.

.

.

at least tell me it wasn't all a lie.

.

.

.

She gently traced a pattern on his chest with her fingertips, holding him

tightly with the other arm. She was awake now, but he was still asleep.

It wasn't real; he didn't love her, and she knew that.

This had been Just Sex.

Now it was Just The Morning After.

No matter how much Sakura wanted to read too deeply into it, it was Just Sex.

And inside, she was screaming. If they had sex, then there was at least some

sort of attraction, right?

She wanted to hold onto that like she would have if she was still twelve years

old. But she wasn't a preteen anymore; blind hope and ultimate disappointment

weren't very appealing prospects.

She knew that it meant nothing, she had to accept that it was meaningless sex.

Nothing.

Meaningless.

They stabbed her, and she pondered if the wounds were fatal,

She wondered if he knew that he was her first, maybe even her last.

Sakura knew he probably did.

She wanted to hate him for it; he had to have known she couldn't have denied

him. She couldn't deny him anything. She never could.

She looked at his beautiful face. Black hair was falling in his eyes, and his

expression was peaceful. Looking at him, knowing he didn't love her, it was all

too much. She couldn't do this.

Tears were starting to spill onto his sheets, and she disentangled herself. She

wanted to stay, at least until he kicked her out, (only he had more tact than

that. He'd say something, make an excuse, make her leave without actually

making her leave.) but she wanted to leave with a little dignity.

Sakura wrote a quick note, and exited Sasuke's apartment, regret and heartache

curling in her gut. She was so stupid! Why did she do this to herself?

She called a familiar phone number, tears tracing wet paths down her cheeks. But

that could have been the rain (she would later muse the irony of it all, raining

on possibly the most heartbreaking morning of her life.)

"Hello?" A familiar voice murmured groggily, laced heavily with sleep.

"Hey Ino-Pig. I think I need some ice cream." Sakura could hear the tears in her

own shaking voice.

"Shit, Sakura? What happened? Actually, don't answer that, just get over here.

That's an order, Forehead!" Ino commanded, the sleep gone from her voice.

.

The day was spent, Sakura crying, back patted by Ino, shoveling ice cream down

her throat like oxygen, and watching every chick flick ever conceived.

(And Ino was plotting Sasuke's demise, but Sakura didn't know that.)

And it wasn't easy, but it was therapeutic. And Sakura almost smiled by the end

of the day.

.

.

.

and it's all flown out the window

.

.

.

Uchiha Sasuke woke up, bed empty, and found a tear-stained note addressed to

him.

.

Sasuke,

Thanks for last night. It was fun. But I can't mentally afford to be around you,

so I think we should probably not talk. I mean the forever kind of not-talking.

Because...you make this wayyyy too difficult.

I wish you the best, only not really because you kind of make me sick. Only not

really because I kind of love you. Only not really because this hurts too much

to be a good love.

-Sakura

(P.S. if you got me pregnant, I will take a shotgun to your pretty face, got

that Sasubitch?)

.

Sasuke kept rereading the little letter, and wondered just how much he'd let

slip through his fingers, and if he'd ever be able to get it back.

.

.

.

A/N: I may write more on this, but I'm not sure. Ugh. I make me sick.

And thanks to Jesse for posting/being my personal manbitch/my mindless soldier.