It happens on a Tuesday – months after Shikamaru learns Sakura's story and after Sakura learns his.


The tree at the edge of the cliff is without her usual figure beside it. He is slightly bothered by the fact that she is not present on the cliff, and feels something akin to worry unfurling in his chest. Then her familiar, carefully modulated voice comes out of nowhere and lulls him out of his almost sleep, "I brought you something."

She tosses something small in his direction, and he plucks it out of the air automatically. It is a metal box that lays cool in his palm. He looks up and the girl is staring at him, anticipating and studying him. He lifts the lid of the box with calloused but deft fingers, and he sees the cylindrical heads of the cigarettes. There are twenty.

But it is not until the lid flicks back that he sees the inscribed words that taint the metal. They are stark, obvious and they shout at him.

Leave with me.

The message is all too clear.

Leave the tears and grief behind, leave this cemetery, leave this place where only dead people belong. Leave with me.

His mind is suddenly too loud and his jaw clenches, before he throws her an almost accusing glance, "What?"

Sakura remains unruffled. She leans down, slips one of the twenty cigarettes between her petal pink lips and he watches with fascination as she lights the tip with practiced ease. She has never smoked in front of him before, so he is entranced when she inhales gently, chest rising under her thin black shirt.

Sakura is so pale that she nearly blends in with the silver wisps of smoke that come up in front of her face like a screen. But striking eyes, that are green, green, green with flecks of pirate gold pierce through the veil of fog. It steals the air from his lungs, and he has to shift so that he is looking down.


For days, for weeks, for months, Shikamaru has been unable to feel anything. He has been numbed to the very core. But then this girl, with her pale pink hair, deceptively fragile form and emerald orbs slips into his life without him even realizing and he is gradually levered into a pool of emotions.

The liquid blisters his skin.

It curves around his sharp edges and softens them with care. It bleeds into his skin until he is no longer gray, but splattered with bits of pink and green. It slips into his brown locks and replaces strands of hair with expensive silk. It is addictive like nicotine, but it soothes his lungs – his heart – with careful caresses instead of scratching nails. It seeps into his eyes and gives him life.

She blinks back at him with calm, apathetic eyes, but he can see her hands trembling, bunching up her shirt and it rides up ever so slightly. The skin – white, with faint scars – flashes at him when she moves, the languid light of the fading sun painting rays on her slim hips.

Shikamaru stands up slowly, leveling with her. His movements are liquid and his posture is lazy, but his eyes are burning, alive. Something like anger, boils in his eyes.

He holds his stance for a moment longer – a handful of heartbeats, fingers twitching by his side – and then he breaks. The expression on his face is like she's never seen: desperate, defeated and hungry all at once, eyes drowning dark in his face, pupils blown.

"Yes."

There is a stretch of silence that drags out between them, only the sound of passing wind whistling in their ears. Then her slim arms are wrapped around his masculine form that is made up of all leans muscles and long limbs, and his nose is filled with her scent.

He trembles against her for a moment, before mumbling against her skin, "Troublesome." He says no more, and Sakura lets him crush her torso against his, holding him still.


In the quiet, Sakura murmurs in his ears, voice shaky, "I prefer rainfall over sunshine, and maybe that explains why I've fallen for you over anyone else," her fingers tighten around his wrist enough to make him bruise, and they are sinking to their knees, "But I'm always the silly girl who ends up crying over someone who's not there to wipe her tears away."

He gently touches her shoulders, and when she moves back, his heart aches. She is slim with bones made of dust, and he can see all the veins racing around under her near transparent skin, creating an electric blue map under flesh.

She shines so bright that she puts the slowly dying sun to shame. She is more beautiful than the painted skyline around her, and she is sweet, kind and talented and he thinks the world of her.

And so he presses a chaste kiss on her forehead, "Between you and me, I'm totally gone for you," then he presses another kiss on her cheek, "I'm here. I don't care if you need to stay up crying all night long. I will stay up with you to dry your eyes and there is nothing you can do to lose my love."

She lifts her head and meets his eyes that shone as bright and crisp as the loveliest shade of golden brown. Sakura nods quietly but he knows what it means to her and he turns his face into her throat again, mouth open and hot against her skin.

And he laughs, the low pleased sound of it vibrating from his chest into hers. It's the first time in forever, and it only makes him smile even wider as he presses closer.

Maybe you just have to live for the small things, like being called beautiful, or someone picking up the pen you dropped or laughing so hard that your stomach hurts. Maybe that's all that matter at the end of the day.

You don't need to have an exceptionally important purpose to be happy.

End.


A/N: Woah, this was a really difficult story to write, but I hope you guys enjoyed it. I would greatly appreciate it if people gave some reviews, because I've noticed that people follow or favorite, but never review! I am excited to read feedback. So, yeah. PLEASE REVIEW!