A/N: For Goatville on Tumblr! I'm sorry I've taken so long to update. After college classes were over, I got accepted into my dream school and I've been stuck doing paperwork and other things since then. Haha.
.
.
.
Ikigire (息切れ)
.
"What does he see in her?"
The words, despite being a murmur, don't go unheard as he exits the classroom.
Uchiha Sasuke doesn't stop. He doesn't glance back. He merely adjusts the strap of his bag, unperturbed.
The whispers his classmates emit aren't new and so his lack of response is expected.
Even when a voice calls him hurriedly, "Sasuke-kun!" he pays it no mind. He has somewhere to be and he rather not stop for any impromptu interrogations.
Though, in their defense, he admits their interest can't be quelled. Part of the unabated curiosity his class possesses is, for better or worse, indirectly his doing. When a group of them mustered the courage to initially ask him about the matter, he chose to stay silent, causing profound speculation to break among his peers.
Sasuke's a quiet person by choice. His voice is rarely heard in class discussions or out of them. He—at the time— had no intention of changing that just to sate the boredom of others.
"Sasuke-kun, wait!" a hand makes to grab him, but Sasuke's reflexes are fast.
He moves just in time.
He should have known better than to assume they'd let it go. His classmates are rowdy and constantly sticking their noses in his business. He's unsure whether his past actions were for the best.
Meanwhile, a pink-haired girl stands before him, her hand hanging mid-air. "A-Ah! Sorry about that, but you weren't listening," she explains.
Sasuke frowns, "..."
Touching others without permission is hardly polite, he thinks, and letting others touch him is out of the question.
His silence is inquisitive, and the girl flushes under his stare, fidgeting with the red ribbon in her hair. "I-I was wondering if you...had a minute? I wanted to um, speak. Speak to you. In, in private?"
Sasuke has been through this scenario several times with several girls and knows nothing beneficial will arise from an encounter with someone like Haruno Sakura. A tell-tale sign of his premise is that of several of her friends watching from the distance, some giggling, some glowering.
He honestly has no time for this sort of childish drama.
"I'm busy," he says shortly. With the same indifference that defines him, he walks down the stairs and out the back doors of the building before the girls have the chance to erupt in cries of shock.
The lush green pastures of summer greet his eyes, but the scenery is hardly the goal of his wandering.
His feet take a familiar path past the empty baseball field, past the clean tennis courts, and past the pool. Some of the first years on the girl's swimming team watch him pass silently, their eyes bright, cheeks rosy with emotion.
Black eyes fail to stray. He looks straight ahead, a hand shielding his gaze from the vicious sun that refuses to hide behind the occasional white cloud.
It takes almost 10 minutes to reach his destination. Finally, what comes into view is the old archery kyudojo no club had set foot on ever since—
A warm June breeze rustles long strands of raven hair.
Ever since that day.
In a moment, his eyes dim, his movements pause, and the wind ceases.
A clenching ache bubbles in his chest, painful, cruel, and suffocating; he forgets how to breathe.
Oi, Brother. It's been five years. Why does it feel like you just left yesterday?
The sound of an arrow sliding cleanly through the air washes away his darkening thoughts. A firm thud meets his ears.
Sasuke inhales sharply, turning his gaze to the open yard of the yamichi.
He waits, fingers relaxing their tight grip on his bag, oxygen finally entering his lungs.
His wait is in vain, for the whoosh of a second arrow never comes.
As expected, the petite figure standing at the shajo in her school uniform and holding an archery bow too tall for her stature has concluded practice as soon as she started it.
He has missed his one chance at seeing her shot for the day.
A somewhat rueful sigh escapes his lips. So much for leaving class as soon as he could.
Nonetheless, he unglues his feet from the hot ground and approaches the figure standing close to the edge of the shajo.
"Finished?"
Opal eyes turn in his direction, the eerily razor-edged focus she sports softening at the sight of him.
"Sasuke." The blush on her cheeks has nothing to do with him and everything to do with the season, he knows this, but he can't help his eyes from taking notice.
His cold fingertips immediately gain warmth for reasons he isn't willing to divulge. "Hinata. You didn't wait."
Her eyes lower to the bow in her hands, following the powerful string in forced interest. "I thought...I thought you wouldn't come by today."
The Hyuuga is always so honest he thinks it a sin rather than a virtue. However, sometimes the things she says baffle him.
This is such a time.
His brows furrow, casting a long shadow over his eyes as he dives under the shade of the roof.
"...I'm here, aren't I?"
She looks up, loose blue midnight strands escaping the hasty bun on top of her head. "Mhm."
Her short response leaves him unsatisfied. She's acting cautious, and that's something she hasn't done in a while. Sasuke lets it go for the time being. He knows she'll eventually tell him whatever's on her mind if he waits. If he pushes her now, she'll become stubbornly quiet.
Sasuke chooses to bid his time.
"You didn't miss?" he changes the topic and starts to remove his shoes, his bag resting against one of the wooden walls.
He doesn't bother to check the target bank.
He never doubts her. Not even for a moment.
The dominant archery skill of the Hyuuga runs in the family, and Hinata is no exception. Asking is but a mere habit he doesn't bother to break. It makes life seem predictable and predictable bears no surprises; it's a constant comfort.
Predictable, after all, is safe.
He rounds to listen to her response, but the sight of her clutching Hyuuga Neji's bow with her school blazer off, ribbon untied and hanging around her neck, feet bare, hair messy, is so fragile and so intimate he wishes he hadn't look in the first place.
She wears a smile so small, it's hard to call it such. No teeth show, her lips barely lift, and yet her eyes...
Air catches in his throat for the second time in a day, but it's not unpleasant.
Those eyes say so many things as they land on his. So, so many he feels utterly breathless under the weight of them all.
His chest tightens, albeit in a completely different manner than before.
"Not at all."
_.XXX._
What does he see in her?
Sometimes, and only sometimes (when he closes the curtains of his bedroom and she turns off the lights), Sasuke wishes to answer the people that wonder.
What does he see?
It's difficult to say all at once.
If he starts on his reply, he'll exhaust the world from words. His mouth will tire, his tongue will deteriorate.
If he writes it on paper, he'll run out of ink, his hands will crumble away with age and no amount of books will be enough to convey his thoughts on her.
The list of things that captivate him exist in a universe with no end.
But, if there was a way for him to say everything...he'd speak of the peculiar birthmark that resides behind her ear, or the scar on her lower back that one no one ever sees, the one no one suspects is there.
They're small marks, almost insignificant, but they're unique, they're part of her, and they give his hands a sense of direction when he's lost in the moment.
He'd talk about the way her vertebrae curves against his front when they nap in the dark, the smell of old books nostalgic, the wooden floor of his room cool against their flesh. He would admit he enjoys tracing the fascinating shape of her strong back with lingering fingertips when the heat of summer gets too intense and only a thin camisole covers her hot skin.
He'd also confess, deliberately, to the way her long hair sticks to her neck after sex. It's an endless night sky of entwined loops and tangles and his hands disappear among the thickness of it when their lust reaches a peak. He takes delight in the soft smell of lavender whenever they are close. In return, her arms tighten around his torso and he bends his nose to the top of her head because she's warm and she's peace and she's what helps him keep sane when the pain of his brother's death becomes unbearable and the winter in his heart makes him dread the cold.
He'd add, then, that he relishes in the warmth of her presence (even in midst of summer heat), her strange conversations, and the way she chuckles softly when he says something funny without meaning to.
He'd proceed with the fact that she isn't shy when debating on tea selections nor submissive when he demands her to stop eating so many cinnamon rolls. Her mouth is always sticky when she's done and kissing her after is the same as pouring a bag of sugar on his tongue. Sasuke expresses his reluctance regarding this unhealthy preference of hers, only to have others parts of his body feel viscous after her tongue runs in a teasing path.
...He makes sure to complain again.
He'd write that he laughs at the way she becomes flustered when he walks around without his shirt and puffs when she insists on putting his hair in decorated pigtails and short braids.
But, he lets her have her fun because there's no harm, and dammit, he doesn't look half bad with a high ponytail.
And then, if Sasuke were to say what he likes the most about her, he'd grow quiet and pensive because...he isn't sure.
Was it her hands that touch him carefully, quietly, soothingly?
They have a strong grip, those small hands of hers. Whether they're handling her cousin's bow to shot that meaningful arrow per day or brush his long locks away from his eyes as he sleeps, or pleasure him in unexpected ways during those lazy afternoons in his bed...Are her hands what he likes the most?
If so, what about her eyes that shine of starlight and reflect equal amounts of mystery and honesty?
They speak to him when her mouth can't, giving him her thoughts when her lips are dry or she's out of breath. They gaze down on his own, unveiling a sadness, a sorrow, a happiness, a misery, a passion and a lust...that he shares with her.
Surely, he can't be forced to choose.
"...What are you thinking?"
Her soft inquiry guides him back to the present.
Sasuke blinks slowly, mumbling a questioning "Mm?" against his bedsheets.
"You weren't sleeping," she explains, her curiosity shining bright in the dim-lit room. "You seemed thoughtful."
"I was thinking about you," he reveals without qualms because he's learned that being straightforward with Hyuuga Hinata is not only amusing, but it saves him plenty of trouble when her confidence is low.
As expected, her breath catches, her cheeks redden, and her voice lowers. It takes her a moment to regain her composure, and once she does, she mumbles, "Me?"
There's a nervous tremor present that, in his opinion, shouldn't exist. After all, who else would his thoughts wander to other than her?
"Yes, you," he emphasizes because he doesn't mind and because he'll repeat it as often as it's necessary.
Her family is always making her feel unwanted, and he understands that sometimes, reassurance is required. He doesn't dislike giving it if it makes her happy.
"...What about me?" she tentatively asks.
Sasuke hums, building suspense. It's his small way of getting back at her for not waiting for him earlier today.
She must know this, for her eyes narrow. However, she waits.
Soon enough, she's rewarded for her patience.
"Hmm...I was thinking about your hands, and your lips, and your voice."
If he thought she was blushing before, she's on fire now, and a pillow thrown over his head is her flustered response, an obvious attempt to muffle him. "You- " she begins, only to stop when she hears him chuckle.
"We just slept together. Now you decide to be shy?" he laughs again, and it's probably because the sound is rare that Hinata removes the pillow and doesn't protest. "What's the time?"
"It's shouldn't be seven yet," she says, reaching for his phone. Hers is who knows where. Probably still in her school bag.
With an acknowledging grunt, he rolls on his back, the rustling of thin sheets a quiet rasp against his ears. "Do you have to go now?"
She shakes her head, her hair brushing his front as she scoots close. "It's Friday," she mentions shortly.
Sasuke doesn't need further explanations. "...Will you stay the night?"
His parents have business dinners on weekends and won't be home 'til three in the morning the next day. Even if they arrive early, they never check on him. If they -by some strange coincidence- do, Hinata knows she can always take cover in his walk-in closet.
Her father, on the other hand...doesn't seem to care whether she comes or goes.
"Do you...do y-you want me to?" she answers back, the smell of her tantalizing his nose. Lavender, his soap, and the summer are embedded in her skin. He can't get enough of it.
"You're stuttering again," he smirks, the soft glow of his desk-lamp not entirely hiding the evidence.
Hinata isn't smiling at all. "Sasuke," she chides quietly, her pout very visible. "You promised me not to mention it!"
A hand clasps on her wrist, pulling her closer, closer, and closer until her torso is glued to his, the pressure as comforting as it is maddening. Despite them sleeping together for a while, he can't help but feel the rush of affection and desire that courses through his blood.
"When did I do that?"
Her eyes narrow again. "In our last year of elementary…" she reminds him. He used to tease her terribly when they were little.
...But then again, that hasn't changed much now that they've grown.
His expression is blank. Extremely so. Suspiciously so. "Is that right? I distinctly remember crossing my fingers behind my back."
Her small fists tug at his hair in mild exasperation. "So you do remember!"
How could he not. "You fell for it that time. How could I forget?"
"...You're terrible," she mumbles with resignation. Sasuke, for better or worse, will always be Sasuke. Hinata, though, thinks she wouldn't have it any other way.
"Your hair was short back then," he recalls, his words surprisingly fond.
The slight pulling changes to a soft brushing, fingers slowly tangling through his long raven locks. "So was yours."
Silence settles between them, but their memories of the past are loud in their minds.
She's the first to break the silence. "I miss them," she says, her voice wet.
She fails to say their brothers' names, but it's unnecessary. Not a day goes by in which Hyuuga Neji and Uchiha Itachi go unmentioned.
Sasuke closes his eyes, a habit he fell into when the pain in his chest is reborn. "I know," is his quiet response.
The accident that took their brothers away is an event neither likes to reminisce, but it is also an event they can't forget.
He can hear each intake of air she takes and every beat of her heart. If they could stay like this, wrapped in each other's skin, he thinks...he thinks they'll eventually be okay.
"...Stay."
It's a single word, but it tells her everything she wants to know.
Her legs part on either side of his hips, and she leans in, eyes closed. "Of course."
"And promise me you'll wait for me before you shoot Neji's arrow," he adds, because despite staying silent about what transpired this afternoon, he hasn't let the matter drop.
"I thought you wouldn't come by today," she echoes the excuse she gave him earlier once again.
"Why would I do such a thing?" he demands.
"...You're upset," she notices.
Of course he is. He's just good at hiding it. Most of the time. "Did you expect me not to be?" he grumbles.
Hinata sighs. "I just…" she trails off, unsure.
"Just what?" he prompts, his hands settling on her waist.
"...You're going to think it's stupid," she relents after a pause.
"Most likely," Sasuke agrees so readily she almost smiles. "Now that you understand how imminent it is for me to pass judgment, it's within your best interest to speak up."
Hinata does chuckle this time, his serious face reminding her of his younger self telling her that his aniki would beat her nii-san in their first archery competition.
Then she sobers, fingers splayed on his chest.
"The girls...from your class were talking today, at lunch," she begins. "One of them said she would c-confess to you, once the last bell rang."
He should have known. Now he understands her behavior perfectly. "She did." Or tried.
Her hands tighten. Her shoulder tense. The long curtain that is her hair cast her face in shadow.
"Then-"
"I didn't let her finish."
Hinata blinks. "W-Why not?"
He frowns, tucking her hair behind her ears. "I was running late to see you. Why should I have to at all?"
Her mouth trembles and her eyes shine in the way that tells him she's about to burst into tears.
What a crybaby, he scoffs softly. "Did you think I'd accept her confession? I hope not."
"But-! Haruno-san...she's cute and-"
"-and I'm not interested in that," he interrupts. This way of thinking is going to take them nowhere. "There's only one confession I've accepted, so stop moping."
"I'm not m-moping!"
"You are," he counters, his lips tilting up higher and higher.
Hinata has no choice but to relent. "Fine," she says, "but you confessed to me," she's sure to remind him.
His brow arches. "If you count kissing you full on the mouth under a desk in middle school as a confession, then yeah."
She frowns, her skin so flushed the color dusts all the way down to her shoulders.
"You kissed back, so you can't complain," he continues smugly. "A bit clumsy, but not bad for your first time."
Hinata bits her lower lip. Well, he isn't wrong.
"Besides, if I hadn't done that, both of us would be virgins right now," he smirks again.
That is too much for Hinata to take. It doesn't matter how many they've been together, stating it so plainly still manages to embarrass her. "Sasuke! Stop saying it like that!"
Laughter and pillows dully hitting flesh resound throughout the room.
Eventually, after the games and the teasing, their positions switch, Hinata at the bottom and Sasuke at the top. The bedsheets have spilled to the floor, joining other items like pillows, schoolbags, uniforms and drying towels.
It's within that moment that they're trying to slow their respiration that he catches her gaze.
Tender, loving,...content. He questions what she finds in his that causes her cheeks to blush softly.
"Ne, Sasuke," she whispers, as if afraid to break the moment.
"Hm?"
Her eyes observe him with that same attention and sharp-edge she possesses when she shoots an arrow. "Can I...make you mine again?"
The murmured question raises goosebumps on his flesh. He shivers and Hinata licks her lips.
She's not kept waiting long.
He slowly nods, suddenly very self-conscious. No wonder Hinata is always so agitated when he's so direct. Now that she's put him in her place...he's lit with untamable desire.
His lips give her what she needs.
The kiss begins quickly, guided by the instinct to fulfill her request, but as it continues, it grows slower, deeper, his mouth determined to leave her breathless.
Soon, the sweat they'd washed off earlier in the afternoon returns to their skin. Neither of them mind.
It may be too hot to make love but he rather burn alive in her skin than stay apart from her for too long.
"Ah," she whines softly, her lips parted, her hips bucking. He's stretching her with every thrust and the tightness that was unraveled a few hours ago begins to clench in anticipation.
He feels it, for he squeezes her thigh. She bites her lip, her nails sinking on his back.
"Fuck," he moans. He'll never tire of this, of her, of them. The nails on his back only encourage him, the legs locking securely around his waist even more. But. He slows down.
Hinata shakes her head and laughs shakily. "You're doing it again," she complains, voice breathless.
"Mhm." His grin makes an appearance and he pushes in fast and then slow, and then fast again until she's a trembling mess underneath him, gasping and squeezing and burning.
Oh God.
Enjoying her for longer wasn't a crime.
"Stubborn," she murmurs and grabs his neck, reeling him for a long kiss. Her tongue is an ember that trails flaming lips. He accepts it all, the pressure driving him crazy. She knows how to undo him; she learned faster than he thought she would. It's her strategy to attempt a distraction and then take over when he slows down.
Having spent months tracing each other's bodies, learning what makes them feel good and what is simply a carnal myth, has given them pleasurable results. Practice truly makes perfect.
Sasuke has failed to turn the AC in his room, and the temperature can only go up. The discarded clothes on his floor spoke of the reason why he'd forgotten.
What does he see in her?
Sometimes, and only sometimes, Sasuke wanted to answer the question.
But if he answered, he would run out of words. His mouth would tire, his tongue would deteriorate.
If he were to write on paper, he'd run out of ink, his hand would crumble away with age, no amount of books would be enough.
What does he see in her?
He saw things he didn't want others to see, and so for now, he'll remain quiet, not explaining to anyone, no matter how demanding, the things she shows him and only him. She had trusted him with her honesty, her body, her grief and everything that made her Hinata.
What does he see in her?
Everyone always asks that but Sasuke…
Sasuke will never tell.
.
.
.
Breathless (息切れ)
.
A/N: I hope you enjoy this, Goatville!
5.25.19