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Asphodel–six feet of regrets beneath the ground. Ino licks her lips and her secret stings her neck. The storefront bell chimes and she jumps from the bouquet of lilies. Instantly, her fingers crawl to touch the swollen hickey. Usually she greets with a prayer-like script that had been beaten into her at an early age, but for the past two days, Ino hasn't been able to properly form sentences. Hellos remind her of Shikamaru's smile under a cape of smoke. Goodbyes conjure up the wobbliness of the morning after.
The shower water is neither hot nor cold enough. She still feels him all over and inside. No matter how hard she scrubs between her fingers, the anticipation of his tongue is still there. There isn't an inch of her that hasn't been tainted and she can't help but feel like everyone else can see just how badly he has blemished her soul.
Ino wipes her damp hands along her skirt and chirps a tart 'Good Morning'.
The door slaps shut and the bell whistles again. Ino reties her hair, steps around the tall assortment of flowers, and her mouth breaks apart for more pleasantries until she meets the crystal glower of her patron.
They don't immediately pass niceties. Ino waits for Sakura to say something first. For one, she hasn't been able to gather up the rest of her soul to spit anything witty, and two, her thighs brushing together still has her dizzy. Sakura isn't as keen as Shikamaru, but she has always been able to sniff out Ino's insecurities.
Sakura's lips curl into a self-assured smile and she bends over to inhale a pot of yellow roses.
"Good morning to you too, Ino. "Sakura gently pinches a petal. Another wordless pull of minutes pass before Ino clears her throat.
"What's the occasion? If you don't mind me asking." Ino is sincere in her interest but hopes it's not another wedding. She can't stomach another persnickety bride and the cruel little girl that sits heavy in her chest doesn't want to be happy for Sakura.
Sakura stands up straight and crosses her arms. She tilts her head to the side and blinks five times, pale wisps of her bangs catch in her lashes. Her eyes roam from pinks, to blues, and greens that fade to yellow. Ino huffs and then Sakura clasps her hands at her cheeks.
"It's for one of my patients..."
Ino wonders if Sakura is intentionally avoiding eye contact. All of her well memorized quirks were lost to time. She can't remember what love or disappointment looks like in Sakura. Every smile looks the same.
"Oh...well..." Ino places her hands on her hips.
"He's got this thing for one of the medics– he's too ashamed to say anything himself." Sakura blows a strand of hair from her face.
Ino chokes on her own surprise and the butterflies in her stomach collapse.
"What does that have to do with you? Still haven't learned to mind your business?" She retorts but Sakura only shrugs. Her smile deepens and reveals the two dimples Ino had coveted for years.
"You've never been compelled to just do something nice for someone?" Sakura looks at her with pretty bewilderment. It's a completely defenseless stare. Glassy and vulnerable–the kind of look she supposed men liked falling for. It causes Ino's heart to skip a beat or two.
Sakura as a little girl fiddling away with origami birds dawns on her but it's a quick punch of nostalgia.
"Depends," Ino quips and rolls a shoulder.
"Well when you do, doesn't it just make you feel good?" Sakura always has subtle ways at making her feel bad. If it isn't the patronizing lightness in her eyes, it's the nerve of her smile.
Ino can't recall the last nice thing she has done, so her already tattered spirit shrinks before Sakura. Little does she know, Sakura is oblivious to her vicious train of thought.
"What do you suggest? For a man who's in love?" Sakura turns her attention back to the canopies of twisting vines and volume of overflowing vases. Ino's heart crawls into her throat.
"Um...well there are roses." She stands closer to her childhood friend and gestures.
"Roses are cliché." Sakura whines playfully.
"Honestly." Ino doesn't resist the urge to smile and hooks her arm with Sakura's, leading her to the copiousness of red carnations.
Ino's dislike for Sakura has blurred and warped itself like paranoia. She wants to ask Sakura, as she personally wraps her a bouquet with thin ribbons, if she felt the same way. Their history isn't vitriol.
But Ino sips from the glittery golden cup of her pride. She also fears that it's become one-sided, and no one ever wants to admit that they've been wrong. Especially for the vast majority of their life.
It's strange that she can't figure out how to say 'Bye' to Sakura. Someone who is more than an acquaintance. She can't find a perfect balance between authenticity and reservation, so she says nothing when Sakura murmurs a sweet 'Thank You'. Sakura notices her peculiar show of affection in her limp wave, but doesn't take it to heart.
Is there really enough time for redemption? Will fate allow her to live long enough in this world to fix what her soul had set onto Sakura?
Ino drops her eyes into her wet palms. There's a clipped leaf stuck to her thumb and dust of petals along the counter.
Maybe. Right now she isn't ready. Life has already shirked too many responsibilities on her. She's not prepared to mend spoiled relationships. Is it bad if she never grows into the type of person she should be?
The bell rings and the door gently slips shut.
"Hey you!" Sakura's laughter is muffled.
Ino lifts her attention from her hands and leans over the counter to see if she recognizes the potential patron. At the crux of squinting through the narrow parts of leaves and sunflowers, she hears Shikamaru before she can see him. She almost cuts her wrists against the sharp edge of the counter as she drops back on her feet.
The bell rings twice and the door swings open. He wheezes something nice to Sakura on his way in and Ino's fingers curl to fists.
"We're closed!" Her jaws are swollen.
"The sign says otherwise." He holds out his arms and shrugs. The door pitters to a close behind him and the bell gives a slight hum. Shikamaru takes four steps and Ino points at him, stabbing her finger in the air.
"Nope! No loitering! Get out!"
"Ino..." Shikamaru dares to sound reasonable and suddenly her hickey feels like a battle wound. She reaches under the counter for an empty flower pot and chucks it at his feet. Ino wouldn't have missed if he wasn't so sharp in his movements.
"What. The. Hell..." He breathes a shy away from laughter and raises his hands with petty arrest. Shikamaru chews his bottom lip as he scans the broken bits around his feet.
"You know, Ino...women usually ask me to stay." And he isn't sure if he should be enthralled or terrified by her passionate display of affection.
"Shikamaru, please leave." Her voice hitches.
"Is this how you treat all of your customers?" He scoots a jagged piece with his foot and steadies towards her.
"Be real. You're not here to make me money."
"You don't know that. I like to buy flowers for pretty girls."
On a normal day, she would have a mouthful of poison for him, but he holds that indignant part of her captive. Out of all the people in the world that she should desire...
"It wasn't supposed to be this way." She can't look at him as he walks behind the counter.
"What way is it supposed to be?" He has his hands in his pocket.
"What do you want from me, Shikamaru?"
And such a simple question befuddles him. He doesn't show his sudden witlessness, but it constricts his throat. What is he doing here? He thinks to himself.
"I just thought about you is all." In truth, she's been on his mind ever since. The way she buries herself beneath a pillow when she sleeps has haunted him. It's the last thing he remembers before this very moment. Shikamaru's eyes fall to her mouth as she slowly turns her head to gaze at him. He recalls her drowsy moans when he barely touched her.
Shikamaru's eyes widen with discovery.
Ino wants to vocally express herself but what's the point when he can read the slightest shift of her eyes? She can't lie and running only validates what hasn't been said. Shikamaru is the wrong person in every way she can conceive. She's never been able to make sense of the cat and mouse analogy. A mouse is as good as dead once it's gained the attention of a hungry cat.
"That's funny. You haven't thought much about me in years." Ino tilts her head. Shikamaru doesn't have an answer for it.
"Now that we've had sex I just cross your mind now?" She wrinkles her lips and cuts him a sweeping gander.
"Yea. Something like that..." He says with tempered intensity.
"How many girls has that worked on?" Her entire body is on fire, a mixture of unchecked rage and ardor. If she weren't so starved for the flavors of his bad habit, she'd burst into tears.
"Zero." His lips are drenched with conviction.
There's that moment before two people realize that they're on the edge of consuming each other. Shikamaru removes his hands from his pockets and Ino wants to be that one and only girl. Their bodies are acquaintances and their hearts are strangers. History doesn't mean a damn thing in adulthood. Picking scabs on hot cement can't be compared to taking various parts of each other in their mouths. It's different and dangerous. Worse than beating each other up with sticks. Band-aids can't hold a broken heart together.
Ino's body tells him that she isn't going to make the first move– and he's an idiot if he ever thinks she will. Shikamaru yields to Ino because that's the only way he can have her.
He reaches for her, his hands sliding behind her neck as they collide into a messy kiss. Ino's lower back presses against the edge of the counter, she gasps and in response, he brings his hands down to roll up her skirt. Shikamaru cups the softness of her ass and lifts her on top of the counter.
As he drinks away the remains of her sanity, she tangles her quivering legs around him.
"I want you inside of me." She sings into his mouth.
"I know." Shikamaru finds ways to needle at her demands. He anticipates slipping inside of her but not in the way she wants. Ino attempts to anchor him down with her but he's chosen the path of his hands. He frees himself from the trap of her lips and she liquefies along the counter. Her fingers tip over a cheap vase. The crescendo of its ruin like a mighty orgasm.
Shikamaru descends between her legs, dragging his tongue down her thigh. She's not wearing any underwear and it causes him to break his string of fluttery kisses with a smile. Ino's toes curl at the heat of his breath at her lower lips.
"Are you always this prepared, Ino?" He breathes before sliding his tongue against her clit.
"Shut. Up." She's loses at the sound of her name and expires at the motion of his mouth. With an arch of her back, she attempts to flee from the cataclysm between her legs, but Shikamaru's hands bar down on her hips.
Here lies the death of her frigidness. She can no longer hide behind walls of ice. There can never be an honest rejection from her. He sips and swallows all the ways she can say 'No'. From here and into the future, Shikamaru has her like a knife wedged deeply into flesh.
They can never take a step back.
Ino cries an ugly prayer, but there's no god here. She closes her eyes and carries her hands to hide her face from the thought of angels peering down at her pleasurable misdeed.
Shikamaru plunges his tongue into the pulse of her walls. She scatters his name– let's it hang like forbidden fruit in an empty garden.
When he's satisfied, he pulls away and she suspires at the immediate coldness that follows after. Ino sits up with shaky arms. Numb between her legs, she opens her mouth to speak but Shikamaru drags her into another kiss.
"Why did you stop?" She likes the way she tastes.
"I've got somewhere to be." His voice drips like honey into her mouth.
"It's not more important than me." Ino challenges him.
"But it is– a good employee doesn't fuck around on the job." He smothers her with a final kiss that incites her with faltering rage.
"Shikamaru..." She coolly demands him but he drags the back of his hand against his lips and walks away.
"I really like being in good graces with your mom." His feet crunch the shattered flower pot. Ino viciously slides from the countertop and follows after him, the slickness of her thighs rubbing together in her approach.
"She's not here!" Ino grabs him by the wrist as his other hand presses the door open. The bell whistles.
"I'll just see you later!" His gives her a toothy smile and plays up her craziness.
A mouthful of swears rolls in her throat but as if the devil himself had become sickened by her undoing, she spots her mother sauntering up the pathway with bags from the market.
"How late is later?" Her stare is pointed.
"Whenever I wake up from my nap." He pulls away from her, going out of his way to strike a conversation with his second mother.
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"You're awfully quiet." Choji coughs with a mouthful of pork. Shikamaru hasn't touched his plate. He watches the smoke flutter to the colorful ceiling and sinks back into the booth's cushion. The weight of Ino still sits on his hips.
"When do I ever have much to say?" Shikamaru ashes the cigarette into his untouched tea.
"You're not the only one that's good at social cues, Nara." Choji points his chopsticks at him, closing one eye as if Shikamaru's heart is the target.
"You don't say?" Shikamaru rolls his eyes.
"You don't wanna be here," Choji says pragmatically, stabs another piece of pork and shovels it into his mouth.
"Damn. You got me..." Shikamaru brings the cigarette to his lips and inhales dramatically.
"You ain't have to come. It wouldn't have hurt my feelings!" Choji laughs over the clatter of dishes and toppling bottles of sake.
"Nowhere else better to be, my friend."
They share a moment of silence. Choji stops picking at his food and squints as he thinks about just how much he doesn't know about Shikamaru in the passing years. There hasn't been enough time to simply, and the time they can afford they spend it drunk.
"How's Temari?" It's the first thing that comes to mind. Shikamaru suppresses his initial reaction and hides his scowl under a swirling cloud of smoke. He gathers a distant pensive look.
"I'm sure she's fine." He retorts gently, popping his jaw.
"What's that supposed to mean?"
"It means that I'm pretty positive that she's ok."
"You're shit at being passive aggressive."
A waitress drops an entire meal but Choji keeps his eyes pinned on Shikamaru, stuffing his face with a roll.
"We aren't together anymore. It's been a while." Shikamaru gives a heavy shrug. He feels like he's lying. It hasn't stopped feeling surreal.
"What happened?"
Shikamaru drops the rest of his cigarette into his tea cup, leans against the table with his elbows, and holds up his index fingers– he presses them together.
"Sometimes, people just grooooow apart." He separates his fingers, reflecting dilapidating unity.
Choji's throat rolls as he swallows. The humor in Shikamaru's face is colorless and he feels bad for him. What a shitty way to cope with real things–Choji muses.
"Damn." It's all he can say. He picks up another roll.
"Damn." Shikamaru echoes, finally picking up his chopsticks.
It didn't feel right to spill his guts about what happened with Temari. In truth, Shikamaru hasn't really processed their break-up. They didn't spiral into cruel words nor end with bitterness. Sometimes, in the middle of cold showers, he remembers her mouth around him in the morning. There are dates like pockets of freckles at his wrist. He's spent more time searching for her in other women than forgetting, but they have all failed in comparison. Until two nights ago when he found himself not wanting to brush away Ino's toes from his calves. She's been the first he's held throughout the night after Temari.
Shikamaru slides the sliced pork into his mouth. Chews slowly and muddles What Next?
"Have you talked to Ino?" Choji accidentally reads his mind.
"I talked to her mom."
Shikamaru tells half-truths because he sucks at lying. Revealing a little bit of the truth is better than acknowledging the weight of water.
When he tries to leave, Choji tempts him with a shot. A single glass always turns into a dozen, but when Choji is not convinced that Shikamaru has burned away enough of himself, six more glasses roll across the table. It's a game he always lets Choji win.
'Unwind.' His friend always says in the middle of their fourth shot. Little does Choji know, Shikamaru is looser than he lets on.
When Shikamaru finally escapes from their sweaty stupor, he makes a point to say good-bye. It's a good habit he's picked up since the war. The only good habit to come out of the madness. Choji hesitates because he's used to Shikamaru disappearing like a magician.
"Later?" Choji's face is pink with a boyish giddiness.
"Absolutely." Shikamaru wobbles three steps back.
They drift apart into the early morning streets and 'later' dawns on Shikamaru. He mouths a silent 'fuck' and brings his hands to cup his ears– to hush up the ringing of the morning birds.
But as he continues to search for home, he realizes the significance of Ino in his drunken thoughts.
"Damn..." Shikamaru rasps at the glowing epiphany of what he missed out on.
Unwind. Choji has said many times. Shikamaru stops walking as the sun peeks above a blurry building. Beaming on his face, it feels like the dip of Ino's spine against his cheeks.
Unwind. Unwind. Unwind.
Shikamaru Nara hazily watches the sunrise. Stares straight into its swollen brightness and it spots his vision with stars.
Unwind.
There's a knot in his chest.
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She can't stop rubbing her knees together, curling and uncurling her toes. How long has it been? A full day has gone by and she hasn't seen Shikamaru. Her eyes jump from her vague reflection in the glass of orange juice to the clock on her mother's wall.
"Ino?" Sai has called her name three times.
"Ino?!" Her mother joins him and Ino plummets from the clouds.
"Yes!" She snaps from the fall.
To break her morning haze, she snatches up the glass and takes a long gulp. She gags a little from at the taste of mouthwash mixing with the citric acid.
"She didn't sleep well last night." Sai looks at her like he always does. Curiously with longing. As if she has been exactly what he's searched for. A month ago, she liked being the object of his desire, but today it dries her throat with guilt. There's no more of herself to give to him. Shikamaru had greedily eaten all of her essence and taken the seeds with him.
It's been a month and she should be happy that he's back in one piece, but what she thought was 'love' had been destroyed within seconds.
'You probably shouldn't do it if you have to think about. And if you have to think about it, it's probably not good for you.' In the words of her father. Ino didn't stop to think about whether she should or shouldn't let Shikamaru gut her. Yet she's spent many nights contemplating the nature of her intimacy with Sai.
Ino nibbles on a piece of bacon to distract herself from the daydream of her father twisting and turning in his grave.
"Maybe she will sleep better now that you're back." Her mother adores Sai. Probably more than she ever has. Ino crosses her legs and Sai slips a hand on her thigh. It's not the same anymore and she has to fight the urge to move away.
Sai is worse than Shikamaru when it comes to understanding body language. Ino unravels herself. Maybe it's good that she hasn't heard from Shikamaru. She can jump out this window of opportunity and fix herself.
"Yea. A month is a long time." She gives Sai a plain smile.
"Have you fallen back into your old bad habits?" Sai sees the vastness of her eyes– he reads that she's not focused. It's even more obvious when she hesitates.
"Mhm. Are you gonna beat them back out of me?" She anxiously takes another sip of orange juice, batting her lashes. Sai is perplexed but catches on the moment her mother strangles on her coffee.
"Ino! Mind your manners!" Her mother gently slaps her on the knuckles.
When Sai looks away and her mother carries on with existing in her own head, Ino burns out like a candle. Slumping a little in her seat, her stomach loses its appetite.
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A month is a long time to be away from someone, but it only took minutes to strangle the life out of everything they'd work so hard for. On paper, Sai is perfect. God had truly sculpted a masterpiece, but art can be soulless– nice to look at but shallow. With his smile, if looks could kill, his hands would be sanguine with the hearts of a hundred women.
It's not real though. There are times when his smile feels nice, sometimes it unfolds warmth, but she often wonders– how much is the feeling simply projected? Sai's eyes are shiny blades. Sleek in the reflection of whoever dares to stare into him.
Ino hasn't gained any comfort from not knowing how he really feels or if he feels anything at all. She's only won his hands soothing her ego.
On paper, at a first glimpse, Sai is perfect but if one takes time to read in between the lines, he's terrifying.
His 'I love yous' feel like sand spilling from her fingers.
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"So we're just supposed to pick up from where we left off?" Underneath her smirk, the foundation of her morals is crumbling. Her mother walks ahead of them as they ascend the crowds of bright kimonos and floating confetti.
"That's what I had hoped for." The wind splits his bangs. Ino hangs on him like she always does but her hold is tighter than usual. He grimaces and it brings about an absent prettiness in his eyes.
"You get to vanish into the wilderness for a month and I'm supposed to stay the same?" She whispers loud enough for him to hear.
"I didn't vanish into the 'wilderness'...and you seem the same. Dramatic– is that the word? You're still very dramatic." He looks down at her.
There's no use in starting an argument with him. He never responds the way she wants him to, bursting with romantic distress. Whenever she attempts to sink her teeth and gnaw at a layer of his skin, he barely flinches.
So that's how you feel, Ino? It's become an insufferable mantra. She hates it.
"Is that how you feel, Sai? I'm still dramatic?" They stop together. The crowd steps around them like ants avoiding a puddle of water. Sai narrows his eyes at her, searching for the proper answer. He's kissed her enough to notice trick questions.
"Yea. That's how I feel. Should I feel different?"
There's a gust of glitter and the paper lanterns rattle in the breeze. When she doesn't say anything, the light in his eyes shift.
"Does that rash on your neck feel any better?" He asks her. The color of her skin deepens.
Ino truly doesn't believe in fate or any type of luck, but she feels some secret force trying to end her with awful coincidences.
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Shikamaru hates crowds of people. He can't think straight and his trained eye doesn't allow him to enjoy frivolity. People have a tendency to wear their souls like jewelry or tell on themselves within seconds of starting a vapid conversation. The noise is grating on two hours of sleep and a blood bubbling headache.
He usually doesn't bother with the seasonal festivals, but summer was his father's favorite. It didn't seem right to deprive his mother of such a trivial joy. Time hasn't been good to either of them.
As his mother sifts through a table of beaded jewelry, he recollects the many times his father expressed his unending love for her.
Does love stop at death? Another question that he squanders his wits on. There's no answer.
'Life is a mystery, Shikamaru.'
'It doesn't have to be.'
"When was the last time you bought me something nice?" Yoshino drawls. When Shikamaru doesn't readily reply, she cuts him a sideways gander, and slaps him with her fan.
"Damn it. I don't know, Ma. A long ass time." He scratches the back of his neck. She looks at him pensively, curling her upper lip. Yoshino wrinkles her nose whenever she sizes him up. His cracked lips give away his hangover.
She's had little to say since Shikaku's death so he waits for the sting of her words. Accepting her harshness would re-establish a sense of normalcy. When she opens her mouth, his heart lurches. He hopes every word is heavy with her usual venom. He hopes she's so vicious it cures his hangover.
"How 's Temari?"
And that isn't what he had prepared himself for. Shikamaru reveals his annoyance with the drop of his shoulders. He knows he shouldn't be surprised. When you integrate someone into your life and suddenly they disappear, it's natural for anyone to be curious. Shikamaru's memories seem so distant but when he's reminded of her, he recalls the last time he had kissed her. It feels like a residual haunting. Five even knocks on his skull. Then he gets a dull heart-ache.
"She's fine." The second time he's had to say so and it hurts his throat.
"Shikamaru..." Yoshino stands under his nose and jabs a finger in his chest. "What did you do?"
"I didn't do anything." He raises his hands in surrender.
"I bet that's the problem! You don't do enough. You didn't stop her? Did you?"
He didn't, but not in the way that she accuses him.
"Life is so short, Shikamaru." These days she says his name with little belief. Where a waterfall ends, his mother became the river that gives life to the land. "You can't just give up on people. Even when they tell you to. Because you never really know..."
The weather is warm but the air between them is stifled with grief. Life keeps moving. It beats around in blaring color.
"I want grandchildren." It's not the first time she's said so.
"I know."
"I'm scared you're too stubborn and lazy to make any." She turns to a table of handmade tacky knickknacks.
"If you say so." He rolls his eyes so hard it gives him a mini migraine.
"I don't know what she saw in you anyway."
He follows his mother's idle stroll down the creative displays of food and what the pretentious deemed 'art'. It all looks like a bunch of nicely painted junk to him.
"To tell ya the truth, I don't know either."
Life has a funny way of shifting people in the right direction. Someone moves too quickly and bumps his shoulder, which leads his attention cutting through a parting in the sea of bodies. He hasn't asked for a sign, but Sai bending to touch Ino's face is shining symbolism of his bad decisions. It hurts because he doesn't make mistakes often.
Shikamaru subdues a knee-jerk reaction. The alcohol still pinches at his common sense.
"I'm thirsty," Yoshino whines.
"I'll get you something," he says distantly.
Sai leaves to search for Ino's mother and she can finally breathe. Metaphorical bricks topple from her shoulders. She feels light for a moment then closes her eyes. The delicious smell of spices does little to comfort her awful sense of humor. Ino realizes how alone she is despite being surrounded by so many familiar faces.
"Ino." Shikamaru's breath tickles the side of her face. She has to catch herself from fainting with fear, lust, and anxiety.
"You look like hell." In a matter of seconds, she rebuilds her defenses.
"So when were you going to tell me?"
"Tell you what?" She bites.
"Are you seeing Sai?" His inflection is that of a smothered shout. Both of their eyes darken with doubt. Ino's soul escapes her first and she has the nerve to take her time with an answer. Licking her lips and crossing her arms, she steps closer to him. Her eyes shifting from his lazy scowl and the curious glares at their obvious disagreement.
"No. I'm not. It's not like that anymore." Ino's guilt is small, but she can't bring herself to look at him directly.
Shikamaru feels his bones stiffen at the sense of wrongness. He feels betrayed by his own body.
"I don't believe you." He's speaking to his heart as well. All of his mistakes he can count on one had.
"You don't have to believe me, but you're not going to act like I tricked you into fucking me." She crudely whispers.
Disbelief is ugly on him. The tip of his nose burns red. She wonders what he looks like when he discovers love– if it's twice the hotness as his lips on her breasts. With the way disappointment breaks his cool, she comes to terms with never knowing. It's not something she needs to know.
This could be her chance to free herself from the noose he has hung around her neck.
"What do you want from me?" She gives him a weak laugh.
"Nothing." Shikamaru retorts sharply. It cuts through her but she's not exactly sure why.
Ino opens and closes her mouth because it's not a satisfying answer, but Sai appears with her mother who shrieks Shikamaru's name as if she hadn't seen him twenty-four hours ago.
Shikamaru's eyes are glassy yet resilient. His frown vanishes as quickly as he had shown his distaste. Ino retains her vexation and looks away.
With the same odd charm that wiggled her out of her panties, Shikamaru swallows her mother up in a mindless conversation. She knows him well enough to gather that it's on purpose.
Ino strangles away her swears, snatching at Sai's hand and tugging him away. He makes a noise but its drowned out by the thunder of her profane thoughts. There aren't enough awful words in her vocabulary to curse Shikamaru nor bottles of wine to help her forget that she'd been a puddle beneath him. She shoves through the crowd until she is sure that she can't feel Shikamaru's presence.
"Are you ok?" Sai stops abruptly and jerks her arm. It damn near starts the flood of tears she's been holding back since he'd arrived this morning. Ino hesitates, dropping her hold on his hand. A minute passes before she faces him. It's a good thing Sai can only touch the surface. As she beholds his openness, she sees her reflection–the guise of a criminal.
And Ino resists the truth the only way she knows how, avoiding it until she can't handle the punishment of her internal isolation. Can she really take a secret to the grave? How many secrets did they bury with her father? She could use all of that missing wisdom.
She hastily curls her arms under Sai's and breaks him into a kiss. It's the most affection she has shown him since this morning– since the last time they had sex. Two months ago.
To her silent horror, it doesn't feel like anything at all. Even when he recovers from the shock and reciprocates.
All of the happiness that rolls around–streamers, candy, and fake gold evades them.
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Shikamaru wonders why his bouts with love are always bitter. He hangs out of his old bedroom window and burns through his last five cigarettes. One after another until his throat feels dry.
"Here's the sad thing about death, Shikamaru. You think about all that time you spent ignoring or talking over the problems. Every day, a moment you've long forgotten wakes you up from your sleep or deprives you of feeling good about anything else." Yoshino had said to him before vanishing into the dark hallway.
All that time he wasted combating Shikaku holds a candle to his blissful ignorance. Being comfortable is just as dangerous as doing nothing at all.
'Don't be complacent.' Shikaku presses him from the afterlife, but for the first time, as the stars blink back at him, the memory isn't so cold.
As he ashes his last cigarette, watching the orange sparks float in the wind, he thinks about every small thing he's done to upset everyone close to him. Daydreaming in the middle of Temari's dilemmas, ghosting his mother when she stabs him with criticism, not being as open as he could be with Choji, and avoiding the truth when his father teased him. Behind every 'I'm kidding' there is a little honesty.
Shikamaru drops his cigarette butt into an empty flower pot. His mother's failed attempt at adding beauty into their empty world.
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Ino has never been in love before.
The shafts of moonlight reveal the apprehensive rolls of her stomach as Sai floats above her. As he thumbs the corner of her wet eyes, she unravels her legs from his waist. All of her limbs pooling under and around him like a tipped glass of water.
"Sai, what does love mean to you?" She asks him absently. He takes a moment that feels like an eternity, but the clock on her wall tells a five-minute story.
"It's completeness." He finally answers.
"Do I complete you?" She builds a trap so that she can escape.
"I think you do. Do I complete you?"
"A month is a long time." Ino says desperately.
She ignores her years of discipline when it comes to being elusive. There is doubt in her statement because she fears that maybe she still has it wrong. A month is a long time but so is forever. Sai pulls his fingers from the tangle of her hair and rolls on his back. The bed shakes and it's the ocean between them.
If she were truly a deplorable person, she would take his hand and trace over all the missed marks. She doesn't turn to look at his face in the darkness, but she knows his expression has remained dazed. There is a slight part of his lips as he breathes and he's arched a brow.
When does an inclination become just as dire as oxygen?
When does desire stop feeling like a dream? Does it ever?
Ino doesn't ask him to leave. There's enough room in her bed to muddle over their muddy waters. Sai continues to stare into the void of her ceiling and Ino rolls into her unclean sheets.
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Nigella. Her mind raises a war with her heart. Between the electricity of her conscience and the war drum pounding of her heart, there is an answer. She doesn't find it in her sleep. When she wakes up, Sai is gone and the higher power doesn't leave a sign within the early morning shadows on her wall.
All that Ino is left with is her gumption. She swings her legs from under the sheets and presses her toes onto the cold wooden floor.
'What do you want?' Ino silently asks herself. She sprawls her fingers through the wrinkled sheets, smoothing out the lines.
The truth can set a soul free.
Ino finally stands, shrugging off an ounce of her ego. Shikamaru has been on her mind too much for comfort. Ignoring him was like depriving herself of water.
'It's ok to be reckless once in a while.' She remembers.
When she is sure that there is no trace of Sai, she sets off without combing her hair, almost tumbling down the brick stairs of her apartment.
Instant gratification is her ultimate hubris, but good has come out of her demanding anxiety. If she failed, she would suck it up and move on to the next mistake.
Shikamaru is no one to be scared of.
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Ino has never believed in good luck. Life has always been a series of predictable consequences and how she's dealt with them. It soon hits her as she sprints through the breakfast rush that not only does she not know where she's going, but she's starving.
She looks like a mad woman as she slows into a stop and takes in all of the food she's been missing out on.
Today is the day to be reckless. She could sacrifice one day.
When had she started denying herself happiness? There are a good handful of factors. Ino watches familiar faces dip in and out of shops. Most of them are smiling. Some of them stuff their faces gleefully.
Ino exhales and moves on from her quick bereavement. She opens her eyes to witness the beauty of chance. Betwixt two unparallel bodies, she spots Shikamaru– they both spot each other as if neither really had control of time. He stops chewing on his roll and she sees his hesitation ten feet away. Shikamaru takes his finger, shoves the rest of the bread into his mouth and turns on his heels.
As he starts a pace, Ino charges after him.
"Shikamaru!" The sweetness is forced but her desperation doesn't fall on deaf ears. It pierces through him so he stops. A chunk of bread hangs in his throat.
Ino says his name again and reaches out for his arm.
"What?" He swallows hard until the bread drags down.
"We need to talk!"
"There's nothing to talk about." Shikamaru continues to walk but Ino doesn't peel away from him.
"You're going to have to talk to me eventually so why not now?"
"You've got ten minutes."
Ino steps in front of him and jabs her knuckles into his chest. Reminiscent of their childhood, she glares up at him. Her lips are wrinkled with internal dissatisfaction. Shikamaru screws up when he matches her glower. In her line of fire, he doesn't feel the need to weasel his way out of the mess they have created.
He rubs his chest because her soft punch hurt his soul.
"What is it, Ino?" He licks away the crumbs at the edge of his mouth.
Ino stands straight, shaking the unkempt tumble of her hair bangs. She knew she needed his attention but she hadn't planned the big 'what next'.
Shikamaru is no one to be scared of.
"Do you ever recall the taste of something from your childhood? It's really good but you can't remember what exactly you had eaten?"
"No. I remember everything...that makes no sense." But he's charmed by her slipped attempt at being deep.
"Well I don't remember everything... I just remember feelings." Her shoulders drop in defeat. She second guesses herself and brings her eyes to her toes. The polish is chipped.
Shikamaru knows what she wants to say, but he wants to see if she can achieve it on her own. He had tossed a coin. Heads, she would continue to ignore him. Tails, she'd be unable to deny their chemistry and allow it to drive her insane.
The coin never landed on a side. It had rolled into the dark depths of a storm drain.
"I can't stop thinking about you and I don't know what that means."
"You know what it means, Ino..."
The way he ridicules her inspires petty contemplation to reject the idea of falling into perfect sync.
"What does it mean? Since you know every damn thing."
"What about Sai?" He counters her.
"What about him?"
She wipes away the dried sleep from her eyes, her face molded into a frown.
There's a lot that could be said but he prefers mystery when it comes to emotions.
"Then what do you suggest, Ino?"
She wants to yell at him for shifting the burden, but today is a 'not so Ino' day.
"We try it out!" It shoots out of her like a million flying stars.
"Try what out?" Shikamaru remains monotonous. His lips curl into a smile.
"You being less of an asshole to me."
He settles with that answer. It feels right enough.