x.x.x.x
Title: Decorated with Tears
Prompt: Lean on Me (Rinne Matsuri Edition)
It hadn't taken much to realize something was going on. It doesn't take long for him to catch onto her change in mood. It doesn't take much for him to guess it has something to do with the hospital. This is the time of year she lives for. She's the one that likes to decorate the house in festive colors. She's the one that likes to drink hot chocolate while she watches holiday movies. She's the one that pushes to for him to give her a list of things to get him. She's the one that demands they get seasonal foods in celebration. She's the one that helps plan the party they attend every year.
It hadn't taken her blonde best friend standing at his door to inform him that she thinks the woman of pale pink is letting her work get to her. She's not dancing within the cheer of the time of year, and she's not radiating within the joy of the season.
It hadn't taken his blonde best friend's wife to point out she had yet to begin planning the party this year. She's not filling their home with all those decorations, and asking him what he'd like.
No all it had taken was just days before the Rinne Matsuri her coming home with firm pressed lips, and the frustration locked within her eyes. There's always the hesitance to pry within her work. She's good at what she does, and that's why he wasn't surprised when she put together the children's clinic. She's an exceptional medic praised no matter where his mission's take him. This woman is not as she normally is. There's a frustration that comes with this. He's not sure when she will come to lean on him.
He's not sure when she will open up to what had happened.
There's no stopping his eyes following her as she whispers her return home. She's not coming to run those fingers within his hair or press her lips to the crown of his head. She's headed straight for their bedroom—he waits just a moment. A minute passes, and then another before he's sliding his mission scroll upon the table. He'll read it later. Whatever has happened in these following days needs addressed. He could no longer wait for her to come to him. Fingers reach for the door knob and then there's his hesitation. Would she become angry at him if he asked?
The twist of the door knob comes after pushing his hesitation aside. She's changing and removing her shirt from her head, "Sasuke-kun, what's wrong?"
It doesn't sit right with him that she's asking him what's wrong, "Are you okay?"
The pause is noted and one he'll remember, "Just a rough day at work. I'll get dinner started in a minute." that smile across her face is cheap in quality—he's surprised she'd even attempt that with him.
He'll back off though. She didn't want to talk about it. She had shot down his attempts immediately leaving no room for him to push. The last thing he wanted to do was force her to come to him. There's a deep inhale he takes to keep himself from letting his frustration get the best of him. He can only hope there's a point in their time together she'll think it's okay to lean on him when she needs it.
He's not sure when she'll open up about what's troubling him.
It's a few more days and still she hasn't decorated their home, still she hasn't asked him that frustrating question. He's not sure why it bothers him the way it does. Maybe it's because this was what he had come to expect of her. Maybe he had learned to associate the holiday with her. It did not matter how decorated the village became when his home did not follow it. Those few more days have not washed away whatever has left her so exhausted. It's as she's cooking dinner not giving way to her idle chatter she was prone to do that he leans against the against the wall drinking her in. He can see those gears turning within her mind, and he can see the glassing over of her eyes. The flare of her nose is unmissable as she silently attempts to calm herself. The grip of the spoon is far too much but he won't dare say anything. It's another deep inhale to maintain his frustration at seeing her so defeated. He doesn't know how to let her know it's okay to come to him. He doesn't know how to show her it's okay to lean on him.
It's not until after she's left early within the morning for her shift that he's done doing nothing. He's dragging the boxes out of the storage closet and he's pulling out the festive trinkets. She does this every year and this year he would take it off her shoulders. He doesn't even know where he's to start with the boxes he's placed within the living room. It's one box at a time, and he'll figure it out as he goes from here. He's always watching the clock and watching to make sure he has this done before she walks through the door. He doesn't understand why she put so much effort into something like this—but it was something that brought her joy.
He's barely managed to finish stuffing the empty boxes within the closet when she's walking through the door—she early and that's keeping him from going to get the seasonal dango she loves. He's cautious as he comes upon her standing within the entryway overtaken with the decorations he's hung. Those viridian are wide, and that pout of hers is parted. Then those brows of hers lift up and her bottom lip shakes. Viridian glass over and she's dropping her bag. She's curling within herself and those hands that could crush the floor from underneath them both press against her face.
He had expected a reaction of some kind, but not one like this. He had not expected her to start crying. Obsidian can only stare at her as his own mouth parts—he doesn't know what he's done wrong, and it has him panicking. Did he offend her by putting them up? Did he put them up wrong? Had he misunderstood? He's regretting having thought this would be something she wanted. He's quick to grab her hands pressed against her face as she continues to wail, and it's at his touch that she lets out another loud cry. He's not sure what he's supposed to do—how was he supposed to comfort her.
He's kneeling down in hopes of finding those viridian that lay hidden behind her hands. He doesn't know why him doing this has her in tears, and he doesn't know why this has upset her so much, but he'll do whatever it takes to get her to stop crying within their entry way. He's letting out the softest of noises in hopes that it will coax her tears to stop. His fingers curl upon her other hand and he's pulling them from her face.
"Sakura." he's scared to speak above a whisper in fear that she'll run from him.
There's no missing the way those tears still light upon viridian, and those lips of hers shake. Her voice is but a croak as she dares to speak, "I'm sorry—I just. I didn't mean to make you do this—I was so caught up—" she's squeezed her eyes shut and the drops that fall upon him make him pull her too him.
"What's wrong?" he's whispering within her hair as he presses her head within his shoulder, "It's okay to lean on me—please, Sakura."
She's choked sobs, and shuddered breaths as she tells him about the loss of the ANBU squad she couldn't save. She's heavyhearted in her pain in not being able to restart a child's heart, and she's curling her fingers within his shirt with bruising force at having pushed all of this on to him because she couldn't let these things go.
She knows that these things happen, and she knows that she cannot save everyone. She knows this and she's been through this before—and yet she wants to save them all. She wants to save them from their injuries, and she wants to be able to keep them from dying on her table.
He doesn't speak at first. He just continues to give forth soothing circles within her hair as she steadies her breathing. He cannot bring them back for her—she was the best medic he knew. This woman needs his words though to ease her heavy heart, "You've done your best." he's soft as she pulls from him with her pale rose-colored strands sticking to the sides of her face.
"I'm sorry this got pushed onto you."
"None of this was pushed onto me." he's not sure if she's referring to the decorations or her work, but even so the answer doesn't change.
"I know how much you're not fond of all this stuff." she lets out a the smallest hiccup within her response as she presses her hands upon her lap.
"I'm not fond of you in tears." his fingers brush the strands that stick to her face away as he lets out the smallest of smiles, "Get cleaned up. We'll go get the dango you like so much."
There's that absolute wonder within her eyes as he mentions the seasonal dango just waiting to be bought. This woman needed to pour her heart out for just a moment—she needed to release those feelings out. He's not sure when he had made her think that she could not depend on him. He doesn't not know what he's done to make her think she had to tuck away her problems.
It's not until he's got her walking beside him with the dango in hand that the smile that should always be placed upon her lips has returned to it's rightful place. There's that cheer in her step, and that joy that radiates off her. It doesn't lessen her heavy heart at having lost so many within the recent days, but she's finally no longer weight down by them.
It's has his fingers come within her hair as they're making their way down the road that he dares to ask her why she had not opened up to him sooner. She's got the saddest of smiles that comes over her face, and then she's turning her head to look at him, "I promised you I would make every day happy right?"
There's a shake of his head at her thinking like this, "It doesn't make me happy when you cannot come to me."
There's the sharp breath she intakes as if she hadn't considered such a thing. There's the hum of consideration that follows it, and then there's finally a response as she nods her head, "I'll do better."
It's that smile of reassurance across her lips that tells him she'll do as she says. It only lingers for a moment before she's chatty away asking him what he would like this year. There's a snort that falls from him at how much he had actually missed her asking him about such things within this time of year. He never once would have considered that he would miss such a thing.