AN: *Slides in quietly* I'm back! Apologies for such a long hiatus. I mentioned in my last update, but I started a new job recently and though it's been really rewarding, it's also really stressful to onboard remotely and deal with a new workload. Hope everything is ok with you all! :-)
But anyway, without further ado, here's hoping you enjoy this upload. I can't seem to keep my chapters below like 8k, but hopefully it's a satisfying update after all this time! ;D
Chapter 8: Pinot Noir
Sakura was a late bloomer.
For most girls, something magical happened in the sweaty space between middle school and high school. One summer and suddenly her pimply preteen friends were all curves and smooth skin and confidence. But for some reason, the magic passed her by. All the milk in the world wouldn't make her chest grow, and hobbies like math club and judo didn't put her on boys' "hot lists."
It wasn't that Sakura thought she was bad looking. She was athletic, curled her hair from time to time, and boys like Naruto and Lee would often pay her compliments. But still, there was a huge difference between a Sakura Haruno and an Ino Yamanaka. It made perfect sense; what Ino had was a mother who taught her about what it meant to be a woman. Not just makeup and clothes and pushup bras, but grace and sweetness and charm.
Instead, what Sakura had was a routine.
Up at 6 a.m. to make lunch and do prep for dinner, school by 9, back home for a quick check-in, then cram school until 11 p.m. Instead of riding the train like her friends, she took the same routes along the river every day, riding her bike to save money.
As a pre-med, Sakura didn't see much of Sasuke at school, but every evening on her ride she would spot him walking with some girl by the riverside. Tall, short, curvy, modelesque - a new one every week. There were rumors he paid them to have sex down at the local recycling plant, and it was so outlandish she could almost believe it.
After all, in life, there was rich and then there was Uchiha rich. His family were classic old money, with investments in so many places she was sure most of it had to be illegal. After a certain point, Sakura was sure that the cash itself became meaningless. And when money was meaningless, it only made sense to raise the stakes.
Sasuke fascinated her for most of the same reasons he fascinated anyone with ovaries. Chiseled jaw, gorgeous hair, effortless style. But on top of that, there was a mystery about him that made her curious. He was somehow popular, but with very few friends. Top 10% of his class, but totally uninterested in study.
The first time he spoke to her – ever acknowledged her presence - was late at night on a Wednesday evening. Recycling pickup was every Thursday morning, and ever since her mother took a leave from work there were too many wine bottles to fit in the normal bins. Sakura had learned to be methodical in their disposal, taking only four or five at a time to reduce the noise, moving under the cover of darkness.
That night, the sound of his voice nearly shocked her out of her skin.
"That's a lot of recycling."
Sasuke rose from a patch of grass near the riverbed and stuck himself in her path.
"Jesus!" Sakura jumped back, sending the bottles rattling, "What the hell are you doing out here?"
"Went for a walk." Sasuke shrugged. "I've watched you go back and forth at least four times now. That's a lot of effort for recycling."
"So you're stalking me?" Sakura frowned. Good looking or not, she wasn't in the mood for smug behavior. As far as she knew, Sasuke didn't live anywhere near Ueno and could only assume he was up to no good.
"Me? You think I haven't seen you watching me on your shit little bike?" he chuckled, but the sharp narrowing of his brows revealed irritation.
Sakura wanted nothing more than to punch him in the nose, but instead tightened up her grip on the bag. The last thing she needed was to cause a ruckus and have any of the neighbors come looking.
"Shouldn't you be getting your dick sucked underneath a bridge somewhere?" she hissed.
He took another step forward. "Is that supposed to be an insult?"
Even in the dark, away from the glow of the streetlights, Sakura could feel him smirking at her. When she squinted, she could see his mouth, his lips thin – a little chapped even – but still perfectly kissable. She hated herself for even thinking it, but even after looking away, the nagging hunger continued. Sakura couldn't help but wonder what it was like to be someone like Sasuke. Someone who was always desired.
"Whatever." Sakura took a large step back and swung the bag back over her shoulder. As if the devil himself had been watching with glee, the bottom split in mid-arch, sending bottles and cardboard scattering everywhere. Though mortified, Sakura crouched and started to stuff the evidence of her mother's drinking back into the remains of the bag.
Sasuke loomed beside her, hands deep in his pockets.
'Go away,' she willed him in her head. 'Just fuck off and let me get on with it!"'
"Big party at home?" He picked up one of wine bottles and inspected the label. "Cheap party at home?"
Sakura snatched it out his hand and clutched it to her chest.
"Why are you harassing me?" She snapped. Feeling him bent over her crouched body, looking down on her, made her teary. "It's late. Don't you have anywhere else to be? Uchiha manor, perhaps?"
There was a long silence and Sakura thought he might go, but instead Sasuke turned away from her and started to pick up the remaining bottles.
"You don't have to do that." She tried to snatch at them, but Sasuke was quick to his feet.
"I know I don't," he said. "Come on, let's get the rest."
It was more of an order than anything, but Sakura was too exhausted to put up a fight. The sooner they got rid of the bottles, the sooner she could be rid of him.
They moved in the dark across the road to the recycling center together, with what felt like a gulf between them. Sakura snuck glances as they walked, taking in spikes of dark hair and pale, moonlit skin, but no clear expression. She still wore her house slippers, and as she gaped the ragged edge of the toe caught in a crack on the sidewalk.
"Shit!" She tripped and fell forward onto the pavement. Sasuke dropped his bag.
"Watch where you're going." He hooked his arm under hers and yanked Sakura to her feet in one, smooth motion. While she stared, he grabbed the bag from her free hand and swung it over his head to land in the large glass bin in front of them. It struck the bottom with a crash that made Sakura jump.
"Careful!" She hissed a whisper.
"Calm down. There's no one around here this late," he said with certainty.
"And how would you know?"
"I know," Sasuke rolled his eyes at Sakura, but there was something dirty in his tone that made her blush.
"Any more?" he asked.
Sakura nodded, and like a shadow, Sasuke followed her the half mile back home. From the corner of her eye she could see him staring at the dead patch of yard out front, his gaze scanning over the broken plastic nursery pots and overgrown patches of weeds.
"Your mother isn't very good with plants, is she?" he deadpanned.
Sakura ignored the remark and picked up her pace.
"I'll be right out with the rest." She rushed to the porch before he could try and meet her. "Wait here."
Sakura scrambled to get the last few bottles together from the kitchen when she heard something strange from her mother's bedroom. Soft, but quite unlike the gentle snoring she'd come to expect. It was a wet sound, like gagging.
It only took a second before she realized. In her rush to get the bottles out the first time, Sakura hadn't remembered to check on her.
"Jesus, please don't be-" Sakura threw open the sliding doors to the bedroom, where Mebuki lay on her back next to an overturned bottle of vodka. Her body spasmed and her mouth was wet with bile.
"Fuck – Mom! Mom!"
Sakura screamed into the darkness of the room. Panicked, she dropped to her knees and pulled her mother up by the front of her nightgown. She couldn't think straight and stuck her fingers in Mebuki's mouth in a desperate attempt to try and clear away the vomit.
"Stop – turn her over!"
Sasuke's voice shocked her. Sakura hadn't heard him come up from behind, but before she could figure out what was happening, he pushed her out of the way and rolled her mother onto her side. It was something basic Sakura should have known to do in her sleep, but the glassy, desperate look in her mother's eyes had rendered her immobile.
"Sakura-chan?" Mebuki blinked sluggishly. She smiled, but Sakura barley recognized her mother's face, so pallid and childlike.
"Hold her up." Sasuke demanded, and numbly, she obeyed. He wedged a few stained pillows under her side to keep her from rolling onto her back again.
About an hour later when they'd forced Mebuki to drink a glass of water and watched her drift off, Sasuke and Sakura sat on the porch together with the front door open, just in case. Sakura stared at her hands, still sticky with saliva and vomit.
"My mother loves Klonopin with a red wine chaser." Sasuke broke the silence.
Sakura turned to him, startled, and found his face different than she'd ever seen it. The usual lazy smirk was gone, and the moonlight uncovered weary crinkles at the outer edges of his eyes. He was far too young for crow's feet, but she couldn't help but think the weathered edge suited him.
Suddenly, the night made sense. The way he was so insistent with the bottles - so smooth and swift taking care of her mother – he must have been used to it.
Sakura's eyes welled with tears and she started to sob. It was hard enough living it, but even worse to be exposed in front of one of her classmates.
"Stop crying." Sasuke took her face in his hands. His voice was gruff, but his fingers gentle as he wiped the tears from her cheeks. "You won't make it if all you do is cry all the time."
"She's just been depressed since dad died." Sakura squeezed her eyes shut. "…and anxiety. I don't know… Sometimes she takes something for sleep and it mixes—"
She pulled away and pressed the heels of her palms over her eyes. "I shouldn't have fucking left her."
Sasuke scoffed and the sound cut through her like a knife. "She's a grown woman, not a child. It's not your job to look after her."
"She's my mother." Sakura glared at him. A different man would have tried to fight her, try to convince her she was wrong, but instead, Sasuke just shrugged and pushed up from the front step.
"You should get out while you can," he said.
When Sakura looked up at him again, her face was red from anger and holding back tears. What did Sasuke Uchiha know, anyway? It was easy to turn your back on your family when you had no true sense of loyalty. So maybe his mother was a drunk too – so what? Everything was easier with money, anyway.
"I'm not going to leave her," she snapped.
"Not even for university?" Sasuke took her wet hands in his and before she could protest, wiped them off against his shirt. It was quick, but Sakura's fingertips skimmed his stomach as he let go. She imprinted the feel in her mind - hard, hot, toned flesh.
"I…" Sakura took a deep breath to slow her racing thoughts. "I was thinking I might delay. Spend some more time at home."
"You?" he snorted. "Miss Brainiac? Giving up school?"
"She needs me." Sakura shrugged. "My dad's gone and she…she doesn't have anyone."
"Yeah? And who do you have?" Sasuke asked.
Sakura pressed her lips together tightly. Suddenly, she didn't want to talk anymore. Silence settled between them, and she was glad when Sasuke didn't press the issue any further. Instead, he leaned forward and tucked a few strands of sweat-dampened hair behind her ear. For a moment, she thought he might go in for a kiss, but instead he flicked her hard in the center of her forehead.
"Ow! You f—
"Don't let her drag you down." He smirked. "You're smarter than that."
Sakura didn't see Sasuke again for about a month, and it was just enough time for the obsession to develop. Any glance he gave her at school, any sarcastic smirk, she clung to. Unlike the rest of her friends, he'd seen her – the real her – and he didn't run.
Instead of being miserable at home, Sakura snuck out to see him at night. 11:30pm, every day after coming home from cram school and checking on her mother, it would be back out through the bedroom window to meet him at the recycling plant. In school he might pretend not to know her, but at night they would sip from bottles of his mom's stash of Pinot Noir and he would listen to her ramble about anything and everything.
Her anxieties about school, her mother, how they could both possibly be friends with someone as loud as Naruto…
He took pity on her.
A few thousand yen in cash here and there, groceries, paying for her university application fees. Things that her mother couldn't do, and the money from the government wasn't enough to cover. He might still go down to the river with other girls, but she bet he never spent money on them the way he did her. There was a difference, Sakura told herself, between a woman you fucked and a woman you loved.
And in the end, she was the one he turned to when things got dark.
It was the end of sophomore year when his older brother killed himself and burned their house down. Years of history went up in smoke, along with any trace of family Sasuke had left. There were always rumors about his home life, but the act cemented any suspicions. Violence, neglect, abuse. Though he would never say it out loud, she knew. Like she always said, there was a difference between rich, and Uchiha rich, and you didn't get to that level of wealth without some degree of sacrifice – even if it was your own family.
That summer, things came fast. Exams, business obligations, police, journalists, lawyers. Though family associates were left to monitor Sasuke and his trust, at eighteen, he refused to rely on anyone but her. He bought an apartment for himself in downtown Aoyama, but Sakura became his real home.
Instead of hiding out at the recycling center, they went public. To her friends, Sakura became a saint – the hardworking straight A student who brought light to Sasuke's life. Soon, she learned what it meant to be desired. Gifts came more often – dresses and jewelry he wanted to see her in, money for spa dates and hair appointments and her mother's first round at rehab. He gave her access and style, and in return, she offered comfort. Someone to make him feel secure.
They made plans together – she would follow him to his first-choice university to do her residency, and they'd live together so she didn't have to figure out how to pay for housing.
It wasn't all roses, but was anything, really?
The first time he hit her it was a genuine accident. Their first year living together in college and she'd spilled red wine on one of his best dress shirts after a rare night out with the girls. She was careless – in her state a cabernet nightcap was a poor choice – but after clocking far too much time at the hospital, Sakura desperately needed to decompress. Normally, it would have ended at an argument, but that night, Sasuke was in rare form. Like her, he too was under pressure. Distant relatives from the family pushed him to attend meetings beyond his comprehension and on top of school it drove him mad.
"Shit." Sakura tried to blot at the stain with some paper towels, but Sasuke was quick to snatch it out of her hands.
"For God's sake." He shoved her out of the way with his shoulder.
"Don't be a dick." Sakura caught herself before she could sway into the wall. "It was an accident!"
"You're just like your fucking mother," he hissed. "A useless drunk."
Sakura was usually great at deescalating, but after that remark, the gloves were off. She threw the rest of the bottle on his shirt, and he grabbed her by the hair.
A punch meant for the wall caught her straight in the mouth. With so much weight behind it, she blacked out.
Sakura always told herself she'd leave a man if he ever hit her. One slap or shove and it would be over for good. But when she came to and saw Sasuke staring down at her, the most devastated she'd ever seen him, there was no way she couldn't forgive.
In return, Sasuke made sure the weeks that followed were pure heaven. Chocolates, expensive jewelry, compliments and kisses. He stayed in with her on weekends and even helped her study. But when the bruise cleared, so did his conscience.
It was a cycle she hoped might end when Sarada was born, but in Hokkaido, Sasuke spiraled. In the beginning he used to love to show her off to his clients – dress her in diamonds and silks, but the more heads turned, the more people she got to know, the angrier he became. Soon it was 'it's better if you spend more time with the baby' and 'your place is in the home.'
It wasn't long before Sakura would find condoms in the pockets of his trousers, and receipts for restaurants he'd always made excuses not to take her to. It didn't matter who the women were, all that mattered was the humiliation. Still, Sasuke managed to explain it away so simply. He knew she "didn't enjoy sex" after Sarada. He was only trying to make it easier on her. He said it so often, she started to believe it. What did it matter if he saw other women? She was the one he came home to. If they could give him something she couldn't, it was her duty to let him have it.
He seemed so stressed most days – withdrawn and quiet and sad. After so many years the only thing she'd wanted was to make him happy, and she'd failed. If she couldn't give him sex, she would do her best to give him anything else.
After all, there was a difference between a woman you fucked, and a woman you loved.
But there was a line. The escorts or one-offs on trips were one thing, but his latest fling, Karin, was another. This was his business partner – the woman she'd gone to events with and invited into her home and served tea like a fool.
Sakura confronted him the night he got in from a business trip in Kyoto. She'd spent the entire week he was gone turning their accounts over in a search for evidence, and the results were damming. Sale paperwork for a condo in she'd never been to in Daikanyama, hundreds of payments on a secret credit card to Blvgari and Prada.
"You absolute bastard!" Sakura threw the papers in his face the second he walked through the door. It had been years since she'd felt so rejuvenated with anger.
"Jesus Christ," Sasuke dropped his briefcase and caught her hands in his. "Do you want Sarada to hear you?"
"I don't fucking care!" Sakura shouted in his face. "Let her hear what a fucking cheat you are! She should know what kind of man her father is!"
"I said enough!" Sasuke shook her, and before Sakura knew it, she was being dragged down the hall to their bedroom. He tossed her on the bed like a piece of luggage. "Insane."
"Were you on a trip with her? Was that it? Holiday away from the nag wife and kid?" Sakura's eyes filled with tears as she pulled herself into a kneeling position on the mattress.
"You're always making a show out of everything. Like you're some fucking saint." Sasuke muttered. He slipped out of his shoes and started to pull free his tie. "If it were up to you, you would have aborted our kid to chase after that redheaded cunt."
Sakura's stomach dropped. "Shut up!"
"You should be embarrassed." Sasuke continued, still refusing to look at her head on. "He never wanted you. He said it to your face and you still act like—
Sakura delivered a stiff kick to the middle of his back. "I said shut up! You absolute—
Sasuke grabbed her by the wrists again and they scrambled together on the bed. Usually, she wouldn't fight back, but the rage was too much. Sakura pulled and scratched and kicked, but it was useless under Sasuke's hold. Finally, out of breath, she let her body fall still under his.
Sasuke's breathing slowed, but his eyes narrowed with so much hate it made a chill run through her. "I give you everything," he growled. "All your fancy clothes and bags and gym memberships - I let you send money to your pathetic mother and you still act like a victim. I'm the victim! I'm—
"You're just like your piece of shit father!" Sakura screamed.
She freed one arm to push him off her, but Sasuke was faster. His hand went up and she steeled herself for the strike. Even though Sakura expected it, the slap knocked the breath out of her lungs. As soon as she tried to right herself, Sasuke clamped both hands around her throat.
"Take it back you bitch."
Sakura dug her nails into his hands, desperate to pry him off, but the way Sasuke was holding her – choking her – it was as if he truly wanted her to die. White spots appeared in her vision and she dug her heels into the mattress. Is this how I'll die? She thought, staring into his reddened face. Without ever being to see her mother again? Her friends? Sarada? Him?
He never wanted you. He said it to your face…
"Mama! Maaaama!"
A tiny voice whined from outside the bedroom door. Sasuke's hands dropped away and Sakura stifled a sob as air rushed to fill her lungs.
"Mama! I had an accident…"
The doorknob jiggled and Sasuke leapt off the bed, lightning fast.
"Go back to bed, Sarada!" He leaned against the door to hold it shut.
"But papa I—
"Sarada for God's sake!" he snapped, but then hissed out a sigh. "Mama… will be there in a second."
Both of them stilled in the room, silent until they were sure they heard the sound of little feet moving away from the door. Sakura slumped against the doorframe and put his face in his hands.
"Fuck," he muttered, but then, slowly, his shoulders began to shake with quiet sobs. Sakura wanted to hate him, but Sasuke wasn't a man who easily showed emotion. The rare times he cried…it truly broke her.
"I'm the victim," he choked out. "I am."
Panicked, and with her neck still red-raw, Sakura dropped to her knees and cradled his head to her chest.
"It's okay," she murmured against the top of his head. Her voice was choked from the strangulation. "I know you didn't mean it. It's okay."
Sakura woke the sound of sniffling. The clock on her bedside table read 2:05 a.m. and when she focused, she could see the shadow of a little body standing in the doorway.
"Sarada!" She jerked upright. "Sarada, what's wrong?"
"I had a bad dream."
Sakura sighed in relief.
"Poor darling." She smiled and outstretched her arms. "Come here."
When Sarada didn't move, she turned on the lamp beside her bed. Sarada's face was puffy and her eyes red-rimmed from crying. When she looked more closely, Sakura could see the bottom of Sarada's nightgown was soaked through and clinging to her thighs.
"It was an accident." She began to sniffle again, but Sakura was quick to gather her in her arms.
"It's okay, Sarada." She kissed her forehead. "Let's go get cleaned up."
"Don't tell papa, okay?"
"It's just us, remember? Papa's not here." Sakura used her hand to clear the tears from Sarada's face. "Everything's just fine."
Sarada lowered her eyes to the floor but followed in obedient silence as Sakura led them down the hall, to the bathroom.
"Hands up high," Sakura instructed. Sarada lifted both hands above her head and had to bite back a grin when her mother tickled at her sides. Bit by bit, she pulled her out of the damp clothing and set it aside to wash out later.
"What was the nightmare?" she asked as she lathered up a body sponge. Sarada took a seat on the bathing stool, facing away from her.
"I don't remember," she mumbled.
"You haven't had nightmares in a long time. Or wet the…" Sakura slowed the sponge over Sarada's back. "You can tell me anything, Sarada."
"You and papa were…" she started, but when Sakura's hands stilled, seemed to rethink something. "Nothing. I can't remember."
"Are you su—
"Can you wash my hair, too? And do a head massage?" Sarada interrupted. Though frazzled, Sakura smiled. She'd grown to be just as good as Sasuke when it came to deflecting. Still, she was used to Sarada not asking for much and the innocent request made her heart swell.
"Of course." She poured a bit of shampoo into her palm and rubbed her hands together to work up a lather.
"Are we staying here for a while?" Sarada asked as Sakura massaged the shampoo into her scalp.
Sakura stopped her hands and placed them on her Sarada's shoulders. "Would you like to?"
"Well…it's not boring like Hokkaido," she shrugged. "I like it."
"Rinsing!" Sakura announced, spraying the water over her head. Sarada closed her eyes as the soapy water ran down her body.
"I like that you have lots of friends here," she said once the soap cleared. Sakura gripped tight to the showerhead with both hands.
"Me too."
"It would have been cool to grow up in Tokyo, I think." Sarada looked over her shoulder at her mother, who this time was trying hard to avoid her gaze.
"You're all done." Sakura gave her head a pat. "Go ahead and soak for a little, kiddo."
Sarada shook her hair out of her eyes and climbed into the tub. Sakura smiled, watching her daughter. She really was growing up quickly. It wouldn't be long before 10 was 11, 11 was 12, and teen years would be chasing them both. It had all gone downhill for her around then. She had to make sure it didn't happen to Sarada.
"Will you come in with me?" Sarada asked shyly.
"I thought you said you were too old for that," Sakura teased as she set aside Sarada's nightgown to soak.
"Well I mean just tonight." Sarada leaned over the edge of the tub, letting her arms swing down. "Please?"
Sakura took a good, long look at her. As grown up as Sarada tried to act, she really was just a kid. Childhood was precious, and nothing good came when kids were forced to grow up fast.
"Of course." Sakura scrubbed off and slid in behind her daughter in the tub. There was something soothing about spending time with her that way that felt magical – they hadn't been connecting well lately, but she was starting to believe that maybe Tokyo could have its upsides.
"When am I going to get boobs like you?" Sarada blurted. The question shocked Sakura into silence for a moment, but then she found herself laughing.
"Never, I hope!" Sakura pushed down on her daughter's head with both hands, trying to dunk her, but Sarada flailed free, sending water splashing over the sides of the tub.
"Hey, quit it!" she giggled, but the serious face returned almost immediately. "Is dad going to come stay with us here too?"
Sakura thought of the text message she'd received from Sasuke after lunch with Gaara. She should have been overjoyed that he wanted to try again, but the truth was…they'd done that dance before. He'd commit to therapy and then something would come up. Some trip or business deal or any excuse to prolong things. He'd make it up to her with flowers and trinkets and money, but the cycle stayed the same. Why would things suddenly change this time around?
"Things aren't…they're not quite right with us at the moment, Sarada-chan."
"I know," she mumbled, and Sakura felt her heart ache.
"But it could get better," she tried. "I mean, who knows?"
"You fight a lot," Sarada said. "Like… A lot, a lot."
"Everyone fights. Moms and dads—
"Inojin's parents don't." Sarada turned in her arms. "When I was there, they were always smiling and joking and stuff."
Quiet, Sakura focused on using the pads of her fingertips to massage her daughter's scalp. She didn't know what to say. Sarada wasn't a baby – she was old enough now to recognize disfunction.
"But maybe if dad comes to Tokyo he'll be happy too." She gave a hesitant smile. "With all his old friends."
"Yeah." Sakura pinched her cheek. "Maybe."
They sat in the bath together until the water ran cold and Sarada began to doze against her shoulder. It was a quick dry off and re-dress before tucking her back under fresh sheets. Sakura sat back on her knees and watched in silence as her daughter's breathing deepened in sleep. For so long she'd stayed with Sasuke out of fear that divorce would damage Sarada in some way. It was becoming clear to her, however, that the damage was already done.
She tiptoed out of the room and then shifted down the hall to her mother's bedroom. She could hear the soft, even sound of her snores. Even after so many years, she was still checking in. Sighing, she slipped back into her own room and locked the door.
Sakura scooped up her phone from the bedside table and scrolled through to find Sasuke's message from the previous day. It was easy to hate him because of where she was now, but he wasn't evil. No one was truly evil. After all, he was the one who provided her with so much of what she needed over the years. Attention. Luxury. Touch.
Where would she be without that?
Who would she be without that?
Sakura scrolled through the list of numbers in her phone and then pressed call.
"Sakura?" The voice on the other line sounded raspy.
"Hey."
By the time Gaara got home from work, it was well after one in the morning. The apartment was dark, but when he stepped into the kitchen, a shadowy figure shifted in his periphery.
"Temari, for God's sake. I thought I told you to stop letting yourself…" He started as he turned up the lights but fell silent when he took in his surprise visitor.
Rasa sat at the island with a bottle of whisky next to him and two empty glasses.
"Sir—"
"Sit." Rasa gestured to the chair across from him.
As a teenager, Gaara would have resisted the demand with everything in him, but as an adult it was second nature to acquiesce. He put his bag down on the couch and took a seat at the table.
"Drink?" Rasa lifted the bottle.
Gaara rarely kept alcohol around the house but recognized the whisky as one of two outrageously expensive vintage bottles of Karuizawa Single Malt his father had gifted him after graduation. It was one of the few things he'd received from Rasa without strings attached.
When Gaara didn't respond right away, his father poured a bit of liquor into both glasses.
"I didn't realize you'd be expecting me." Gaara smoothed his hair back with a shaky hand. "My lunch ran over, so I stayed behind at the office to—
"This isn't about work." Rasa took a sip from his glass. "I'd like to know your intentions with Shijima."
Although his father spoke as if it was the most natural thing in the world, Gaara's hand tightened up on the edge of the table. Since when did Rasa care about anything when it came to his personal life?
"There are no… intentions," he said, carefully. His father wasn't an easy man to read, but usually Gaara could figure out what rote lines to give him when it came to work. With matters of romance, however, he was lost.
"But you are seeing her, correct?"
An image of Shijima bent over her kitchen table flashed in Gaara's head. He cleared his throat.
"Not…anymore. We've decided to go our separate ways."
The corners of his father's mouth turned down slightly, and Gaara knew it was the wrong answer.
"We wanted different things," he added, quickly.
"She comes from a good family," Rasa sighed. "She's intelligent. It's a shame she's a bit older, but you've always needed that sort of thing, haven't you?"
Gaara cocked a brow at the remark. "Excuse me?"
Rasa waved him off. "Look, if not her, then…" He reached into his briefcase and pulled out a series of thickly bound file folders. As Gaara watched, he fanned them neatly on the tabletop.
"Then?" Gaara opened one and was confronted with a large, professional headshot.
It was a woman in a traditional kimono, short dark hair, and a severe gaze. Beside the photo was her age, height, and weight, along with a short personal history.
'I look for a future husband who will welcome a large family and is unafraid to lead with confidence.'
Gaara gave a bemused chuckle. "You're kidding."
"You're doing yourself a disservice," Rasa warned as Gaara flipped the portfolio shut. "There are a number of women here from good backgrounds. Highly educated—
"Father—
"You're not a child anymore. You're a man in your 30s, and despite what you may think, marriage isn't just a woman's problem; it says something about a man in business. The way you are nowadays… people will start to wonder if you're hiding something."
Gaara scoffed at the unspoken accusation. "That's certainly not the case."
"Look. I know men your age prefer to "diversify their interests" – your brother is a fine example of that in action…" Rasa rolled his eyes. "But I've come to expect more from you. There's always give and take in a marriage. If you have additional needs, you should be able to satisfy them, providing you're discreet."
"Is that what you did with mom?" Gaara's gaze hardened. He wasn't sure where the bravery had come to confront him, but at the same time, Karura was a sore spot for them both.
"Women like your mother are a rarity." Rasa put down his glass. "I never needed anyone else."
Gaara was stunned. He hadn't heard his father mention his mother in over a decade, and even then, it had never been so…heartfelt.
"She would be very proud of you," Rasa said. He lifted his hand to Gaara's shoulder, but then lowered it just before making contact. "I know there were things you left behind when you started this work, but you've become much better for it. You had a difficult start, but you've made something of yourself."
A difficult start?
Gaara felt anger boiling in him at the veiled reference, but kept his mouth firmly shut.
"I admit, of the three, I never would have thought you'd be the only one not to disappoint me."
Gaara lifted his gaze from the glass. Rasa was looking at him intensely, with an admiration he'd never seen before. Though he didn't want to hear his siblings being put down, there was something oddly refreshing about being on the opposite side of his ire.
"Why didn't you take the penthouse?" Rasa turned away suddenly and gestured to the sterile apartment. "This is cramped, no?"
Gaara shrugged. "It's just me."
"Perhaps not for long." Rasa finished his glass and then stood. "Take your time with those folios and think things through. I'll have my secretary put you in touch with the matchmaker if you'd like to go that route."
"I'll give it thought," Gaara nodded, but his tone was wholly uncommitted. His phone buzzed in his pocket, but he rubbed a hand over his forehead with a sigh.
"Still haven't seen about getting that removed?" Rasa gestured at the tattoo.
Taken aback, Gaara fumbled an excuse.
"It'll leave a scar," he said.
Rasa left the apartment and Gaara leaned against the countertop, feeling boneless. He raised a hand to his temple and then traced the ragged outline of his tattoo with his fingertips. Just like Rasa, Shijima always hated it. She was an orderly woman, and it only served as a reminder of his chaotic past. Gaara could have certainly afforded the laser treatments to have it removed, but he couldn't imagine looking in the mirror and not seeing the familiar kanji staring back at him.
Gaara wandered around the kitchen island and opened one of the drawers. After lifting it out, he peeled off a half-empty carton of cigarettes that was taped securely to the back. He was supposed to be trying to quit again, but over the past few weeks that seemed like a thoroughly lost cause.
He lit up without bothering to open the windows and then stretched out onto his functional, but incredibly uncomfortable couch. All the decorating had been done for him 9 years ago, and not much had changed. A few plants dotted around brought colour, but there were no real touches of home. He remembered when he'd once seen it as a steppingstone. An intermediate space until he had the money and prestige he needed to 'be somebody.' And once he was that somebody, he would find the woman he wanted and make everything up to her. And then they would be "something" together. It was a bold dream, and as usual for him, nothing had worked out.
Gaara thought of the way Sakura propositioned him at the BBQ place during lunch. That was the old Sakura. The before Sasuke, Sakura. The one who joked and flirted and made him feel fucking uncomfortable but alive. She was the first woman he'd ever thought about sleeping with, and by the end of their lunch he would have taken her on the table if he could.
Gaara groaned and exhaled a cloud of smoke. He knew the right thing to do was warn her about Sasuke. Even if he did plan to quash the partnership, it was wrong of him to keep it from her. But still, just for a moment, he wanted something to himself. Something for himself. Something his father couldn't control.
Just as Gaara pulled free his tie, his cell phone rang. At first, he thought it might be Temari, but when he glanced at the screen saw a pink flower emoji. Suddenly wide awake, he answered the call.
"Sakura?" His voice was raspy from smoke.
"Hey."
"Hey." He dragged himself into a sitting position. "Everything ok?"
"Yeah. I'm just tired." Her voice was soft. There was a long pause and he closed his eyes, listening to the soft sound of her breathing.
"It's late," he finally said. "You should be asleep."
"Ok dad." She chuckled and the sound was warm against his ear. Butterflies in his stomach. "Why aren't you asleep?"
"Never mind that." Gaara stretched out against the couch again. He tucked the phone more securely between his chin and shoulder, and then folded his arms behind his head. "You sure you're alright?"
"Just a little stressed," she admitted. "Sasuke sent me this text…"
Gaara felt a lump form in his throat. "What was it about?"
"He offered to go to couple's therapy. Can you believe it?"
Gaara went silent, thinking. What was that fuck up to? If he was in contact, why hadn't he told her he'd planned to come to Tokyo? Had he changed his mind?
When Sakura didn't say anything else, he asked the question. "Is that something you want?"
"I thought it was. But then… there was something tonight with Sarada and I realised I can't keep putting her through this."
Gaara felt a bit of relief wash over him, but then thought of the little girl who'd looked so scared after breaking a plant pot in his house. "Is she okay? Sarada?"
"I don't know. How okay can she be, really?" Sakura sounded strained. "She's not a baby anymore. I've always tried to protect her, but I don't know what she might have seen or heard between me and Sasuke…"
"What might she have seen?" Gaara's tone sharpened. He could only imagine what she endured with him for 10 years, away from her friends and family. And part of that was his fault.
There was a long stretch of silence before Sakura said anything. "Will you just talk with me a little bit about something else? Until I can sleep again?"
"What should we talk about?" Gaara extinguished his cigarette against a solid gold coaster on the coffee table.
"Anything." Her voice was a little softer. Sweeter. "What'd you have for dinner?"
"Canned coffee…" Gaara scratched his head as he struggled to remember. "Convenience store croquette."
"Honestly!?" she laughed shrill into his ear. "I can't believe you still eat like a teenager. God, how are you alive?"
Gaara smiled. There was something about the sound of her voice and laugh that was infectious.
"A bit of willpower, a bit of canned coffee," he joked.
"Can you hold on a sec? I'll call you right back!" Sakura chirped.
The call disconnected before Gaara had a chance to respond, but almost immediately another came in, this time, with video. He fumbled to smooth his hair before accepting.
Sakura came into view, sitting on a fluffy pink bedspread. She was wearing a silky looking red camisole with matching shorts.
"Sorry, I just got out of the bath." She smiled as she gestured at her hair, wrapped up in a green towel.
"No, you look…fine," Gaara said. And you're totally not sorry.
"Ah, you've always had a way with words." She teased, and he could see her grin held something cheeky in it. "It's much nicer when we can see each other, don't you think?"
She uncrossed her legs and Gaara watched with interest as she stretched against the sheets. Though he certainly wasn't the most observant when it came to women, Gaara could tell by the subtle arching of her back that Sakura wasn't just making a casual adjustment.
"Did you call to talk or to tease?"
"A little of both, maybe." She smiled, but Gaara noticed a bit of pink on her cheeks. "Sorry. I like talking to you. And I like the way you look at me when I talk to you."
"And how do I look at you?"
Gaara watched her pull the towel from her hair and shake out the damp strands. When she sat up on her knees and moved a little closer to the camera, he could see rivulets of water sliding down her neck, over her collarbone, and down between her breasts. He usually hated video calls, but this was a very good one.
"Like you want to eat me." Sakura's voice took on a subtle huskiness that he decided he really liked. But then there was a beat, and she covered her cheeks with both hands. "Sorry," she apologised again, in that same cute way that told him she really wasn't sorry at all.
Gaara propped his phone up on the table against a very expensive, very empty fruit bowl, and leaned back against the couch again.
"Why are you sorry?" he lit another cigarette to give himself something G-rated to do with his hands but found himself too enthralled with Sakura to actually smoke it.
"I'm still a married woman." She folded her hands in her lap, an innocent gesture that pushed her breasts together and her cleavage, towards him.
"In name only," he corrected. "You haven't been his for a while now, have you?"
A little smile stretched itself over Sakura's lips, and Gaara tapped the ash from the tip of his cigarette before taking a slow drag in. He was getting hard watching her and needed something acrid to take his mind off her sweetness.
"That's true." She shifted on the bed again so that she lay on her side. The red silk of her camisole rode up, exposing a sliver of midriff, and Gaara immediately homed in on it. Did she feel as soft as she looked? He wondered. How would she taste?
"How long has it been?" he asked.
"What? Since he touched me?" Sakura slid a hand under the gap between clothes and flesh to touch herself. Gaara watched her tongue trace her lower lip as she trailed her hand higher. "Or since I've touched myself?"
He exhaled and was surprised by how loud it sounded in the quiet room.
"You look hungry again," Sakura said, singsong.
Gaara's breath quickened as soon as she cupped her breast and he burned his fingertips on the stub of his cigarette. Had she always been so dangerous?
"Wait-
"Don't say stop." Sakura smirked. "You can't start flirting with me and then change your mind just when things get good."
"I just think there are things we should talk about. About before. With us."
Sakura sat up straight and let her top fall back into place. "You know, I remember a time when you hated talking about the past."
She was still smiling, but Gaara wasn't an idiot. Past the little smirk and heady lust, there was a weariness there as well. As horny as he was, it gave him pause.
"I don't want things to get complicated."
"It doesn't have to be complicated." Sakura gently rebuffed him. "Like I said, I know you have a great life now and I don't want to ruin anything for you. I can keep a secret. You know that."
There was something pointed in the way she said the last bit, but all Gaara could focus on was the way the fingers of her right hand made lazy circles on the inside of her thigh. Kiba had told him once – while wasted, as usual – that there were some women you just couldn't help but have a connection to. According to him, it was pure animal instinct and your body wouldn't let it rest until you fucked. Gaara rarely thought Kiba was right about anything, but this just might have been the one.
"…If you have additional needs, you should be able to satisfy them, providing you're discreet."
He heard Rasa's voice in his head and thought of the stack of folders he'd left behind on the kitchen counter. His father was right. He wasn't a child anymore. He was a man with duties and responsibilities and expectations – of himself and of others.
But still, there were desires. And if she wanted to give herself to him again, this time he would take her.
"I guess we should call it a night then?" Sakura cocked her head to the side and Gaara swept his gaze over her body again. The curve of her waist, her teeth pressing against her bottom lip, her nipples stiff against the thin fabric of her top.
"Lie down," he said.
"H-hm?" Sakura seemed shocked by the sudden order, but sat back on her heels, waiting for him to repeat himself.
This time, Gaara made sure to hold eye contact firmly with the camera.
"Lie down on your back and put your fingers in your mouth."
AN: Ah, childhood trauma and its manifestations. This chapter was so hard to write for various reasons! I think I re-wrote it a million times. It was important to me to do three things: bring a perspective on Sarada's feelings, a bit of Sasuke/Sakura background, and a subtle (or not so subtle, Lmao) progression between Sakura and Gaara.
Rebellion and taking back control is a strong theme with these two, but is this the way to deal with it? Who knows... ;-)
Next chapter, lots of sexual tension and we learn that some old friendships really aren't as perfect as they seem.
As usual, thanks for reading and drop a review if you like!
