He must have thought she was so desperate. Showing up on his doorstep and throwing herself at him again. It was shameful and pathetic and just, ugh!

The morning light was already sneaking into Boruto's bedroom window, reminding Sarada she slept in much later than usual. The oscillating fan blowing in the corner kept his room rather chilly for midsummer and made staying in his warm embrace all the more tempting.

No. Sarada needed to get up and get out of there as soon as possible. And preferably without an awkward confrontation about her indecent behavior the night before. But Boruto's arms were wrapped tightly around her middle and his face was buried in her raven hair as they spooned. There was no way she could extract herself from his hold without waking him.

But that didn't stop her from trying. Ever so gently, Sarada tried to peel his hand off her stomach.

Last night with Boruto, and honestly the times before had been so so good. It was easy to get lost in him and forget (at least for a moment) all the intrusive thoughts that needled at the back of her mind.

But each time she came to him for comfort, it provided that same cruel voice with new fuel. Telling her she was such a whore for sleeping with someone she wasn't even in a relationship with. Telling her she had no self-control or self-respect. Telling her if Boruto really knew her beyond her practiced facade, knew how she pigged out on junk food and then made herself sick, that he'd be disgusted by her. And rightfully so.

In her mind, whatever this fling with Boruto was, was doomed to fail because it didn't follow the perfect script for a love story she was already married to.

Her true love wasn't supposed to see her in her weakest, most shameful moments. He was supposed to see her shine on stage, she wanted her true love to know the most beautiful, perfect version of herself. The version she yearned to be all the time.

Sarada paused for a moment, staring at the ceiling and willing her tears back into her eyes. If she didn't get her act together and soon, her true love definitely wouldn't be noticing her at their summer performance.

She spared a glance at a still sleeping Boruto, holding her breath when he stirred slightly. But when he didn't open his eyes, she continued wiggling her way across the bed until she could roll over and make her escape.

She cringed as she scooped up her silky pajamas from his living room floor and avoided looking at his couch. After dressing, Sarada sat down on the step in the entryway to tie her tennis shoes tightly so that she could sprint home.

"Tell me we're not doing this again."

Her hands froze at the sound of his voice. Her heart hammered against her ribs. She should have tied her stupid shoes outside!

"Doing what?" Sarada shrugged, still pretending to be too preoccupied to look up at him. He took a few steps toward her, but then stopped.

"You were going to leave without saying anything." The hint of hurt laced in his voice inspired fresh tears in her eyes. She couldn't understand why he would want her to stay.

She attempted to swallow those uncertain feelings and keep her voice steady. "Well, it's the morning, and I have things to do. I figured you did too."

Sarada shivered, feeling his cold stare burning a hole in the back of her head. "You know what? I do have things to do. I'm getting in the shower and when I get out, don't be here."

Guilt knotted uncomfortably in her stomach, she turned around just in time for her eyes to follow him storming away. Her lips parted, ready to call out to him to wait, but what was she supposed to say after that? How was she even supposed to explain why it was imperative for her to leave right now?

She flinched as an annoyed Boruto slammed his bathroom door closed. No, it was a good thing. She needed to get rid of him. Get rid of the evidence of her sinful self-indulgence like she always did.

So why did she feel even worse than before?

Sarada jolted with surprise when her cell phone buzzed on the wood floor beside her, not realizing she had zoned out staring at the door Boruto had left through. Dark eyes widened when she picked it up to find Director Uzumaki's contact lighting up her screen.

Sarada quickly slipped out the door and swiped her screen to answer before she missed his call. "Good morning, sir."

"I have some exciting news for you!"

Sarada had always known it was a possibility, or rather an inevitability, that as Konoha Ballet's prima ballerina she would get interviewed for a ballet magazine. This issue in particular would come out shortly after their opening night and serve as a great promotional piece for the show. At least that's how Director Uzumaki explained it.

"How are you feeling about your debut as prima ballerina being less than a month away?" the journalist asked before extending her tape recorder in Sarada's direction.

She fidgeted in her seat. Less than a month? Was it already so soon?

"Umm…" Sarada anxiously wet her lips, wishing Naruto had sat her down for some interview prep before springing something like this on her. After he called her yesterday morning to tell her about the feature, he texted her the journalist's contact info and told her to set up a meeting when convenient. That was how Sarada found herself sitting in a booth across from a stranger at her favorite coffee shop on Sunday afternoon. "I'm honestly a little nervous, but it's the good kind of butterflies. I can't wait to show everyone what we've been working on."

Keep it positive. Intrigue the audience. Those were the only pieces of advice Director Uzumaki had given her.

But she was also well read when it came to her mother's past interviews back when she held the role. Sakura was humble, charming, and professional in all her responses. Journalists had described her as poised and polished. Sarada hoped she could exude even half of those things, despite her leg bouncing under the table.

The journalist looked down at her small notebook. "It will be Boruto Uzumaki's first performance as principal dancer as well, how do you think long-time fans of Konoha Ballet will react to such a fresh-faced cast?"

"Boruto is an exceptional dancer, I know the fans will adore him," she answered. A stray thought wondered if he would ever read this article and see her praise. "We've been working closely with Tsunade Senju, who I'm sure you know doesn't settle for anything less than perfection. Even though we're green, I hope the fans will appreciate the time and effort we've put in to meet their expectations."

"Speaking of Tsunade Senju, she also personally taught your mother, correct?"

Her jaw clenched even though she was expecting these questions to come. "That's correct."

"I'm sure many of our readers and long-time ballet fans are familiar with your mother, former prima ballerina, Sakura Haruno," the journalist began. "How do you think she'll react to seeing you up on stage at your debut?"

The question gave Sarada pause. She hadn't actually considered what her mother might say after her performance or how high her expectations may be. Would she nitpick her every move and tell her she knew Sarada could do better? Would she be upset that all the money they invested into Sarada's career amounted to this?

Being prima ballerina didn't just mean she had big shoes to fill, she had her shoes to fill.

Her legacy to live up to.

Sarada forced out a fake laugh. "Haha, I can't say for sure, but I just hope she and the other ballet enthusiasts in the audience enjoy the performance."

Standing before his apartment door, Sarada bit her lip in indecision. He probably wouldn't want to see her. Like last time, she was well aware of what a completely foolish idea it was to seek him out, and yet her feet still carried her there.

After her magazine interview, she rushed home and fell into bed, sobbing as she tortured herself with thoughts of worst-case scenarios of how her mother will react to her debut as prima ballerina.

Could she handle her mother being disappointed? What if she tarnished her mother's legacy with a less-than-perfect performance?! What if she grew even more resentful that Sarada ruined her treasured career by being born?!

What if all the reviews after the performance trashed her?! Said she was too clumsy or too fat to be a prima ballerina?

What if they trashed her mother or Tsunade for not teaching her better?! Or Director Uzumaki for picking someone so clearly not cut out for the spotlight?!

What if the donors think the program has deteriorated and stop giving?! What if the rest of the company blames her for everything falling apart?!

As the performance drew closer, the more the pressure of it all weighed on her shoulders. If she wasn't perfect she would let down so many people, definitely Boruto, but maybe especially herself.

Could she even live with herself if she botched this chance to have someone fall in love with her dancing?

She didn't want to think about it. She didn't want to think about anything.

Even if it was just for a night, his presence brought her comfort, so different yet just as indulgent as a feast of her favorite junk foods. Seeking either eventually made Sarada feel shameful, but at least this one didn't risk her gaining weight.

With a harsh swallow, she lifted her trembling fist and found the courage to knock. Unconsciously, she held her breath waiting for him to answer, hoping that he'd answer.

When Boruto finally pulled open the door, he greeted her with a sigh full of obvious annoyance. "What?"

"Heyy…" Sarada tried with a forced smile. Her heart was pounding in anticipation, but his expression wasn't promising. "What are you up to? Can I come inside?"

Boruto crossed his arms over his broad chest and leveled her with a no-nonsense glare. "I'm not doing this with you anymore."

"Doing what?" Her voice quivered. She's so stupid, of course, he would reject her. Boruto was so patient, but his patience for her had clearly run out.

"This whole hot and cold thing. I literally have no clue what I keep doing wrong, I'm not a fucking mind reader, Sarada."

Her brow furrowed. What he did wrong?

Her eyes fell to the floor as she shook her head. Her voice barely above a whisper. "You didn't…"

"I didn't what?"

"You didn't do anything wrong…" she mumbled, her vision blurring as tears formed in her dark eyes. She hadn't considered that was what he would assume. "I-I…"

"Got bored?" Boruto guessed, a tinge of hurt in his tone.

Sarada gasped as her gaze jerked up to meet his. "No! That's not…" she choked. "I'm sorry, I'm so sorry. I'll leave. I-I didn't mean to bother you."

His resolve was melting with the tears rolling down her cheeks, her charcoal eyes full of familiar lonesome sadness.

Boruto glanced over his shoulder into his apartment, knowing he likely wouldn't have the will to turn her down if she tried to initiate something again. And yet, he felt terrible at the thought of making her leave when she was clearly so vulnerable and reaching out to him for help.

"Wait," he muttered, grabbing her by the wrist before she could run away. Boruto slipped on a pair of shoes and closed his apartment door behind them. "How about we go on a walk, maybe grab something to eat?"

"Okay," Sarada whispered, surprised when he let his fingers slip between hers. She really didn't deserve his generous attention.

Dark eyes watched their feet walk in step down the pavement. It was a warm night and late enough that there weren't very many other pedestrians. She wasn't sure where they were going but she was content with the companionable silence.

Her feelings for Boruto were all over the place and mixed with other baggage that made things especially murky, but she held his hand tight hoping he knew that at the very least that she was thankful to be there with him. His presence somehow dampened the overbearing thoughts in her head.

"I know this might not be your kind of thing, but it's the only place I know that's open right now."

When her gaze finally lifted to see where he had taken her, it was as if that obnoxious neon thunderbolt lanced through her heart, rendering her feet useless.

Boruto was quick to sense her hesitation. "Don't you want to eat? It's actually pretty good, one of my favorites."

Did she want to eat?

Actually... After that magazine interview and the subsequent questions it left her with, she really really wanted to eat.

Sarada silently nodded. If she couldn't have him, isn't this the next best thing?

He pulled open the glass door and let her inside. The salty, greasy smell of all her favorite binge foods flooded her senses as they approached the counter. Her stomach growled quietly in anticipation.

"I'll get a chocolate milkshake," Boruto told the cashier as he pulled out his wallet. "And whatever she wants."

The cashier's eyes filled with recognition as they landed on Sarada. "Oh hey! Do you want your usual?"

She cringed at Boruto seeing that the Thunder Burger employees don't only know her, but that she goes there often enough for them to memorize her order. "Umm, yeah."

Blonde brows rose as the cashier typed in three combo orders and added a second milkshake. "For here or to go?"

"Here is fine," Boruto answered before Sarada could insist otherwise. After he paid, he turned around and slid into the nearest booth. She didn't like eating there and she didn't like sitting at the booths by the front window where passersby could see her, but she slid into the other side of the booth without protest.

"Soo…" he hummed, searching for a conversation topic. "Do you want to talk about why you keep coming to my house in the middle of the night?"

Sarada glanced away, the blunt question made her cheeks grow hot. She shook her head, hoping he would accept that as her answer.

Boruto sighed at her avoidance. "Okay, here's an easy one. What did you do today?"

"Umm, I had coffee with a journalist and did an interview."

His brows rose, but she wasn't sure if he was surprised by her answer or that she had answered. "And it went well?"

"It went," she answered cryptically.

But before Boruto could ask a follow-up question the cashier brought a tray loaded with food over to their booth. "Enjoy."

They both gave a mumbled thanks as Sarada stared down at all the food, contemplating her next move. Was she really going to eat in front of him? Maybe she could just eat a little bit.

Sarada dared to pick up a fry and put it in her mouth. Hot, salty goodness coated her tongue, reminding her how good Thunder Burger's fries were, and how well her sweet milkshake complimented them. Then before she knew it she was alternating between bites of her burger and handfuls of fries.

The fullness was already beginning to settle in her stomach but Sarada knew she was past the point of stopping. She would finish all this food despite feeling bloated and gross, despite Boruto sitting there across from her. She was too mortified to look up and see the judgment in his eyes. So instead, Sarada kept her head down and her focus on the food in front of her until there was nothing left.

Boruto set down his empty milkshake and finally spoke. "You feel any better?"

Better? Not really.

Sarada was uncomfortably full. The shame that usually accompanied her overeating was magnified tenfold knowing she had Boruto as a witness to her repulsive behavior. He must think she was disgusting, that she was undisciplined and unmannered to stuff her face in front of him like that.

She couldn't even bear to look at him as she shook her head. Boruto sighed as he began placing all the wrappers on their tray to throw away. Never commenting on the quantity. "If you don't want to be alone, you could stay at my place tonight."

Pity. It was obvious from his tone that it was a pity offer. But Sarada nodded anyway, not knowing if she could get any more pathetic.

Emotionally exhausted from the near-constant ups and downs he'd experienced lately, Boruto's eyes fell closed pretty easily once his head hit the pillow. Dressed in one of his shirts, Sarada snuggled up close to him, resting her head on his chest. He allowed his fingers to comb through her raven hair as her breathing slowed into a steady slumber.

He didn't know why he kept letting her get in his bed when history suggested she was going to disappear and give him the cold shoulder again tomorrow. Sarada claimed he didn't do anything wrong, and yet it always felt like she was punishing him for some unknown transgression.

He wasn't sure when or for how long he had dozed off, but when his bleary eyes fluttered open he noticed it was still dark outside. He reached over to the other side of the bed, hoping to pull Sarada closer, but his hand was met with empty sheets.

Ugh! Again?! She left him in the middle of the night again!?

An exasperated Boruto sat up and pulled the comforter off his lap. He rolled out of bed, marching around his apartment to confirm what he knew was true.

But then the sound of coughing drew his attention to the bathroom, where light peeked out from underneath the door. His anger quickly morphed to worry. Boruto softly padded over to the bathroom with concern furrowing his brow.

"Sarada?" he called with two firm knocks that inadvertently pushed the door open.

He inhaled a sharp breath upon discovering Sarada on her knees in front of his toilet with her fingers shoved deep in her mouth.

Their eyes remained locked on each other. Her trembling hand fell from her lips to clutch the front of her shirt as if she had just been fatally stabbed in the chest. A long silent pause dragged between them, neither daring to move.

Her eyes were already watery from choking, but now embarrassed, shameful tears were blurring her vision.

The reality of someone else knowing the very worst thing about her was like a crushing weight on her chest. She kept trying to inhale but she just couldn't breathe.

Not with him looking at her like that.

He knew what she was doing. She could tell from the look on his face.

Sarada waited for some kind of reprimand, some kind of confirmation that he found her behavior utterly disgusting. His lips opened and she reflexively winced, preparing for the worst. But then he closed his mouth like he changed his mind.

Instead, Boruto cautiously stepped closer as if approaching a particularly unpredictable animal, before he knelt down on the tile floor beside her.

The last thing Sarada expected was for him to pull her onto his lap, but once wrapped in his warm embrace and familiar scent it was easy to melt against him.

With no more places to hide, she buried her face against his chest and wept. "I'm sorry. I'm sorry. I'm sorry."

Sarada wasn't even sure what the apologies were for. Sorry for the way she had been treating him. Sorry for making him buy her all that food she had every intention of throwing up. Sorry she wasn't the picture-perfect ballerina she tried so desperately to convince everyone she was.

But despite all those things, Boruto still held her tight, like maybe she wasn't disgusting.