Dedicated to all those who have loved and have lost. Alas my dears the world has only just begun spinning the tales of your lives, there is still a hope, a purpose.

-Oxza

It seemed to her that everyone in this damn school was happy. Of course being the exception to the majority of the school populace in every single way she was indifferently unhappy.

She's in her eleventh year of high school, and it's the nearing close to the first semester of school, and she was tired. Physically and mentally. Mentally because she had scorned herself with half-assed marks that she knew weren't a true affirmation of her potential. She loathed herself for dropping all her honours and AP classes to flimsy standard minimal pathway courses. Sure the sky was the limit, but she was so damn tired to even reach for the damn alarm clock in the morning, she couldn't be bothered troubling herself to reach for sky.

Physically she was so insecure. Her body had become a swollen mess of her once lean and sculpted athletic body, bagging on herself continuously of how much she was ugly, and she seems to have accepted this fate and continue down this viscous cycle of slandering. She replaced the comfort of once friends with dark chocolate and peanut butter. She knew she could be beautiful, if she put some effort in, but as established she was tired.

She's to the point where she is contemplating on leaving this world. She can't take it anymore, she knows she's wasting her time her life, she'd rather donate this vessel and soul to someone who was on the brink of death and take their place. Mentally insane she was. Though she hid this under a smile and carefree attitude, which she wished she could adopt as reality.

She's jealous, an ugly creature with a rotting heart, of every tinkering little soul on this planet. She wasn't like this before. May it be another's success or achievement, their ability to balance a social life and pitch high grades only angered her even more. She's lost and no one seems to know her distress, but herself.

She's choking under all the pressure, drowning in her distress, and no one was going to pull her out. She hoped she dreamed she aspired she schemed. But all that is left is a tired body and soul which pushes on through life, mowing the lawn of her dreams and letting them blow away elsewhere or die in a heap. She wanted to be saved. She wanted hope. She wanted happiness. Dear lord she wanted to be loved. She was by her family of course, but it was unconditional love, they had to love her no matter what. She wanted someone to love her for her not because of the spite of having to. Her nose has closed up most likely for the winter; she would probably be sporting a nasal voice for the rest of the week. Her eyes were burning, from the dryness of her unaware staring. Her breaths were deep and shallow. She was sick. No medicine would help. The looming reminder of her Human Biology test the following day didn't help ease her condition. She was done, she was already failing why bother?

She sat on the public bus her head thrumming and throbbing, splitting like icebergs, though it didn't bother her she was used to the pain. She learned to except it and bottle it up. She had left early from school because of her lack of focus and her cold getting the better of her, she had already gone through a box of tissues that morning, and soon after her throat began to itch, the way her heart did when she saw others happy.

The rumbling of the bus didn't seem to warrant any of her fumbled attention as she delved in the book in her hands. She loved to read, it was her solitude from everything she ever worried about. It's sad but sometimes she had hoped that the bus just didn't take her home one day, just somewhere else a change, anywhere but here. Because here she was lost and uncertain of herself and future, she had the ability but not the applicability. And she was dying for the latter, because maybe just maybe she'd actually have a chance at life again like in the past and be happy.

She could feel an uncommon humming and vibration of the motor beneath her, though she overlooked its stake it would claim, how crucial this was to her life's destiny. She turned the page of the book anticipating the outcome of the characters actions on the page prior.

The bus made a stop and another came on, she continued to read not bothering to look up. The echo of coins being dispersed at the counter echoed throughout the bus, was it really that empty?

He deposited his change to the driver and pulled at the ticket that was deposited from the machine. He took a sharp breath and walked towards the back of the bus, it was empty save for the girl sitting in the mid-section of the bus where the seats were parallel to the back door. He paid no mind to her as he climbed up to the back two rows behind her.

He was going somewhere, a destination. This destination was away. Away from everything, he needed to start fresh and this was his best chance, he was thinking of taking the bus out of town somewhere, anywhere but here, he didn't know where.

His reverie was broken by a sneeze, from the girl in front of him, followed by a few greedy sniffs. He saw her take out a used tissue and blot her nose. She was sick. It didn't bother him, hell why should it? But in contrast he found her little actions to grab his attention away from the window, which reflected a blurring landscape.

He began to look closer; she was wearing a school uniform by the looks of it. She had to be in high school, and by her face when he first entered she seemed to be in her final year or two of high school. He relished that time of his own in high school. He was a first year in college, which he was now on holiday from. Though really he was attempting to run away from it, the stress, the expectations, and the atmosphere of it all. Don't get him wrong it wasn't as if he hated college, but it felt like college had hated him. It was every time he tried, he failed. He'd get back up again and work and plough through his struggles in attempt to achieve something, anything. But granted he was a failure. His professors had held him back after lectures to heed this input, 'I just don't think you can pass this course' or 'you might as well put your efforts somewhere else'. He closed his eyes and released a heavy withheld breath, condensating the window beside him.

He had another six weeks off before he had to return. Forty-two days to get his life in order, seems enough. Though he just couldn't be bothered any longer, everything he did was a screw up why should he try again and risk the disappointment of his attempt? The boy was tired. He just wanted to be lulled away from this world of sky-rocketing expectations and be free, be able to smile and laugh just like others. Like in High School.

He eyed the girl enviously; he wished he was her, just a carefree student whose greatest worry was if she'd catch the latest episode of some drama at five. His jaw clenched, his tightened fist released. He jealous of some girl. Correction some high school girl, and he was some college guy. There probably wasn't more than two to three years difference between them, he mentally slapped himself to actually allow himself to consider. He scoffed to himself.

She was having difficulty focusing on the novel in front of her due to the commotion behind her. She didn't bother looking back, the last thing she needed was another reason to hate herself. It seemed the person behind her was unsettled, shuffling and changing seating positions, hearing the clank of their finger nails vibrate on the window. For a few moments she felt the person barrelling holes into her head, staring. She amused herself by wonder if the person did burn a hole through her head, would her head be hallow, but offcourse her logic countered of course not, she'd have some unmotivated brain in there. She lost interest in her book, and shut it closed loudly, and placed it in her bag. She needed to get home soon, she had only one tissue left and without a doubt it wouldn't 'survive' another five minutes.

To pass the time she began to look outside the window at the winding scenery. Her mind soon began to play a game of guess who, a game she often relished playing on the bus. Odd one she is. On a similar occasion if she was attempting to pass the time on the bus, and she'd have someone sitting behind her on the bus, she'd attempt guessing how they would look, if they were male or female. And when she'd get off the bus she'd take a look at them and see if she was even close. It was a personal favourite.

Her mind reeled. Humouring herself. Male. Let's say six foot. Seems a bit broody, emo almost. Black hair? Make that choppy black hair. Okay…eyes…how about green? No make it black. She smirked to herself, waiting to see her handy work.

She began to stand as the bus turned on the intersection, her stop was next, and so she rung the bell, and began to walk steadily to the back door. As she was about to turn and look at her guess who victim. She felt herself being knocked backwards against the windows. Her eyes widened as she saw herself airborne that next split second, and then there was a blast from the front of the bus and to her horror she felt the heat of the licking flames heaving towards her. She tried to move, she failed, she only had succeeded in feeling a pain rip through her body, her eyes widened in shock, was she going to die, was she going to be relived of this world. And to her horror, she did not fear but relished to be intoxicated into the flames womb, and so she simply lay there motionless, waiting.

All he knew was his head hurt. Glass shards glittered in his hair like the dew that clings to a web on a sunrise. He took a few moments to refocus his eyes, to conceive this reality. It hadn't been long after the girl swayed backwards and then forwards again, before he had done the same. All he knew was something crashed into them, something big and now they both lay on the roof of the bus.

He assessed the situation quickly realizing he could escape. He could. Did he want to? He wasn't sure. His body made no move or attempt in climbing out the glass less window above him. He eyes glazed over reflecting the flames that was consuming the bus, and then he realized the girl was close to the fire.

His logic juggled in his mind. She was clearly unconscious, knocked out, out cold if you will. She probably doesn't even know this is going on. She's probably not going to wake up ever again. Her family is probably expecting her, wondering where she was. They'd call her, no one will answer. The father may anger the mother worry. The clock over the dining table will tick away and the dinner will run cold, all places filled except hers. They'd probably begin dialling for the police, but then be stopped by a call from an unknown number, the call will make them cry, and result with the phone hitting the ground, resonating the words of 'I'm sorry' through the empty broken home. Their daughter gone.

What if she wanted to live, what if she had dreams? Heck that's what he'd feel. But know the lulling destruction harmonised with his staggering heartbeat which pounded a tattoo in his chest. What if she had a chance to succeed as he didn't? What if. What if.

He wouldn't know.

She wouldn't know if she would achieve anything.

But alas, there's hope.

He hoisted himself of his stomach to stand, glass shards tinkling on the ground- or roof. He wasn't as badly injured as he predicted, only undeveloped bruising and shallow cuts, though he could say otherwise for the girl. He hoisted her away from the proceeding fire and towards the back where the seats were still intact and could give him leverage to jump out of the bus windows. He found her to be heavier than he expected, he had overlooked her initial figure, when he entered, but now that he actually looked at her, she was slightly rounder-chubbier-not fat-chubby compared to most girls he recalled in high school with wiry and skeleton bodies. He honestly didn't care, but in the current situation he pondered if he could hold her, his muscles were already strained due to the bruising.

She began to come to as her head began to sway side to side. Her body doing a coda of her previous feelings of pain, she wanted to scream bloody murder. Her eyes opened to find herself staring at someone's backside; she realized someone was holding her. They had thrown her over their shoulder and carrying her out of the bus. The body hoisted her and themselves out of the window of bus, only to be welcomed by sirens of police cars and fire engines. Her head was aching, this time worse than the simple crack of an iceberg but now the equivalent of the separation of the continents, Pangaea, and this time she did cry out in pain and agony, fisting the back of the shirt of her saviour.

Her voice had shocked him; not only that but then the clenching of his shirt had sent chills down his spine. His mind was blurring, only making out the bright lights of the police cars, and the authoritive voice on the megaphone, 'Please step away from the bus quickly.' Now that he thought of it why were all the police and firemen so far away from the scene, it was as if they were avoiding something, the accident was obviously too dangerous for them to take action.

'Sir, I am asking you to come to safety with the woman away from the bus' the voice boomed again.

He didn't understand why, but he soon understood the degree of danger as he turned to the accident behind him. The bus had been crashed into by a petrol truck. His mind clicking all the facts, fire and fuel, and his feet began to run, there whole place was going to explode. The girl's body flopped against his body as he picked up speed. He was so close to the haven of the police, so close. But he began to slow down his body shutting down, tired.

And then he heard her voice, 'Dammit! Run!'

Her voice shocked him out of his trance.

And then she said four words that he hadn't heard in long time associated with him.

'You can do it'

The words echoed through his mind, so many times he's been shut down, but now he was being told he CAN do something.

So he began to run again, faster, stronger, hungry to prove to himself wrong that he can do it and the girl right. As he reached the safety of the police they hurled them under a barrier, and the sound of an explosion echoed through the sky.

Minutes earlier she may have not even thought of egging anyone on to survive, but to actually see that person bothered to rescue her and take her to safety rippled the calm of her mind. She had purpose. She wasn't a mistake, because if she was she wouldn't be saved, wouldn't be considered in the quick thinking of the Samaritan. So when they had stopped she'd realise, she'd wasn't going to give up on life, she had purpose, she had hope for the future. And so she shouted at them to run, because obviously they had the ability to do it, and if they could do it, getting them to safety, she could have hope secured for the future, because she had purpose.

She was hoisted of his shoulder, and he then took a good look at her, taking in her rampant typhoon of dusty pink waves and feathered lashes cradling emerald gemmed orbs that reflected his face.

She smiled internally, she had won. Her 'guess who' was a success. Her vision was met by charcoal black eyes and pale skin tinted by the dust and smoke. His hair feathered locks of black, laced with glittering glass.

She had saved him.

He had saved her.

Both in debt with each other.

'Thank you' he whispered

She hummed a welcome as her eyes lulled to a close, not from tiredness but for the need of recovery to a new her.

Her forehead landed on his shoulder as she fell forward in unconsciousness. He knew he would most likely not see her again. A shame.

Before he could allow the festering hands of the paramedics to take her, he slid a silver ring of his finger and placed it on one of hers. She will remember him, as he'd remember her.

Both hopeful for the prosper of tomorrow.

He left hoping that maybe granted the world would become smaller and allow him to meet her again, just maybe, you could only be so hopeful.

***Lol Sasuke found his single lady and put a ring on it ***

I've found the spirit to get back into writing again, I've been honestly feeling lousy lately and hopeless. This is somewhat an indirect feed of my life but woven in SASUSAKU loviness :) I'm sick with a horrid cold which is why I decided to curse Sakura with the same because hey, I feel lonely.

Anyways I'm hoping to start this story, and I assure you Sakura and Sasuke will meet again.

Thank you for reading and please drop a review and don't be stingy and simply favourite or alert this story because although it's really supportive I'd like some reviews too, they make me happy and get me out of my depressing slump

Until next time

Take care and stay happy, smile it makes a difference.

Oxza

**I'm actually going to consider studying now for that Human Bio. Test now, the excretory system is such a beautiful system, sure…***