My muse sensed angst, and homed in. It's not long, or especially happy, but that's kind of the point. Inspired by my own fangirl crying for various characters, and dedicated to all of you who've just missed your chance. For the 100 Themes Challenge on dA.
52) Deep in Thought
Sakura stood outside the door, checking her clothes and her hair one last time. Everything was at it's best. She wanted to look perfect for him. Nervously, she rested a hand on the door before pushing. She didn't want to hold up the ceremony. She'd never do that to him.
A deep breath later, and she pushed the door, stepping inside. This was it – the end of the life she knew. She couldn't pretend nothing had happened now.
#
They would have an apartment, at first. She would cook and clean and laugh. Maybe they'd fight over little things, like leaving the toilet seat up, or maybe they wouldn't fight at all. They would go on missions the same as ever, but she'd have a ring on her finger to remind her to keep safe. He too, though he would probably take it off on missions.
In the evenings, when he returned home, she would heal all the injuries he was too stubborn to take to the hospital. She would chide him, as she's always done, for not taking more care of himself. Of caring too much for his squad and not enough for his own life.
#
She couldn't see through her tears, everything had just blended into black. Everything in the world was darkness now, and it didn't hurt any less just because she'd known it was inevitable in the end. If anything, it hurt more; all the times her heart had been in her mouth and yet in the end it had all been okay, he had lived...they made everything feel like a sick game. In the end he was still just a man, a dead man.
#
He would make love to her like she was beautiful. He would kiss her, he would caress her with those strong hands. He would make her feel like she was a woman, not a kunoichi, all soft and loving rather than sharp and deadly. His mismatched eyes would be closed, his mouth whispering words of endearment as he moved inside her. And she would give back all that she could, inexperienced as she was.
#
Only now they would never do any of that. Because he was dead, and she'd never said a word. Never told him how she loved him.
#
They would live happily ever after, and have lots of little fluffy haired babies. Hopefully the boys would inherit his grey hair rather than her pink, and her sense of timing. They would eat in the garden in summer, with a nice white fence around the edge and a sakura tree as her namesake. They would name their first son Sakumo, after his father, and their first daughter would be named after a flower like her mother and grandmother.
And then one day, when they were getting old, retired and happy together – maybe he would grow vegetables, and she'd cook when their grandchildren came round – until they died together in their sleep.
#
She placed a flower on the marble, a red rose. Roses for love. Love for his smile, for his lame excuses, for the way he always saved somebody else. Her tears clung to the crimson petals, shining like the world was still whole. The same couldn't be said for her heart.
They would have been perfect, had she not been too late. How ironic.
#
They would be together after death, living another perfect lovers' life in some distant paradise were there was no war or death or pain. He would be able to say what is was that made is eye droop sadly when he looked at the memorial, he would be able to live for himself and not his village.
They would have everything for ever and ever.
#
If only.
Sad? Confused? Let me know what you think, I love feedback.