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constellations
(switzerland)
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(07:18:32:54:05)
He feels like fog settled over a field in the early light of the day. Heavy and light, opaque and transparent.
She could stay here, curled up in quilts and pressed into his side, for years. The breeze is chilly, but his hand against her spine is warm, and his breath is steady, steady.
He is safe. He is a harbor; he is home.
She wakes to gray light and his lips pressed against her still damp hair. There is a vague cooing of a mourning dove wafting around the slope of her shoulders and into the hollows of their ears, but all she hears is his heartbeat.
All she hears is the crooning of a second chance.
Another day he stayed, another day in her grasp. Another day to make it count.
Their legs are woven together, and when she blinks blearily, he is watching her carefully with a look so soft that it feels like the faint edges of a dream sewn by wind, by silk.
She cranes her neck to press her lips to his in greeting, and when he says good morning, she can't help but agree.
Another twenty four hours in her grasp.
—
(05:20:04:36:49)
Restlessness comes easier to her every night that he stays. She wakes at his every movement, eyes cracking open to reaffirm that he's still there, that he's still with her, before settling back down.
He gives no indication that he knows of her worries, and she does not tell him of her suspicions. She does not tell him of the lurking feeling that has settled in her legs and weighs her down every time she walks toward him.
It is the unspoken truth that she is sure they both know, and when they make love, it is in the space between their breaths.
He doesn't meet her eyes as much as he used to, she thinks.
But she's lost the courage to speak up. Saying it out loud, finding the voice to face her fears, feels like making it real.
In the middle of the night, at least, she can pretend it's an elusive nightmare. She can pretend that his slow withdrawal from her is just her imagination.
—
(03:22:30:17:58)
His touch is a slow burn. His skin is smooth, his angles sharp. Her thighs, muscled after years of endurance, are gentle, pliant just for him.
He kisses her soundly, his fingers curled around the back of her neck, thumb caressing her jaw. He kisses her, and she thinks he makes her feel more alive than any CPR ever could.
She presses her hand to his chest, to his heart, and she believes just for that moment that it belongs to her. There is no desire for him to find something that can't exist within Konoha's walls; there is no longing for something greater than her.
She believes that she's enough.
He kisses her, fingers curled around her ribs, hunched over to wrap his arms around her waist. His nose skims her flat tummy, and she thinks oxygen has never been so sweet.
The sunset glows pink and orange through the window, and she turns her head to the side to see the incandescent sight, brilliant through the open blinds, before her eyes squeeze shut and her legs are wrapped around his broad shoulders. Her hand strokes through his hair, and he nuzzles her.
He kisses her, and she believes.
—
(01:01:13:48:35)
"I love you," he says one night into the shell of her ear.
She has expressed the sentiment to him a million different ways. It is in her insistence upon him keeping a first aid kit in his mission pack, in her cradling of the hard, angry parts of his being in her soft hands.
It is in her smile, the laugh she reserves just for him, the softness of her lips when she says his name like a promise. It is in the many, many times she has made her feelings heard-yelled them into the skies, screamed them into the rain.
(We'll always be happy! I'll make everyday fun! Just...)
This is the first time he's ever put his own into words.
She laces their fingers together and tries to ignore the stinging in her eyes, tries to pretend that the roughness in his voice doesn't sound like a goodbye. She clamps down the swelling of emotion in her trembling lips, and she exhales a shuddered breath.
"I love you more," she returns finally, meeting his gaze.
She looks at the stars again, measuring the constellations against their time, and wonders if they'll last the night.
(...stay with me.)
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notes: just so you guys know, I actually started this series before 699 came out. I wrote the first one immediately after the poncho sasuke sketches were revealed, so this isn't exactly going to follow the canon. I just happened to be a seer about his wanderings hahaha.
a lot of these installations are inspired by music. the last chapter was inspired by coldplay's o, and this one was written to daughter's switzerland. they're both so wonderful. you should check them out!
thank you for all the wonderful and supportive feedback!