Standard disclaimer applies: I don't own Naruto, blah blah blah. You all know the drill.
This is a result of being bombarded with heart-wrenching feels and being canon-ised. I'm still getting over the fact that they got married. So um, yea.
Prompt: Without you, by Ashes Remain.
a.
He starts to see her for what she is, for who she has become.
It's hard, sometimes, because when he closes his eyes he sees her crying, eyes squeezed shut in pain. But not always; sometimes he sees her smile, and her laugh tinkles in his ears and his fingers seem to relax by the mere sound that echoes in his mind. He likes it better this way; he likes the peace that floods him.
She's still bright, rose and moss all mixed into one. Her happiness overlaps his own and it confuses him, how she simply gives without asking for anything in return. But he tries to show her what he means, what he feels, as best as he can in the only way he knows, and somehow she understands him the way she understands the lines on his palm, the bruises on his body and the scars on his soul.
Some days he looks at her when she's washing the dishes, the sleeves of her red shirt pushed up and arms buried elbow deep in soap water, or when she's bent over the flower bed in their new home, knees folded underneath her, pink hair flattened against her neck, and it makes something in his chest flutter when she turns to see him there and smiles, eyes crinkling around the corners like they always do.
He has to blink and suck the air deep inside his lungs to not collapse in front of her when she does that. And he finds it strange how his feet always lead him to where she is, in daybreak and in darkness, to find sanctuary in her kind words and soft whispers.
So when she curls into him for warmth on winter nights, he holds her tight and allows himself to be weakened, to be sheltered from the nightmares that have plagued him for as long as he can remember. His face finds its way to her shoulder where her shirt hangs loose, her pale skin cool against his clammy forehead, pink hair tickling his cheeks, and he sighs, breathing in her scent and letting it engulf him in a cocoon.
"You okay, Sasuke-kun?" her voice is muffled and deep, eyes clouded with sleep, the green pigment in them dark and moist, and he almost laughs to himself at how uncannily perceptive she can be.
"Go back to sleep."
She mumbles something incoherent, adjusts herself in his arms, and lays her face right on his chest, so close to his heart that he knows she can hear it.
"You too, Sasuke-kun."
He closes his eyes then and focuses on the sound of her breathing. He knows that he still has a long way to go and fractured bonds to rebuild but maybe, just maybe, his journey won't be as hard as he had thought it to be.
My sisters say this nearly made them cry. Is it true, because I'd like to know.
Criticism is always welcomed. Drop by a review to tell me what you think.