oh, honey
• vanity - something that is vain, empty, or valueless; a bathroom cabinet containing a sink and usually having a countertop
It was not often that she awoke with her head heavy and glitter on her eyelids from the night before, but whenever she did, she always found him laying next to her, his arm a dead weight around her waist. His heaviness imprisoned her on the bed, a victim to his charming smile, a slave to the fruitless routine.
(Hey, how are you?)
(Awful, as always.)
(You're gorgeous, as always.)
(...)
Raking her long, thin fingers through his ebony hair, she imagined the next steps of the routine. Soon enough, he'd stir and she'd break free of his hold, and she'd slip on the panties from the night before. He'd grunt and awaken, sweating, he was always sweating. She'd check the medicine cabinet and take the little pill in the pretty pink packaging, and then he'd be gone. Rolling her broken-beer-bottle green eyes towards the window, she found the sunlight creeping in, destroying the darkness that hid their dirty deeds. In the light, the evidence of the night before emerged, unabashed and unashamed. She felt him stir, low moans escaping from his mouth.
(You—We don't have to do this.)
(There is no we.)
(Oh?)
(There's just me and you. Sasuke and Sakura.)
(Oh.)
The opportunity to leave presented itself. It'd be so easy, so simple to throw on her clothes and drive home, to break the routine and leave their tired tango—but the bathroom called her. She'd been there so many time, it seemed natural that she'd make an excursion there the first chance she could. Upon feeling him shift, she slipped his arm away from her waist. Still, she laid there, unmoving, stiff, still. The sunlight streamed into the tiny room and dimly lit it, the adventures of the night not secret, not but not quite known. Clothes strewn about, broken bottles, jumbled blankets and lost phones littered the area, meticulously messy. Gently, without thinking, Sakura lifted Sasuke's arm and placed it on her waist. With bottle green eyes lazily looking about, Sakura knew peace. Serenity was not found, nor given, but discovered in the presence of another person, she thought as the rising sun bought more light in.
(You've had too much to drink.)
(Nonono, no such thing.)
(You're not gonna remember this in the morning.)
(I always do.)
(Suit yourself.)
(What is this?)
(This is you and me.)
She could've left. She could've gathered her little black dress and red heels and left. She could've walked away from him and never looked back. He was sleeping, it was daylight, she was young, it was proper. She could've taken the next step and walked to the bathroom. She could've been a slave to their game, followed the next step in their tango. It was what they were good at. It was right. He'd see her again at another bar, another club, another grocery store. They'd share another drink and share another kiss and share another bed. It was what they were good at.
In the end, she decided to stay. His arm was wrapped around her waist, and imprisoning her, trapping her onto the bed. Pink, full lips stretched into a smile as she gently rolled over to face him. Shockingly, she found him to be awake, his onyx eyes bleeding into her bottle greens. Bright, red bruises speckled across his pale skin, some turning a shade of purple she felt was beautiful. If she looked down, she'd find a couple across her chest, though smaller and duller. Releasing a breath, she whispered, "Good morning, honey."
"What is this?" he asked, his voice sleepy, but amused. Pulling her closer to him, Sasuke planted a kiss on her forehead and breathed her in.
"This is we."