Disclaimer: I do not own Naruto or any of the characters used in this story

I love him. I love him not.

Over and over again flower petals fell around her, day after day, year after year. But she kept going.

Sasuke was back, with his overly prideful attitude toward anything and everything that moved. Except for maybe her, because she had made it quite clear that she wouldn't take it like before. If he wanted to try being rude with her, she was going to grind his face into the dirt before he could even smirk.

But sometimes, when he smiled, she could see the reason why she had loved him. And sometimes it was tempting to do just that again, because it would be so easy to love him, it would be so easy to fall.

Sakura looked at him, with his dark hair and his eyes to match and the way that his skin was such a remarkable contrast to both of those aspects.

It wasn't hard to see the reason why all of the girls wanted him, but she didn't see things like that anymore. She knew him all too well for that.

So instead of going back to her fangirl ways, she became his friend. She would laugh with him about things that made absolutely no sense to other people, she would hit him when he did something stupid, and she would comfort him those nights when the memories came back to him.

But sometimes when she dreamt, she would think of what it would be like if things were different. If she could allow herself to fall in love with him again. But she would force herself to wake up from those dreams, and as the weeks passed by Sakura woke up in the middle of the night more times than she would care to admit. But she wouldn't give in; she would never ever give in.

In some ways Sakura hated him. She hated him for breaking her heart, she hated him for leaving, and she hated him for hurting her.

So when Sasuke would put his arm around her shoulder, she tried not to think too much of it. When he touched her arm and asked if she was alright, she tried not to slap him.

And when he told her that he loved her, she tried not to cry.

Because no matter how much she loved him, no matter how much she cared. She would never say a word, because history wouldn't repeat itself. Because she wouldn't let it.

I love him. I love him not.

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