Disclaimer: I don't own Naruto.
A/N: HO-HO-HO! (Yeah. I did say it.) Merry Christmas!
Dedication: Neon Genesis
Because, friendship is hard to come by in this world. So are good Christmas gifts. Like this one. ;D
Wine and Cyanide Chasers
-
-
"I admire addicts. In a world where everybody is waiting for some blind, random disaster, or some sudden disease, the addict has the comfort of knowing what will most likely wait for him down the road. He's taken some control over his ultimate fate, and his addiction keeps the cause of death from being a total surprise."
-
He can't remember how he ended up in this house, but he wishes a million plus one wishes that it was anywhere but here.
His onyx eyes flutter open and he waits a moment, comprehending his whereabouts, before he asks, "What are you doing?" The tone hovers between curiosity and accusation.
"While you were sleeping," she breathes, regretfully choking out one of her previously hidden sobs, "I was listening to the radio and wondering..."
As he notes the small tune that the radio is mumbling, his stare hardens, never once seceding from her; but, his slanted brows seize the lightest degree.
"...what you were dreaming of."
He puts his hand to his cheek and feels how hot it actually is, a disgusted look appears on his face for the shortest second.
He is sick—a sign of weakness.
The man then sighs after a long silence trudges between the two of them, he can tell that she wants a reply to her previous statement.
She watches warily, almost scared of what he is about to say next.
He wants to describe how he dreamed of her—dreams of her. He wants to tell her how he reminisces about what it would be like if he never left.
Would she still be that innocent, lip gloss wearing, giggling girl he left behind or would she still have evolved into this...this—
"Sasuke-kun." She drawls and continues to stroke his cheek in soft, sensual circles.
—woman.
He is surprised because he never cherishes any form of touch, especially intimate ones; but for some reason, he wryly admits to preferring hers.
He doesn't reply though.
He can't.
Because he can't describe this, he doesn't even understand it.
"Sasuke-kun..." She repeats, it was her time to speak now, she can't just whistle away her life on him. "...I still love you, you know?"
He grunts, because he knows it all too well. "Stop it." Sasuke's voice is ragged and his throat parched.
This is the real world. He can't stay for her.
Business is more important than silly feelings. Power and wealth determine your status in this society, in this world—not an irrational, naïve woman.
"You can't just tell me to stop loving you, Sasuke-kun." She snorts, standing up. Her fingers trace the wet hand towel that lies on his forehead, courtesy of her as well.
"I just did." He states in some matter-of-fact tone, but she can hear how it is lathered with his typical, blatant hint of annoyance.
Sakura shakes her head fruitlessly, "Feelings and jobs..." She mumbles. "They coincide, they contrast. You need both of them to live in today's world, which I don't understand how you're managing to survive with only one of them. But, listen. Feelings are still different from jobs, Sasuke-kun. You can fire someone, I know you must like to, because it gives you a sense of control and strength. But..—!" She stops mid-speech when she sees him push himself off the couch.
"Hey!" She wants to scream it, but she somehow manages to gather the strength to lower it to a minuscule plead. "You're sick, you shouldn't be—"
"You don't want this, Sakura." He grimaces, "You can't want this." He tries to dodge the hand which reached out to him, but something made him abruptly stop. He knows, in the pit of his stomach, the back of his heart, and the thing that is tucked and buried deep inside his mind—he wants it. All of it.
He feels her touch against his naked flesh and he can't decide whether to relish it or to cower away from it. She closes in against his body, successfully shutting off the small gap which previously separated the two.
"But...But, I do." She is whispering into his chest, and even with a layer of thin cotton material diverging between them, he can still feel how her lashes are slowly lulling to a close. "I want everything to do with you, Sasuke-kun... I want to see you smile again."
"Don't be stupid—" He scoffs with reluctance.
"If you had to make any mistake in your life," she pauses and gives a sad laugh, "Heaven forbid that right..?"
Sasuke opens his mouth either to say a definite yes or to make a snide retort; but, she can see the opening and beats him to it.
"I want to be your mistake, Sasuke-kun."
He wipes his burning forehead with the back of his hand, almost hoping it would also wipe her away from his life as well. "I know." He mutters, acid underlying his breath.
He can't think of what else he should—could say.
It's dangerous.
She's dangerous.
"But, I don't make mistakes—for you or anyone else."
Sakura's breath hitches and her arms are encircling his waist. She doesn't want to let him go. "I know, Sasuke-kun. I know."
And, sometimes, she really wishes he wasn't perfect.
Sasuke hesitantly puts one of his sweaty palms on her hair, tucking a strand of pink locks behind her right ear. He almost regrets his action when he can see her innocent, emerald eyes gleaming up at him, so he slightly shudders in response. Then, involuntarily, he presses his hand atop the crown of her head and brings her deeper into his chest.
He doesn't have a choice—he has to let her go.
So he prays to whatever is up there, that this is enough.
That this moment with her is enough to help him live the remainder of his life without her—without feelings.
And everything inside is shouting at him, screaming and seething with pain. He already knows that it's never going to be enough.
For when she tugs down on his loose tie, bringing his face closer and closer to her own, he can't deny her.
She's like that big, red button you aren't suppose to push.
It's an urge, a need; it's so tempting, you just have to try it. You just forget about all the world behind you, all of the rules and all of the reasons why you shouldn't, and you push it.
He can't take their proximity, it hurts him so much, but he still finishes off her task and presses his lips against hers. He greedily steals her voice and sucks her bottom lip. He nibbles until she eagerly opens her mouth, to where his tongue delves into the crevice without a hesitation.
And in this blissful moment, he does. He forgets about the world, the rules, and every possible reason why he shouldn't.
He hungrily steals her breath, her voice, her strength, and her in whole.
In response, she gives a light mewl into his mouth and he can feel her small, sincere smile that is trying so hard to form against his lips.
He doesn't want her to smile though, so he removes himself completely from her touch. The way be backs up from her resembles that of touching a piece of burning metal.
She pouts in objection and her tears are, again, starting to free fall.
He doesn't know what to do. He wants to comfort her, hell, he doesn't even want to be this far from her. He wants her. Everything about her.
But, he can't do that to her.
He doesn't deserve someone so befitting, someone so innocent and sweet and sincere and loving as she is.
He doesn't want her to smile, because he knows he'll just make it shatter in seconds. Her smile might just tempt him to stay here and forget about the world's offer of fame and wealth and power and success and feigned happiness.
He knows that if she smiles, he'll continually fall for her over and over again.
And he can't afford that.
-
-
"All sin tends to be addictive, and the terminal point of addiction is what is called damnation."
-
Prompts: Lip gloss, Big red button, "While you were sleeping, I was listening to the radio and wondering what you were dreaming of.", Yes.
Reviews make me write :)
EWHH its Kenna