(14 years ago)

Twenty-one.

Ino's arm was slung across her shoulders, swaying her from side-to-side as everyone belted out the sloppiest, most out of tune rendition of the happy birthday song she's ever heard, fighting to be heard over the loud, earth-shaking bass of the club. Her friends embarrassed her, as they always did, but she only fell deeper in love with each and every one of them.

She blew out the single candle Naruto had stuck into a cupcake, thinking about how thankful she was to have them in her life. Then she thought of Sasuke, the only one of her closest friends who wasn't there because he had a project due tomorrow. And in the very back of her mind… she thought of her mother. Her breath came out shaky and the flame danced clumsily before going out. Smoke rose from the cupcake but the image of her mother in her head remained.

Kiba hollered at a waiter and within a few minutes, their booth was filled with fizzy, fruity drinks and hard, heavy alcohol. Sakura opted for the latter−she has learned over the years that the heavier the drink, the easier she drowned out her mother's ghost.

There's gasoline spilling down her throat and setting her stomach on fire. She drank until she was no longer in the passenger seat with her mother looking at her with blank eyes. She drank until her best friend draped a jacket over her bare shoulders and informed her that she'd called someone to come pick her up because "God, Forehead, you're wasted!"

"I'm just celebrating!" she said loudly, tossing her head back and downing another shot of… she didn't know what, but it's getting her good so she didn't really care. She smiled up at her friend cheekily. "It's my birthday!"

Everything was a blur. One moment she's in the club with Ino, and the next she was going on a road trip with her mother, only for her to then realize that it was actually Sasuke in the driver's seat. And finally, she found herself in the quiet of their apartment, right under his scrutiny.

"You've been drinking," he muttered, "a lot."

"It's my birthday," she shrugged, leaning against the front door that she had just closed behind her because she couldn't seem to enter her own residence. His heavy gaze seemed to be warding her off.

He slumped against the couch and lit a cigarette between his lips, eyes never leaving hers. There was a question there somewhere, but it was as if he didn't know how to ask, just like she didn't know how to answer. He looked angry. He looked like he wanted to fight her. He looked like he wanted to shout at her and call her out on her avoidance−of him, of what happened between them, of her, and of what separated her from everything else. She saw the tense muscles under his shirt and how angrily his nostrils flared when he exhaled smoke. She wanted to ease that tension, unwind him, set him free from problems that weren't his.

That, she could do. Even if she couldn't answer his questions, she could give him that.

The next thing she knew, she was straddling him. He still had a lot of fight in his eyes, like he wasn't just about to let her off the hook. But her fingers splayed across his skin and she felt his resolve turn to liquid. She plucked the cigarette out of his mouth and replaced it with her own lips. Nicotine mixed with alcohol and they created a flavor that was entirely their own. She was all over him, all tongue and teeth because she's been drinking and she barely remembered how they used to fit together, so how did he expect for this to not be sloppy?

"Sakura, you're drunk," he released a heavy breath when he pushed her away, holding her in place by the shoulders. It was a reminder, more than it was a fact−a reminder for him to not take advantage and for her to not do something she'd regret in the morning. His cheeks were flushed and his eyes were dark with their own kind of inebriation, and something of his pressed against her thigh. A sense of pride came over her when she realized that this was all her doing, that Sasuke Uchiha came undone only for her.

"I'm sober enough to want this," she whispered. Her fingers played with the ends of his hair at the nape of his neck while her lips brushed his with every word. She kissed him again; urgently, hungrily, desperately. She wasn't sober enough to care if Naruto came home and found his sister fucking his best friend.

But Sasuke had more sense than her. He stood up, wrapping her legs around his waist as he went. She felt like she was floating, already reaching cloud nine and he'd only been kissing her. Objects fell with a loud thud and there came scraping sounds as furniture was blindly moved, as they moved with one destination in mind, eyes closed and lips locked. But it's all background noise to her own heartbeat pounding in her ears.

In a whirlwind of movement, she felt the breath knocked out of her as he threw her onto the bed. Everything was hazy from how fast they were going and her semi-drunkenness, but she saw him hovering on top of her, shirt flying over his head and she immediately reached for him−the feel of his body against hers was the only clarity she needed.

She came alive when he touched her. He stole the breath from her lungs and replaced it with his own. He set her on fire with his touch, not enough that it hurt but just enough that her back arched and her nails dug into his skin and her teeth grazed the shell of his ear−just enough to feel. Then she's on top of him, her hands on either side of him, caging him in because she wants him shewantshimshewantshimshewantshim so fucking bad. And there were no more stupid, half-hearted, unintentional love confessions if that's what it took to keep him right where he was, in her arms and inside her and all over her. And it's all so messy, she realized, how she felt for him and how he made her feel and how she felt like she was losing her mind. She had never said those three words before, not to anyone. But she'd said them to him. And she didn't understand why she had felt so compelled to say them to him that day over a year ago, when she didn't even know what they meant.

She'd expected him to leave right after he caught his breath and collected himself. But to her surprise, he wrapped an arm around her middle and pulled her against him, his nose in her hair. She took the gesture as an invitation and turned to curl up against him, her fingers tracing the delicious ripples across his stomach. And that's how they fell asleep; with his arms tight around her and her legs tangled with his, a monster with two heads.

Sometime in the middle of the night, cold washed over her. He had slipped away from her embrace, taking all his warmth with him. She reached out for him, for a second, afraid that she was losing him again. But his skin was cold and his muscles tensed when her fingertips brushed against him.

A cold breeze blew in from the open window. Colder than the breeze were his eyes as they locked with hers. Colder than the breeze was his voice.

"My brother is dead."

a/n: i'm graduating from high school tomorrow :)