Disclaimer: I do not own naruto.
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As you tilt the cold metal forward, you begin to smile. You watch the water from the can sprinkle down in glittering beads, landing on pink petals before rolling off. And then you remember how this flower had found its way to your balcony.
Asuma.
You feel your smile getting wider. You call yourself silly, and set the can down. You appreciate the way sunlight sparkles off the wet petals, and from your knowledge of plants, you know that these flowers are special. They never shed their petals, they drop as a whole. And then you look up, to the roof of the building right beside your apartment. You've always wondered why he never bothered knocking on your door. You would've enjoyed a visit from him, just so you could throw your arms around him, or just to touch his face, just to feel him right beside you. Instead he stands at the rooftop, in his free time, just to watch you tending to the plants.
Not that you mind.
It was an afternoon. It was his second visit to your house. He came with a bouquet of flowers, those flowers that you just watered. It meant that he loved you, and though he wasn't beside you most of the time, you knew, you just knew that he was the one for you. You knew that he would treat you well, that he wouldn't disappoint you, that you were right to put your happiness in him.
So you let him in.
People would feel insecure if their own lover was missing half the time, but you didn't. You could trust him. A gust whipped across your face, it snapped you out of your thoughts. You jerk, only to watch a pink flower being carried away by the wind. You frown. The plant was healthy, you watered just enough, and the fertiliser's correct. It shouldn't have wilted that fast.
It was a parent plant.
You closed the window and sat down on your couch. The same couch where he made you his. You brush a strand of hair out of your eyes, pursing your lips to keep from smiling. You flip open a magazine. An advertisement for smoke flit past.
He loved to smoke. He could finish ten sticks a day. You remember telling him off, but he continues smoking anyway. Not because he wants to be mean, but because it's such a habit already. You smile. He always carried a lighter with him, that metal square. You remember how he likes to tap his cigarettes out, lighting it a second later. You never liked the smell of smoke, but that didn't matter if you were with him, as corny as that may sound.
You have an ominous feeling. You shake it off. It's probably nothing.
You miss Asuma already. You want to hear his laugh. You want to see his nervous, flustered face as he gives you another bouquet of flowers. You want to see him tap his cigarette out, hear his voice, touch his face.
You set the magazine down and think of what to prepare him when he comes back from his mission.
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The bell rang.
Your head snaps to the side. You wonder if that could be Asuma. You run through the grocery list in your head, you've got the vegetables, the chicken, the noodles. You hastily sneak a glance at the wall mirror, making sure your make-up is proper. You fluff your hair up, your heart almost bursting with excitement. You take a deep breath. You tell yourself to calm down because it may not be him. That you're just making a fuss out of nothing.
You open the door.
Shikamaru's here.
He enters without an invitation. You close the door behind him.
He faces you.
He tells you.
What?
Is the first thing that runs through your head.
No. Impossible
Is the second.
Then you realise that it's true. You realise that this isn't a joke. That Asuma wasn't going to burst out from behind the door and wrap you up in a hug. Then you think of your baby, and who's going to take care of it. You think about your family, the family you were ready to raise. You think of yourself, all alone now. You think of Asuma, and how you'd never receive another bouquet from him. You think of how you'd never be able to make love to him again. You realise that you'll never see him smoke again.
You've always told him to quit smoking, but now, you wished you hadn't.
You collapse to your knees. You grip Shikamaru's pants. You tremble. You couldn't believe it but you know it's true. That's a lie. You believe it. You know it is the truth.
Asuma's dead.
Those two words hit you blunt, hit you hard. You felt your heart twist. You felt your throat tighten. You gasp. So many things run through you, you don't even know what is what.
The floodgates open.