Disclaimer: I do not own Naruto. I own my words and nothing else—don't sue and don't plagiarize.
with no
E G R E S S
Haruno Sakura is not stupid. That is to say, she does not deny the truth from her own eyes, or lessen it into shredded ribbons of the whole to ease the impact. She is realistic—oh, she slips into fantasies like every other girl now and then, but she doesn't let them fool her.
—skin sliding on skin sliding on dirty dirty skin—
And so she does not deny that Uchiha Sasuke does not love her. She lets all of the other students gush with a schoolgirl's fervor over him, tripping head over heels and unable to see above the ground they fall on—perhaps she is no different in what she appears, but she's accepted what they haven't cared to see.
—her fingernails dig crescent-moon marks into his wrists, but he doesn't seem to notice her frustration—
To an extent, she can't even tell whether she truly loves Sasuke. It could just be petty lust like everyone else. But she can't get rid of him from her heart just with the truth; it's not as easy as that. He remains there and refuses to stop trapping her cheeks in a blush when he's around and making her skin ache for his in crippling, blinding desire. Perhaps it isn't love or lust or wishful thinking at all. Perhaps it's something even worse, like obsession, something she can't shake free even with all of her intelligence.
—blonde hair nuzzles into her neck as he tastes her throat, licking the prominent blue veins that stand out against that arch of pale skin—
And that is why she lets Naruto do this to them both, she tells herself. She lets him take off both their clothes and feel every cursed contour of her because she is damned if it is obsession, obsession over a heart that will never be hers. At least these times, the sins of Sasuke are covered by Naruto's. She never thinks about Sasuke in the times when her breathing comes hard and when she finds herself unable to close her thighs because of Naruto forcing himself in between them—she thinks instead about how disgusted she is at her easy actions, at the grubby hands he puts everywhere on her, at his swollen lips sipping on her skin. But it's far better to feel like a slut with Naruto than to be forever swept in thoughts of Sasuke that swirl round her heart and show no intent of leaving. It's far better; she has convinced herself of that, at least.
—his heart beats next to hers, the wrong heart by far, and when he is asleep she cries for every pulse.
.end.
Constructive criticism encouraged.