a/n: Sasuke's pov coz a lot of people have been asking. I don't usually do this because I like one-character POVs – it sustains the mystery – and I especially don't like making unnecessary repetitions but here goes:

Her hands were now traveling down his chest, having finished undoing the first few buttons of his polo. She started sucking on his pulse, her tongue tracing his collarbones, making its way up to the back of his ear, kissing it with practiced mobility. Her wandering hands had finally reached their destination, but instead of groaning in pleasure, he growled instead, pushing the half-naked, busty stranger off his lap. He quickly redid and fixed his polo, stalking off the room in a haste, acrid guilt filling him as he remembered the kisses and touches that weren't hers, that weren't Sakura's, now tainting his skin. He didn't think he'd reach this point where alcohol could no longer provide the opium that he needed, where he'd have to resume the vice that he had abandoned months ago because of her.

But then again, he didn't think it'd be this hard to forget.

He pressed the gas pedal hard and just stared at the road ahead, with no direction in mind until he realized he was already in front of the apartment that they were sharing. He had to stomp down the violent urge to storm off inside and just hold her again. It didn't matter anymore if she'd hold him back or not.

But sometimes, he'd indulge himself by staying in the illusion that every time she kissed him back, it was because it meant something to her, too, that he meant something more to her, not just as some random benefactor she had to treat nicely.

xxx

The first time he walked into that coffee shop and saw her mop of pink hair, he knew immediately that going there would be a day-to-day habit. She always wore that radiant smile until he found himself wanting it all for himself. But he kept his emotions in check. He had to because it was obvious, too obvious, that the girl didn't want to do anything with him. She had always kept her distance from him, and he tried not to be affected by it. He tried to quell these wisps, these shards of feelings waiting to be fulfilled.

He couldn't pinpoint what exactly about her had successfully gotten through his barriers. He was the famous bachelor in town, and despite his significant experience with women whose faces he never attempted to remember (not any one of them), no one had ever interested him as much as she did. For the first time, he didn't feel the ache down there. It was somewhere inside his chest, broad and throbbing, and he needed to do something..

He realized that maybe he just needed an escape, a break from the hell he was living through as the remaining son of the Uchihas. It wasn't his fault that it was his brother who had the complete set of skills to run the company, wasn't his fault that it was his brother who was on that plane for a business meeting, wasn't his fault that he wasn't the one who died instead. Most of the time though he'd wonder if it could've been better if he was the one now dead. He never wished for his brother to die. His parents were in grief, and he couldn't blame them. But sometimes he wanted to let them know he was in grief too, probably deeper than they were. After all, his brother was the only friend he ever had.

But that was two years ago, and he had tried everything to survive on his own. And whenever he saw her smile despite the many times it seemed tired and crumpled, he'd find relief at the thought that at least he managed to survive and got this far.

Living to see her smile was definitely worth it.

He had anticipated the day that she would be the one to serve him his coffee, and he was more than willing to do anything to get her to notice him the moment he saw her carrying the tray, on her way to bring his coffee. Seeing her approaching him stirred in him the cheap thrill of finally having in possession something he had been yearning for. But when she stumbled and crashed to the floor, he acted out of instinct, of an unfamiliar jolt of fear. He didn't pay attention to the manager bowing his head in apology and just picked the woman up into his arms, striding out the shop in an alarming rush.

He put her safely inside his car, opening all windows for ventilation, loosening up some of the buttons of her uniform, and almost ready to take her to the nearest hospital, when she started to move her head, letting out a raspy breathing. He couldn't help sighing loudly in relief. He then ran to the restaurant just across the street. She looked so pale and fragile, and he figured it was probably due to hunger and over fatigue, so he bought a complete meal of meat and vegetables, wishing she didn't have any food allergy.

When he got back, she was already coming to her senses, and he couldn't be more thankful. Just before she opened her eyes, he managed to see her nametag, and he softly muttered her name, loving the way her eyes opened seconds later as if a response to his call.

She seemed to be very much wary of him, and he perfectly understood that. In fact, she just interested him more. But this was enough for now, to be finally able to talk to her, hear her voice and her 'thank you' despite her reluctance to engage him any further.

xxx

He still visited the coffee shop in hopes of having more interaction with her, but ever since the day she fainted, she was on an on-and-off attendance. While it was uncharacteristic of him, he couldn't help but feel agitated, worried, so he had to use his position and power to squeeze bits of information out of the manager. That was when he got to know about her miserable condition, and right then and there, he wanted to put her out of it.

He no longer entertained any second thoughts when he found her at the alleyway beside the shop, drenched in rain and in her own tears.

She was pushing him away, but he couldn't do that when all he wanted was to pull her in. He couldn't understand what he was feeling, but he wasn't ready to oppose it. He wasn't good with words. He didn't know how to make her accept him, his offer of help. But he wanted her to trust him. He wanted her.

xxx

He knew it was irrational for him to just bring her into his apartment, but he didn't think it selfish for him to just content himself with seeing her everyday even though she wouldn't return his look. He didn't want to impose his presence, so sensing her discomfort, he stayed as far as possible, making sure she could live in a comfortable manner as much as possible. They were practically strangers living under the same roof. They would only talk whenever he brought her groceries. He hadn't done any grocery shopping before, but he wanted to make her smile so he did his best in picking out and buying grocery items that would make sense to her. All he really wanted was to hear her thank him again.

But then, one day, his parents got to know about their arrangement. He didn't want to keep it a secret. Just that he didn't see the need for him to inform them about the latest news on his personal life.

"Leave the girl, Sasuke," his father said with a decisive stress on 'leave.'

Suddenly, his mother moved to place her hand on his arm. "Sasuke, son, you can buy her another apartment. She doesn't have to live with you. It'd be bad –"

"There's no image to protect," he retorted quickly, "I've never been a good son to you anyway, have I?" he asked sardonically.

"That's not the point. We're meeting with the Yamanakas soon. I want you to make a good impression on their daughter," his father said with finality and restraint.

He scowled.

"Sasuke, I hope you'll understand that this partnership, your marriage, will be beneficial to the company," his mother offered, squeezing his arm lightly, an attempt to pacify him.

"Why? Because I'm not performing enough? Never good enough for you?" Sasuke countered, his voice rising.

"Yes!"

His father's voiced boomed loudly in the room, and Sasuke wanted to punch something as he looked away from his parents.

"That's why you have to leave that girl."

He gave them a resolute look. "No. I'm keeping her."

He wasn't thinking straight that night when he stormed into their shared apartment. That was why when he saw Sakura, oh his sweet Sakura, he could no longer hold back his pent-up passion. He was sorry, but she was the only joy he knew, and he couldn't stop himself. When she slapped him hard and he realized how much he had betrayed her, he instinctively came to his senses, the realization of his betrayal punching him in the gut. But there was also that nagging feeling inside that he wanted to follow. He realized that maybe if he could just get a taste of her to satisfy his curiosity about her, then maybe that would be enough to stop his inexplicable feelings for her, and he could now do what his father wanted him to do – to let her go.

And so, he decided to share a piece of himself with her that night. He was surprised that she responded eventually, but despite the pleasure of seeing her writhe underneath him, her hands fisting on the sheets, her nails leaving crescents on his shoulders, her lips slanting over his carelessly, he still felt like he was an undeserving monster taking advantage of the situation.

He felt worse when he realized he was her first. There was this feeling of amorous pride bubbling up inside, but then at the same time, he knew he didn't deserve it. She never wanted him, would never imagine him to be her first. But her reassurances the morning after washed that guilt away. She was so beautiful in every sense of the word, and he wanted to mark her as his permanently. He would like her to be the first one he'd see every time he got home from work, the one he'd cuddle with, sleep with, laugh with, smile with, survive this life with.

But he knew it wasn't the same for her.

xxx

He still managed to maintain his distance after that incident. He suddenly wanted to fall back into their routine before as strangers so as not to complicate things for her. And he wanted to stop imagining things, to stop fantasizing about what wasn't there. He wanted to stop reading meanings into her change of actions. She had begun surprising him with dinners of her own cooking, her concerned questions about his day, her sleeping in the sofa until he nudged her awake upon his arrival, her requests to watch movie with him, and her cheerful and talkative attitude whenever he'd drive her to work. Sometimes, he'd be haunted by the thoughts that it was her way of repaying him for the apartment and it hurt him. But if it was the only way to be near her, then he would take it. He had also asked her a lot of times to accept his offer of assistance for her schooling, but he'd like to respect her insistence on independence. His feelings for her could only swell with each passing day.

It was such a big surprise to him when he came home one night to find that Sakura had prepared a dinner for the two of them, reasoning that it was her 21st birthday. If he had only known, he would've been the one to take her out on a dinner (romantic or not). But it was a bigger shock that she had thought of offering herself to him that night as form of repayment. The knowledge that Sakura only saw everything between them in terms of payment was painful for him to bear, but he was willing to take her in any way he could.

He would always remind himself that it was nothing more than a physical relationship every time they would do it, that they would share the same bed, sheets, space, but never the same feeling. But then one night when he found her crying, sharing with him that it was her parents' death anniversary, he found himself wanting nothing more than to cuddle her to sleep. He realized that this was more deeply satisfying than any of the physical intimacies they had shared before. He wanted more moments like this, wanted to share her every pain, wanted to know more about her, wanted to boast her to his parents (even without their approval), wanted to show her off to the rest of the world, wanted to be her strength, wanted a future with her.

But sometimes, in moments of supposed passion, she would cry, and it confused and hurt him every time. He didn't want to force her any longer. He couldn't keep hurting what was important to him.

He got out of his car, pasted on his nonchalant face, and twisted the unlocked knob of the door.

He saw her curled up in the sofa, her hair in a messy bun, her eyes spent and strained. She was wearing his shirt, and he felt his control slipping away. He wanted to hold her, feel her warmth again, apologize for whatever he had said, and tell her how much...just how much he needed her to stay.

But he walked to where she was sitting and looked down on her, meeting her eyes for one last time:

"I'm letting you go."

Yes, as per your request, this is no longer just a twoshot!

Sorry for the minimal conversation. This was just supposed to be a fill-in that's to let you know about Sasuke's context. The next chapter would contain both of their POVs (even though that's not usually my style).

I'm so sorry for all the readers who expected an update last week. I was suddenly immersed into an avalanche of exams and academic requirements and thesis sht. I'll be having a break in the third week of March. I'm hoping I can put up the last chapter by then.

Hint: I'm not a fan of happy happy endings. But Oh well. I've got about two weeks to think it over.