Title: the trappings of home

Prompt: 50. kiss with love, Sakura/Shiro

A/N: For the anon who picked 50! I haven't actually played the VN, so this is based off the anime/movies and my recollections from Wikipedia.

Summary: The sweet scent of egg. A brightly lit kitchen. Shirou's focused gaze as he held a frying pan. Sakura closed her eyes as she stood at the threshold of the kitchen, soaking in the familiarity of it all. This was her place and she might have ruined it all after last night.

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The sweet scent of egg. A brightly lit kitchen. Shirou's focused gaze as he held a frying pan. Sakura closed her eyes as she stood at the threshold of the kitchen, soaking in the familiarity of it all. This had been a daily sight for the past three years. Her safe haven, away from the dark depths of the Matou household.

And all of that might have been broken last night, ruined in the same way she'd ruined everything else in her life. Even now, she could feel Shirou's hands on her skin, a burning trail that ran the length of her torso. Even now, she could feel her hands pushing him down as she kissed him desperately. In dark of the night, with not even the moon to bear witness, Sakura hadn't thought of the consequences, just of her desire.

"Sakura?"

Shirou's questioning tone pulled her out of her thoughts. Sakura opened her eyes to find him giving her a curious look. She tucked a stray lock behind her ear, biting her lip nervously. "Uh…good morning."

He smiled brightly. "Good morning." Turning back to the omelette, he asked, "Did you…uh…" His ears were red. "Did you sleep well?"

"Y-yes." Sakura nodded. Cautiously, she asked, "You?"

The red spread to his cheeks and he scuffed his slippers against the tiled kitchen floor. "Y-yeah."

"I…" Courage failing her, Sakura fell silent. Normally, she'd stand next to him, helping cut up vegetables or stir the miso soup. That was her place. That was a place that was Sakura's, not Matou's, not Shinji's—a place she had carved for herself. Can I still stand there? she wanted to ask, but the question felt too selfish to utter. In the sunlight, she felt naked, her greed visible to all.

She should have known better.

"It smells good," Sakura finally said, if only to fill in the silence.

"I guess, I'm trying something new." Shirou shrugged. Looking at her again, he raised a brow. "Aren't you going to come in?"

"Can I?" she asked, clasping her hands tightly.

"Of course." Shirou chuckled, giving her bemused look. "Why couldn't you?" He gestured at the cutting board. "It's all yours."

He said it so simply, as though there were no other possibility, and Sakura tried not to cry. She stepped lightly into the kitchen and ran her fingers along the cutting board, along this trapping of domesticity that she'd made her own. "Thank you, senpai."

"I should thank you, I'd never get breakfast done otherwise." He smiled kindly. The sun streamed through the window just so, highlighting his face. In the morning light, he looked entirely relaxed.

Sakura looked up at him. They had always stood close, but now, after last night, she really felt it. Shoulder to shoulder, arms barely brushing, she could feel his warmth rolling off him in waves. The only thing keeping them apart was tension, was a gap of two centimeters that she could bridge without even a thought.

She wasn't the only one noticing it. Shirou's eyes widened as he took her in, his Adam's apple bobbing as he swallowed. "Hey, Sakura?" he murmured, leaning closer.

"Yes?" she breathed, unable to move, unable to do anything but to stare into his eyes as his hand gently cupped her cheek. Sakura leaned into his touch and his thumb caressed her skin.

"Can I?" he asked and she couldn't think, only hum softly and close her eyes.

There were many things Sakura had imagined growing up—a loving family, a kind sister, an ordinary life. One by one, the worms ate all of them until all that was left was the dark shadow underneath, the inverse reflection of her desires. She would grow up alone and she would die alone and at some point, she had accepted her fate.

Yet Shirou's grip on her jaw was tender and she trembled. Could a kiss be so soft? So fragile? She felt like glass under his touch, like something infinitely precious. If it was him, if it was only for a moment, she could believe it. That there was something, someone worth saving underneath her lies and deceit.

Just as easily, he pulled back, his cheeks red.

"Why?" she asked, unable to help herself.

Shirou stared at her blankly, not comprehending. "Why?"

"Why did you kiss me?" she asked. There was nothing possessive about his hand, which still held her cheek. Nor was there anything lustful about his gaze.

"I love you," he said simply, shrugging. A second later, as though realizing what he'd said, Shirou immediately let go and she missed the warmth. He rubbed his nose from embarrassment and stuttered, "I-I mean, it felt right."

Love. This time, she didn't stop the hot tears slipping down her cheeks. Love. Not pity, not anger, not lust. Just love.

"S-Sakura?" Shirou panicked, looking for a tissue. "Are you okay?"

"Y-yeah." Sakura shook her head, wiping her eyes with her sleeves, and gave a watery smile. "I'm fine. Let's make breakfast."

The sweet scent of egg. A brightly lit kitchen. Shirou's focused gaze as he held a frying pan. These were the trappings of home.

Of Sakura's home.