Note: A rather short POV drabble that I had in my head. Sorry if it's not very descriptive or comprehensive, but I figured you could let your imagination wander while reading it. It was just something I wanted to get out, take it however you want. Lots of fragments, most of my writing isn't like that, I promise.

There was always something beautiful about the way he would act whenever I was near. It was like sincerity would pass over his face, his body would relax, and his eyes would shine a spotlight on me. It was in that moment that I knew that he was definitely here for me. Under different circumstances and under a different name, I would have confessed these feelings to him. But right now, it's not the right time.

When had this all started? A yell here, a fight there, we always had this physical relationship. There was a part of me that always wanted to touch him in some way. And it took me a few years to understand that he wanted to touch me too. It was a struggle, I remember. Neither really wanted to submit to the other. But in the end, he won. And for some reason, I didn't really mind it. From that point on, he just kept on winning until I seized my entire existence to him. I let all rational thoughts go and he devoured me. But it wasn't harsh; it was beautiful. There were no more insults whenever we were in these moments. I wouldn't yell and he wouldn't call me a deadlast. It was so disgustingly gentle. That was probably when I had fallen in love with him.

Was he always that sincere with me? If I closed my eyes now, I'll see his face, a small smile perched on his rose-colored lips. I could have sworn that it reached his eyes, just in the same way he would reach for me and pull me close. His touches were always gentle, a bit possessive, and - I had always hoped – loving. He would whisper in my ear everything he wanted to do to me and everything he loved about me.

But now looking back, it felt more like everything he hated to love about me. My willingness to look past everything, my fidelity, and my honesty. I didn't even dare to look or speak of another when he was around. Whenever we were together, my whole world would focus in on him. My eyes, my lips, my body, my soul, everything belonged to him when we were together. And somewhere along the lines, I belonged to him even when we weren't.

And it was because of this, he probably hated me and loved me for it. Because I was who he couldn't be. I reminded him of what he couldn't accomplish, no matter how hard he tried. Because he didn't belong to me with his whole being and when we were together, he didn't give me his all. There was no sincerity, after all.

But this story isn't about us, is it, Sasuke?

If she wasn't here, then there would be no problem. If she wasn't here, I could finally have you all to myself. You wouldn't need to go and betray me. You wouldn't need to lie to my face. If she wasn't here, this would all be perfect, wouldn't it? Because she's the reason that you act like this. She's the reason that this game we play continues on no matter how many times I hit 'game over'. But I'm to blame as well, since I keep starting the game back up. I keep pushing play, just so I can see you again, just so I can say you are mine - even if this possession only lasts through the night. If she wasn't here, where would we be?

But then again, she isn't the one getting in the way.

It's late tonight and she's walking home. I make my presence known and I know she feels my steps walking towards her, hand gripped tightly on the handle of the kunai in her pocket. She's hesitating, not sure whether I'm dangerous or not. I halt my own steps, my hand no longer shaking, but steady in an almost deadly way.

I see those soft emerald eyes that I've grown so used to over the years. They're no longer bright and cheerful, the passing of years showing easily around the eyes. We're no longer children, and with the work we have, it's a miracle we're not dead. But retirement from that life isn't far in the distance, is it, Sakura? Because you are moving on, you are taking another step, which is all the more reason I need to do this. I'll change this story, now.

She's trembling, still unsure of who I am. The cloak I wore hid away my usually brilliant blonde hair and my childish blue eyes. I reach into my pocket, the warnings in her head flaring. Before she can react, I push out the small piece of paper into her face. Startled, her body reacts on its own and her hand reaches for the paper.

I can't stand to watch what I've done. But this needed to happen. My feet drag me away, and I use every bit of self-control I have left not to run. Then it would give her hope that maybe everything in this moment is untrue. The crumbling of a woman who used to be so strong is evident in the sobs I leave behind. She left no time for doubt, so somewhere deep down, she must have known. Just like me, she held onto that small string of hope so tightly and I had torn it away from her.

If I had to look back now, the paper would be crumbled in her fist before thrown to the ground in anger and in sadness. Her hair wouldn't seem so bright, her eyes would be red from the crying and her entire persona would seem like it was ripped in half. Because I had crumbled her delicate world. I had been the final push in the already delicate relationship.

Those words I had left in that note will haunt me. It's already begun, repeating in my head in a mantra of self-loathing. I had ruined something precious, something beautiful, something that could've been more. It was simple, no further words needed.

And all that I had wrote was:

'Sorry. He's cheating on you.'

Because this story isn't about us.

Note: Well, there you go. I'm working on a much longer story, so I hope you look forward to it. Thank you for reading, sorry if you didn't like it. If you did, sweet.