All her life, she'd loved him. At first, the feeling had been shallow, driven by nothing but his looks and cool demeanor. Little did she know of his broken self and neither did she care. But the girl grew and so had her heart. While she'd always been smart, she'd come to realize, that one thing she lacked: the ability to hide her emotions. And thus, she had not been able to see through another's facade. Sasuke had been no exception in this.
But as she'd experienced heartbreak, as she learned what it meant to truly hurt, she started to fake that smile. Loneliness resided in her heart, especially once Naruto left her as well. And so she trained, however, the hole inside her only continued to grow. She feared it'd swallow her whole one day. She tried to ignore it but she couldn't.
At night, she'd find herself unable to sleep, despite her exhaustion. Her thoughts wouldn't let her rest, for, always, they lingered on that face, this saddened and yet stoic mask. And for the first time in her life, she understood him. She held onto what little she knew about him, tried to get behind what it was that drove him, really. How much of this boy had been real? And what a coping mechanism created to protect himself? She wanted to help him and while she knew she shouldn't and that it was stupid, there was no helping her feelings. And before she noticed, her love had matured. It became selfless and pure. But that only added to her suffering.
As she saw him again, it was as if she'd burst. Disbelief had paralyzed her. This boy, this man, he was not Sasuke-kun, not anymore. Perhaps, she'd thought, he'd never been.
It didn't stop her.
Why she held onto him, she did not know. There was no particular reason for it; this wasn't about his looks anymore. It was … stronger. The more she learned about the person he'd become, the more she wanted to ease his suffering, for, surely, there had to be a reason for someone like him to become a person this cruel. The boy from back then, what had changed him? She wanted to know. Her heart had long since stopped caring for her own well-being. And while one could consider her naive, she was not.
What needed to be done had not passed her by. His death would free both him and Naruto and, perhaps, even herself. However, she still did not care about herself. Never had her existence been of any significance.
As his hand had pressed against her throat, she'd been unable to hate him. He'd defended himself. And, for a moment, she'd wondered if he'd known, if he had thought of her as well. She hated herself, her weakness, … her stupid illusion of love. Was it love? At this point, it might've been obsession. She did not care, for all that mattered was him and Naruto and everyone but her, for all her life, she'd learned to disregard herself.
For she'd never been good enough and never would be.