This is how it ends.

"Sasuke," she says, "I want it to stop."

He turns his onyx eyes on her, impassive with his angled face somber. "It's not going to end, Sakura. I've told you that too many times."

Sakura closes her eyes and the Uchiha can't help but notice the way her dark lashes shiver against the delicate skin underneath her green orbs. "I know. I want to leave."

Sasuke inhales (inhale-) sharply, then exhales (-exhale…) with a quick glance out the window. He interlaces his fingers, elbows propped up on the scarred, battered three-legged desk. "That's not possible."

Tick. Two minutes until midnight.

"It is. You're just too scared to risk the consequences."

He narrows his eyes at her, resting his head against the cradle his fingers created. "Sakura." He says sharply, but she knows she's gotten under his skin.

"Think about it, Sasuke." She presses. "Sunny days spent outside without worries of the Akatsuki sighting you and partying til dawn without worries of the curfew. Rainy days spent inside a manor with polished glass windows—"

"Sakura." He repeats, harsher than before. She shuts up. "That is the past. We live in the present."

Tick. One minute until midnight.

"But we can create our future." She says quietly, thinking of jumping out windows and escaping to the winds.

Silence.

Tick. Midnight.

"He's late," Sasuke says at last.

Sakura focuses on her—four generations old patched up shoes on her dirty—feet, and replies, "Not everyone is as perfectly punctual as you."

He tenses, knowing what was coming.

"Or Sasori."

"Sakura, will you quit mentioning the Akatsuki? It's not my fault we're being hunted like animals and it's not my fault we can't escape and it's certainly not my fault Akatsuki contains the most freakishly powerful assholes in the history of Konoha—"

Bang. The door swings open. "Hey guys, what's up?" Bright orange hair flashes in the doorway, cerulean eyes starbright.

Naruto.

"Naruto," Sakura greets. "I want to leave this place."

"Well," he says, "It's nice outside. You should see all the stars—"

"No," she says, "I want to leave Konoha."

Naruto blinks. "We can't, though. Not a single person's done it before—"

"Then we can be the first. Can't we?" She turned on her puppy eyes, wide, green, pleading, broken.

Broken.

He cracks. "I guess..."

Sasuke gives a little sigh, "Naruto. Stop encouraging her. It's impossible." His voice is flat. Then, directed to his friend, "Do you want some rice?"

He indicates to the cold, rock-hard lumps of brown.

"Mm." Naruto agrees, settling down in the makeshift kitchen and picking up the chopsticks. "Itadakimasu. I just love rock-flavored grains."

"We'll have steamed rice when we leave." Sakura perseveres. "In china bowls."

Naruto flashes her an easy grin. "I hope that doesn't include broccoli. I hate broccoli."

Sasuke can't hold back an eye roll. "Give it up, Sakura. This is our life, now."

A life

of

brown rice

three-legged tables

four-generation old shoes

and

no

hope.

tbc