Sakura is seven years old, she watches him from her perch on the tree, as he is surrounded by boys and girls alike as he skateboards around the playground. There is an innate skill when he rides around the concrete, with agility beyond his age, she's sure. His hair is black, as are his eyes, but his skin is so white, and his face is too beautiful to her. She'd be down there too, if he wasn't so far away, and the tree branch she climbed onto wasn't so high up. She felt so isolated, this far up.
So from far away, she cheered the black-haired boy with enthusiasm.
From the crowd of children, Sasuke suddenly looked up from his board, finding the pink-haired girl in the tree, a skeptical brow raised.
She giggled with a bright smile plastered haphazardly onto her face, waving at the young boy. 'He's looking! He found me!'
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Sasuke is twelve and a quiet, vile sort of angry as he walks into school, checking into the main office two hours late to school. There are curses flowing a steady stream of irritation through his head, words he's heard Naruto spit out, his father repeat as a child, and he is angry, furious.
It was the last day of school before summer began, and he wanted to at least enjoy the only uniform-free day he'd get.
There was no one to take him to school that morning, with Itachi already out (or still gone from the night before), and he'd woken up late, missed the subway going to his school, so took a taxi instead. The traffic in the city had held him up for a solid hour and a half.
Why did his brother have to be so damned unreliable?
Sasuke walked through the white and chrome hallways slowly, unsuredly, as he thought about elementary school, where his mother was right on time every day when he was picked up. There was a quiet sinking of his stomach, something like heartache, but more depressing.
Did these hallways suddenly get longer? Or was he slowing down?
"You can't get so emotional over everything the girls say."
"E-emotional? T-they're h-h-horrible! Mean!"
Sasuke stopped at the end of the hallway, looking at the reflection of the mirrors on the left wall to see a pink-haired girl sitting on a bench near the bathrooms - the pink-haired girl, Haruno Sakura, one of Naruto's friends - and a blonde with a long pony tail and sharp blue eyes. Sakura was heartily crying, her white t-shirt stained pink, hair falling over the front of her face.
"It's not their fault that you're so sensitive," Ino snapped, crossing her arms over her chest. Sakura sucked in a breath, either from her words, or to catch her breathe. "You let them get to you too easily, Sakura."
"Stop blaming me!" Sakura nearly screamed, jumping up from her bench, suddenly in Ino's face. The blonde stepped back a bit. "I can't stand you, Ino! You're mean to me, you haven't stood up for me since elementary school! I know my forehead is big! I know I don't have the best clothes! I'm not perfect!"
"Well obviously!" Ino shouted back, hands balled into fists. "Don't expect me to be your freaking night and shining armor every time you get in trouble! Grow a spine, will you? You can figure it out, since you're so smart!"
And with that, the blonde turned on her heel and stomped away, away from the crying girl and their stalker-ish observer, who stared at Sakura with muted sympathy and an unsettling discomfort.
She snotted and hiccuped a bit more before she stood all-too sadly, walking into the girls bathroom. Sasuke scowled, deeming it safe to walk into the hallway. He ran a hand through his hair unconsciously, trying to ignore the scene he'd witnessed. It was none of his business. He'd hardly even talked with the Haruno girl, outside of fending off her shy glances and overly-kind gestures, and she was just like every other girl he'd seen.
He was walking right past the bathroom when she opened the door again with a fresh white oxford shirt to go along with her red skirt, taking int the sight of Sasuke, and him her, and she turned an unsightly shade of red, trying to smooth at the pink locks on her forehead, in which she'd carefully hidden in the side-swoop of her hair.
It seemed like forever, the stared at each other, with Sakura growing more and more uncomfortable, but Sasuke was caught by the miserable expression she wore, the hunch in her shoulders that was so unlike Sakura - and it hit him harder than it should have.
The loneliness was written all over her face.
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After that day, Sasuke didn't see Sakura for the rest of their final school hours as seventh graders, and he didn't see her for the rest of the summer. Naruto was repeatedly complaining about how they were supposed to be a three-man cell, the three of them together, but she didn't want to hang out with the two of them, refusing obstinately every time he tried calling her.
She came back to eighth grade with choppy, chin-length hair, no bangs, and a white ribbon tying up her hair.
Sasuke caught a look at her, as he always did when she walked by - her hair's pink, what do you expect? - and saw that she'd changed a bit.
Her shoulders straight, chin held up, proudly, and her smile was as bright as the summer sun, except more radiant, and unlike it's fading, she seemed to only illuminate as time wore on.
She was stuck in four classes with him and Naruto, in which the blonde had proclaimed them as the incredible team that they were meant to be. Sasuke had caught Sakura glaring daggers at Yamanaka Ino as the blonde walked by her, stunned by her new appearance and atmosphere, yet otherwise remained quiet.
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Sakura was barely thirteen when she realized she'd fallen in love.
Sasuke wrote down his physical science notes sleepily, his head laid upon his arm, whilst Naruto slept completely, making quiet snoring noises - which surprised the hell out of her - since when did Naruto do anything quietly? - when she watched the dark-haired boy, feeling like she was living out a dream she'd been having since she was six.
His movements were swift and elegant, catching the words that he needed, eyes half-lidded and hazy-looking, but still beautiful, and he looked too beautiful, and too sad, and too lonely in the little word he lived in, all by himself. Sometimes she or Naruto were able to visit, but he was so alone, always alone.
Her chest ached.
"Sakura," Sasuke muttered, "What the hell is she saying?"
Sakura looked down at the equation that the young Uchiha had written down on his notes as the teacher had instructed for finding the rate of acceleration for an example problem was skewered horridly, and the pink-haired girl rolled her eyes. "You didn't write down the equation properly, Sasuke-kun."
"Yes I did."
"You're supposed to divide that, not multiply it."
"Tch." When he re-wrote the problem again, concentration denting his brows, Sakura's heart melted a bit. It was strange to her, seeing the epitome of perfection and all-that-was-greatness struggle at something.
"Sasuke-kun," Sakura chided, snatching the pencil out of his grasp, "you really suck at math."
"Whatever."
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Sasuke is thirteen when he finally finds a life he is comfortable with.
Itachi is never home anymore, leaving and going when he is out working and supporting the company, and it's a rarity for Sasuke to see him more than once a week these days, but that is okay. Sasuke is self-sufficient, learning to clean and cook on his own, with help from Sakura and Naruto, and he is okay.
He still sucks at math, but so does Naruto, so Sakura helps them both in the afternoons on Wednesdays, then they work on English, where Sasuke gives them both pointers and reads over their assignments, then they head home from school and go to Naruto's house, where his guardians - an famous physician and an infamous adult novelist - let them play video games and eat as much ramen as they want, and he is more than okay.
And he's still very lonely when it's dark, where he cannot go to Naruto's house or call Sakura to help work on his math, because sufficient math skills aren't necessary for fighting off the aching memories of his parents, and the holes they left in him when they died, making him wake up tear-stained, breathless, and he is not quite okay.
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His grades drop, as do his moods, because then he isn't going over to Naruto's, or inviting over Sakura, and he won't pick up calls or eat at lunch with them because he won't go to school, and getting him out of bed and into the shower is difficult enough, and Sasuke is ten different types of not okay.
Lying to himself wasn't working out so well.
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Sakura watches him with an aching heart and teary eyes.
His alone, too alone, locking himself up tight, but all she wants is in, and towards the darkness, she'll appear before him, with a blindingly uncompromising heart, but he won't let her in.
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Tired. It is the only word he knows with clarity.
The anger gets muddled, and the loneliness dims, because he's too tired, but he can't go to sleep. He lays in his bed, wishing to be a corpse. He lets his brother watch him from the door frame, a hint of the tiredness flowing into his body flicking through his bloodshot eyes.
And maybe Sasuke can recognize the satisfaction.
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Sasuke is fourteen when the doctor talks to him about the chemical imabalances in his head that brought on the depression, that the constant weariness was normal, that the ache in his chest had a scientific reasoning behind it that wasn't his fault, but the boy didn't feel guilty in the slightest.
How much effort had it taken to get out of bed that day?
The pills didn't help. Naruto and Sakura didn't quite help either.
He wanted to question his very nervous system. How badly where those chemicals imbalanced? Standing up to brush his teeth shouldn't be such a chore.
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Sasuke is fifteen when his brother dies.
Sasuke is fifteen when he is sent to live with his uncle Obito, far far away from home. He tries to leave quietly and unnoticed, but Sakura is there, and Sakura is crying, and Sasuke cannot stand when Sakura cries.
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"Come back here. For me, and Naruto, and everyone else. We'll miss you, Sasuke."
"Stop crying."
"I can't."
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He wipes her tears away carelessly with his thumbs, trying to keep his own eyes from stinging.
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Sakura is seventeen when Sasuke returns to Konoha, coming into their highschool with four inches of height, with lean muscle, with sharp cheeks and jaw lines, with colder, lonelier eyes, that only warmed up when Naruto came into view.
Sakura walks towards him as he stands by the office, with the school uniform that she hasn't seen him wear in centuries, with an unsure smile.
"I almost didn't recognize you."
Sasuke turns to her, almost surprised, before he turns stoic again, and he is so different, a different boy from the one she fell in love with, or maybe that's it? Is he a man now? "I could say the same."
Sakura laughs a bit brokenly, embracing him in a too-tight hug, locking him within the steel grip of her porcelain arms, an embrace he could shatter like grass, but Sasuke returns it with arms around her waist, and she is okay. She is okay. They are okay. He is lonely and cold and perpetually melancholy, but he'll be okay, and she will make sure.
"I missed you, stupid," she mutters into his shirt.
"Tch. Annoying girl," Sasuke replies, the words too endearing, teasing, playful. "I didn't miss you at all."
"Stop trying to ruin the moment, Sasuke-kun," she mutters. Sakura does not see his smirk.
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Her love hasn't diminished, but Sasuke isn't quite the same, and neither is she. It is their final semester of school, and with Naruto grabbing them both by the necks, he drags them to every school sancitioned event, and Wednesdays are still video game and ramen days, but now they spend a good deal of time talking about Sasuke's three years in Korea with his uncle, Uchiha Obito.
Sakura learns to love this older, colder Sasuke with ease.
Cold, lonely, it melts from his skin.
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Sasuke is finally, finally eighteen when he's trapped in a closet, silently making death threats to Naruto, and whoever the hell else bum rushed him and tossed him inside this tiny little black space, locking the door. He was sitting cross-legged on the floor, angrily considering breaking down the door. Of course, Tsunade surely wouldn't appreciate his vandalism, but then again, he could always blame it on Naruto.
It was his birthday, after all.
"In-coming!"
"Gah!"
A blur of green and white and pink was tossed into the closet, nearly falling on top of Sasuke, but he caught her messily, knocking foreheads with her. He could hear Sakura's voice through the stream of curses falling from her lips, deciding to push it.
"Of all people's foreheads to hit," Sasuke muttered.
"Shut the fuck up! Ugh, oh my god, your's is made of steel."
"Or human bone. Your's is titantium."
Sakura snicked a bit, giving him a deserving punch in the arm, making him visibly flinch. The girl packed a hearty punch. They managed to get onto their feet, and get a good look at each other.
"I was thinking about kicking down the door," Sasuke said, staring at their only means of escape, but Sakura shook her head. "Tsunade would dislocate your jaw."
"I'd blame it on Naruto."
"And Naruto would blame it on you, and then you'd both dislocate your jaws."
He hadn't quite thought that through.
Sasuke shrugged, looking down at the pink-haired girl. She was much shorter than him now, a good three inches. She wore an off-the-shoulder, emerald green dress that ended a few inches above her thighs, with strappy sandals. She was cute, adorable, and trapped in a closet with him in close proximity-
He might have to thank Naruto afterall.
"I bet this is your fault," Sakura says, smiling up at the raven-haired young man. Sasuke cocks a brow. "Naruto thought you weren't socializing enough, so he locked you in here with me as punishment."
"I don't think you're very close."
"So were you socializing?"
"I'm not social."
"Admit it. You don't like people."
"I'm not commenting on that."
Sakura giggled again, but it was more subdued. She grabbed Sasuke's hands and held them with her own, examining them closely. "Tenten once told me that you can tell a person's whole life through their hands. I wish she taught me how, stupid fortune teller," Sakura mused. "I've been trying to figure you out since we were in middle school."
"And why's that?" Sasuke asks, sounding more solemn than he'd meant to.
"You're always so sad and lonely. I wanted….diagnose you. And find a cure." Her voice is hushed, whispered, so that now they can hear the thumping of the bass coming from the speakers downstairs, but Sasuke is enraptured by her and only her.
"If there was anyone who could cure depression, it would be you," Sasuke answers her, shifting his hands so that he can grasp her wrists, so delicate under his calloused fingers. She felt like glass and looked like porcelain. Could she shatter as easily as he did? "But you can't just magically….snap your fingers, and switch up the chemicals in my head."
"Well then, I'll be lonely with you."
"You're never lonely."
"I was always lonely with you away."
Sakura pulls away from his grasp, but wraps her arms around his neck, a question in her eyes. "Let me be lonely with you, then. We'll form a club."
"A club." Sasuke deadpans.
"Yeah, a club. But just you and me. And we'll be a club for people with chemically-imbalanced brains and lonely hearts. Just you and me," Sakura says, smiling brightly.
Sasuke sighs out a laugh, wrapping his arms around her waist. "You and me. But that does depend…do you want to be with somebody like me?"
And every insecurity that he'd ever harbored, every ill-will birthed in his heart, was written over his face in the furrow of his brows and the crooked turn of his lips that was a borderline hostile scowl. Questions never answered.
Sakura closed the gap between them, pressing her lips to his, matching his every insecurity with her love, choking him again, tangling her hands through his wild black hair, but he didn't seem to mind, pulling her closer, rough palms ending up on her hips.
"Now what kind of question is that, Sasuke-kun?" Sakura asks, breathing into his lips. "Rain or shine, Japan or Korea, sad or lonely, I'll always want to be with you."
His heart wasn't quite so lonely anymore.