Such a Charming Veneer

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#31 – Smirk

Her smirk gave away everything she was feeling, Pein realized, and he was very sure that she was feeling quite…unsurprised; after all, he'd spent years upon years simply observing people, staying quiet, studying their every move, and this was no different; Sakura was such a beautifully intelligent young girl, and it barely even registered with him that she might already know of his plans when he flat-out let her know the gist of it on his Half a Year in Prison celebration: "My comrades intend to break me free, Sakura, and I would like to extend to you an invitation of sorts—come with us, live with us…live with me and be happier than you are here."

#32 – Sorrow

And oh, just imagine her sorrow, just imagine her pain, her anxiety, her indecision when he asked her that golden question again a few weeks later, voice monotone, expertly keeping emotions better left buried in check; "Come with me, Sakura," he murmured under his breath in passing, brushing his fingers over her wrists when she handcuffed him and led him to his cell; "Don't stay here; you're not happy, and you know you're not, so indulge yourself; do something selfish for once, because God knows you deserve it," he'd say when they were alone, and she wouldn't answer—would just smile bashfully and heal the ankle he intentionally sprained.

#33 – Stupidity

He supposed, in retrospect, as he lay in his cell late at night, listening to the chainsaw-like sounds of his bunkmate, that befriending this woman wasn't quite a good idea; it wasn't quite a good idea because he'd established feelings that he'd long since left behind—left behind with the disillusions of something much brighter in his supposed future with his last blue-haired companion, burying them with the burying of her soft, warm body, hiding them from himself and the world, because contradictory to his name, he couldn't handle the pain; so it was his own stupidity, then, and his own naïveté in the essences and procedures of true love and all the like, that led him to yet another early demise; surely if she stayed with him, she would be killed, just like the last, and one before that; however, he wasn't quite sure that he could just forget her so quickly and move on like nothing had ever happened, because something had happened, and he wanted something more to happen, and so help him, he was such an idiot, but if it felt this good being an idiot, then hell, he wasn't too adverse to the idea of ignorance.

#34 – Serenade

And so he'd made up his mind about this girl, about this love, about this world, about this life, and he would tell her, be blunt about it, hope she would appreciate it, hope she didn't expect him to serenade her from behind iron bars, because that was ridiculously tacky; he broke his arm himself that night, pounding happily away at his own Radius bone until he felt an enormous pain, and then he cried out in mock-agony until a guard came and carted him off to the medic room where Sakura met him; he was alone with her, then, and since he'd accepted that yeah, he kind of had feelings for her, he felt giddy—like a schoolgirl or something of the same immaturity.

#35 – Sarcasm

"Wonderful," Sakura deadpanned upon seeing him, holding his broken arm to him, and Pein grinned awkwardly; "Sarcasm was always your forte," he laughed, until she took him roughly by said broken arm, healed him quickly, and then bid for him to be sent on his way, but no, no, no, this wasn't supposed to happen at all; he was supposed to admit his feelings, and she was supposed to cry tears of joy, and he was supposed to carry her off to some phantasmagoric land where there was no death or fighting or broken Akatsuki organizations or people to lock him away again.

#36 – Sordid

Sordid and vile though it was, and though he'd told her that taking advantage of a woman was beyond him, he took her by the wrists and held her still, looking down into her face, searching her bright, green eyes for any trace of that emotion she was so bad at hiding; but she wasn't showing anything he could easily discern, and so he opened his mouth a little bit, tongue sliding across the naked hole on the inside of his lip where a stud used to be, and he leaned down and he kissed her, open-mouthed, desperate, scared; he was scared of her rejecting him, he was scared of doing something rash, he was scared of leaving her behind, he was scared of not being able to forget or forgive if worse came to worst, and he was scared that she might not give him a chance to explain his actions—his motives—his hopes—properly.

#37 – Soliloquy

His mind broke into an internal soliloquy, muttering frantic warnings: "Let go of her," "Leave her alone," "She'll hate you," "You won't be able to stop," they urged, and he tried to listen to them, really he did, but his grip had relaxed so much on her wrists that she was able to tear herself away, backing herself into a desk opposite the room; he stared after her, breathing heavily from anxiety, and she did the same, though he knew not why her breaths were labored—surely not for the same reason as he; "Pein," she managed, her voice quiet, soft, and a bit hurt, and just when he'd contemplating turning and striding out to preserve his dignity and save his ego, she tugged him back by the collar of his garish orange jumpsuit, falling not quite into his arms; he was happy to simply hold her, newly healed arm pressing her to him tightly and the other hand threading into his hair, and he wished—so, so desperately wished, now—that she would reject him, because what had he done?

#38 – Sojourn

He was suddenly glad that the guards had been forced to wake Sakura from her slumber at home in order to tend to him, and that they were currently sleeping themselves, lazy from their daily sojourn, because surely they'd be caught, and then that would leave him hanging dry and unsatisfied; as it were, the action of Sakura pulling down that thick zipper of his clothes, running small, beautiful, delicate little hands across his collarbone and over his chest, passing briefly over his once-pierced nipples and giving him a shock of pleasure that made everything reel, thumbs slipping down to untuck his undershirt, was making him needy, and he wanted for the first time in a very, very long time—since the blue-haired woman, whom he would not name and whom he still held in a very, very high regard, but this is what she would want, anyway, for him to move on and thrive; he didn't know what to do with this girl, though, because he didn't want to be insistent, but he didn't want to just take all the pleasure himself, so he unbuttoned the front of her shirt until she slipped it off her shoulders and pulled his mouth to hers again.

#39 – Share

Minutes that seemed like hours later, and Pein was nearly dying, his erection a persisting, demanding presence beneath the fabric of his folded-over jumpsuit, and Sakura seemed to share in his desire, for she was making little noises that made him twitch and hold back from rocking into the cradle of her thighs; she tried to force him against the wall, but he wasn't going to have any of this, and pulled his jumpsuit only so far past his hips and just thumbed aside her underwear for him to thrust into her, permission be damned, because he knew what they both wanted, and they both wanted this, and when he filled her to the hilt on a groan and then pulled out again, she whispered something that made his entire groin area tighten: "Don't be scared if I tell you I love you, okay?"

#40 – Solitary

When all was said and done and he was panting from the aftermath, face buried in the crook of her neck, she brought up the thing that had been prodding at the both of them for the past couple weeks: "You want me to leave with you, Pein?" she asked gently, and he nodded; he glanced up once nervously at the security camera, but she assuaged his fear by running a hand through his hair; "Yes," he admitted, "because I don't think I can leave you behind, Sakura; humans are not solitary creatures by nature; on the contrary, we're quite social, and without human contact and human affection…" —here he leaned down to press his cheek against hers— "we die."