1.
It is morning.
Sunlight streams through the green curtains fluttering gently in the breeze.
It shines on a young man's pale face framed by locks the color of night. Eyelids quiver but do not open.
A mess of pink hair rests on his lean chest.
Hearts beat in sync with one another.
Birds chirp outside.
A cat jumps up onto the windowsill. Stretches. Yawns. Amber eyes zone in on the two figures asleep on the narrow bed. Entwined. Quiet. Serene.
The animal feels like it is intruding into something sacred. Once again disappears outside.
The couple sleeps.
It goes like this for several minutes. An hour.
It doesn't matter.
Everything was peaceful.
2.
The girl opens her eyes. Bright green eyes. She takes in her surroundings. Feels the warmth of somebody lying beside—nay, someone whom she's been using as a pillow.
Bashful, she feels heat creep up her neck. Shivers when a particularly strong breeze blows in through the open windows.
She feels his arm tighten around her midsection.
Smiles when she starts to remember.
"I'll see you when I get back."
She feels a tingling in her forehead at the memory of his touch two years ago. The forehead poke before he left. A legacy of his brother's affection.
Back then, that was the only thing she had clung to, after the war. It was her reason to hope.
Hope that he will return. The boy she had loved as far back as she could remember.
He was not finished with his journey of redemption after all.
And last night.
Last night.
Two soft knocks on the door. Hesitant.
If she isn't a kunoichi and thus hyper-aware of her surroundings, she reckons she would not have been able to hear it.
Heart starts beating hard against her ribcage.
From her reading she pauses.
She has her suspicions (hopes) regarding who could be standing behind that door.
Is it—?
She hopes to Kami it indeed is.
Stands. Steps towards the door.
Footsteps urgent, echoes in the hardwood floor.
Trembling fingers grasp the cold knob.
Turns.
Lock clicks.
And behind that door stands the boy she had loved as far back as she could remember.
Jet black hair falls over his left eye.
She briefly sees a flicker of happiness in his visible right eye as one side of his mouth curves slightly upward in a smirk before everything gets blurry.
The tears come, unbidden.
Flows freely.
"Tadaima, Sakura."
She could hear the smile in his quiet voice.
3.
He wakes up to the smell of watermelon shampoo.
Feels soft hair underneath his chin.
He kind of (immensely) likes it.
A smile touches his lips.
This is something he never expected.
He would not mind if they stay like this forever (not that he would be ready to admit that if anyone asks).
But right now he could be honest with himself.
Finally.
He tilts his head a little to gaze at the young woman in his arms. Her head rests on his chest, her soft warm palm over his heart.
Eyes—one, onyx black, the other, white with a ripple pattern—lovingly run down the length of her soft body.
He closes his eyes and just revels in this feeling. This explosion of emotions and sensations: all foreign to him until now— but not unwelcome.
He had finally chosen to stop running.
He feels her shiver involuntarily. His one remaining arm tightens around her protectively.
It is a surprise. A pleasant one.
He had done it without even thinking.
Deep down, he knows what she needs.
She needs him.
No.
He needs her.
He needs her more than she has ever needed him.
But back then, he knows he did not deserve her.
He had to fix himself.
And he gave her all the reassurance that he could. At that moment at least.
"I'll see you when I get back."
Please wait for me, he wanted to say. But somehow couldn't.
A hint of a smile played on his lips as he raised his hand and gave her an affectionate poke on the forehead.
And come back he did.
Deep in his heart he held the hope that she had waited.
He must have stood outside her door for an eternity.
Raising his arm to knock softly, only to bring it back down again, hating himself.
She had been through enough.
And he doesn't know if he is enough to make her happy.
He wonders if he should just leave.
Maybe she is finally happy now.
Maybe she has learned to forget him.
He did not expect her to forgive him from leaving time and time again.
And honestly, he thinks he could (could not) accept that.
But before he is paralyzed by indecision again, he brings his hand up a final time and knocks tentatively. Twice.
He waits for several moments.
He could feel his palm start to sweat underneath the bandages.
Footsteps on the wooden floor. Now behind the door.
Door opens.
And there she stands. The girl who had loved him as far back as he could remember.
The expression on her face is that of surprise—and relief.
He feels himself smile. It is something he had not done in ages.
He must look wretched.
"Tadaima, Sakura."
Tears well up in her large (beautiful and magnificent and expressive and perfect) green eyes.
And she crashes into him, and caught by surprise, he stumbles a step backward.
His arm instinctively rests on the small of her back like it was meant to be.
4.
It was night.
Silvery moonlight streams through the open window.
It was a blur for the two of them.
A whirl of lips and arms and sweat and tears and limbs entangled—
Sweaty brows, clothes scattered, out-of-place on the immaculate bedroom—
Gasps and sighs puncture the silence—
Words were not necessary anymore.
Five years they missed out on each other, and this time they have all the time in the world.
5.
That morning, she looks up and meets his gaze.
His steady, loving gaze.
"Okaeri, Sasuke."
Fin.