It's a drabble at best. This is what happens when I watch a dance drama before writing. Review as well as you can it's kinda abstract.
She was young with too big eyes and a too big heart.
He was young, but grew up so fast.
He would play a tune on the piano, slow and mournful.
She would dance and look at herself in the long mirror. She'd fix her arms and legs into triangles and lines of light.
He'd stare at fingers moving in a slow waltz. His mind didn't think anymore. His ears didn't hear the songs.
She spun circles around the piano, feet just missing the corners. She listened, and she heard, and she saw, and that was why she loved.
He was always looking down at dancing fingers, until one day he saw the dancing feet.
She paused when the music stopped.
He stared before playing again. His fingers now picked the keys like they were hot to touch.
She smiled with too white teeth and spun rapid fire circles.
This time he watched, and he heard, and he listened, and a smile slipped his lips for he was content.
She danced and she danced, for Sakura was Sasuke's dancer butterfly. A butterfly in a jar of notes.