Chapter 5: Cherry Blossoms In The Spring
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/ 4 Days Later /
"Willow," he quietly said, voice low and impatient, "I'm at my art showing right now. I've got people out there waiting to talk to me, so I'm going to have to call you later."
"Oh no," she cried out, and Sasori could only shudder at her next words. "we're having this talk now, Sasori."
"Well make it quick, because I don't have time for th–"
"You… you're such an asshole!" She sputtered out before hysterically sobbing into the receiver, forcing him to pull the phone away from his ear. "You ignore me for a week, and this is how you talk to me!?"
"Willow…" he sighed irritably.
Sasori had no real good excuse… at least, not this time. The night he hung up on her in the club's washroom was also the last time he'd spoken to her. He had forgone calling or texting her back for over a week now, and he'd be lying if he said that he hadn't enjoyed being away from her incessant yelling for at least a little while.
However, Sasori knew the day would come when he would eventually have to speak to his girlfriend again, but he kept putting it off each time he remembered so, and now he was finally paying his due. She was asking for answers, and he had none to supply her with. None that would satisfy her or keep her heart at ease without spilling the truth.
He felt bad. Yes, despite his put-off reaction to her cries for a reasonable response, there was a part of him that was desperately searching for one. But there wasn't one he could think of on the spot, not while his mind was beginning to absolve itself in the memories of what truly led to him avoiding her for this long.
Up until now, Sasori has managed to abstain from thinking about that particular club outing for many reasons.
Sasori had been flung into a confused and jealous state due to Willow's actions that night, which only fueled him to make a childish pledge of ignoring her for a week–but the week was up, in fact, it was up about four days ago. But he continued to avoid her, all the while not wanting to admit out loud that this had nothing to do with the stupid Eiffel tower picture anymore. In fact, he'd forgiven her for that in his mind the day after it happened.
No, this was about the events that took place later that night.
Within that instant, Sasori felt dignified in his choice to defy her. The unseemly decisions he made throughout that night–from hanging up on her, to drinking with an unknown woman, to then sleeping with that unknown woman–it was the accumulation of all the pent up stress and annoyance he had been fostering in his conscience, both from Willow and from work.
She was the one who led him to this.
No, I'm not the bad guy here at all.
However, what Sasori hadn't realized was that there would be repercussions to defying her to this degree and for this length of time. He had been so busy doing what he wanted, getting wasted beyond repair and ignoring all her calls, that he forgot that in the process of doing so, he was simultaneously hurting the feelings of someone he deeply cared for, and she was making it known to him right then and now.
Goddammit… I should've called her sooner.
Sasori rubbed his cheek in mind frustration. The grip on his phone tightened as he heard Willows cries grow louder and louder with each passing second that went by without an explanation from his end.
He didn't know why he decided that now would be the best time to answer one her calls… but after talking to individuals who were so focused on the meanings and stories of the art hung up on the walls in the room next door–voices filled with nothing but curiosity and slight judgement to any bullshit answer he offered up–all he wanted was to hear a recognizable voice. A voice belonging to someone he cherished, and knew would be able to relieve the grievance in his mental state.
But as he tuned into the whimpers echoing in his ear, all he could conjure up was the image of her sitting alone in her villa suite in France, crying to herself with no one to hold or console her.
What he hadn't anticipated happening was Willow being too broken to provide that voice of relief... and he had no one else to blame besides himself for that.
Sasori was an idiot. Here he was, seeking comfort from her when she was the one who needed it most.
He felt his heart drop at the revelation, and his irritation towards her started to dissipate. "Willow," he softly called out again, this time a bit strained. "I'm sorry."
She continued to sob, and he felt his chest tighten against his ribs.
Deidara's voice suddenly invaded his spirling thoughts. 'Willow will forgive you eventually', he had said, in an attempt to reassure Sasori that fessing up to cheating wouldn't tarnish his already rocky relationship with Willow.
But he couldn't bring himself to heed Deidara's advice. No, the truth would hurt her. And a selfish part of him thought; no, the truth would hurt me and everything I've worked for.
He couldn't let that happen.
His selfish tongue moved faster than his mind could process.
"Willow, I've been going through some things," he said, almost unthinkingly.
Her breath hitched slightly and she sniffled before croaking out, "what is it?"
Her broken voice made Sasori's heart sink deeper, but he somehow found it in him to respond as direct as possible. "I've been thinking of getting help. I have a drinking problem, Willow."
He almost expected her to retort back with some snarky response like "no shit" but what he got instead surprised him.
"Sasori…" she began, voice still weak but laced with concern and not a sliver of judgement, "I… I think that's great… that you're getting help."
His lips opened to interject, but he didn't know what to say, or argue against.
She coughed to rid of her hoarse voice before continuing in that abnormally soft spoken voice. "I'm glad you're taking responsibility. You're doing this for you, and I'm happy… but don't think you have to do it on your own. Please don't be afraid to talk to me about these things… I'm here for you."
Sasori was taken aback by her mature answer. By everything she had just said. Warmth spread through his body at her admission, and caring words that nearly detracted him from the fact that he was being untruthful.
But he still didn't feel sated by the discussion.
The thought of her becoming disillusioned to his love for her bothered him... He didn't want her to lose complete trust in him. He needed her.
"I love you," he whispered. A confession that, by no means should be difficult for couples to utter out to each other, but they were different. Sasori couldn't remember the last time he told her so.
All he could hear on the other end was her soft breathing, and apprehension started to manifest in him.
He needed reassurance… badly.
"Sasori…" she breathed faintly.
He didn't want her to leave him. She couldn't leave him, not if he had a say in it.
Not giving her anymore time to muster up a response, Sasori cut her off sharply with a voice that was deep with emotion and slightly demanding. "Willow, book an earlier flight home."
"Huh?"
"I want to see you, I…" his eyelids involuntarily fluttered shut. "I miss you."
And he did. It was only now that he was becoming cognizant of the fact that Willow's absence was having more of a negative affect on him than he had expected it to. Sure, it was fun for the first couple of weeks, but now…
"I miss you too."
...So he did what he knew how to do best, he lied.
"I'm going to start drinking less."
"But–"
He knew what she was going to say. Are you going to quit going out to clubs and bars too?
"I'm not going out to party anymore," he said without missing a beat.
The words rolled off his tongue effortlessly. His ability to honestly convey what others wanted to hear so easily didn't shame him, in fact, he found great pride in his ability to do so.
"Okay," she whispered, a hint of a smile in her voice. It was exactly what he had been aiming for.
This was a lie that would for now, put her mind and heart at ease, and keep her from ever finding out about his secret.
He reopened his eyelids, a small smirk curling at the side of his lips.
"Good."
An impalpable weight had been lifted from his shoulders the minute they said their goodbyes to one another.
He felt good.
He exhaled softly in content as he removed his stilled body away from the corridor wall. Sasori reapplied his put-upon smile before exiting the hallway and reentering the convention area.
But the minute his eyes caught sight of all the rich and condescending onlookers and photographers, his mind went into complete disarray and the smile instantly fell from his lips. He suddenly felt nauseous.
He needed a distraction.
His first instinct told him to find some alcohol. But alcohol was part of the reason he was in this mess to begin with, and while he had no plans to uphold the promise he had just made to Willow, now simply didn't feel like the right time to defy her yet again, and so he threw that idea out the window immediately.
His eyes then landed on the second reason he was in this mess to begin with.
Features set in disbelief, his eyes cast a dazed look towards the pink haired woman stood on the other side of the convention area. What was she doing here?
Despite all sensibilities warning him against making any brash actions that he'd possibly regret, he couldn't stop his legs from making quick and direct movements towards her. He ignored the countless eyes boring into him from every corner of the room as his body moved on its own accord.
:::
She bit her lip gently, rocking back and forth on her platform heels, patiently awaiting his arrival.
Play it cool Sakura, play it cool.
Her eyes scanned the room once more, not landing on any specific object or person in general. She tried to keep her mind occupied on something, anything, but it was nearly impossible.
She released a dissatisfied sigh, allowing her eyes to trail back to the painting hung before her.
Her nerves had truly gotten the best of her. Not even the beautiful artwork curated by her client could relieve the tense muscles in her shoulders.
She tried reanalyzing the portrait once more, and she somehow found herself spotting details that she hadn't noticed the first time.
Cherry Blossoms In The Spring.
As described perfectly by the straightforward name engraved beneath, it was a vivid painting of a milestone pathway with cherry blossom trees lining it on both sides. It looked to have been illustrated using oil paint, and from what she knew of the medium, it was a difficult type of paint to work with, and it must've taken considerable time and effort to complete. It's manifestation was admirable, however, there was just something about it that didn't feel right…
"So, what do you think?"
She saw bright red hair in her peripheral view. She spared a second lasting glance towards the man on her right.
His eyes looked much livelier than she remembered them. They appeared to be more hazel than brown, and the clearness in them and firmness of the surrounding skin indicated that he most likely forgone drinking the night before, probably in preparation for today's event.
However, his focus wasn't on her. Instead, he kept his gaze locked in on the painting in front of them.
"How do you like it?" he repeated, voice just as firm and smooth as she remembered it.
She blinked dumbly. "Huh?"
"The painting. You've been staring at it for a while."
Sakura's attention flickered back towards the portrait. She unconsciously bit her lip harder, trying to find the most appropriate response.
"It's simple. I like it."
Sakura heard him scoff lightly beside her. Yup, just like she remembered him.
"Is that all?"
She slightly tilted her head to the side and narrowed her eyes, as though she was further examining it. "Um… well… it's very realistic. Did you use a reference?" She asked.
"It's from memory."
Sakura wasn't surprised. The painting was very hyper-realistic and gave her vague flashbacks to several spring festivals she attended back in Japan. It was the reason she had flocked towards this painting in the first place; it was the closest she's felt to home for close to a month now.
Sasori is also from Japan. However, Suzanne doesn't know that.
"Ah, it's very beautiful. Where is this place?"
"Tokyo, Japan. It's where I grew up."
Sakura wondered for a moment why he was being this open with her. Or speaking to her at all, really. She didn't expect him to not only engage the conversation first, but act as if nothing had happened between them.
Her eyes shifted towards him once more, and that's when she saw it. The small upturn of his lips.
Of course; this was his art, his life's passion. He must gain some sort of gratification when speaking to others of it, especially when he hears words of praise.
Sakura then realized that this was the first time she'd seen a genuine smile on his typically arrogant face. However, her analysis of this uncharacteristic feature came to an abrupt pause at his next words.
"We call them Sakura trees in Japanese. They remind me of you."
Sakura's heartbeat quickened and she nearly fell over on her own two feet.
"What?" she croaked out.
You're kidding me.
Sakura calmly turned her head towards him in a pain stricken manner, his sole attention had finally focused on her.
Sasori's eyes gleamed in surprise and slight amusement at her reaction. However, the perplexion was written all over his face. He had no idea what she had been thinking.
"Your hair," he began explaining, brows turned upwards in a neutral manner, "it's the same shade as Sakura trees. Has no one ever told you so?"
Sakura's hand mindlessly ghosted over the bun on her head. It was in the same style as the night she met her client. 'It's how he'll recognize you,' Ino had said. But Sakura knew that despite his drunken state, there's not a substance on earth that could obstruct one's capability from ever remembering seeing someone with pink hair. No matter where she was or who she was on any specific day, she always knew that her unique hair colour could benefit in making long lasting first impressions.
Once the shock had worn off from nearly being identified, she began to process his words.
Cherry blossoms In The Spring. It was the reason her mother named her Sakura.
"No," she answered, allowing a grin of her own to draw on her lips. "They don't grow in France, so I've never seen them before. Is it a good thing?"
He pursed his lips and languidly examined her hair as if she were one of the art pieces hung in that room.
"It suits you."
The glint in his eyes reflected honesty. Sakura had to look away before getting caught in them again.
"So," she coughed awkwardly, "how long did it take you?"
She could still feel his gaze on her. "A couple of months," he responded.
"Ah, and did you–"
He interjected her stream of words. "Are you not going to ask me what it's about?"
The sudden lack of interest in his tone gave her whiplash. She quickly looked back at him, and the smile was gone. He simply regarded her with a blank look. He was getting bored by her strategic questions.
Sakura inhaled softly. Not wanting to be reprimanded for her thoughts, she decided to tread lightly with her critique. "Everyone views art differently. You as the artist probably have a particular story or reason behind making it, right? But I think that, instead of having others try to guess why you specifically crafted something, you should instead ask for their own interpretations of it; what they feel when they look at it. The responses will be much more honest and interesting."
His head titled to the side in piqued interest, as though taken aback by her unique answer. "And what do you feel when you look at this painting?"
She had walked herself into that one.
The words slipped out before she had time to process them. "Art should evoke emotion. I don't feel anything when I look at this."
:::
Sasori didn't expect to find himself so wrapped up in their conversation.
His initial plan when walking over to the woman had been to confront her on what she was doing here, and then proceed based on her answer. But she had been looking at one of his paintings so intently that he couldn't help but ask what she thought of it.
The discussion then evolved into an engaging back and forth, and he found himself liking it. It was just the distraction he needed.
But, out of contingency, he ended up prodding her to use a recycled question that countless others had asked him that evening.
"Are you not going to ask me what it's about?"
Her initial response had been honest, and he knew where she was coming from. But then curiosity got the best of him, and he pressed her to continue.
"And what do you feel when you look at this painting?" He asked.
Her reply was instant, as if she had prepared her answer hours in advance. "Art should evoke emotion. I don't feel anything when I look at this."
His body stilled and his mind went foggy. What?
Sasori couldn't help the smug laugh that escaped his throat at her nonsensical answer. She knew nothing of art, she wasn't an artist like him. How could she so confidently critique his work in such a way?
But while irritated, he also wanted a clearer answer, and so he inquired further. "And why is that?"
"There's just something… missing."
His jaw clenched. "could you elaborate on what exactly is missing?"
The woman finally took notice of his provoked stance, and stopped herself from responding. Her eyes were narrowed and her brows bunched together. She looked as though she was considering whether or not to continue.
"Well?" He pressed.
She opened her mouth to answer, but paused, before averting her eyes away. The confident streak she had going for her dissolved almost immediately, and she was back to acting reserved and quiet, just like he remembered her.
Sasori could only roll his eyes at her gestures. He'd forgotten how easily frazzled she got.
:::
Sakura could feel it in the air around him, that his passive demeanor had changed. Her honest words dampened the mood and brought the light and pleasant conversation they had been engaged in earlier to a halt.
Sakura was mentally punching herself. This is why you don't go off script!
She let out a breath she didn't realize she was holding once his intense glare split away.
She needed to reel it in, start acting more like how Suzanne is supposed to act.
But she caught the way he rolled his eyes at her, and that's when flashbacks of him doing the same thing the last time they met played at the back of her mind.
No, he's not attracted to easily flustered women.
Indeed, he had asked her back to his condo once she became more confident in her words and actions. He had continued this conversation in the first place because she challenged his thinking.
Pulling a complete 360 on the spot, Sakura promptly switched on a different charm.
Deciding that the space between them was too large, She put most of her weight on her right foot and leaned in closer to him, and once he took notice she peered back up at him through her lashes, and his glare faltered for a moment.
"I think I have something of yours," she said quietly so that only he could hear.
Sakura conceded to the curious look he shot at her by pulling out his gold rolex from her purse.
"It's the reason I came here today, I wanted to return it to you. It somehow ended up in my bag the morning after we…" she trailed off, an unintentional blush blooming on her cheeks.
She'd hoped it would detract his mind from the painting, and possibly jog his memory of how their first encounter had played out. But whether it be because he was still mad about her critique or he simply wasn't attracted to her in that way anymore, he merely rolled his eyes at her yet again.
"Is that really it?"
His voice was deadpan, and Sakura felt an overwhelming urge to return the rudeness.
"Um, yes?" She answered almost hesitantly.
However, Sakura knew that Sasori could see through her not-so-innocent gesture.
His features were devoid of emotion as he spoke, "I have a girlfriend."
Sakura felt her heart leap through her throat, but by sheer will power found it in herself to try enticing him further. "That didn't stop you the first time," she smiled innocently, holding out the watch for him to take.
But he ignored it. In fact, his attention did not once train in on the 30k piece of jewelry in her hand, instead, his darkened eyes remained fixated on her. but not in a flattering way. It felt as though he was trying to read her and gauge her next move.
Sasori's eyes narrowed ever so slightly. "Are you after something?"
He'd asked the same question on the night they met at the club, and at the time Sakura simply brushed it off as him just being overly-cautious of strangers. But it suddenly struck her that maybe she was the problem… maybe she wasn't as stealthy as she thought she was, and that's when Sakura realized that her client was a lot more perceptive than she took him for.
Sakura leaned in a bit further, voice smooth and seductive. "In a sense; yes. I'd like to get to know you better."
He said nothing, and so she continued with a long drawled flutter of her eyelashes. "I want to know if, what I'm feeling for you could be reciprocated. If we could reignite the spark we had on that night we spent together..."
His eyes only gave a fleeting look of intrigue before morphing into a look of coldness and disregard.
"No thanks," he responded dutifully as he gently placed a hand on her shoulder and eased her away. "As I said before, I have a girlfriend."
He knew what game she was playing at, the implication had been clear in her tone and words, and he was ensuring that he wouldn't fall for it again.
It was at that moment that Sakura knew that no matter how much she pushed, all her attempts would be futile. Her flirtatious words would fall on deaf ears and he would continue to inform her of his non-single status.
Sasori had mentally and physically pushed her away.
"You can continue looking around if you want," he murmured, finally detaching his eyes from her long enough to size up the room they stood in. "Just don't bother speaking to me again, my answer will remain the same."
He took a step back and shot an annoying smirk towards her that made Sakura both flustered and frustrated at the same time.
"Oh, and don't steal anything."
His eyes lingered on the watch Sakura still had in her hand and she immediately turned red.
Not sparing a second look at her pathetic reaction, he turned on his heel and made his way towards a couple who were waiting to speak to him.
His antagonizing words had thrown her off balance, yet again. She wanted to be angry, but didn't have the energy to exert any sort of emotion beyond tiredness and defeat.
Sakura began fiddling with the watch in her hand, having now understood that he held no semblance towards the object. He probably didn't notice it went missing in the first place. "Stupid rich people," she groaned.
Sakura sucked her bottom lip between her teeth and curiously glanced back over at the redhead, and within a second he caught her gaze in mid conversation. Embarrassed yet again, she turned her attention away, not wanting to be faced with yet another condescending smirk.
But what she was really escaping from were those stupid, stupid brown eyes...
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A/N: this is my longest chapter for this story so far! Not sure how that happened.. I guess writing Sasori and Sakura together is just really fun. Given their separate circumstances (with Sasori having a girlfriend and Sakura wanting to stay focused on her mission), it's going to take some time for something real to begin blooming between them. Having said that, I think this will end up being a pretty long story, longer than I had first envisioned it. Hopefully y'all will be in for the ride with me!
