NOTE: This story was written for school. I changed some of it to make it accommodate Naruto. The character switch off every paragraph. Frist Sasuke, and then Sakura.
The air was chilled. It was a normal day in December—empty, stone cold, lonely. I walked down the boardwalk, each step creaking on the rotten wood. I saw her—the pink was hard to miss, silhouetted against the grey skyline. She turned her head; I caught a glimpse of her emerald eyes. They entranced me, as they were so full of life. I kept myself hidden, even though I had agreed to "meet" (as she said a rendezvous). I wanted to watch her for awhile.
I waited at the pier; the wind was whipping around my face, my pink layers poking me in the eyes. I swept them out of the way, so I could look at the stunning coastline. Even on this blustery December day, it was gorgeous. The buildings and boats looked jagged against the sky, like out of place cut outs in a joyful picture. It seemed like a painting a depressed artist would create, when his world was slipping away and there's nothing he can do to stop it, but sit and paint.
There was something about her that interested me. I stood, hidden by large pier pole, watching her carefully fiddle with a silver ring. I smiled. (I recognized it. I had indirectly given it to her.) Could what interested me so much be her outlook on life? She was so different from me, so alive. She lived by a favorite quote, a quote that I could never believe in; "Love and love deeply, because above all else, love covers a multitude of sins." I thought it was foolish. She thought it was wildly romantic. We had many debates over why she was wrong, and I, of course, was right. When she became angry, she was wildly passionate—her face stern with serious creases in her forehead, that matured her. I loved upsetting her, just to see the sparkle in her eye.
I looked at my watch. It was ten past three. We were to meet in five minutes. I gazed out. The beach was wonderful this time of year. I laughed. He would think I was crazy for thinking that something so seemingly dead would be so beautiful.
I'm an empty room
It was three fifteen. I turned. He stood there. There was a rosy glow in his cheeks. There were so many questions I wanted to ask him. I stood there, puzzled, and cleared my throat.
"So how are you?"
"I'm quite pleasant." His thick, deep voice splashed over me. The richness and regality to it sounded deliciously foreign.
"Let's cut to the chase," she stammered. She had adapted a straight to the point manta.
"…what are we doing?" She looked up at me; her eyes inquisitive. I took a deep breath.
"You wanted to get to know me." He said it slowly, his deep voice making the sentence seem longer then it actually was.
"Right." She said this quickly, embarrassed that she had forgotten.
We stared at each other. Emerald meeting onyx in a battle of emptiness. She narrowed her eyes—as did I. She was going to turn this into something fun—she always did. A smirk crossed her lips. She looked straight into my face. Our eyes made contact. She wouldn't look away. Neither would I. Her eyes twitched, and she searched my eyes. I knew what she was trying to find. I also knew that unless I let her in, she would never find it.
His piercing onyx eyes seemed to be bottomless in an eerie sort of way—their empty coldness chilled my heart. His high, chiseled cheek bones, defined nose and hard jaw line gave him the air of authority. His beautiful face leads one to think he has a beautiful soul, but when he spoke his dead voice and harsh vocabulary sent icy shivers through my essence—he was an empty body, not an ounce of love left in his large frame. I reached out and touched his face. Even his skin was cool to the touch.
"Why are you so empty?" I asked quietly. I knew I could fill him, to the brimming top of his perfect head, with unconditional love.
"Because I am nothing." He said, before slowly turning, and walking away.
