by Atmospherical.
A Naruto Ensemble.
After the return of Uchiha Sasuke, the rest of Team Seven have to try and figure themselves out, and put the pieces of their puzzle back together, once and for all.
STANDARD DISCLAIMER APPLIES. i know the drill. Also, the little stanza and the title of the story is from the song Run by Snow Patrol.
AUTHOR'SNOTE: The perspective in this story kind of switches, it's never in first person, but most of the time it's Sakura-centric. Eh, she's eaiser to write for than say, Kakashi. With that said, i don't think i really put much of Kakashi in this, though i tried. He's just really hard to get into character.
ALSO, this was written when i was changing my writing style five hundred times a day, so if it's hard to read then I apologize. Also i have no beta, so i just check it over myself, and i am not very good at catching mistakes until way later. AND IT IS LONG. Which was unintentional. i don't know why it is this long. Boo.
So read it, and if you'd like, review. Constructive criticism is very welcome, but if you're just going to tell me how much my story sucks, please refrain from doing so. I get it enough from myself, thank you. And i will stop talking now. Enjoy. :)
RUN
Have heart, my dear
We're bound to be afraid
Even if it's just for a few days
making up for this mess.
He lay before them like a fallen statue of some sorts; The sun shone through thick dark clouds, rain subsiding slowly as the light broke through and danced across his alabaster skin, causing it to shine and glitter like smooth white marble. His stone face was upturned slightly, a thin line for a mouth with a elegantly sculpted jaw and razor-sharp cheekbones, eyes closed gracefully, long lashes grazing the edge of his cheeks tenderly. The blood and the dirt, however, offset the serene beauty and they watched carefully as the blood from the statue seeped out from underneath him, fast and thick.
If it weren't for Naruto's slight nudge as he briskly walked past Sakura and towards Sasuke's still, bloodsoaked body, Sakura would have been forever frozen, entranced with awe at the sickly beautiful scene. Yet with one jolt to her senses, she was torn back into reality and hurtling herself quickly towards his seemingly small body, bending down on her knees, staining them with his blood.
This was it, wasn't it? She thought, and when she looked over at Naruto he had the same weary expression of doubt and mixed emotions. The thing about Naruto and Sakura, Sakura had begun to notice, was that they were alike in the way that they let their emotions, be it angry, sad, or happy, play on their faces freely, and yet when the time called for it, they were able mask those same emotions with a tactful smile and breezy joke. It made her sad, when she thought about it, and with it in mind, she gave a false smile to Naruto as she ran glowing hands over their old friend's wounds.
Not far away, Kakashi would be carefully inspecting the cold and sinister dead body of the man who indirectly (or perhaps it had been his intention, to ruin those connected to his target) bestowed pain on all of Team Seven, as opposed to simply his main target, his younger brother, whom he had tortured most of their lives. The man who died with a satisfied smirk on his face as his brother killed him, ending everything, an avenger seeking his revenge on the man who had formed and shaped his life with horrible deadly hands. Itachi was dead, yet he was satisfied. Sasuke was barely alive, fullfilled his revenge, yet was still incomplete. The irony was not lost on them.
Together, Naruto and Sakura picked up Sasuke with feigned indifference, masking their emotions so as not to bother their easily irritated friend, even though he was unconcious and it didn't really matter anyway.
Black birds flew up into the sky, arching their way overhead the moment Naruto and Sakura walked in with Sasuke held evenly in their arms, Kakashi behind them. The birds sung achingly and longingly and beautifully, sadly rejoicing because today was the day that Team Seven had reunited fully, after six long, excrutiating years.
A month later, still no words are spoken between the former teammates. Sasuke was released from ICU and soon afterwards placed in a room on the fifth floor, the mental ward. Trapped in a room of solid, pure white, where he was sure to go crazy.
Each contemplated seeing him, then made up thousands of excuses not to.
Except Naruto. the only thing that held Naruto back was the look in Sakura's eyes whenever he declared triumphantly to go see Sasuke, today, right now. But Sakura's look wasn't one of worry, like Naruto initially thought. It was a look of jealousy, and the fear of being forgotten.
Jealously and Hatred sat side by side within Sakura. Jealousy because now that he was back, Naruto's attention would fully divulge on him, though secretly she knew it always had been in the back of his mind. Hatred for Sasuke and for the fact that he left them with nothing but bittersweet memories, with the intention that he wasn't ever coming back.
Naruto and Sakura had painstakingly built themselves back up after he left. Tirelessly clawing their way through the emotional and physical torment, just to surpass and climb over the mountain that was Sasuke and the anguish he left behind. Most everything they did, Naruto and Sakura had done it together.
But they had done it for him.
So finally, she let Naruto go.
Sasuke didn't want to talk. He didn't want to see anybody, he didn't want to be poked and prodded or healed or any shit like that. He just wanted out of this godforsaken place.
Imagine his disdain when Naruto entered his room in his ward, with a fiery look on his face and clenched fists.
They stayed like that for awhile, Naruto standing tensly and awkwardly and angrily, Sasuke sitting cooly, calmly, coldly, both staring with deadly gazes, looks that could kill.
No words needed to be spoken between them. Simple gestures, like a featherlight touch on the wrist or an angry blow to the head could depict the boys feelings loud and clear. Their own secret language.
Naruto reached out, brushed his fingers against the stiff sleeve of Sasuke's black T-shirt.
You're back.
A slight incline of the head.
I am.
A tan hand, firmly gripping a cold shoulder.
You dumbass.
A quick flick of the hand, snatching the wrist of the other.
You idiot.
A quick blow to the head with the free hand.
I'm glad you're back.
A return blow to the stomach.
Get me out of here.
A firm grip on both his shoulders, and a determined look.
I will.
One two three four, counting her steps because it distracts her from her inevitable. Sakura escorts herself up the floors and into the ward, her feet leading the way as her mind trys to delay the impending encounter.
She closes her eyes, takes a deep breath, and some unknown force takes over and controls her like a puppet, manuevering her hand to the door, pressing it hard against it, making it slide open. She forces her eyelids up, forcing her green eyes to stare at his form sitting tiredly on the bed and the back of his head, because he is staring angrily at the wall where there should be a window.
She takes more steps she didn't realize she was even taking. He makes no move to show that he felt her prescense. The door shuts behind her, and Sakura feels trapped and claustraphobic. She makes her way towards the end of his bed, and awkwardly tries to find a position to remain in, eventually choosing to seat herself on the cold marble floor.
He turns his body towards her, just barely, and her throat tightens and her heart aches. Sakura is eighteen and hasn't even been in this close proximity to him for six years, yet still his presence breaks her down.
There is a stalemate of silence. Silence, Sakura notices, is Sasuke's best friend, her own worst enemy. She would be the one who would initiate words, as she always had and always would.
"Sasuke." No suffix, no air. Her breath hitches and her voice dies in her throat halfway through his name, because his head inclined slightly and the sickening beauty of his face catches her off guard.
"Sakura." He says, but he is not looking at her. She bites her lip, choosing not to speak and to simply let the silence, and the pieces, fall where they may.
For the remaining hours she sat in his room, not another word was spoken.
Oddly enough, when Sakura left, she felt satisfied.
Naruto, Sakura, and Sasuke are often found walking throughout the village, an air of uncertainty and hesitance hovering above them, yet they seem unbothered by it.
To the villagers it was nostalgic, seeing the three of them in the same vicinity, being able to say all three of their names in the same sentence. The pink hair, the blonde, and the black, that would normally so horridly clash, seemed to blend together beautifully when it was them. There was something about the three of them that no one could explain. They just didn't fit. Loud and obnoxious, cheerful and bright, brooding and angry.
And they bent and tore their edges so that they could, and eventually would, fit perfectly.
Altered pieces of a puzzle, and the puzzle master slinking behind them, his masked face hiding a satisfied grin because his puzzle had been put back together again.