The cupboard wasn't the same. It didn't have the same comforting air it used to have; she couldn't sit there and relax, feel her stress and pain wash away. Now, she sat rigidly against the back wall, arms wrapped tightly around her knees.

She felt like she was suffocating.

The darkness of the cupboard was surrounding her, choking her, pressing against her painfully, making her push her face down on top of her knees to block out the overpowering gloom.

The noises emanating from the drama classroom outside weren't muffled and quiet. They were sharp and loud, chairs cracking against the floor, voices snapping, pens scratching against paper, Konan's quiet murmur becoming a harsh whisper.

She grasped both of her wrists in her hands loosely, feeling herself tremble lightly, trying to settle her nerves, to ground herself to be in this moment, now, because she kept sinking into memories.

Her mother washing up. That's it, nothing dramatic or sentimental, just this crystal clear image of her with her arms halfway disappearing into bubbles, her eyes narrowed in concentration and her little pink tongue sticking out of her mouth as she scrubbed.

Sakura wore those same gloves when she washed up, narrowed her eyes and stuck out her tongue, but she didn't come to close to the real thing.

How can someone so alive die? A woman filled to the brim with crackling energy, eyes that lit up with glee, a mouth that grinned permanently, always happy, always smiling, never a bad word to say about anyone or anything.

She was thin, maybe too thin, and those dark circles under her eyes were at their worst by the time she disappeared. Her skin was dull grey colour and she'd chewed her lips to pieces. But she was still beautiful.

Sakura felt the tears come and gave in to them for once, not having the energy to fight. She put her hands behind her head and tugged at the ends of her hair, rocking back and forth, her mouth open in a silent wail as she struggled to supress the sounds of her grief.

Did it get easier?

There had been a door in the hospital she'd been to once, when her father had had his tonsils out and there'd been complications. The door had the words 'Grief counselling' on it.

Her GP, when she'd tried in vain to get sleeping pills from him, had tried to persuade her to go to counselling after her mother died. Sakura had only had a vague image of someone in glasses trying to get her to talk about her memories or something. It hadn't seemed appealing.

Maybe she was stupid, maybe she was naïve, but when her father started putting his favourite brand of beer on the list of necessities for their weekly shop, it hadn't occurred to her that something was wrong. Self-medication, the GP had declared, and then tried to fob them off with leaflets. When she was fourteen, she'd just thought, so what if he wanted a beer? Maybe getting drunk and forgetting everything would make the pain go away. She didn't even have that option. Her father didn't care about his own health, but he cared enough about hers to snap at her if she even timidly suggested trying a bit of alcohol at Christmas.

But now, she could see where the GP was coming from. Her father slept as much as possible and drank in the hours he was awake. Somehow, he still had his job, but Sakura was pretty certain they would only put up with so much. Shaky hands and impaired concentration weren't going to help him do his job.

What would happen if he lost his job? Going to college was expensive. The travel alone cost a bomb. Would she really have to stop going?

She couldn't stop herself, little whimpers were escaping her mouth as she rocked, the feel of her fingers pulling at her hair not keeping the edge off like it usually did. The pain was there, a searing ache in her limbs that made them feel heavy and useless. She wanted to crawl into bed and hide under the covers.

She heard Konan's voice snap something and then chairs scraped back, feet hit the floor and moved towards the exit. Class was over.

As the noise faded away, Sakura allowed herself one big muffled sob, her fist in her mouth, and rested her head against the wall, waiting for everyone to leave so she could really be free to cry.

The door was yanked open and light from outside flooded in.

Sakura ducked her head stupidly as though that would hide her tears. Konan stood impassively in the doorway, one hand on the handle, the other outstretched towards Sakura.

She blinked back more tears and took the hand, barely feeling the embarrassment at being caught looking so weak and stupid, just needing comfort.

Konan pulled her to her feet and with a split-second of hesitation, brushed her down brusquely without attempting to be comforting or soothing, but then again, for Konan, physical contact meant something to her – the fact that she'd grabbed Sakura's hand and had brushed her down indicated she wanted to help, but didn't quite know how.

"I ended the class early when I heard you crying," Konan said bluntly, moving out of the cupboard so Sakura had no choice but to follow. At her horrified look, she merely shook her head, "Do not worry, no one else heard you."

"I'm sorry," Sakura said hastily, wiping her face discreetly as Konan's eyes slid away, "I shouldn't have been in there."

"There is no real rule against it," Konan gave a half-shrug, one shoulder lifting coolly as though she didn't really care about finding a student in her private cupboard, "Are you willing to speak about why you were upset?"

Sakura gave a shaky laugh, wondering if she had a say in the matter. Of course she was going to have to say something – Konan's eyes were piercing and curious. If she tried to skirt around the issue, she might dig around elsewhere, and with Ami's rumours going around Sakura had no desire to see her drama teacher converted to the 'Sakura's mother's a crack whore' team. Not that Konan would care, but Sakura figured that one less person believing that rubbish would be a small victory.

"My mum died a few years back," She said, hearing her voice say the words coldly and completely devoid of emotion. Laying the bare facts was easy. Lining the story with the pain made it hard. The word 'died' had nothing to do with her pain, it was the scientific, factual reason she wasn't here anymore. Words like why and I don't understand and I miss her were inflammatory, "Something triggered the – um, the feelings, I guess, and I just needed somewhere quiet and relatively private."

In school, when her mother had just died and she'd come back from the six month break, every single teacher knew about it. The new teachers read her file or saw something attached to her name on the register.

Problem child.

She was now one of the children who had pasts and problems, like the too-thin, hollow-cheeked students who were followed to the bathroom after lunch and the kids who had brothers and sisters in comas, etc. One of the kids the teachers spoke to gently and treated like geniuses/idiots. If they got a question right or did well on their homework, they'd coo and flatter, saying how clever they were and well done, that's exactly right. But the rest of the time they spoke to them like they were completely brainless and now needed assistance for everything. That's right, you go to the bathroom if you need to. No need to ask. Don't worry, being late's no problem at all! Don't sign on the late register, just pop into class and we'll sort it.

Didn't they see she didn't want special treatment? She wanted to slip into her old seat, to speak with her old friends, to just sneak back into her old life. But teachers loudly addressed her in class, welcome back, Sakura! We hope things have improved for you.

She'd thought viciously after one teacher had said that, well, thanks for fuelling the rumours that I was pregnant.

Konan's fingers tapped her mouth thoughtfully, the nails black and sharp. Not one emotion flickered in her eyes when Sakura had mentioned death and she wanted to give her a big hug for it. No false pity or exaggerated concern from this teacher.

Yesterday, Itachi hadn't seemed pitying either, he'd just been comforting. Poor Sai, he'd been so confused and was convinced Sakura required a long hug to get over her sadness and it had taken a while to pry him off.

"That is shit," Konan blinked her dark eyelids like even she wasn't used to hearing herself swear (Sakura had nearly dropped her mouth as it gaped open in shock, she didn't think she'd ever even heard Konan say darn), "You must have a lot of pain and rage. I meant what I said the other day. You have the Eye for Art. I have a project going on at the moment with Sasori. Would you be interested in helping us paint the corridors of the art block?"

"I don't know," Sakura shifted uncomfortably, "That sounds very permanent and I don't want to ruin the walls."

Konan rolled her eyes and clicked her fingers, "You mess it up, we paint over it. Come. You will feel much better, I guarantee it."

"Well, what are we painting?"

"Whatever Sasori thinks best." Konan narrowed her eyes, "Though I will be free from his artistic constraints. I have no love for that man's art. There is something… dead about puppets. My art is about life, creation. No matter how fragile, I am interested in life."

That sounded nice.

Life.

"OK," Sakura agreed shyly, feeling her face begin to itch under the dried tears, "I'll help."

xxxxxxxx

Sasori had given her a pencil to lay the basic foundations of her painting out, and she'd lightly sketched out her plan. Despite what she had insisted to everyone about having no artistic experience, she used to draw a lot in her spare time, and remembered enough to be able to achieve what she wanted.

She was just carefully sketching a daisy chain around a bony, limp wrist, when she sensed someone behind her.

She looked behind her and sighed deeply, turning back to her work.

"Why are you everywhere?" She complained, softening the petals with the edge of the pencil point.

"I always meet Sasori at this time to shadow his art lesson. Are you alrig –"

"I'm fine," She snapped, harsher than intended. She closed her eyes and grimaced, "I really am fine. Trying to keep busy. How's Sachiko?"

She'd thrown the last bit out because of desperation – she had nothing to say to Itachi and she was pretty sure he didn't have much to chat about either.

But, she was genuinely curious. That woman had been so beautiful, and so confident and sweet and generally perfect. She was proof that perfection existed. Sakura just had to find it, and then – well, she was pleased that Sachiko was so amazing, but she couldn't help but feel very lacking comparison.

Sakura was sort of short and of average weight, with a normal face and pink hair. That was all that could be said about her appearance. But Sachiko… you could write a poem about her feet and it would sell for millions. A goddess in real life… She should have guessed that Itachi's girlfriend would be just as attractive as he was, but for some reason his little speech about inner goodness had convinced her. Maybe he was right about his imperfections – he was a fucking hypocrite.

Sasori was murmuring something to Deidara as they both painted the same wall. Deidara was painting streaks of gold and red in an explosion of paint and Sasori was calmly painting a phoenix rising from Deidara's explosion.

Students were milling about noisily in the background, but Sakura could only hear Itachi as he spoke up, "Sachiko is fine, thank you for asking. She's been working hard recently – she works in fashion design, you see. A rather important client is demanding a wedding dress in twenty-four hours with the works – ribbons, frills, etc. She's a bit stressed."

She worked in fashion. Sakura reached for the peach paint and coated her brush with it. She chewed her lip and stroked the paint over the arms she had drawn, avoiding the daisy chain. Of course Sachiko worked in fashion. Perfect job for a perfect girl.

Suddenly, Itachi reached past her and wiped away some paint that was running down the wall with one finger, still examining the picture.

It was Ophelia. Lying on her back in a lake, her eyes closed. Sakura didn't know why she'd chosen to paint Ophelia's suicide, but it was turning out quite nicely, though all Sasori had to say about it was, "That girl was an idiot." Deidara, however, had appeared impressed by the subject she'd chosen, mentioning 'fragility of life,' and 'going out with a bang.'

"You have become fond of Ophelia, haven't you?" Itachi asked, amused.

Sakura added a touch of blue to the dead girl's lips and shrugged, "She's OK, I guess."

Out of the corner of her eye, she watched a boy and a girl walking down the corridor, the girl somehow managing to turn her whole body toward him whilst walking, her eyes locked on his, a wide, lipgloss-smeared smile on her face. He was at least a whole foot taller than her, and kept his long, skinny arms tucked behind his head. He wasn't looking at her, but his head was tilted to hear what she had to say better.

The boy dropped his phone and cursed, the girl's tongue clicking the roof of her mouth in a teasing sound of chastisement.

"What are you playing at?" She cried, her grin now lighting up her face with mirth, mock-slapping him on the arm as though he'd intentionally dropped his phone.

He acted bashful, rubbing his head and making an imploring face at the girl who laughed and sneakily linked arms with him without making a big deal out of it.

Flirting, Sakura noted, paintbrush frozen in the air. Maybe she should have taken notes.

Itachi had watched the pair as well, a little secretive smile on his face. Maybe he was thinking about Sachiko.

Sakura painted a swirl of ice-blue water under Ophelia's neck angrily, not even sure why she was mad.

"Now, when you say you are fine," Itachi began cautiously.

"Itachi, either grab a paintbrush and help or go away and stop bothering Sakura." Sasori suddenly snapped, turning away from Deidara in order to glare at his friend.

Itachi was too mature to make a face at Sasori's back, so he just shrugged and stayed exactly where he was.

"-Do you actually mean that you are fine, or do you mean that you are actually not fine at all?" He sought clarification, speaking as smoothly as though he hadn't been interrupted at all.

"I mean I am cranky and wielding a paintbrush," Sakura clarified, "Let's just stop talking about it, shall we?"

"It's funny," Itachi began, "You are only rude to me –"

"Please, I don't need any more character analysis from you," Sakura gripped the paintbrush, her knuckles turning white in anger, "You haven't got a clue."

"Don't I?" Itachi said in his mild I'm-so-smart-and-cool-and-you-are-a-foolish-teenager voice.

"No, actually. Do you psychoanalyse all of your friends like this?"

"Only the confusing ones." Itachi laughed.

There. Sakura dropped the brush and wiped her hands on the overalls Konan had loaned her. Ophelia lay half-submerged in water, lilies surrounding her prone, white form, her pale body concealed only by a soaking wet dress, one hand outstretched, a daisy chain circling the wrist.

It was beautiful, but disturbing.

Itachi gave a little sigh as he stared at the wall. Sasori's brush painted confident, quick strokes of red plume to make the phoenix's tail, but his gaze was on Sakura's creation. Deidara was openly admiring it, smiling.

Someone tapped her on the shoulder and Sakura looked around.

Konan gestured to the space where Ophelia's hand was reaching for.

"Do you mind if I add something to this?" She asked, eyes alight with passion, surprising Sakura with the depth, "It has really inspired me."

Sakura could only nod, and backed away to stand with Itachi to watch her paint.

Konan painted a purple butterfly dancing just out of Ophelia's reach, long wings proud and glittering.

Ophelia's face was no longer the blank corpse visage Sakura had painted; the butterfly added a mournful edge to her blue-tinged lips.

She was floating in a lake, her white dress billowing about her, lilies dotted around her body, one hand reaching for an elusive butterfly as she sank, which danced in the air out of her reach.

It was impossibly sad.

Itachi seemed to think so, as he leant heavily against her back, putting his chin on her shoulder and whispering, "I just want to give her a hug."

Konan heard him and gave him a sharp look, her eyes cutting and dripping with scorn. Itachi moved away from Sakura as though burned.

"Sakura." Sasuke's voice said loudly, making the teachers turn to stare at him, gauging whether he was a troublemaker or not.

Itachi sighed.

Sakura felt that familiar flutter in her stomach at the sound of his voice and quelled it with an inward glare. He was not her friend, so she had no right to be crushing on him. Who needed the heartache, really?

"Sasuke." She returned the greeting as coldly as possible despite her flushed cheeks, ignoring the amusement glittering in Itachi's eyes.

Sasuke frowned. Sakura was beginning to believe he only had about three expressions, angry, sulky and blank.

"Can we talk?" Sasuke asked, jerking his head back to indicate they should relocate elsewhere.

Sakura gave him a sneer that said, well I can, don't know about you.

He grimaced – look! A fourth expression! – and shook his head, "I didn't mean what I said to Neji."

"Is that an apology?" Sakura raised an eyebrow, fighting the urge to simper and forgive him instantly. Really, no man should have such an attractive face.

"You can be quite cold when you want to be," Itachi murmured, "You don't just show that side to me then."

For some reason, he sounded almost forlorn.

Sasuke glared at his brother. He stepped forward and put a hand around Sakura's wrist, slowly and deliberately, "I want to explain." He insisted, taking a step backwards, testing to see if she would follow him.

She resisted his pull and scowled at both of them. "You can explain here."

"It doesn't matter," Itachi put his hands up in the air with a grin, "I'll leave if you want privacy."

Sasuke eyed him suspiciously, but nodded.

Sakura, remembering the time he tried to eavesdrop on her and Tenten, gave him the coldest glare she could muster to show him she would not tolerate a repeat of last time.

In answer, he merely flashed a smirk her way and patronisingly patted her on the head, as he so often did. Sasuke's narrowed eyes followed the movement.

The moment Itachi left their sight down the corridor, Sasuke rounded on her, "How do you know my brother?"

Sakura was hardly going to say, oh, I was trying to destroy the headmaster's office at your ex-girlfriend's behest and now he's teaching me how to emotionally seduce you.

"I met him in college," Sakura shrugged, "We chatted. We get on, most of the time."

"Your number is in his phone, under the name 'Drama Queen.'" Sasuke said, watching her closely.

"So it is." Sakura didn't see where he was going with this.

"Not many people get on with him that well." Sasuke licked his lips, still holding her gaze, "What makes you different?"

That was a surprise. Not many people get on with him that well? But he was charming, handsome, successful, rich…

"Surely he gets on with Sachiko?" Sakura asked, genuinely confused by Sasuke's statement, not fishing for information on Itachi's girlfriend.

Sasuke looked surprised, "You know about Sachiko? I figured he hadn't told you…"

"..What, you thought he was…" Sakura screwed up her face, unable to complete the sentence without feeling ridiculous, Of course Itachi wasn't –

"…Leading you on," Sasuke finished, "He seemed to be quite flirty," he made a face as though using this word in relation to his brother physically pained him, "around you. It wouldn't be the first time."

What? Serious, cold, business-like Itachi, messing around –

"Until our father intervened, Itachi had as many girlfriends that he wanted. He gets bored easily, you see. He can't stick with one girl and try to make it work. He went through so many girls, some important businesswomen and heirs of companies, that Father thought it best to threaten to disinherit him if he continued. Those important women he went through, he dumped them all as harshly as possible to keep them from hanging around. Father was beginning to get in trouble for what his heir was doing."

Flirtatious, childish Itachi, the man with no sense of personal space, who threw around compliments carelessly, who always seemed to be where she was, who claimed to have no interest in beautiful women despite his beautiful girlfriend, who waited a long time to mention said beautiful girlfriend, long enough that she'd developed a fledgling crush on him, who patted her on the head, leant against her, whispered in her ear, leant past her to wipe paint away, comforted her about her mother, always dug for more information about her, which always made her cry, leading him to hug her, complimented her face, her Ophelia, her drawings, her everything.

But, her mind tried to intervene, he never made a move on her, he was a good man (the kind of man that Konan saw fit to glare at after he touched her, the kind of man who made friends with stupid, vulnerable teenage girls and made them trust him), he took her out to lunch and made sure to pay, he (drunkenly called her in the afternoon and insulted her) he talked to her about her mother (but not about his, and told her nothing, nothing at all about anything concrete and real to do with him) and he pushed her towards Sasuke (after scorning her love for him in the first place).

Sakura stared at Sasuke, who looked satisfied by the raw shock on her face.

"He's my brother, but I don't agree with how he treats women. I was worried he might be manipulating you." Sasuke said calmly.

"Oh you know me." Sakura said blankly, still shocked, "I'm above falling for that stuff."

You're an idiot, Sakura.

(I know)

"Good," Sasuke straightened up, "About what I said to Neji… he'd been talking about you and me… how we were hanging out more. He implied something was going on. I knew he wouldn't let the idea go if I didn't convince him otherwise… he's as stubborn as Naruto. So, I tried to make out you weren't really a friend. I didn't mean it."

"Something was going on?" Sakura repeated, wondering why he had chosen to drop his little bomb about Itachi just before his almost-apology.

"Something," Sasuke shrugged, looking almost flustered, "Anyway, I'm sorry. Really. Would-you-like-to-come-to-my-house-for-dinner-tonight?" He asked in a rush.

Sakura must not have been able to hide her shock, because he hastened to add, "Just as a friend thing. To show we're really friends."

Sakura slowly nodded but added warily, "Itachi won't be there, will he?"

Sasuke shook his head again, "He doesn't live at home anymore and he told me he'd rather stick pins in his eyes than stay in our father's company for more than one second."

"Well, OK then." Sakura smiled, feeling exhilarated.

Because she wasn't looking, she missed Sasuke's triumphant smirk.

xxxxxxxx

"Fugaku, sweetheart, Sasuke's brought a lovely little friend around for dinner!" Mikoto called, standing in the living room doorway and calling out to the room's occupants.

"Oh?" Came a gruff voice, "Better not be that Naruto again."

"Would Mother call Naruto lovely?" Sasuke rolled his eyes, brushing past his mother into the living room.

"You never know," Mikoto said brightly, "In you go dear, go join the others. I'll bring the tea out later."

Sakura, so nervous she was shaking, moved from the large hall into the smaller room Sasuke had disappeared into.

A tall, unsmiling man stood at the fireplace with a wine glass in hand, somehow radiating elegance despite his rugged looks, wearing a smart black shirt and matching trousers.

Sasuke leant against the wall glaring at the back wall, where a settee sat.

Itachi sat next to Sachiko on the settee, one arm slung around her shoulders, a gap between them made obvious by Sachiko's hand, which rested between them. They looked a little uncomfortable.

"Oh, Sakura-chan!" Sachiko exclaimed, "You're Sasuke's lovely friend?"

"So it would seem." Itachi said, no trace of a smile in his eyes or mouth. Not a glimpse of the flirty man she thought she knew.

"Nice to see you again." He greeted her, his smirk cold and bland.

He reached for Sachiko's hand suddenly, startling her, meeting Sakura's eyes almost defensively.


Nothing to say except I'm very, very tired. And annoyed, because my uni lectures are getting pointless. Seriously, they wasted an hour of a lecture to tell us about using the library (the same one we've all been using since September, that hasn't changed at all in that time) instead of teaching us the stuff we need to know for the exam! Unfair!

Itachi, the man of mystery. So it would seem.

On a completely random note, I like to read Dumbledore quotes to convince myself there is still awesomeness left in the universe. Dumbledore ftw!

:)

Love you all, my beloved readers XD

Next chapter = conflict.

Full title of chapter is 'Rich gifts wax poor when givers prove unkind.' Up to you decided what it's in reference to. It's a Hamlet quote, that's all I'm saying!

Quick poll take for fun: Do you have any interesting ancestors/relatives? Like, they fought in a war or did something awesome?

No suggestions.