these are the words
.
.
There's a message written between the lines of his ribs, a mark that makes his heart one half of a whole. Nine little words that will change his life.
Sasuke has read his brand a thousand times, traced the sleek curves and sharp edges of the kanji tattooed on his skin in infinite ink. A thousand times, and still, when the moment comes, he fails to recognize its meaning right away.
Don't leave me! If you go, I'll scream, and—
He's standing behind Sakura, ready to deliver the blow that will steal her consciousness, when it hits him: these are the words he's been waiting to hear for thirteen years, the truth that unravels the mystery of his soulmate. Not that it's been much of a mystery since the Forest of Death.
Sasuke watches the night breeze ruffle Sakura's hair, teasing him with a shifting view of the nape of her neck. The frail neck where he should strike, now, to make her world go black. She wasn't lying; she'll do whatever it takes to hold him here, blocking his path to revenge before he's even taken his first true step.
Sasuke thanks her, because she deserves his gratitude, and far more, for everything that she's done for him. He can hear the whisper of leaves on the wind, the softness of her ragged breaths, the weight of her world-changing words between them.
Sakura is his, and he's hers in return. It matters, it matters so much because this is the only guaranteed love that Sasuke has—and even though he suspected it before, he knows it now—
He knocks Sakura out, holds her, lays her gently on an unforgiving stone bench. He takes a moment to touch the tears still wet on her cheeks, to drink in the sight of her. It's a mistake to cling, even for a moment, to a life he's walking away from. But Sasuke can't begrudge himself this one indulgence, because it's the last he'll allow.
He hides his brand under layers of bandages. Sasuke tells himself that he covers it because reminders of home are distracting, but the truth is that he can't bear to look at what's written on his skin: Sakura's last words to him.
Don't leave me, she said, but the choice to stay was taken from him long ago.
.
.