power moves, baby
note1: more randomness. hmph.
note2:Help, I'm Alive - Metric, Sweet Disposition - The Temper Trap
summary:They'll fall back in love eventually, but for now they're just running away from what they want the most. It's a sick cycle, but they just can't seem to break free.
They're a twisting mass of limbs and slick flesh, sliding and grasping with raw desperation. It's a battle for control, winner take all and then some, and neither of them is willing to lose. Her nails dig into his skin, and he growls low in his chest, sounding absolutely feral. She returns with a snarl of her own, full of fury and pain, with a little bit of longing thrown in too.
This wasn't supposed to happen. Really, it wasn't. She was supposed to be going home and he was just passing through, but fate has a funny way of fucking with them, he supposes. He saw a flash of pink hair and she could tell his chakra from anyone elses from a mile away. It was only a few seconds at most, but that's all it took for them to collide into this tangle of anger and resentment and pure, unadulterated want.
They're letting their emotions get away from them and they both know it, but neither of them feel the need to do anything about it. She isn't using her full strength and the swirling crimson oh his sharingan is conveniently missing. They're going to regret this, but they need this, oh god do they ever need this.
She pulls a complicated move he isn't expecting and suddenly he's flat on his back, gasping as her slender finger wrap themselves around his throat. She leans forward, slowly, and whatever he was going to say is caught in his throat.
Her breath ghosts gently across his ear, sending shivers down his spine. He can feel her pressed against him, warm and soft. Feel her heartbeat pounding rapidly against his chest.
"I win," she whispers, a maelstrom of emotions twining themselves into those two little words. He breathes her in, and she still smells familiar, still smells like home. It tears his soul to pieces, and he can imagine she can hear it shattering like glass.
"Sakura," he murmurs, pulling her forehead against his, hands slipping to that obnoxious hair of hers (really, what self respecting shinobi has pink hair? Pink!), weaving deftly through the silky strands. He meets her eyes, losing himself in their emerald depths. He can see her soul, and part of his too, the part that's been missing for a long, long time. The part he knows he's never going to get back.
He presses his lips against hers in a chaste kiss and he can feel her shake as his eyes slide closed on their own accord. A single tear drops onto his face and then she is gone with a whirl of cherry blossoms and three damnable words hanging on the wind.
His eyes open slowly, staring unseeingly into the quickly darkening sky. He thinks this might be his funeral. Delicate pink blossoms splattered across his skin like lifeblood; he can still feel her warmth.
"I..." he swallows and blinks, and dammit these aren't tears because Uchihas don't cry.
"I love you, too," he tells the empty air, and closes his eyes as he falls into oblivion.
fin.
note3: I like angst. So what?