They live on the strings of night sky, on forsaken rooftops. She tiptoes across the grooved tiles to his hardened, diamond-crusted side, her fingertips just brushing his—
His flinch is just beginning. He looks sideways to her, and his eyes are so blue, black, deep, indigo…
She looks through them in awe, at their colored telescopes of emptiness. She wonders how he can stand the miracle of his own being, and then remembers his suffering.
"Sasuke," she breathes into the shell of his ear, and she senses his shivering in compliment of the night air. He surveys the craters of the moon, the body of milked and drowned seas.
She sits beside him, delicately folding her knees into her chest (a lotus dying in itself).
He grows tense but cloaks it with his shadowed glare, his sour expression that is like black coffee.
They do not speak to one another, because the night is too silent. Instead, they think of special someones who have forgotten, of living in another time. The night is a pearly reconnaissance of the future, distilled and re-stilled to fit their broken mind-frames.
She thinks too hard and speaks, before her mind explodes with the longing and rehashed images.
"Did you—ever—remember?"
She bites her lip and hates herself for clouding the night; but she cannot help herself. Her lashes quiver like lilies.
He angles his head to the sky, away from her churning, buttermilk expressions.
"That time," she says quickly. "That time, when…"
She stumbles among the flittering syllables, and the clouds momentarily cover the moon.
"When we…"
She stops stumbling, and her feet begin to bleed with the shards of sentence fragments. Her expression is pained, but he is still looking away. She shakes her head and recognizes this field of loss (her footprints are still embedded in the earth).
"…never mind."
She draws her knees closer to her body for warmth and dies again, so that the moon can be reborn.
The clouds move away and the moon lights his pale, tight-lipped face.
She lets out a quiet sigh.
His back is turned as she drowns within herself.
Sasusaku. Missing the old times.