Moonlight
Sakura
The last time I tried to hold Sasuke's hand, he pried my fingers off and shot me the iciest look. A look so cold, not even the chilliest wind can emerge victor, not even the thickest glacier can stand erect against. Of course my fragile heart, as weak as my own battle tactics, shattered.
Behind the dojo after training, I confessed my love to him. Poured out my soul. I wanted to do all that before Ino intruded and led him away from my world, brainwashed him till Sakura to him was merely a combat partner, a whisper in the wind he couldn't be bothered to strain to catch a breathe.
We stood face to face. At the turn of events, my back was to the wall, pressed up by an invincible force called fear. I had no idea what wrong I had committed. All I did was to tell him I admired him and did he want to go out. I said that so innocently. My throat was dry and voice, husky. But he heard it clearly. He stared at me as if I had committed some sort of unforgivable heinous crime. Or if I was one of the groupies who honed their talent by stalking him like bloodhounds.
Suddenly, he didn't seem so handsome anymore. His beautiful features appeared monstrous, far worse than the curse which plagued him, more terrifying than all of the looming creatures from the Forest of Death whose jarring frames lurk from one shadow to another, searching 24/7 for a prey to terrorize. The iris of his eyes lightened to a lantern-red glow, dotted comers emerged joined by a mind-map of dark lines. Sharingans glared daggers and mentally spat them out. The jet black spiky crown looked like a battlefield for a wide-spread massacre, blood tainting his murderous eyes. He must have detested me so much. Hated all of my being, to each strand of my fibre, for the expected declaration. It was obvious that I liked him. He knew it, but he had never exploited me.
Get the hell away from me. He said.
Words injured me. The edges, sharper than all the throwing stars ever made. So I edged away from him, kept my distance, and things went back to normal. I never recovered though.
XXX
To date, there will be two men I cannot look in the eye. The boy who rejected me so callously and the man who caressed my lips with his own and gave them new-felt warmth.
Two full weeks have passed since that fiasco, something he may call it. But I am already addicted to my first time. I want to please him so much; he won't do it with random vixens.
He has been avoiding me. I dread lesson time because training with them. As usual, Naruto is the life of the lesson. He bears immerse, never ending chakra with a little help from the entrapped nine tailed fox. As usual, I am making mistakes; the wrong angle for that uppercut, not concentrating enough on jutsu. Kakashi sensei, with a pained look the mask cannot hide strolls hesitantly over to correct me. Each move he makes within one metre of me is halted, like a slow-mo film. I know he is careful not to make skin contact with me. I know he is trying to distant himself and his heart away.
There are nights I sneak out. The moon is waned into a cresant and he hasn't arrived. Become a silent stranger at the taverns. A drift in a motion. Camouflage into the cracks if he should turn his head. I feel physically sickened doing all these perverted stalking but I know if I don't see him, I will break.
Ino calls I'm a made in china porcelain doll, that I'm worthless and fragile. The entire village is filled with girls like me. Lovelorn, shamelessly pinning, drunk in addictive desire and aching for a prince to sweep them off their clog feet. I heard that you can buy a dozen young girls for a small fortune outside Japan. What an insult.
I am afraid of what I am truly feeling. I am scared of being the only shadow I see. This is this teeny weeny itsy bitsy portion of me that makes me want to harm myself, hurl myself into pits of self-destruction. Sometime I feel my forbidden feelings for my sensei are owing to other village girls' obsession over him. At the temples, they purchase love charms with dangling red dragons for luck and scribble his name at the wooden end. With a cluster of charms and trinkets tinkling like wind chimes attached to their obi, they daintily nibble on sticks of red bean dango, making foolish speculations on what his bare face may seem like. Of course, he is too daft, in a sense, to notice childish things like these.
Love is on a run. I don't know if he believes in love. Nothing is real for him. The web of illusion he spins with his sharingan, blinds him from reality. It divides the world and his thoughts. He adopts an annoying Shikamaru attitude; he can't be bothered with relationships. He snorts at storybook values and fairytale endings.
While the moon basked on us, he kissed me like there was no tomorrow, like I'm oxygen, like I'm in control of his bodily functions, he touched me, made me grow wet down there , made me feel light as air. I told him I feel for him and I think he answered it by kissing me.
Sometimes when his body heat is closing down on me, I can feel his affection for me, so strong; it connects to my aura and sent chills down my vibes. This forbidden love enraptures me. It excites both of us; I can visibly see the rare sparkle in his mundane, dull eye. He denies that special attraction, no way is he going to shove me away with a firm hand. Because I know the day he tells me with his eyes he doesn't want me, will be the day
Nightingales stop singing.
Trees cease their floaty whispering.
Tremors rule the face of the earth.
A/N:
Please review! Please review if you are like Sakura, or one of those silly village girls, hankering for a guy's attention. Cos I am guilty of my infatuation with fairytale endings and princes too. ^.^
Feel free to correct me should I make any mistakes. Or insult my style or slam my story. I don't mind. I really need to improve. There is something clearly out of place in this chpt but I can't seem to grasp it..
