away in the midst of his story. She came back the following day. He had finished the facts when the blasted guard took her away again. Strangely Sasuke felt better. He felt lighter. That night he slept peacefully, without nightmares.

When, for two whole weeks, she didn't return. She didn't return but the nightmares did, clawing at his peaceful sleep, even more gruesome and disgusting. He asked for her and the guards didn't say anything. He called for her, begged for her and after two other weeks, she came back. He had been difficult, contrary to his placid habit of not giving a damn about anything, so the jail department had contacted the Hokage and complained and she had sent Sakura in.

The woman entered, a discrete frown on her usually blank face. He was glad to elect a reaction out of her and he had decided that he wanted to get her back to normal.

"took you long enough"

She didn't answer and yet noted that he looked hurt, somewhat. That unnerved him. He felt exposed, frightened by her silence, as when facing an opponent he didn't know anything about. She stood before him, not wanting to sit, close and yet remote at the same time. Somehow, he would have preferred she were angry at him, yelling, punching and breaking things. He knew how to deal with her violent tendencies. It was mostly familiar grounds. He didn't know the silent, poker-faced Sakura. He didn't know the ghost that was facing him. He kept telling her about the story, his story, about the nightmares plaguing his nights, the screams, the guilt, everything, pouring his soul out to her, the way he had never done before. Eventually, tears reached his eyes and he cried like a little child. Something had broken lose, snapped inside of him and like a broken barrel, he was pouring out everything he had hold on her. He grabbed her waist, in one fast motion and buried his face in her stomach. He felt her tense and freeze. He didn't care. Nothing could ever stop him. He couldn't stop himself. He kept blurting it out to her between sobs. Then, though she didn't relax, she put a hand on his head. She started to caress his hair, slowly, soothing him. Her heart wasn't in it, that much he could tell. Her hands were cold. With a steely grip, as thought she forced herself to reach out, to touch, to comfort. The tears dried and yet he didn't let go. He held her close. He felt her fidget. She was clearly ill at ease and unhappy with their proximity. He had thought that she wouldn't. She loved him, after all. She should be delighted to have him there, so close. He saw her, eyes full of tears, years ago, on that moonlit night where he had left.

I got this picture of us kids in my head And all I hear is the last thing that you say

" If you leave I'll scream I'll do anything for you! I love you more than anything! I love you! Please don't leave me. Take me with you."

Lies.

And how can you lie with such vibrant, beautiful, naïve green eyes? How? How can you have such a cold look now? How can you be so cold, so unmoving Sakura? She leaved after he had detached himself of her, after what seemed like hours, the best hours of his life. She smelled good, clean, like spice and cherry blossoms trees, and mangoes, and cotton candy. She smelled of sunshine and happy days, and promises. She was soft, curvy, soothing and she had felt like returning home after a horrible mission. She was home. She felt like his mother, in a way. Yet, there was something off with her, something about the dull colour in her eyes and hair, the way he felt her sigh, before entering his cell, as though steeling herself before having to do a very menial chore. He had never felt this way before. He truly didn't understand and bile rose in his throat in worry. Was she sick? Was she suffering from anything that could stop her from giving all her love to him? His gut instinct told him that something was wrong, very wrong and he heard that little voice in his head, saying with poisonous and treacherous words that maybe, she didn't want him, anymore, that it was too late. And that...

And we will never be alone again
Cause it doesn't happen every day
Kinda counted on you being a friend
Can I give it up or give it away

He relied on her so much. She was his solace, couldn't she see? Anger coursed through his veins and he saw red. His Sharingan activated out of reflex and flickered on and off, instinctually. He balled his fists, clenching and unclenching them. The alternative was impossible. She had to love him, on some level. She was annoying, pristine, cheery Sakura, for fuck's sake. Loving him was like breathing for her. Then his entire form relaxed, in a very long sigh and he slipped against the wall, slouching until he was on the floor, his knees drawn to his chest. Maybe, that time where he had tried to kill her had been the last straw. Maybe he had gone too far. Maybe, he thought, shivering, he had destroyed everything. He felt a weight settle on his chest. He needed her. He needed her to quell the nightmares , to silence the screams. He was a walking disaster without her. She was Amaterasu the goddess of the sun to him and he needed her rays to grow, to bloom. Without her, the future seemed bleak and distasteful. He wanted her to understand that he would treat her right. That he would cherish her. That time, he would have killed her, because she had tried to destroy him, and he had been hurt, so hurt. He thought that without her he was poison. He destroyed everything like a temperamental child. He was worthless if he couldn't share anything with her. And oh, how he had wanted to hold her, at night, when he had been in Sound country. How he had wished she would materialize, one night, by his side, brush his hair away and tell her that it was okay.

For a whole month she didn't return. He asked Naruto about her and the blonde answered that she was busy. It seemed like a lame excuse, like a white lie to tell him that she didn't want to come and visit. Strangely, it stung. Hard. After what Naruto had called a temper tantrum, Sasuke finally got the promise that she would come. Sasuke glared at Naruto. Uchiha didn't throw temper tantrums. The following day, she was there, dressed all in black, stern and unforgiving. He saw anger flash in her eyes, as though he had forced her to come here, which, at some extend, he had. She sat and he didn't say anything. He stared at her, trying to decipher what she was thinking; He could see the wheels turning under that delicious mop of pink hair. Then something flickered in these ayes and he could exactly picture what she was thinking. The truth struck him like a chakra-loaded blow to the stomach. She looked world-weary. It was why her expression had felt so familiar. They wore the same look of tiredness, as though life had taken a toll on them. It was as though they had stopped them dead in their tracks, turned around and seen something very ugly, as though what they had tried to pursue had been a vast lie. It had been: Sasuke had murdered the only person that cared about him. Sakura had seen her love turn to a monster. A beautiful monster hidden under the appearance of a loved one that could at any moment snap her in two. Yet she was too tired to be afraid, it was far too late now and after years of chasing after him, she couldn't bring herself to care if he attacked once more. He had done enough. He had brought disaster and opened gates of hell for her. There was no hurt to feel anymore. He had hollowed her; emptied her to the very bone. Sasuke had been a vampire, taking, taking and never giving back. She was so tired, so very weary that she couldn't even feel self-pity. There was nothing to feel, anymore. No tears to shed, no smiles and meek glances to show him. There was no love either. She was so tired to hear him rant, ramble about him. It was about him, about how he was sad and how he had killed his brother, bah blah blah, it was about his, always. Sakura knew that she was being irrational, and selfish, but she had already given him so much. She had cried, suffered, screamed, loved, smiled, and he was still asking for more.

He started talking about him, again and she cut him, sharply.

'I listened to your problems
Now listen to mine'

He didn't want to anymore. Because he felt like he was more important. He was the one grieving. He was the avenger. She was just a pillow, a tool. She sighed and for a moment, her mask crumbled and he saw the pain and the boredom, and the weariness etched on her face.

And we will never be alone again
Cause it doesn't happen every day
Kinda counted on you being a friend
Can I give it up or give it away

She left and he kept staring at the door, at the metallic bars. "Sakura, he pleaded, don't go..." he sounded desperate and for a instant, she stopped and considered going back. But she sighed, again, and left. It was time to become selfish. She was no longer the bubbly girl full of promises that he had known. He had destroyed her with his bare hands and forced that silly girl to grow. She had become that foreign thing because of him. The perfume of cotton candy and promises had been replaced by the one of blood, steel and ice.

The pained cry that she heard didn't faze her, he had done enough harm.

The end.