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constellations
(the woodlands)
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Sasuke is not easy to love. He knows this to be true, and doesn't need the years of Naruto and Sakura and Kakashi's anguish following after him as proof of this. His heart is made of crusty scales, his hands rough to the touch.
He thinks he is to blame for making himself this way.
Certainly, he wasn't always like this. He can still remember his mother's fond hands tickling at his sides, the peals of laughter, the natural placement of a toothy grin on his face.
These days, expressing affection is opening a mouth wide, a mouth with chapped lips and dry skin that has been wandering the desert for so long. The skin cracks and tears, and a dry tongue is unable to lap moisture at the wounds.
He is learning, though. He can acknowledge that much. He is learning how to drop his guard, learning how to take off his armor and relish the freedom. He is learning—fighting against everything he's feared—that love is like water, and without it, there is only death.
He brings the bottle to his lips and guzzles after a long day of training, and Naruto, with a mischievous look in his deep blue eyes, yanks it from his grip and dumps it on his head. The ice water is quick to make its way down his back, and his neck and shoulders raise gooseflesh.
He scowls.
Sakura's previously exhausted countenance unfolds to sheer amusement, and then she is rolling on the ground giggling. There are dirt and grass stains on the back of her clothes, and there are leaves in her hair, and she has never been more beautiful.
Naruto chuckles, too, arms folded across his chest expectantly. His light injuries do not take away from his competitive spirit one bit.
In another life, Sasuke would have barked out some threat and walked away, but he is learning slowly. So he takes the empty bottle and whacks Naruto upside the head.
Kakashi rolls his eyes and mutters something that sounds like children, and Naruto tells him to shut up, old man. Sakura straightens, leaning back against the tree she was resting underneath before, and she crisply corrects him, telling him to address his Hokage with respect.
Naruto's eyes widen at the steel in her tone, and he flinches away automatically, flinches like a Pavlovian response sewn into his skin.
Sasuke wonders if this is what home is meant to feel like.
He wonders why he still dreams of distant mountains, of tall spindly trees and the call of the wind. He wonders why the sky feels too tight around his arm span, and he wonders if he has forgotten what it is like to simply exist, to float along.
He does not know if it's something he can learn. And yet…sometimes he knows he feels at ease here.
He wonders, if this feels right, why he still feels the need to escape.
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notes: I don't...know if I have anything to say here. I'm feeling a little listless. still, thank you for the wonderful reviews!