From the corner of his eye, he watched from his side of the kitchen table as late summer leaves fell past the kitchen window. Some would turn and wallow down, some would fly past with haste when the wind picked up. Their dancing distracted him for a mere moment before he felt the emptiness in the room again. Sasuke was used to empty rooms, their silent, stagnant air. He learned how to breathe in the thickness, instead of drowning in it. But this room, these walls, they weren't meant for loneliness. They smelt of lingering daffodils and the lofting aroma of herbs from the same windowsill that caught his attention. They weren't meant for just his company, they demanded her. They yearned for her eye-squinting brightness, because without it, this apartment six blocks from the hospital felt just as dark as he did. Without her, this house was just a house, not a home. He brought the white mug in his right hand to his lips, the now, lukewarm tea saturating his dry mouth. The feeling made him anxious, so he picked himself up from the wooden chair at the table and retrieved the mini watering can from under the sink. Turning on the water from the tap, he watched the liquid rise until it was almost full.
He started in the kitchen, adding a few spills of water to the herbs on the sill. Rosemary, cilantro, and parsley lines the white paint, their green making a heartwarming contrast that reminded him so much of her eyes. The last plant in the row was a pot of basil, which she mentioned she had picked up just before she left so that she could grill tomatoes for him when she returned. He recalled how her face sparkled at the thought of just doing something nice for him. Something so simple as making him a home cooked meal. He added only a little water, knowing that it was fresh and not wanting to smother it. He moved towards the doorway that led into the living room. The plainness of the space always left him feeling refreshed. Though it was decorated, it was never overpowering, only a few pictures here and there, an organized bookshelf, and entertainment stand with a modest TV that sat cold. She had always had an eye for simplicity, for detail, one that he admired. He knew that the hospital could sometimes be chaotic, and also knew the importance of coming home to something less hectic all too well. Her apartment meant clarity of mind. Peace.
There were several plants scattered around the room. A large bowl of succulents sat on the wooden coffee table near an opened scroll of medical techniques. She had probably read it a hundred times over by then. He didn't water the jade plant, the aloe, the roseum, or the dudleya, because he knew they didn't need his attention. Sasuke walked past the table and adjacent couch to the opposite corner of the room, near the tiny hall that led to the front door. While he poured water into the tall potted snake plant that stood on the corner, he eyed the mat that laid at the foot of the painted entryway. His sandals sat neatly next to her cream colored house slippers. Just above them, dangling from a wall-mounted hook, was the spare key she had duplicated for him only a few months prior. He clearly remembered the way her eyes avoided his when she told him it was there for him whenever he returned back to Konoha. It was almost as amusing as her face after he told her that he would just take it with him, instead of having it unsafely kept under the mat in front of her door. Just a simple, metal key, with a tiny red ribbon attached to it. So subtle a thing, yet so significant a gesture. It gave him access, access he never truly lost, to invade her space, her personal and radiating space, whenever he pleased. It took him almost a month before he stopped knocking. That key shined so brightly in the ambient mid-afternoon light. What a curious, domesticated image it was. When he turned to leave, he stared at the door for a moment longer, wondering just what time she would be getting home today.
While he made his way to the last plant in the apartment, he listened to her voice in his head from the last time he had heard it, explaining the details of her mission and how long it would take. Today was her expected arrival. She seemed so happy to finally receive a mission from their old sensei, now Hokage. From the sound of it, it seemed like an easy mission for a handful of capable ninja, but they both knew that it must have been of great importance for both her and Shikamaru to be sent together, as busy as they were. Sasuke had told her to "take care" before she left, knowing that he truly meant "be safe." Sometimes seemingly easy missions ended up being the hardest, as they both knew from their days as genin. It was rare for her to be sent on a mission, and even rarer for it to happen while he was back from his own expeditions. He was happy for her, but much like her own home felt better with her in it, he wished she would come back soon. He didn't have a word for it yet, but her presence made him much more relaxed, like there was a weight on his shoulder that only she and her beautiful monstrous strength could remove.
Her bedroom door opened with a soft click. From the low sun peeking into the room, a hazy orange illuminated it's simple features. Out of all the spaces in her apartment, her room was his favorite. These four walls knew them as well as they knew themselves. They have witnessed nervous eyes and fumbling hands. They have seen what it means to learn someone. The carpet under his feet knew the haste of scattered clothing. Her bed, still clinging to the corner of her room, knew the meaning of a blooming love.
He shook his head a bit, the present sneaking back to him. Near the wide window on the opposite wall, a swaying hanging plant drew him closer, it's motion made possible by a small oscillating fan on her wooden dresser. The ivy that hung from the deep brown pot was much longer than when she had first received it. Ino had given it to her, as a housewarming about a year ago. Looking back on it now, Sasuke realized that Ino was probably the reason for Sakura's sudden interest in plant-caring. At first he thought it was meaningless to have so many plants. She already had so many things to care for at the hospital, why would she want more at home? But he found that he liked to care for them too, especially when his overbearing thoughts got the better of him. Sometimes all they could ask for was a distraction.
After watering the ivy, he turned off the fan and opened up the window. The late summer air was cooler as the sun set behind the city, and the windy day made for a light breeze. Watering can still in hand, he left the room, leaving her door open in hopes that the cool draft would make its way to the rest of the apartment. He replaced the can to its spot below the sink and busied himself with his tea mug. The leaves outside the window still fell as surely as they did before. Setting the mug on the drying rack beside the basin, he reached behind the herbs and opened it as well. Just as he did, he heard the distant sound of slow shuffling, meaning someone was coming up the stairs to the door. He quickly dried his hand on a hanging towel and turned towards the doorway. A gentle click reverberated in his mind, and her barely sensible chakra finally pushed up against his. It was worn and tethered, he could feel how tired she was before even seeing her.
"Tadaima." Her voice called out, wearily.
He stepped out of the kitchen and rounded the corner to see her. He was right. The mission must have been much harder than she anticipated. As she bent down to remove her shoes, he could see the obvious wrinkles and tears in her clothing and the remnants of freshly healed cuts and burns that decorated what skin he could see. Seeing her like this, so beaten and bruised, his initial uneasiness heightened to a fully blown worry. He hesitated to reach for her, though his body told him to. When she finally stepped out of her boots and slipped on her house shoes, she looked up to his furrowed brows.
"Ah, Sasuke-kun." She said, acknowledging him. Though his face revealed the mixed emotion of anger and anxiousness, there was no explanation, there was no apologizing, she simply dragged her legs towards his figure and when she was only a half step away, she let her body fall against him. Her arms lazily reached behind him, grasping at the grey fabric of his T-shirt. Her nose pressed against his sternum, and he could feel her chest as she inhaled his scent. It was the only commentary he needed.
He picked up his right arm and wrapped it around her shoulders, burying his opened hand into her pink locks. Sweat dampened the roots where her skin met her hairline at the base of her neck, but he didn't care, nor did he mind the dried blood and mud that her clothes exchanged onto his. He laid his chin against the top of her head, peeking down at their shoes now laying next to each other by the door. He held her withered body as close as he possibly could, until she started to pull away.
Their eyes met as she craned her neck to look at him. "Sorry I probably stink, Sasuke-kun. I'm going to take a shower."
He pulled her in again before she could fully get away, placing a chaste kiss on her forehead, just near her seal. "Hn. Okaeri."