A year or so after "s t a r t o v e r".
Sasuke seems very OOC but hell, this whole story is in like a whole 'nother dimension compared to what's going on in the scans now. I mean I'm glad to see Deidara back from the dead and all that crap, but come on, it was so easily predictable to know that Naruto was gonna get off the damn island and fight eventually.
Dear Masashi, have you realized that ever since that one measly fight with Sasori Sakura hasn't had a decent shot since? What the fuck was that, blubbering like she was fucking 12 years old again when she tried to kill him? What the hell. Pull that stupid sexism out of your ass that's been up there for years or I'll force feminism down your throat for you. And if you don't do it soon... I may just find you and turn all your kunoichi into Amazon women and Naruto and Sasuke and all your strong men into big, blubbering babies with a penchant for crying and all things flowery. Don't say I didn't warn you :)
It's her birthday - you stand on her porch in the thundering rain, your hair plastered to your face.
She's spent a year - 12 months, 365 days, 8,766 hours, 525,948 seconds - running away from you.
And yet, it doesn't matter to you - if you could come back and reinstate your citizenship with Konoha and fall in love with Sakura, after everything you've ever felt and done - certainly she could forgive you, right?
You're shivering, ringing the doorbell, pounding on the door, yelling her name - but she either doesn't want to see you or she isn't home.
It
is
probably
the
former,
you
think
bitterly.
You swallow nervously, fighting off the chattering of your teeth.
You close your eyes and lean against the wood of the door, cursing the chakra-sapping seal on your wrist.
"I love you,"
you murmur into into the eye-hole, but the only answer you receive is the booming thunder.
And it's true.
You spend another five minutes hammering on her door until the front-lights of her neighbor's house flickers on.
"She's on a mission, dumbass!"
You wrench your forehead off the cool wood of the door to see a pissed, thirty-something civilian glowering at you menacingly, and with gusto he aggressively flips you the bird and storms back inside his house.
Your teeth grit together and you try to come to terms with desperately empty ache in your chest -
but
you
know
it
can
only
be
filled
by
Sakura.
Who doesn't want anything at all to do with you anymore.
She keeps her distance from you in a way that's agonizingly painful, going out of her way to keep from you.
It hurts, but you remind yourself that you deserve it after all.
It did indeed use to be you in her place, and you weren't nice at all about it either.
"I love you,"
You murmur into the house anyway, and your words take flight and soar down the empty hallways and scatter shadows over her bed and couch.
You shiver violently, and with a reluctant glance back you head down the road.
The bar has suddenly become your home-away-from-home, and it is calling your name.
Unbeknownst to you, certain felfire green eyes had tracked your movements since you alighted on her doorstep.
"Sasuke-kun,"
she whispers, but it lost to the wind, rushing away from your ears.
You're right - she doesn't want to see you.
But...
You do not hear her nor sense her presence, and turn to the fickle arms of alcohol.
She comes out of hiding as you round the corner, and leans her own head against the door, wondering what you were trying to do.
She furiously beats at hope's broken, tattered, barely-holding-on wings that give a feeble flutter in her heart, but with each battering the flaps get stronger.
You
are
ignorant
to
all
of
this,
and drain your fourth glass in one swift gulp and demand another.
Something compels her to follow your tracks, to follow the whispers and eddies your thunderstorm chakra left behind and find you.
A swift jutsu renders her unrecognizable, and she conceals her chakra, and waits.
You are so drunk you don't notice the girl's hazel gaze fiercely trained upon you,
but
you
lift
your
glass
for
another
dose.
You clumsily swallow the potent contents and shove roughly away from the bar, shrugging off a girl and lurching unsteadily for home.
You barely make it 100 yards from the entrance before a civilian calls out to you -
"Hey, you faggot piece of shit -"
they start, but you're so drunk you don't even care.
You're drunk and your head is full of
sakura
sakura
sakura
"- can't believe the Hokage wasted his time on setting your traitorous ass free -"
but the words barely register and the pain they inflict on you could never compare to the pain of losing Sakura.
You're
blind
as
ever,
so
you
don't
see
a
blond
haired,
hazel
eyed
girl
shutting
them
up
for
you.
She follows you home, and her heart lurches and falls and stutters at the sight of you, fumbling at the lock, cursing, running a hand through your dark hair and half-falling into your house.
It's a dismal, saddening sight, and the sorrow wells up inside her and suddenly chokes her.
Her stare softens as you fall to the floor, crawling, not even bothering to shut the door -
and pity and love coalesce into one,
pushing away the anger,
and she drops the henge,
and starts for you.
"Sasuke,"
she breathes,
whispers
feather thin,
and you try to blink back your delusions.
Is she really here?
You think your conscious is trying to fool you, that your mind is playing sick, twisted games with itself.
But suddenly you are standing steadily upright when your legs feel like jello and you're not tumbling all over the place,
so maybe she is here after all.
Your vision is blurred; a combination of alcohol and your waning eyesight,
and you reach for her face,
tangling in her hair instead.
She breathes,
chokes
your name,
and
as
your
clumsy
fingers
trail
down
her
neck,
her
pulse
is
fluttering
into
overdrive.
She hauls you up and into bed,
and you don't know if you're hallucinating when you feel
a soft pair of lips brush against your forehead.
You sigh and nuzzle deeper into the comfort of your bed and pillows,
knowing regretfully nothing will have changed and she'll be as cold and aloof as yesterday, tomorrow.
...
With
a
jolt
you
wake
up
in
bed,
hungover and sore and tired and empty.
The storm beats relentlessly still against the windows, and you look down in surprise to see your shoes are off and you're in pajamas,
and your heart jumps to see a towel folded neatly over the back of the chair at your desk and a little note on the table.
Your chest swells with warmth and terrible longing,
and you can't help but desperately fall in love with her all over again.
Even though she is mean and bitter and angry and lashes out at you, Sakura is never cruel.
She
is
insufferably
kind
to
those
in
pain.
You've
seen
her
at
the
hospital,
how
she
treats
her
patients,
witnessed her blearily collapsing on her doorstep, overworked from saving the lives of countless patients - and you lifted her into bed and changed her clothes, who she always thought was Naruto all those times you picked her up off the floor, but was really you.
After you exit the shower, plodding down the hallway, you realize with another wave of gratefulness that the blinds are pulled tightly shut.
You find another note on the fridge and pull it open, finding a cold, fruit-filled breakfast prepared for you and a covered glass of smoothie, and a little napkin folded boat for two capsules of Extra-Strength Tylenol.
You scan your counter but find nothing out of the order.
Your heart squeezes at the pains she must have taken to do this for you.
You
sincerely
hope
she's
only
done
this
for
you,
even though it's a selfish thing to wish for and it's probably not true.
But,
Sakura's certainly never gone as far to do anyone else's laundry or pour the dosage of pills out for a friend - sure, she's left the bottle before - but never has she fixed her friend a drink nor tucked them in bed nor kissed them on the forehead -
so
Sakura
decides
that she's pretty screwed.
She doesn't expect to see the small clusters of pink roses and forget-me-nots and lilacs on her hospital desk - it's not big enough to be a bouquet, but she falls in love with it, even though she initially wanted to throw them away, knowing they were from you.
It is so like you, and she places them in a crystal vase and pours the packet in anyway,
not knowing whether to be furious or worked up to tears over them.
You were never one for a big show like this after all,
but she can't find the place inside of her to hate you or be angry with you after what transpired last night.
You'd mumbled her name in her sleep more than several times,
and had asked her in your dreams why it wasn't working and what she wanted and you told her all you wanted was to make things right and all you wanted was to be with her.
This was all voiced outloud, and with her honed senses she'd caught your sleep-talk.
She was originally just going to dump you on the bed and take your shoes off - but it had broken the dam hiding her feelings for you.
She smiles at the not-bouquet and decides that this is a start.
She still doesn't trust you,
but
that
is
okay.
You have plenty of time - for her to learn how to trust again,
and
you
to
learn
how
to
love.
Nothing is alright and the animosity towards you simply doesn't and can't melt away, but she isn't trapped and washed away beneath all the bleakness anymore.
Naruto tells her that you are really trying -
"Just give him a chance, Sakura-chan. He loves you, you know. And you can't hide the fact that you still love him from me. You may do a good job fooling everyone else, but I know you, Sakura-chan. I'm not asking for anything big - just learn to trust him, okay? Try to be friends. Can you do that, please?"
and because she loves Naruto,
she relents.
She hides her heart from you and doesn't open up to you like she used to,
but you are grateful,
and
you
tell
her
so.
You still hurt her sometimes (accidentally) and you both are far from perfect;
she is still hostile and bitter and you are still distant and don't know how to express yourself
and sometimes you both fight like heaven and hell or like the sea and the sky,
but you are both trying, working, fighting to get better.
And that is all that matters.
Naruto tells you she is doubtful, that she's still afraid you'll leave her somehow, and that it's not that she wants to feel that way, she just can't help it - and that she's insecure around you and that it's going to take a long time to patch up and repair those broken, bleeding bonds and she's afraid you won't have the patience -
and the next day you take her hand, lay a gentle, soft kiss on her knuckles, look deeply into her eyes to show your sincerity - and tell her that you'll wait as long as you have to,
even if you're stuck waiting forever, and that if you had the choice to do it all over again, even if the result was the same - you would gladly take that chance.
And you receive the most beautiful smile you've ever seen.
Her eyes aren't dead or filled with rage and swirling hurt like they usually are when she sees you,
and the hard, bitter line of her mouth softens for just a moment and for the briefest of seconds she is unguarded around you,
the tension seems to melt from her posture and her eyes are almost soft,
and hope swells its large, feathery wings inside you.
It makes your heart soar and your stomach fill with butterflies, and it doesn't matter when she hastily withdraws her hand and heads back to the hospital, unsure and wary, away from you -
and you remind yourself this is just the beginning, and you have plenty of time to sweep her off her feet.
(She's already swept you off yours.)
Pink: friendship & gratitude
Forget-me-not: remember me forever
Lilac: first love
yes, this was incredibly mushy.
lolol.
