Disclaimer: Standard Disclaimers apply! Naturally any character that is not associated with the show belongs either to someone I have permission to use or to me. Please ask permission to use any character that I own should you desire to do so. Thank you. If there are any similarities between my work and another author's then I apologize. I suppose great minds DO think alike.

Sakura-centric short based on the 50 Kisses theme list…

Short Six: Paint Me a Picture and Paint It in Red

Word Count: 421

Theme: #19 – Red

Pairing: one-sided Sakura/Sasuke, none by the end of the short, dark in nature

Date Completed: 2006.Oct.08

She loved red. It was a color that stood out, grabbed attention, and brought a tiny flower to the center of the stage. She always wore red if she could help it—it complimented her hair quite well you see. So whether her dress was red or she wore some red hair accessory, she always wore it. She loved red; she always had.

His eyes were red, pools of red with darkness swirling about their depths. Eyes that had seen so much pain, so much suffering, so much cruelty. And yet, those same eyes had saved her countless number of times in their youth. He had never used them on her to inflict pain, never forced her to succumb to their frightful power. She never saw the darkness swirling in them. She loved red.

He had murmured to her of a sky painted red—of blacks clouds that obscured a black moon, and the night sky of red… He never knew that he'd mumbled those words in his sleep all those years ago, and that she had heard. No, he never knew; but she had known—she had known what blood-filled streets he'd spoken of. The streets of his past, the past that had shaped him into the confused and hurt boy she'd fallen in love with. She loved red.

He had become obsessed. He saw the world only in red and darkness. If something contrasted with his vision, he painted it red. He did it so unhesitatingly that she retched upon seeing the masterpiece he had left once in his wake. Bodies strewn across the small encampment of traveling merchants—it was hideous, and she just couldn't believe he had done such a thing himself. The blood of the innocents had caused even her, a medic-nin, to fall numbly to her knees. The massacre was too similar to what she'd heard of the Uchiha massacre—too similar for comfort. It couldn't have been him, for she loved red…

But he had left a calling card… A paper fan: white with the top half soaked in blood—a testament that he had left this painting of red for the entire world to see. He had killed innocent people to suit his needs—to paint his world in red and darkness. She had loved red, but never darkness… He was no longer the man she had once loved…

She used to love red.

Now…she hated red.

And she wanted nothing more than to see red one last time, as Uchiha Sasuke's self-portrait.