To Guest, K, TSI: My deepest apologies if the end of last chapter has confused you a bit/a lot. Since you three mentioned the same confusing part (the portrait of Ino), I went back and revised it. Would you be so kind as to go back and tell me if now everything makes sense? I would appreciate that a lot, thank you! :)

To Guest (more specifically): Is it possible that you over-read NejiTen little argument of Chapter 2? :P It was never mentioned that they were more than just friends... Unfortunately, James Bond wasn't a codename for bed-time-fun. ;) I guess this chapter will shed some lights in some of your remaining interrogations concerning their budding couple. If not, please let me know and I will answer you on my profile page. :)

This chapter is divided in three parts: ShikaIno, NejiTen, NaruSaku. Enjoy! :)

-X-

When Ino Yamanaka was small, she loved order, to summarize her notes coat in neat colored papers and to file them in plastic categorized binders and the perfect scores that ensued afterwards. The shiner, the brighter, she thought. Ino also loved to organize her dolls in a specific order on her purple chest of drawers. At times, Sakura would misplace them and once she left, her own dolls in tow, Ino's chubby hands would replace them, pushed them back exactly where they belonged. Carefully, leisurely. One by one, in front of the window, slightly on the edge of the piece furniture, circling the vase of fresh flowers her mother would garnish every morning with the same care as the one she used on her dolls. Carefully, leisurely.

Her organized world would bloom every morning in the rising sun and her big shiny blue eyes would brighten the moment mother's bony hand would brush her head careful as not to disrupt her golden neatly parted locks.

It was a ritual, her happiest memory, her control, her biggest tarnished fear of chaos.

This was perfection, she decided when she rose her eyes to meet his darkening orbs. She tasted blood on her tongue, pants rolling on her tongue. Carefully, leisurely.

Yes, this was perfection and Shikamaru was pure chaos.

-X-

Chaotic Perfection
by Clementive

-X-

The silence still held some of the chaotic vibe she despised, the air still vibrating loudly with the last words of her tantrum.

She slid on the wall behind her until she reached the floor. It felt sticky under her long fingers.

'That idiot ruined everything.' She tried to control the rising sob in her chest. The effect of chaos wormed under her skin as she looked around her. Shikamaru's spilled grocery bag left a strain of milk and opened package of potatoes. Steps had smeared the white liquid across the only rug of his loft; she could still feel it hanging on her naked legs. Her hands rubbed them and she pulled her knees closer to her chest. Her pointy tongue trembled as she licked her dry lips.

It hurt to breathe, to look at him or at the painting.

"Ino…"

She slapped his hand away. It hurt to live.

His hands were still tainted with the color of her eyes. They were proof of the shadows living under her skin, eating her alive, picking at her bones. She didn't want to feel them on her, smearing her lies and everyone's concern on her skin.

"You're disgustingly creepy, Shikamaru Nara." Ino panted through clenched teeth, her hair wildly framing her heart-shaped face.

His long fingers were rough, callous, made of iron as they encircled her wrists. Brushes and paint cans lay around where they sat in the living room. She hissed, fighting him. His muscles tensed and didn't let her go. He never did.

"You're the most troublesome woman I know, Ino Yamanaka," he answered stiffly but it didn't sound like an insult. A flame danced in his orbs and she paused. The rim of his shirt was worn and neglectfully wrinkled. Shikamaru's clothes and laziness blended with commodity, she mused light-headed. Deidara, on the counter-part, always organized his style and tastes according to art. He ate, dreamt and smelled of art.

Shikamaru did art. He painted her, didn't retouch her or gouged the bones beneath her skin.

Shikamaru's chaos didn't tell lies the way Deidara's art of perfection did.

Turning her head away from him, Ino remembered stepping on one of his canvas lying on the couch but Shikamaru remained calm. 'Always calm, that bastard!' She wished she could mock him, keep throwing his art supply. She laughed bitterly, shaking her golden curls around her shoulder.

She wished he hadn't showed her the side of herself Deidara has painted on her skin as restrictive meals and painful high-heels.

"You ruined everything," she shouted aloud and this time the tears ran freely on her cheeks. She meant the chaos, the construction of her perfect universe, her secrets, her weight but his piercing glance avoided hers. The grip loosened around her wrist but she didn't snatch it back at her side.

It was useless. It was lifeless.

"I'm sorry."

Still holding her hand, he sat down awkwardly against the wall. Shikamaru hadn't intended for her to find it like that. He ran a hand through his spiky locks. He thought of showing her years later when her scars would have faded, when she would have been able to face it headstrong the way she used to face everything when they played around the forest, hunting imaginary ghosts.

He just wanted to paint her, immortalize her and her shadows, the way he could do everything.

"I'm sorry." He squeezed her hand, not knowing where to put his hands, not knowing if he were still allowed to touch her skin and breathe in her fruity and sweet scent.

"You're pure chaos." The model replied blankly.

They sat in the temple of chaos, her portrait still hauntingly staring back at her. She was weak, vulnerable; his fingers could have been around her neck, strangling her, keeping her from breathing. Keeping her from living. She choked on louder sobs, her heart pounding in her chest, in her head.

Her vision faltered and she closed her eyes resting her head back against the wall.

"Is this how you see me? Do you really think I'm craven? She asked quietly.

"And how do you see yourself, troublesome woman?"

'What the hell happened to you, troublesome woman?'

She opened her eyes. With him, it was always the same question.

"You are an asshole, Shikamaru Nara."

Ino knew she could handle insults, loud tantrums, and unleashed anger. She remembered handling Deidara's blue stare, Konan's worried one, but by that time, she couldn't handle her own reflection. By the time, Deidara didn't need to retouch her. She had avoided mirrors. She trusted her bathroom scale, the lens of a camera to tell her the truth about herself. By that time, she couldn't trust herself anymore.

"And you are a loud troublesome woman who doesn't respect anyone's privacy."

Startled, the model narrowed her reddening eyes turning her head towards him.

"Is that genius talk for: 'I apologize for invading your privacy, Ino'?"

"How do you see yourself, Ino?" He repeated stubbornly, his thumb drawing circles on the back of her hand.

'What the hell happened to you, troublesome woman?'

Suddenly, the eyes staring back at her across the hall weren't hers. They were glowing. They were pale empty orbs. They were her mother's. Drenched in cold sweat, she paled thinking of her father's silence and her mother's grave.

Suddenly, in his painting, she didn't see herself.

She pushed the daunting thought away, buried it in the chaos of the room. Shikamaru's lips moved and she couldn't hear him anymore. His strong peppery scent overwhelmed her when he let go her hand pulling her closer. His hands felt misplaced, too long, too subtle, too gentle.

Pure chaos.

She suffocated. His fingers drew soothing patterns on her back, his breath felt warm against her neck.

Then, she exploded. She pushed him away. On stiffened limbs, she ran to the door. By handful, she gulped the cool air of the night hurtling down the stairs. Behind her, she heard her childhood friend cried out her name but her legs only moved faster. Her name echoed over and over in the night, in her mind.

She filled in her lungs, her locks sleek against her damp cheeks.

Ino ran, still distanced herself from him and his seething shadows. She finally knew that they lived within her. They had been hers all along; her dark little secrets, her past and future.

She was a skeleton of darkness and hollow cheeks.

Her mother weighted 10 kilos less than Ino did in front of Deidara's lenses when she died.

-X-

"Tenten," Neji cleared his throat again turning off the radio. "You haven't said a word since you got in and you haven't comment on my taste of music yet."

"Your taste of music seemed alright today, Neji." her voice sounded cheery, almost dreamy but her smile didn't quite reach her eyes.

Tenten leaned back against the passenger seat, her stare jumping from pedestrians to other cars. Out of the corner of his eyes, he watched her silently, shifting uncomfortably, his finger trumping absent-mindedly against the wheel.

"Are you alright?" He cleared his throat again, his eyes flickering between her and the road.

"Sure."

They stopped at the intersection, plastered Ino's beauty shining on the billboard. She crossed her arms on her chest, over the knot clutching her insides. Her previous irritation bubbled back in her mind. 'Neji's as perfect as her.'

"Would you go out with Yamanaka?" she asked briskly.

He blinked, the streetlight turned green but he still didn't drive forward. The sound of honks and insults rose in a tumult behind his car. He blinked again his foot gently pressing the clutch-pedal. His knuckles turned white around the wheel and the brunette wished she could take her words back. She knew it was too late, that masking it with a sarcastic comment wasn't an option anymore. Thickly, the silence engulfed them.

He parked the car at the next intersection, still not facing her.

"I'm sorry, Neji. I didn't mean it. Let's just forget it, alright?"

"No," the Hyuuga simply replied in a levered cold voice, his hands still seizing the wheel.

"I'm sorry, I shouldn't have asked you that. It was wrong on so many levels," she bit her below lip, her hand already secure on the door handle. "I will walk the rest of the way home, thanks for the ride."

In a shift motion, he locked the doors while still staring ahead. For a distance, he could see the golden curls of the Nara's childhood friend resting against the tallest building of their small town.

"Did you just use the child safety lock on me?" She asked in shock.

Neji Hyuuga was aware he wasn't good with words. They would pile up on his tongue, weighing heavily, and to utter them always felt awkward and inappropriate. He believed in silence and meaningful coordinated gestures. Throughout high school, he had counted on Tenten to utter accurately all of his feelings and opinions. So he waited, thinking she would put a name on their relationship because he trusted her enough to do as much. He waited for two years, scaring away potential suitors with one glare when they got too close to her.

Then, he decided he couldn't wait anymore. He tried to put a name on it, forcing the words out as quickly as he could before he could change his mind. He used clear formal words that pulsated between them like cold heartedly promises.

"You were jealous," he breathed out the words.

Tenten winced, her muscles working more feverishly against the door handle.

"Open the goddamn door," she hissed. "I won't repeat it again."

"No," he let go of the wheel, a small smile tucking his lips up.

"Yes. Now, Hyuuga."

Sighing in frustration, she leaned her forehead against the hot window her hands connecting with it. She knew Neji was a cautious man that believed in a direct approach. He held a disdain for liars and cowards. He told her as much the last time they had this conversation. Last time, she thought she'd lost him. She closed her eyes, sliding back on her seat. James Bond came as peace offering when she knocked on the door of his door room a day after their argument. Now, old black and white movies materialized as taunting ghosts between their bodies.

Tenten could feel his eyes meticulously wandering across her face despite the dark bangs falling in her eyes.

She wondered what he saw between the lines of her dull features.

"We are not having this conversation again, Neji. Please."

Instead, she heard him turn off the ignition.

She felt silly and vulnerable like one of those stupid children who still believed in fairy tales. She knew they were fake; dragons and prince charming didn't exist. She knew about the gap between reality and movies; she had studied it her whole life. She felt comfortable in the back scene of the movies she watched. Neji didn't. He was the actor itself, the main character, the prodigy, and she wasn't even on the script.

"You were jealous," he reasserted visibly pleased. "Open your eyes."

A strand of his hair tickled her cheek. She shook her head. 'We're too different, can't you see that, Neji?'

"I don't love you, Neji," she murmured.

His breath didn't hitch nor did the air still like last time. Instead, she felt his fingers gently running down her naked arm. She gasped, her eyes fluttering open when his nose nuzzled her neck, his hand keeping her in place.

"You're lying."

"I don't want to be Neji Hyuuga's girlfriend," she cried out startling him.

"What?" He blinked watching blood raise to her cheeks and the angry frown forming on her features.

"God, are you blind, Neji? I'm already just your invisible best friend! I'm not a prodigy, I'm nothing special. I'm not a straight A student majoring in neuropsychology. When I'm next to you, I'm not even 'Tenten'. When I'm next to you, I'm no one!"

"That's not-" He let the words hang between them and hurt caused her to lower her shoulders. His words always failed. He opened his mouth again but her eyes welled with angry tears.

He gulped waiting for her to put a name yet again on the emotion devouring them both inside.

"You're making me invisible, Hyuuga," she spat the words breathing heavily through her tears.

Somehow, it was the first time Tenten's words didn't resonate perfectly with the thoughts circling in his mind.

-X-

"Sakura! I'm so glad you've finally found your dress."

"Put it down, Naruto!" Sakura paused without turning her head from the piles of clothes she was folding. "You can't see it before the wedding. Otherwise, it's bad luck."

The blond retrieved his hand from the white opaque plastic enveloping the gown. He pouted in response to Sakura's playful glare finally sitting down on the edge of the bed.

"You know, I was scared you were intentionally delaying things," he said lightly, bouncing on the cringing old bed.

A cold shiver ran down her spine and her lips curled into a frozen smile. 'Sometimes, he just has this bad habit of voicing the truth without realizing it.'

"Of course not, Naruto."

She bit her bottom lip. 'What if I were?' The thought sneaked in her mind and she shook her pink curls to push it away. 'I love him, I really do.'

Yet, it remained difficult to face him in her childhood bedroom. His shiny broad smile fit so perfectly in her world of pink and happy memories. He was the best part of her, she knew as much. She watched him quietly, her process of clothes folding suddenly slower. Unaware of the tension rising within her, Naruto turned his attention to one of her old dolls, his hands moving her arms and legs in complex patterns.

"Will you take this one to our new place?"

"No," she answered curtly, her hands shook and they dug once more in the pile of clothes before her. She placed another set of shirts in the suitcase and threw one small jeans on the side next to every other piece of clothing she didn't want anymore.

Across the chaotic mess her childhood bedroom had become, she could almost count all the things she would leave behind, completely abandoned once she married. Her stuffed animals, her old drawings and several books… All witnesses of the life of Sakura Haruno, all objects that didn't seem coherent with the thought of Sakura Uzumaki. Somehow, she wished she could hold on to both sides of her, to both names.

Naruto would begin working as a freelance for the Rasengan News and she would begin her internship at the hospital at the end of the summer. They couldn't afford more than a small apartment that used to belong to his family.

She would have to leave most of her childhood memories behind and she didn't know if she were prepared to do as much.

"Good, because Kiba will call it a 'chick's place' if you do and you know how he is, right? Always rambling about stuff. Can you believe that?" He rolled his eyes exaggeratedly and she couldn't help but gave him a smile at how oblivious he was of his own rambling habit.

He carefully put the doll back in place, his cerulean eyes searching the room for another object worthy of his attention.

"Hey, do you think he's going to win Neji's cousin over? What's her name again?"

His warm glance stopped on her bending form among the clothes and shoes that she had taken out of her closet.

"Her name's Hinata and I sincerely don't know. Kiba's just a womanizer and he will probably forget her before the end of the week," she growled, furrowing her brows. Their Inuzuka friend was the last thing she could afford to think about at that moment.

He cocked his head on the side musing it over before merely shrugging the matter off. She stood up restlessly taking other boxes out of the closet.

"Hey! Let me help you with that!" He nudged her gently out of the way lifting the boxes. When he turned around, he tumbled over a shoe but still managed to grin at her.

Then, something slipped between them and broke as it met the floor. She didn't grin back.

"I'm soooo sorry, Sakura!"

Then, his eyes fell on the broken portrait of a tall handsome black-haired man. His face darkened and his knuckles turned white around the box.

"You still think of him."

The future doctor tore her eyes from the picture, her emerald orbs widened. It was a statement, not a question. She took a step towards him but he turned away from her pushing the box against her pink desk.

"Please, Naruto! Wait!"

He shut the door behind him. She panted, holding her trembling chest. The knocks came as a liberation when they resonated throughout the empty Haruno house. Relieved, she made her way to the door on weak limbs.

They couldn't end like this, not after all this time.

"Naruto, I'm so sorry, I-"

"Sakura."

Her hand fell back to her side, entranced at the cold velvet sound of her name. Her heart pounded in her head. Within her, hesitations and sorrow melded and suddenly she felt light-head.

"Sasuke?"

It didn't taste as bitter as she thought it would once she rolled his name on her tongue.

-X-

I'm sorry about the wait, guys, but school has been merciless. I hope to update soon! As for now, review? ;)