note: Sorry for the late update! I was on vacation the week before and had nearly no internet access and definitely no writing time. Just a chapter more and maybe an epilogue after this! Enjoy. :)
When Sakura wakes up, the apartment is quiet. She sits up in bed, covers already restlessly thrown aside in the heat of mid-morning; her alarm clock is silent on the bedside table, and it takes her a panic-stricken second to remember that her shift wouldn't start until the middle of the afternoon.
She feels hazy, mind muddled and slow. Memories of last night are sketchy and it takes another long moment for her to remember who is supposed to be on her couch.
Sakura's breath catches in her throat, and she wonders if he is still asleep. He wouldn't be, she thinks, because he'd always been an early riser.
Her door creaks when she nudges it open, and it is incredibly loud in the silence. Sakura has associated this quiet with being alone, and she isn't surprised when she steps out into the living room to find it empty. Last night could very well have been a very realistic dream-or nightmare.
She is twenty-five today, and Sakura despairs just a little at the fact that she feels no different being twenty five than she did at twenty-four or twenty-three. Wandering and always just a bit unfulfilled-always just a bit wanting.
Rubbing a hand tiredly across her face, she pads soundlessly across the wooden floor to the kitchenette. The water for her first cup of coffee for the day is already boiling before she notices the small package on the counter.
It's an inconspicuous white plastic bag, the size of a notebook and lying almost flat against the counter. She knows, even before tracing the faint outline of stem and leaves and flowers, what it would be.
Inside is a small bunch of pressed violets, the purple flowers brilliant against the white of the bag and the countertop.
"Do you like them?"
His soft voice, loud in the quiet, startles her. Looking up, Sakura watches as Sasuke locks the door behind him. In one hand is a greasy take-out bag.
"I got you breakfast," he continues after a beat of silence. She can only nod, eyes full and hands futilely tugging on the hem of the large t-shirt she wears every night to bed. The raised counter obscures her bare legs from his gaze, but around Sasuke, it's best to never be anything less than decent.
"Thank you, for the flowers too." She finally says after she manages to find her voice.
Sasuke shrugs and sets the bag on the counter. Sakura is still holding the flowers, and she watches him watching her fiddling with the brittle petals from under half-mast eyes.
"I-"
"It's-"
They both start at the same time. Sasuke stops and nods, waiting for her to continue. Clearing her throat, Sakura tries again, "I thought you'd gone back this morning."
The smile he gives her in return is grim and just a bit self-deprecating. It's not an expression that she's ever seen on his face, but he wears it well. It softens all his severe lines and makes him just a bit more human.
"I didn't come all this way just to drink a cup of tea."
Sakura nods, finally letting go of the flowers. For lack of anything else to do and still all too aware of his scrutiny, she gets the bag from the counter and takes two styrofoam containers out of it. Popping one open, she raises her eyebrows when she finds a small stack of pancakes. A little squished in the square box, but still warm, with a fresh pat of butter and a large serving of strawberries and blueberries besides.
"What did you come here for, then?"
"To see you," he answers simply. Like it was the most obvious thing in the world.
"To bring you home with me."
She raises her head at this, automatically stepping out from behind the counter, eyes already dark with anger.
You can't make me doing anything, and I stopped thinking about what you wanted a long time ago is ready on her lips and halfway out of her mouth before her voice dies at the expression on his face.
Sasuke is looking at her like he wants to...like he wants to have her for breakfast instead of the pancakes. His eyes are skimming across the long lines of her legs, across faint shadows straining against her shirt in a way that makes Sakura acutely aware of the fact that she's not wearing a bra.
He takes advantage of the silence, of her surprise, and advances. His eyes are dark, and they're lingering on the hollow of her throat now, on her collarbone. Then he's close, too close, and she takes a step back. He follows, backing her up against the kitchen wall, but making no move to cage her with his arms.
Sasuke's fingers rest lightly, tentatively on the pale skin at her limp wrists, completely at odds with his intensity of expression. This close, she can smell him again-both the fresh scent of the aftershave he's always used and the sunshine of a new day.
"Please," he whispers, head angled and breath warm on her lips, "if you don't come home, at least let me stay."
The soft plea undoes her, and when his lips finally close the scant few inches between them, Sakura doesn't-can't resist.