Prompt: Shooting Stars and Fireflies
(short, broken drabble)
"Thank you."
Her lips were trembling as she gave him a small smile. Her eyes were clear, too clear, the tears so close to falling that he was sure one blink would have them running down her cheeks and to her trembling lips. They had failed to bring Sasuke back, but yet here she was, sitting by his bed, her hands knotted by her lap. Her smile was just a slight tilt of her trembling lips, and her eyes were bright and he thought that she was beautiful, in a broken sort of way.
The next smile she gave was not directed towards him, but towards Naruto.
He was about to visit Chouji when he saw her by his bed, her hand clutching his. She stared at their hands and her shoulders shook, but no tears fell down. He watched as she fixed his blanket with her free hand before giving his sleeping form a smile. The scene was so private, so intimate, but he found he couldn't look away. Finally, the spell was broken when she slipped her hand out from his and he quickly walked away, heart beating too fast for a smile not meant for him.
Sakura reminded him of a shooting star not because she brought good fortune, but because her smile was so rare. Without knowing it, he found himself stealing glances at her whenever she was near, watching and waiting for her that simple, broken tilt of her lips.
"Did you know a firefly's lifespan is about two months?"
Shikamaru didn't know what possessed him to say something so trivial, and he wondered why he didn't ask the more obvious question of 'what are you doing on our property?'
She turned away from the glowing fireflies and gave him a smile. His fists clenched by his sides as his eyes darted to her lips. She was driving him crazy, this woman.
"Why are you always so sad?" he asked angrily. Her smile dropped. Shooting star, he thought bitterly. Gone again. "It's been months, Sakura." He could feel her slipping away from him.
"I'm sorry, Shikamaru-san," she said, stepping back. "I don't know what you're-"
"At least try to smile a little happier," he snapped. "At least put more effort in. At least move on." She dropped her basket, her wariness gone. She stabbed a finger on his chest.
"What gives you the right to say that to me?" she hissed. "What's wrong with you-"
He kissed her, his arms wrapping around her waist tightly, lips slanting over hers, angry and frustrated and wanting. For a moment, he felt her kissing back, but she soon pushed him away, her eyes bright with tears. He wanted to apologise. He wanted to say that he didn't know what he just did, that he didn't mean it, that…But she was already gone, her basket of herbs left behind.
Like a shooting star, he thought. Already gone.