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constellations
(impressions)
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She paints him when he sleeps.
Her few lessons with Sai had been put to good use, and when he's out partaking in a refurbishing project of the community center, she shops for a canvas and oil paints. The art store is small but well packed, and the narrow aisles are crammed with colors.
The elderly man at the counter is quick to help her select the right skin tones. He shows her to the best sketching pencils, but she rejects them gently. She knows Sasuke's form too well to need a rough draft, and she only has so much pocket money to spare.
The darkest gray for his eyes, a blushing pink for his kiss-swollen lips. She paints him when he sleeps, his figure steeped in daybreak. His hair is mussed, and his chest rises and falls slowly. His knuckles are bandaged carefully, and the white sheets are soft on his skin, and he is beautiful.
The chair is stiff against her back, but still she sets up the cheap easel, tracing the lines of his neck.
Her brush memorizes the curve of his lip, the smoothness of his ear, and she is hiccupping back tears by the time he rouses, blending in the angles in his face. He looks so at peace, and he is calm, and there is nothing in him that begs to return.
He is happy here.
"Sakura?" he asks, voice drowsy. She shakes her head, setting the brush down on her paper towel, rubbing at her tears with the backs of her palms.
"It's nothing. Go back to sleep."
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notes: pls be excited for me; today, I plan on relaxing in a bath and reading and finally, finally working up the courage to write