Violet, One Two
Standard Disclaimers Apply.
A/N: The rhyme at the end is based of a nursery rhyme called the Clock. Also, all the titles will be in different languages, and I will often swap violet for purple because to me, they are the same color. Warning for possible OOC.
むらさき、いち に
Leaf Three
The Time
"Sasuke-kun."
She sat in the same place as she always did, taking his hand in hers. Some days, Naruto would come by, but he would only stand in the corner for a few minutes as Sakura rambled to their comatose teammate. She wondered why he didn't visit more often, but figured that he was busy dealing with his own emotion. They'd been best friends before the defection anyway.
She stroked the pale hand. Slender fingers, finely structured wrist, it came packaged with the scent of blood.
She was still here, after all of this. She was angry, she wanted to hit him, for al the pain he had caused, but she could not bring herself to. One punch she had promised herself. When he wakes up.
She sang to him sometimes, and thought of the days when she was the princess, Sasuke the prince, and Naruto the monster. But the monster was what brought the prince to the princess and like always, the storybook characters did as Fate dictated them.
She felt like it had been for nothing. Even though she was stronger now, she could split boulders and move mountains, save a person's life without breaking a sweat—she was weak. She had been ready to give up, when Naruto returned with her Adonis draped over his grown, but still small frame.
More time. Give me more time.
When Sasuke woke up, she wanted to be the woman she was supposed to be, strong, and no longer held under the sway of his masculine wiles. No longer captivated by his pale skin, or the Sharingan eyes that she felt dizzy looking in, nor those sweetly blood covered hands. She would be angry, he would hear her roar, she would move him and bowl him over, hold him in her fist and crush him. She would make him regret what he had done to them, and then make him earn it all back.
Fairy tales, the favorite delusion, Prince, Princess, Monster, who has really done the wrong?
The broken hourglass, but Time still turns.
But she was weak.
So she sang to him in her girl's voice, spoke to him of myths and dreams, of nostalgia, of wants and needs.
There's a neat little clock
In the heart it bleeds
It yearns to end time,
But its life it still leads.
And may we, like the clock,
Stay limp and weak
Because we have no will,
To find what we seek.