She does not knock before entering the room. She thinks it would be foolish of her; after all, Sasuke has never been one to speak unless absolutely necessary. She knows that much, at least.
The door makes no sound as she pushes it open and then closed behind her, and she is unsure of whether he has sensed her presence when she is met with the view of his broad back and spiky hair standing beside the window. But it hardly makes a difference, because at the simple sight of him, the air she breathes changes — and it is suddenly as though his gaze were piercing right through her.
Standing there, in her too big sweater and common black boots, she feels inferior. She feels childish. She feels thirteen again, and she can barely stop herself from running a hand through her messy pink locks.
She would have dressed better for this occasion, she muses, had she not been rushed by a team of ANBU stumbling half-dead in her hospital at merely four in the morning.
She is quick to squish that thought. She should be proud of her achievements. She should be proud that it is her who the nurses call when an emergency occurs. She should be proud that she has walked out of the operation room, drenched in blood and exhausted, but successful. And she is proud, she thinks. She is proud every time she hears Naruto praise her. She is proud every time she sees Kakashi-sensei thank her. She is proud every time she watches amazement flood her mentor's eyes.
But with Sasuke… Things are never this simple with him.
But she has come to terms with that.
She makes her presence known with a small sigh and a slight shuffle of her feet. As expected, the Uchiha immediately turns around, and fixes her with a flat stare.
Keeping her gaze trained on his seems like an inhuman effort, but it is an effort that she makes, because if he can turn her to a puddle on the inside, Sakura cannot afford to let him see that.
There has once been some type of understanding between them, she thinks. She was an annoyance, but she was an annoyance that he protected. He was the owner of her heart, but he was an owner that preferred to keep his distance. She understood that he found it hard to open up, just like he understood that she needed him, that she relied on him to survive.
That understanding is gone now, and in her darkest times, she can't help but wonder whether it would ever come back. She knows it will. The trust that she once had in him has disappeared along with their friendship, but ever the optimist, Sakura truly believes that she can build it back up. She is no longer foolish enough to hope that she will one day become special enough for him to let her in. He will find someone to love. But maybe she can help him find that someone.
"Hello," she greets meekly.
He returns the salute with a mild grunt, and continues to gaze outside through the rain-splattered window.
Sakura sighs, and she wonders if she should have bothered to greet him, in the first place.
It is difficult — dealing with him. She feels as though she is threading on thin ice, as though she is walking on eggshells. She doesn't know the man standing in front of her anymore, and as much as she wants to help him, she fears that it might be too late. She fears that their friendship — the friendship that she once valued with her life — is too broken.
She knows that she should make an effort. And she also fears that she is too afraid to do that.
"So," she starts as she quickly shuffles to the paper-cluttered desk pushed up against the opposite wall. She bits her lip and clears her throat. "I know you like to keep to yourself," she says. "I understand that. But this is a rather delicate matter, so there is no other option — we have to work together."
He remains quiet. She figures he has nothing to say to her. Or maybe he finds her undignified of an answer. Maybe he keeps quiet because that is in his nature. It is hard to read him, and with the daunting task of sorting through a mountain of paperwork stretching endlessly before her, Sakura can't find it within her to care.
She stops to tuck a lock of pink hair behind her ear, before pulling out a chair for herself and setting to work.
It is only a minute later that she notices him take a seat beside her. For a while, the silence is filled only with the shuffling of papers.
"I never minded working with you," he suddenly tells her, as she is sorting through a pile of yellowish folders. "It was the dobe who always made the stupidest observations."
For a moment, she finds it hard to believe that he is actually addressing her. Then she slowly comes to her senses, and realizes that yes, Uchiha Sasuke is talking to her, reaching out for her, throwing the proverbial ball in her court. It takes her another minute to gather her bearings and speak up. By that time, Sasuke has already resigned to the fact that he will not get an answer.
"I suppose he always was rather… eccentric."
Sasuke snorts, and she can't help but note that it sounds more like a laugh than anything she has ever heard coming from him. "You're too good to him."
She laughs. She is surprised by how easily the tension is broken, but being like this — it feels natural. Having him accept her at last, talk to her as though she is his equal — that is how things should have been from the very beginning.
"Okay, so he is an idiot," she admits, and turns to offer him a small smile. "But he grew on me, you know?"
He nods, and in that moment, she feels like he knows exactly what she is talking about. She grins as she realizes that he truly does.
It will be hard. It will take long. And she is afraid.
But with Sasuke by her side again, Sakura is sure that they will make it through.
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