A/N: I took the idea for this short fic from the wonderful story Eyes of a Blue Dog, by Gabriel García Márquez. You guys should really read this story; google it and you'll find it. The italics are the first phrases from the story. Obviously my fic is not a tenth as good as the original story (c'mon, Gabo is a genius, I'm a poor excuse of an amateur fanfic writer), but I like it anyway. I wrote it having Neji and Sakura as main characters, but you can think about other people in their places. One last thing: the time line is not very clear and I did it on purpose.
Disclaimer: I own nothing.
Then she looked at me. I thought that she was looking at me for the first time. But then, when she turned around behind the lamp and I kept feeling her slippery and oily look in back of me, over my shoulder, I understood that it was I who was looking at her for the first time.
"What have we been doing?"
His male voice echoed through the room. He was looking down at the woman under his body. Her cheeks were red and her naked body was sweaty – they had just ended a heated love-making session. Of course he knew what they have been doing; after all, they met every night, in that same room. But it didn't mean he knew exactly what it was.
"What have we been doing…" she repeated his question. "Shut up. Don't spoil this dream with unnecessary questions. You know that."
He nodded. It was strange, but he understood her. He bent down his head and kissed that very beautiful woman, with ivory skin, jade eyes and bubblegum hair – it could be the truth or a trick from his memory, and he knew that. Not that it mattered, anyway. She only existed during night time, in that room. Nowhere else.
It felt like forever, but, in fact, he couldn't remember how long they were in that situation. One week? Two months? Five years? Was it even happening? He couldn't say. But he did remember asking her that, a long time ago. She just shrugged.
"Does it matter? We always meet, and for me it's enough."
Her answer satisfied him. She was right; no matter what, they would always end up in that room, sharing some night hours with each other. How they ended up there in the first place was beyond him. However, since it happened flawlessly every night, how's and when's were not that important. They only cared about what they did together.
The first nights they met, he would only sit on a chair and look at her for hours, in silence. She was always asleep and he was afraid to wake her up. Afraid that she would be gone. But one night she opened her eyes and looked at him. She didn't seem scared or confused or angry. Her face was peaceful, as if she didn't wake up at all.
"So it is you who watches me sleeping."
For the first time in days – or weeks? months? he wouldn't know – she spoke to him. Her voice was soft yet strong, but he could never remember it, no matter how hard he tried. Eventually he gave up. He could always hear her voice from herself, so he didn't his memory to help him.
That night he remained silent. But on what seemed to be the next night, he decided to answer her.
"Yes. I have been watching you for some time, I guess. You were always asleep. What made you wake up?"
"I didn't. That's why I'm here."
He gave her a confused look.
"What? You're not awake, either." His confusion seemed to increase ten fold. "Oh. So you didn't notice yet."
"Notice what?"
He got an enigmatic smile as answer.
Still, their relationship improved as the nights kept on passing. They talked a lot about nothing in particular, and apparently there were always things to be talked about. Strangely enough, though, they didn't talk about their lives, or about what they did outside that room. Was there an outside, anyway? He asked her that, a few months – or so it seemed – after she first spoke with him.
"As if it's like a dream…" he complemented. She smiled.
"Well, that took you too long to realize, huh?"
"So it is a dream, then. That explains a lot, actually. But why we always dream about each other, in this same room?"
"I'm not sure. But every night, when I lay my head on my pillow, I think about you. Even though I can't remember your face."
That was the first time when she said something about her life outside that room. It triggered some memory flashes of his other life. Because he felt that those nights in that room with her were real, even if they only happened in his – and hopefully in her – mind.
"And I forgot about you… again."
"I know. Every night you look at me as if it was the first time."
"But then I remember. I always do." He was telling the truth. She nodded. "Tomorrow I won't forget about you during the day."
She knew he would.
"Sorry. I don't want to ruin this. I just wish I could… remember." He rolled his naked body to the side, wrapping her in his arms. Her skin felt so good against his, their bodies fitted perfectly, their sex was mind melting, but still he forgot everything when he woke up.
"I remember you. And it hurts, because I don't know how to find you. Yeah, I'm still looking for you out there."
He remembered the first time she said she was looking for him. She hadn't dreamt about him for a whole week, which meant he's been alone in that room.
"I thought you were gone forever."
"I'm not" she stretched on the bed, alone – they were only friends back then – "but it was close."
"What happened?"
"Well, I never told you that, but I have been looking for you. Don't ask me how, I don't even know myself. Last week, I was walking in a park, when I felt a smell that reminded me of you. 'He's close' I thought, and followed the smell. I never saw that car coming until I heard the screaming tires. I spent this week in coma. It is good to see you now; it means I'm still alive and my mind is getting back to its normal."
"You don't know where I live and you can't remember my face when you're awake. How, and most important, why are you looking for me?"
She looked deep into his white eyes and, again, gave him an enigmatic smile as answer.
"At least I know why you're looking for me. I would, too, if I could remember you. I still don't know how you do it, how do you even start."
She cuddled herself against his bare chest, letting his warm male scent fill her nostrils. "I can't answer that properly. I guess I'm always alert to my surroundings, waiting for you to cross my path. Like that day when the air smelled like you and I almost died."
He squeezed her petite body tightly. "Please, don't die because of me. I would go crazy if I had to be alone in this room again."
"I won't die. I can't. Not before I find you."
"What if you find me and I don't recognize you?"
"Then I'll make you fall in love with me again. I did it once, I can do it twice."
One night, about a year and half after their first encounter, he opened his eyes and saw a pink flash jumping towards him. She hugged him as if for dear life – it was the first time they touched each other. He put his arms around her waist, and it felt so right. She had a faint cherry blossom scent; he loved it, but knew he wouldn't remember in the morning, after his alarm clock took him away from her.
"What's wrong?" he asked, worried about her.
"Nothing." She snorted a laugh. "Now it seems so silly, but I had this strong feeling that you wouldn't be here anymore. I've been here for three hours and there was no sign of you…"
"But here I am. I may forget about us during the day, but at night I am all yours. I will always be here, with you."
"I know. Sorry. It's just that…"
"It's okay, darling. I know how you feel."
"You… do?"
"Yeah. It took me a while to realize it, since you exist to me only during our nights, but eventually I figured it out. I understand why you're looking for me."
"That's a good thing, then. I knew you would understand it sooner or later."
"Just for the record, I want you to know that now I look back and I don't see a day when I wasn't in love with you, too."
That night, they shared their first one hundred kisses, or so.
"You're getting a little cold, love. Put your clothes back."
"I think that my sheet fell off. Dressing would be useless."
"I won't complain about that." He said with a sexy smirk. She punched him lightly on his arm; he feigned hurt. "Ouch! Young lady, no one punches me and lives."
"Oh no! Mister White Eyes, what are you going to do to me?"
"I'm teaching you a lesson. A very good one." He ran his hand along her spine and earned a shiver from her. She closed her eyes, anticipating the pleasure they would give each other. His body covered hers for the second time that night, and he kissed her as if there was no tomorrow.
"What if this is our last night together?" she asked him once.
"It's not."
"We hope so. But we can't tell for sure."
"Well, then we should live like there's no tomorrow."
She smiled very seductively. "I was hoping you would say that." She clasped the hem of his shirt and pulled it off.
"What are you doing?"
She pushed him down the bed, straddling his hips. "Living like there's no tomorrow."
They both were panting heavily. They still found enough energy to make love a third time that night. It was almost morning; soon his alarm clock would beep, and their sweet moments would be gone. She caressed his cheek and tucked a strand of coffee brown hair behind his ear.
He kissed her gently. "I wish I could propose to you."
"Yeah, that would be good. But when I find you, we can get properly married."
Until then, they would at least have the nights to be together.