It's Complicated

His Only

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She twists the shower tap furiously causing steaming water to rain onto the marble tiles in the stall. Practically ripping off what little clothes she is wearing, Sakura tosses them about the floor of the bathroom in a show of her fury. She lets out a cry of frustration before slamming a handheld mirror to the ground, deriving sick pleasure from the sound of shattering glass.

With the adrenaline from her tantrum wearing off, she sinks to her knees and takes in the view of the trashed bathroom. Makeup and cigarette ashes are strewn upon the counter, dusting the light ceramic of the sink; clothes are littered here and there, now accompanying the shards of the mirror.

The scene is eerily familiar.

She is twelve.

Her heart flutters as she enters the house, her hands fidgeting with excitement as she searches for her mother.

"Why are you so happy?" her mother asks from where she sits in the living room, a questioning smile on her face.

"Something exciting happened at the school dance today," Sakura responds, a blush beginning to burn on her cheeks as she thinks to what happened. "A boy asked me to… I, uh… I have a boyfriend now!" She practically screams in excitement.

The Haruno matriarch's smile wavers and her eyebrows pitch downwards. She grabs a phone from the coffee table beside her and holds it out to Sakura. "You call that boy right now and tell him that you're not available."

Sakura's face falls at her mother's words. Should she be happy for her? Isn't this what a middle schooler does?

"But mom, I really like him and-"

"No." Mrs. Haruno responds sternly. "You are not allowed to date, you are not allowed to even talk to other boys. Do you understand me?"

"But mom, I-"

She's cut off by the sound of her mother's hand hitting the wooden coffee table. "Sakura Haruno, you do not talk back to me," she yells at the confused middle schooler, "don't you understand the reason?"

Sakura's eyes begin to brim with tears, she doesn't understand. Her friends all have boyfriends, and their parent's don't care. In fact, some of their parents drive them to the movies for dates.

"You are already promised to somebody," her mother pauses and takes a deep breath trying to some what calm herself. "You can't just think about yourself, it's for the good of our whole family."

"I don't want to be with somebody else!" Sakura yells before taking off down the hall. She runs into the open bathroom and slams the door. The force of it causes the flower vase that rests by the sink to tumble over and crash onto the floor.

Pieces of the glass tumble onto her feet, some leave little cuts in her skin as they make their descent. Water and rose petals scatter around her, tinged pink where they mix with her fresh wounds. She drops to her knees, wincing slightly as more glasses finds home in her skin.

Why.

She knew of her engagement, she had even met the dark haired boy once before, but she didn't fully understand it until now.

I don't get to be normal. I don't get to date and fall in love.

Today she had felt so perfect, her crush had asked her out at the dance and she instantly said yes. She even kissed him on the cheek when they said bye. She was going to go to meet him at the mall this weekend with her group of friends and they were going to go to a movie.

Not anymore. It's not fair. Why me?

Because of money and greed and decisions that adults make about her future without considering her own happiness.

She turns on the water for the shower and sticks her legs under the stream to rinse off the glass and blood, careful not to get her shorts wet. It stings a little but she enjoys the light pain. Finishing up, she grabs one of the hanging towels and dries off her legs.

"Sakura, honey," her mom's voice, muffled from the door, sounds much more calm. "Please, there's somebody here to see you."

Biting back her bitterness she moves to open the door. Flipping the lock and peeking out, she notices a tuft of dark hair that appears spikey and wild in the back, yet every flyaway peice seems to fall exactly where it is meant to be. Eyes a matching shade of onyx pass a look over her that seems almost bored. A man with stern features stands behind him, conversing with her mother.

"Thank you for stopping by, Fugaku," her mother says mock cheerfully. "I think it's good for the children to see each other now and again. Maybe we could even have an arranged time each week."

"That won't be necessary," the Uchiha head states. "Sasuke is far too busy learning the necessary skills to take over the business."

"Uh, of course," Mrs. Haruno responds hesitantly. "Sakura, why don't you and Sasuke go outside and talk, get to know each other better."

Sakura nods, a little star struck by the handsome boy in front of her. She had met him once before but they had barely been out of diapers. They head out to the backyard to where a neglected swing set rests. She takes a seat on one of the swings and invites him to join her.

He doesn't smile or say anything, but sits next to her without complaint.

"Is it true we're supposed to get married one day?" Sakura finally asks.

"Yes," he grunts out the response.

"Does that mean you're my boyfriend?" She likes the idea, having a mysterious boyfriend that she can brag about at school, especially a boy as cute as him.

He refuses to merit her question with a response, just stares at his sneakers in the dirt. Sakura doesn't seem to mind, or notice for that matter, she just keeps babbling about anything and everything a middle school girl would.

Eventually, her mother calls out to them, indicating Sasuke's need to leave, and as they wait for his father to formerly say goodbye to her mother, Sakura leans forward and sneaks a quick peck on his perfect cheek.

Having taken him off guard, the boy's face gains a light blush as he furiously turns away from her.

"Goodbye, Sakura," he mutters, just trying to be polite.

"Goodbye, Sasuke," she responds, batting her eyelashes, her heart pounding in her chest at a million beats per minute. "I hope to see you again soon."

A moment after the door closes behind her handsome betrothed Sakura runs to grab the phone, she needs to make a couple calls.

Xxxxxx

When he hears the shower turn on Sasuke stands from the bed and begins unpacking the suitcase he brought. They had an odd relationship as children, but he had seen her enough when they were younger to get to know the pink-haired beauty, the real her. She hadn't always been this hot mess of a twenty year old flitting through life without a care.

For as long as he knew her, she had always been a nice girl, a little loud and hot tempered at times, but kind and gentle-hearted.

Whenever he saw her, he thought of how much of a light she carried. Her smile had been contagious, her teeth white and pearly. Her eyes had been like glistening emeralds, sparkling with understanding. She adored him, practically worshipped him, not like he ever gave her a reason to.

Hopeful.

Innocent.

Spirited.

Optimistic.

Naïve

Loving.

Youthful.

But then that night happened and it ripped her away.

And then she was out of reach

And then she was cold

And then she was distant

And then the she he knew disappeared.

"What the hell are you doing?" Sakura's angry sentiment rouses the stoic man from his thoughts.

"I'm unpacking," he states lamely. Eying her thin form, soaking wet and wrapped in a towel.

"I see that, but I mean why the fuck are you doing it?"

He takes a deep breath, knowing that shit is about to hit the fan. "I'm going to be staying here for a while."

"The hell you are!" she shouts as she moves into the room. Angrily, she pulls open the closet door and begins ripping his clothes from the hangers. "This is my apartment!"

The heap of crumbled fabric grows as the pink tornado moves to the dresser drawers next. "I don't need a fucking babysitter, especially you."

"Apparently," Sasuke begins as he thinks back to what he walked in on that morning, "you do."

"How dare you," she practically charges him, poking a very strong index finger into his chest. "I came here to get away from you and the whole stuck up Uchiha clan."

He just stares at her, hoping her temper tantrum ends rather than reaching a higher peak. Unfortunately, his lack of response warrants the latter.

The girl's angry finger turns into a fist and she begins to angrily punch his chest.

"Sakura," he says, grabbing her by the wrist, "stop."

He pushes her back against a wall, pinning both arms to her sides. Her eyes are wide and angry, burning that brilliant green that causes warmth to build throughout his body. Her face is flush with the heat of her anger, her lips drawn into a straight line that he can't help but stare at. The towel has held up surprisingly well for the commotion of their actions, still wrapped tightly around her, pushing her breasts and revealing the perfect amount of cleavage.

He wants to close the gap, to press himself against her and show her how a real man should treat her, not the scrappy boy that was in her bed only hours previously. It would be so easy; she wouldn't refuse him. She has never been able to.

That's why she ran. She couldn't stand to stay around him anymore because it hurts her so bad.

So even though every fiber of his being is begging him to kiss her, to show her what a fool she's been, he can't.

He doesn't want her like this, angry and hating him, her view of him so warped. No, he's going to do this right. He is going to gain back her trust and make her love him again.

Letting go, he leaves her in the room. Without so much as a glance back for fear of what he might do if he sees her frazzled form in his room again, he heads to the bathroom, it's his turn for a shower.