He won't let her go this time.
He buries his face in her neck as he crushes her to his chest and breathes her in, through the blood and the shuddering rain and the mud that clings to his legs, sucking him in. I'm sorry, he wants to scream, so the whole world can hear. I'm so sorry.
Her soft hair and her warm body, and the way she doesn't say a word, are too much for him. He wants to be closer to her, wants to somehow pull her into him; but they're already as close as they can get, and if he squeezes any harder, he might break a bone. Instead he just breathes fiercely, drinking in her scent of home and of all things sweet that he's been starved of for so long now.
There's a sob building up in his chest. He wishes so hard he could speak the words to make this right that the tears burn behind his eyes like a thousand nights of lost sleep. But he is eternally stubborn in his pride, so he'll settle for this.
"Sasuke-kun…" she whispers, choking.
Something hitches in his chest and he holds her tighter, tighter; afraid she'll disappear any moment now. God knows how many dreams (nightmares?) he's had of this moment, and the terrible emptiness he's left with when she vanishes like blue mist—and he's not even sure if this is real anymore, or if it's just another cruel imagining. It's too good to be true.
But he knows it's real because he can feel her, so wonderfully tangible, pressed up against him; and every one of his senses is crying out. He knows it has to be real, or it wouldn't hurt so much. He could rip out his heart with his bare hands and it wouldn't hurt half as much.
She gently squeezes his arms, and then firmly removes them so she can look him straight in the eye. There are tears swimming in the bottle-green, but she holds them back with admirable poise.
He looks back at her, and thinks she's never looked so beautiful with the way the blood is streaked across her cheek and the rain and mud running down her dirty-rosy hair in murky rivulets. He can feel the tender bitterness bubbling up inside of her, the way the rainwater bubbles beside them in the mud.
But for once, even though her eyes are clear, he can't read the expression in them. His mind, incomprehensibly, draws a poetic comparison—he doesn't know why he's thinking this way, but with her, his mind has always been a little screwed. It's like looking into clouded crystal, trying to see through; and for a moment he's struck by the faintest tongue of fear. But he brushes it aside.
This is Sakura.
She looks at him quietly, and he can tell she is debating something by the way her face contorts faintly. But then her expression clears and a grim determination returns as she fixes him with a solemn green gaze.
"Sasuke…" she says quietly. It isn't the slickness of the rain against his skin that chills him inside, but the realization that she's left off the "-kun." (He doesn't realize she's left behind so much more.) That precious syllable. It isn't right without it. He needs the "-kun," so he can forget every home he's abandoned, every friend he's murdered, every light he's blotted out. What ever happened?
Her head bows slightly and her wet bangs fall like a shroud over her eyes.
"I'm sorry," she whispers, and he's about to ask her why she's apologizing when there's a star-sharp pain shooting through his chest, and it takes him a moment to register that it's not his own heart's ache but her chakra plunged through him that's causing this incredible fire. He can feel her hand clenching around something inside of him that is still beating. He still can't believe what is happening; since when was she so strong and fast and deadly; since when could she kill like this? Since when had she grown up, moved past the dreams he himself never quite released? But he knows, even as he faces this lovely stranger with her hand around his heart:
This is Sakura.
Already the edges of his vision are beginning to fade into flickering black. But he struggles, fights against the coming darkness so he can catch this last glimpse of her face. Now her tears are overflowing and her poise has broken, and she has become something that he recognizes, and what's left of his heart is relieved.
"I'm sorry, Sasuke-kun, I'm so sorry, sorry…" she sobs and sobs in a flurry of mad pink and broken romance.
He needs to speak; his mind gives its last cry, and his mouth opens. A torrent of coughing and blood comes out, and the childish expression of terror on her face reminds him of when they were twelve, in the Forest of Death…
And he remembers, now, all the moments, as they come flooding back, too late, just in time. He remembers what he's always wanted to say to her.
But his mouth isn't working, in this crucial moment. He tries to work his failing tongue even as she slips further away into darkness and every last bit of him strains to form the words, and in nothing short of a miracle, they finally break free in a hoarse caress:
"I'm sorry…Sakura."
At the words, her crying stops and she stares at him with wide green eyes still brimming with tears, and he thinks it's fitting that the last word on his tongue is her name, and the last image in his mind is her face, and the last thing touching his heart is her hand…
hmm...I'm trying to develop my style into something that's easier to work with...succeeding marginally. ;) I'd like to start updating more frequently, too (I sure do miss this place)...we'll see though.