Sakura wakes up when the dripping of rain got louder. She wonders, scratches the back of her hand, thinks about another war and leaving home despite her bedroom being cluttered with debris. She wonders out loud with a too bitter coffee that slips— a curse, and palms covered in burns.
When she turns to his side, Sasuke stirs and his eyelids open. He does not ask, but Sakura won't answer anyway.
A green glow emerges from her palm, still the room is cold, far too silent, and Sakura, rag now in palms, tries to scrub the bitterness she's spilled, thinks that maybe Sasuke wonders too. But Sasuke wonders quietly.
"Tell me," she smiles shyly as Sasuke meets her at the edge of the forest.
"You know it already", Sasuke says unsure, but with a certain boldness. And she knows, whatever it is when their eyes meet, whatever is there or not there— she feels it too.
The warm air, his sweaty palms and the scent of smoke— unplanned but a part of their inevitable. The kind eyes, his laugh, and Sasuke moving closer, intertwining their hands— this too, the war, all of it, and Sasuke saying, "Your hands fit perfectly in my own."
She wonders still, in the coldness of this storm, and gives up on the spilled drink on their bedroom floor, leaving it for later. Sasuke intertwines their fingers together— pulls her back into the bed, and Sakura lets her mind think about warmth and how they don't fit at all.
When Sasuke's hand slides to the small of her back gently, she stays quiet, and they linger for a little longer as the rain outside grows louder than Sakura's thoughts.
Maybe this time the rain is simply passing by, she lies to herself, and clings closer onto Sasuke like a lifeboat, wondering where everything went wrong.