CHAPTER SEVEN: ONE SWEET LOVE


the time that I've taken, I pray is not wasted
but I'd settle for an honest mistake in the name of one sweet love


"You're right. I was a selfish bastard."

The words slip out before Sasuke even realises they'd left his mouth. Both he and Sakura freeze at the same time. He doesn't know who is more shocked at his artless admission.

"Was?" she shoots back, recovering quickly. Her green eyes are still over-bright, glittering with something a little more corporeal than anger.

"...Am, then," he amends. It was Sasuke, after all, who had insisted on digging up the long-buried skeletons in their closet.

"When I told you I cared about you, I meant it." he admits quietly. "...That was the problem."

Sasuke swallows, hating the slight tremor he hears in his own voice. Stripped bare by his confession, he has never felt so vulnerable in front of someone in his life, but he needs to tell Sakura the unvarnished truth. This is his atonement. "I couldn't live under the weight of my father's expectations. I had to leave. But I didn't count on how much Naruto meant to me... how much you meant to me."

(So he'd told her that she was nothing to him, and hoped that the words would make it true.)

"I was stupid, cutting you both out of my life. It was meant to be a new start. For all of us. I thought it would be easier that way." Sasuke can count the times he had spoken so many words at once on one hand, but suddenly they were bursting to the surface, clamouring to be voiced.

Arms crossed over her chest, Sakura stares at him in stony-faced silence, saying nothing. Her eyes are shuttered, as bleak as a New York winter, and Sasuke cannot tell what she is thinking. Though the weight of his shame threatens to consume him, he forces himself to hold her gaze. "It's probably too late now to say this," he says lowly. "But for what it's worth… I'm sorry, Sakura."

Her eyes widen, the revealed whites a vivid contrast against the willow-green of her irises. Sasuke has never apologised to her before. Sasuke has never apologised to anyone before. The silence stretches on, pulled as taut as a bowstring between them.

A beat. Sasuke watches her shoulders slump, some of the fight leaving her. "Okay," she says eventually, voice subdued. "I accept your apology." And then, because Sakura is nothing if not forthright, she adds– "But I don't know if I can forgive you."

Sasuke inclines his head, thrusting his hands into his pockets. He doesn't expect her to. "I understand."

Sakura sighs. "Maybe in time," she concedes slowly, before looking down at her watch. "...Well, I should probably head home now."

It is a clear dismissal if he's ever heard one.

"Sakura, here." Impulsively, he pulls out a pen from his pocket, scrawling a string of numbers on the surface of an old coffee card. "If you're ever back in New York..." His voice trails off. Sasuke is acutely aware of how awkward this is. He has never given a woman his number before. He has never needed to.

"Sure. We'll see." Her response is halfhearted and noncommittal. The slip of paper flutters loosely in one hand. "See you around, I guess."

Sasuke turns to leave. He will likely never see her again. The sharp stab of disappointment he feels at the thought catches him off-guard.

"Sasuke," Sakura calls out, stopping him in his tracks. Rose-tinted lashes flutter close, momentarily shielding her eyes from view. "Have you been up to the Peak?"

He blinks, and then slowly shakes his head. Victoria Peak, known locally as 'The Peak', was the pinnacle of Hong Kong island, famous for its panoramic views of the harbour and the city.

Sakura purses her lips. "If you don't have any plans, I could take you tomorrow after work." There is palpable reluctance in her words, as if she's already half-regretting them.

Not for the first time that day, Sasuke is thrown. Despite her clear misgivings, Sakura is extending him a white flag. His heart clenches. It is more than he hoped for – more than he deserves.

(Sakura is a better person than he will ever be.)

Before he can open his mouth to respond, a wizened old man selling roasted sweet potatoes brushes past them with his rickety cart, and Sakura is jostled into him. Sasuke reacts before he thinks, looping a steadying arm around Sakura's waist. For a heart-stopping moment, they stand motionless, Sakura's left hand braced against Sasuke's shoulder, the other clutching tightly at the lapel of his coat collar.

Sasuke gives a sharp intake of breath. Unprompted, a stream of images flash through his mind – a tantalising glimpse of milky thigh, the pale arch of Sakura's bare back, her hair like a vibrant pink waterfall cascading over crisp white hotel sheets. Desire hits him low in the gut, and Sasuke is forced to look away, swallowing hard.

"You alright?" he asks, voice rough.

Sakura nods, bright spots of colour splashed high on her cheeks. Once he's sure she's regained her balance, Sasuke carefully releases her, pulse racing madly. He still cannot meet her eyes.

"So, about tomorrow…" she prompts, when the flustered silence drags on for too long.

"I'd really like that," he replies. It is unquestionably sincere. And then, more softly– "Thank you, Sakura."

This time, a faint smile blooms on her face. "Till tomorrow," she says.

As Sasuke watches her disappear into the teeming crowd, his soul feels unbearably light.

It feels like a new beginning. It feels like second chances.

(It feels like coming home.)


savour the sorrow to soften the pain
I don't look, don't touch, don't do anything but hope that there is a you.

(Sara Bareilles, 'One Sweet Love')

[FINIS]