Disclaimer-Naruto I not own.
"Dance with me…?" giving him a lopsided smile.
She was raised by fairy tales and stories of happily-ever-afters and clichés of unbelievable romance.
"What?" leaving his half-amused half-are-you-seriously-kidding-me expression to explain.
He was raised surrounded by death and corruption and fear and betrayal of his own flesh and blood.
"C'mon…" she nudged him before getting up herself and offering him her hands.
The idea was plain and simple and bold and stupid, even to her, but she didn't care. She believed in the fairy tales.
"…No…" he said bluntly before looking away, pretending not to notice the longing emotion shining in her emerald pools she covered with her cheerful demeanor.
And somehow, with some hidden hope, she asked again the next day with the same false anticipation that he'd agree, and very soon it became a routine. She'd ask the same question that awakened the awkward portion of their silent conversation. And even when she knew he would not agree and she didn't even bother to hope of him agreeing to her strange request, it seemed that it was necessary that she asked. And very soon, the longing emotion in her eyes dwindled to a barely noticeable sparkle in her eyes, and she no longer had the courage to look at him, not right now, not where they were now.
"Dance with me…?" she still whispered unable to match his stare, expecting his no.
It never came.
He wordlessly offered her his hands, smirking a little.
"What?" stunned, her brain couldn't process his actions.
So he pulled her close to him and started to move slowly, ignoring the fact that they were dancing to no music.
They swayed slowly and she rested her head on his chest, thanking whoever up there was calling the shots for this one chance, before he left.
Impulsively, he rested his head over hers and held her tightly; it was all he could give, for all they had given to him.
And they did that for most of the night; moving to a silent rhythm, following a silent song, until Sakura was too tired and dozed off in his arms.
He smiled freely the moment she was asleep. Realizing it was already dawn, he lay her down on a bench and gave her a chaste kiss on the forehead. He already yearned to stay with her but knew he couldn't.
His gaze lingered on her for a few moments before he sped off, backpack in hand, never to return to Konoha.
Never to return to her.
And now she knew she was dying; every second more of her blood spilled; crimson, the very proof of her grief. But she kept her calm façade, a shinobi's persona etched forevermore into her mind, even as red spewed from her mouth and her knees buckled, and the pain was so unbearable that her skull felt like it was splitting, every part of her body aching.
Refusing to fall any farther, she knelt, a bitter smile worn, as he watched, stupefied, in horrified confusion. As if he didn't know what he did.
And, what was this? Was he crying? Onyx orbs blurred, unbeknownst to him why.
"I missed you, you know?" she whispered in quiet hatred and love.
He stayed silent, his heart throbbing, his world crashing down before his very eyes, paralyzed in disbelief.
"Keh-don't choke Uchiha, it's only me," more red.
Refusing to flinch at the formality, he realized his sudden display of emotions. His stoic face returned, the same as it always was. Regaining his posture, he looked down at her, a hole in her stomach, but she was still alive, somehow, some miracle was keeping her alive.
"What did you come here for?" he inquired nonchalantly, as if she wasn't bleeding to death, as if he didn't care.
She chuckled, still holding back tears, hurting, "I missed you, I wanted to see you."
Like a kunai piercing his very heart, her reply shook him to no end, anger suddenly ruling his emotions because she was still as stupid and still as stubborn.
Trembling in suppressed rage; he could've slaughtered a whole village with the anger he was holding inside.
"I-I still love you…you…know?" she stuttered with the dreadful knowledge that this moment was her last.
Dirty pink locks stuck to her forehead fresh with perspiration, tears rolling down her cheeks mixing in with the dirt stuck to her face.
She coughed and she bled and it was all for him.
"Sasuke…dance…with me?" a melancholic smile worn, and he realized how old she suddenly looked. Years of sadness and frustration were pulsating in her smarting eyes.
He cracked.
Because all his strength seemed, once again, not enough; not enough to save the ones that mattered the most to him, not enough to even save her. And the mask he had taken so long to piece together fell apart instantly. Leaving him helpless, owning only the ability to watch, as if his mere stare could save her; his mouth opening and closing trying to string together words that would mean so much to her, that would prove her mission not in vain.
"…I'm sorry…"
And just like that, she couldn't breathe anymore, and she was crying and hurting and realizing she didn't want to go like this. But like an automatic response, a smile was plastered on her face; she would not die as the shinobi she was taught to be, but as the Sakura she was born to be.
He caught her before she fell, splotches of her crimson life staining him, leaving him broken and alone. Even as the sparkle in her emerald orbs dulled and blood leaked from her smiling lips, he couldn't let go, he couldn't help but wait for an imaginary something; anything. He stared in quite anticipation, cradling her in his numb arms, his eyes, the colour of ruby, seemed to burn like the same fire they were portrayed as.
And he waited, refusing to quit, watching for a flicker in her eyes to appear, waiting for her to get back up and say she was all right and it was okay and she wasn't dead. Like it was some sick joke.
But her eyes did not flicker back to life, emerald remaining dull.
But she didn't stand up, her limp body still spilling red.
But she didn't come back to him; she didn't tell him it was okay; she didn't voice out her undying love for the secluded brooding man; she didn't whisper sweet endearments…she-she was really dead.
Sakura. Bleeding. Dead. Never to come back.
The girl who vowed she'd never leave him alone.
The girl who gave her everything to support him.
The girl who cried for him. Who bled for him. Who loved him; had really, really loved him.
His Sakura.
And all that was left was a lifeless shell.
The petals of his precious cherry blossom.
His Sakura.
And all that was left wasn't enough; not enough memories, not enough smiles, and finally a sting of regret seemed to seep into his heart, and pain spilled from his eyes.
Red to ebony, orbs changed and tears fell and it hurt too much; heart bursting, yearning to scream for all that was lost.
And a lone cry resounded for miles of the broken soul of a killer.
romeo and juliet-