soft day
pt. 3: light

Sasuke nudges the bag of groceries he abandoned at his doorstep with the toe of his shoe. The green onions are beginning to wilt, and the meat has been out for longer than he likes, but everything should survive as long as he gets them into a fridge soon. One day, he swears he'll learn how to pick locks with nothing but chakra—if need be, he'll invent the method himself, just so he'll never have to suffer through this ordeal again—but that effort will need to wait.

Around the corner, a set of stairs ascend to the roof. From there he can climb to his balcony, sweep up some shattered glass, and put an end to this exhausting day.

Sasuke hesitates with his hand on the railing.

Or he could knock on Sakura's door.

Again.

She lives right here, fifty paces away. At the very least, she'll have a fridge. Even better, perhaps she'll know where to find Naruto, or how to track down the super. He doesn't even have to stay long. He can knock, ask, and leave right after, knowing he's explored all his options.

Sasuke tries to rub his wrist—an old, antsy habit—and fails as the stump of his left arm brushes the inside of his cloak.

All he needs to do is turn around. Walk down the hall, find the door with the wreath. It shouldn't feel impossible.

Maybe she won't even be home.

That thought emboldens him. In all likelihood, she'll be busy at the hospital.

Sasuke retraces last night's steps.

Sakura's wreath is made of wooden flowers, painted with delicate pinks, purples, and greens. He stares at it with a buzz in his ears, then softly raps his knuckles on the door.

He thinks he hears rustling from inside, faint laughter, then the door swings open followed by a whiff of sharp, earthy smoke.

Naruto blinks and sags against the doorframe, his eyes bright and unfocused. "Teme!"

Sasuke scowls. "You're here? I was looking for you."

"Well, you found me!" Naruto smiles a smile that is far from sober.

He hates how his gut twinges. Naruto and Sakura have established their own routine without him—of course they have. He's spent years away.

"Want something to drink? Or smoke? Or both? Or—"

Somewhere inside, a window slides shut, and footsteps creak on wooden floors. Sakura emerges from a darkened kitchen into the living room, holding a hand-rolled joint of something Sasuke's only smelled and never tried.

Surprise and uncertainty flicker over her face. "Does it still hurt?"

Not the warmest welcome, but she doesn't sound angry and she hasn't asked Naruto to slam the door shut. Sasuke breathes in. "No, I'm—"

"Does what still hurt?" Naruto parrots, head whipping back and forth between them.

"—I'm fine," Sasuke cuts in. "I locked myself out."

Sakura's hand lowers to her side, trailed by a thin line of smoke. "Did you try the super?"

"She's not home."

"Visiting her grandchildren, I bet?" Sakura asks.

His tongue fails to come up with any sort of response, so he nods. He's not certain of what he hoped to accomplish here anymore. But he's found Naruto, so at least that means he has a place to sleep tonight. Even if it's the same worn couch the dobe's owned since his genin days.

"You can stay with me, teme," Naruto says, right on cue.

"Thanks," Sasuke says, and edges a step back into the hallway, ready to leave. He needs to give Naruto more credit for his perceptiveness.

"But there's still half a joint here with my name on it." This Naruto says with a sly glint in his eye.

What is he doing? Sasuke shoots him a glare. Idiot who can't read a room—

Sakura looks away. He waits for her to refuse, to send him away.

"Okay." She studies a glass on the coffee table, and adjusts it a microscopic distance to the left. "You can come in."

Sasuke hesitates, but in the end he doesn't argue.

He steps inside. Sakura's apartment shares the same exact floor plan of his own, flipped like a mirror.

Naruto plucks up the joint and Sakura clears a pile of medical textbooks from the couch to the floor. And then he's leaning back into the cushions of the couch, Sakura on the far end with her legs tucked beneath her. Naruto is splayed out on the rug, leaning over to tap ashes into the bowl.

"Have you ever tried?" Naruto holds out the joint, smoke curling from the end.

Someone like Sasuke should probably avoid anything resembling a vice, but he can't deny he's curious. Maybe now isn't the time, though. He glances at Sakura. Perhaps all she wants is for him to leave as soon as possible.

Sakura reaches for a pillow and hugs it to her side. To his surprise, she gives no sign that his presence is particularly bothering her. If anything, she looks more curious about what he might choose to do. So Sasuke accepts and breathes in.

The smoke burns his lungs, and it's only because he's an adept fire-jutsu user that he manages to hold back a cough. The high sets in quickly, sooner than he can exhale, a pleasant fuzziness that makes his thoughts feel muted and distant.

"How do you feel, teme?"

"Light," he decides. The way Sakura's healing made him feel. Almost. If Sakura mends the pain, this dampens it for a brief moment…

Before he registers what he's doing, he passes the joint to Sakura. She takes a hit and hands it to Naruto, and then it's his turn again.

This time his lungs handle the smoke better. As he exhales, his limbs seem to float. A gentle current of electricity is running through his brain, lifting him up…

"Stop at two," Sakura says with the hint of a smile. She reaches for the joint, and all of his senses hone in on the brush of her fingers. "It's strong." Sasuke is so intrigued by her expression that he doesn't care much about the implication: that he might already appear a little out of it.

Sakura leans forward, and Naruto flicks on a lighter and relights the end. The whole transaction is fluid, wordless, like the two of them have spent countless nights in this very spot partaking in the same act. A small glimpse into the ways their lives have gone on in his absence.

A joint appears in Sasuke's hand and he takes another hit, inhaling deeply. He feels his body move to pass the joint to Sakura. Instead of placing it in her waiting hand, he holds it straight to her mouth. The strain of logic currently operating his brain tells him this is best.

Sakura's eyes seem to flutter awake, and something dimly occurs to him. Should he not do this?

She leans closer by a hair. Lips part around his offering, cheeks hollowing as she inhales. Her bottom lip grazes his thumb like the graze of a dragonfly's wings.

Moments later, the joint leaves Sasuke's frozen hand as he struggles to piece together what just happened.

"Wanna eat?" Naruto waves a half-empty takeout container in his face.

"Yeah," he says, grateful for distraction. He's hungry, because he hasn't eaten dinner.

Because his groceries are abandoned on his doormat. For hours. And, shit. The green onions might wilt! Wait, no. His mind floats. He should be far more concerned about the literal raw pork shoulder—

The sound of boisterous laughter snaps Sasuke back to reality. Naruto is clutching his stomach, and Sakura's doing a poor job of concealing a smile with her hand. They keep looking at him, then back at each other.

"What?" he says.

"Do you—do you know what you just said?" Naruto's voice shakes with laughter. He eyes Sakura. "I don't think he knows."

Sasuke scowls. "I didn't say anything." There is a sizable delay between when he formulates the response and when he hears himself speak.

"'Shit, my—'" Naruto gasps for air. "'Shit, my green onions.'"

"It's not that funny." Sasuke crosses his arms and leans back into the couch. "I left groceries outside my door."

"The green onions will survive an hour, teme!"

"I had pork too!"

Naruto isn't listening. "Say it again—c'mon, say it again, please—"

Just as he's about to tell the dobe to shut up, a small giggle escapes Sakura.

"'Shit,'" he recites, humorless, "'my g—"

"Green onions!" Naruto explodes, doubling over, and Sakura covers her face with her hands, shoulders shaking.

Sasuke stands. "I'm getting them."

Sakura rises too. "I'll leave the door unlocked." Her voice sounds unsteady from the poor effort of hiding a smile.

Very much against his will, Sasuke feels the corners of his mouth twitch. He quickly shuts the door behind him.

The high takes on a sour flavor, when he's alone.

Walking through the dim, empty hallway, he feels suspended above his body, drifting away uncontrollably as the walls close in around him. He wants to come back, but he can't control where he's going at all—can't do a thing—like he's trapped under Itachi's genjutsu the same as he was on that night—

He needs to stop thinking about this. He needs something to hold on to. Some fresh air. His own labored breathing sounds in his ears. Before he knows it, he's clambering up the stairs and onto the roof.

A wave of cool night air slams into him. It's a new moon, and the sky is studded with stars. He digs his nails into his palm and spins until he's facing the forest. Trees sway in the wind with a great rustle, and he lets the sound wash over him, until it's easier to breathe.

When he snakes back to Sakura's apartment, the lights are dim, and Naruto's sprawled on the rug with a pillow under his head, one leg sticking out from beneath a thick comforter.

"How long have I been gone?" he mumbles, but even as he's speaking his brain connects this string to a different one. Two years wandering, five years clambering and straining for revenge, a year or so slowly inching away…

He forgets that he's even spoken aloud until Sakura's soft voice responds. "Not that long." She's curled on the couch with a thick textbook in her lap. She looks comfortable there, the glow of the lamp reflecting off her cheek, a blanket over her shoulders. "You know how he is…he just falls asleep so quickly."

"Aa, I know." Sasuke's head is swimming, and he realizes his sharingan has just switched on, recording the curves and angles of her face in the golden lamplight. What's happening to him? "I'll wake him. I should—we should go."

Sakura drops her eyes. "It's late. Just stay." She stands and reaches for his bags. "Here, I'll take these."

As Sakura disappears to tuck his groceries away, he drops to the couch. Fresh air helped. So does the warmth of Sakura's living room, and the sound of Naruto's steady breathing. But when Sakura returns, something must show on his face.

"Are you okay?" she asks.

He's okay. He's almost okay. He'll take a deep breath and by the time he answers, he'll be okay.

"Sasuke," she says, sharper.

"I'm far." He can't explain it any better. "It feels like I'm going too far."

Her weight settles next to him. Close.

"You can come back." A soft touch lands between his shoulder blades, a tether that ties him back to the earth. "You don't have to go anywhere."

"I'm—I'm sorry, Sakura." He doesn't know what exactly he's apologizing for, or why he says it, or if she will even understand.

A hand smooths down his back.

Blindly, working on instinct, Sasuke reaches for her. He is not terrified by what he's doing, though he understands he should be. He feels as shapeless as water vapor, drifting outside the strictures that usually hold him in, that have long calcified around him like a shell of hard, cutting bone. His fingers make contact with the bend of her elbow. She's warm.

It feels like only a moment later that Sakura is nudging him awake.

"Sorry—you can go back to sleep soon," she whispers. "But take these."

He blinks hard. Sakura is holding out a pillow and blanket. He's shocked by how easily he fell asleep. Something about her couch, the lull of the high, he doesn't know.

His movements are slow and clumsy as he kicks out the blanket and lets his head sink into the pillow. A sweet scent lingers amid the softness—hers. The lamp clicks, and the color beneath his eyelids plunges from amber to deep blue.

"Sweet dreams," Sakura calls quietly.

It takes longer than it should for the sounds to arrange themselves into meaning. Sasuke cracks his eyes open, a response collecting on the tip of his tongue, but she's already gone.

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Sasuke wakes while it's still mostly dark. The first rays of morning sun are peeking through gaps in the curtains, concealing the view of endless treetops. Something in the angles of his apartment looks wrong.

On the floor, Naruto lets out a snore. Sasuke remembers with a jolt where he is.

He sits up, his pulse thin.

Sakura's place feels more snug and lived in than his own. She owns a bookshelf sagging with the weight of thick, obscure medical texts with colorful tabs peeking out from the pages. A weeks-old flower arrangement is drying out on one shelf, while a fresh one perches on a windowsill. Photos in mismatched frames dot the room. Several pairs of the same white lab coat are piled over the back of one chair while an absurd tower of paperwork crowds the seat.

Sasuke creeps over to the balcony. Through the curtains, the colorful rooftops of the village are bright and cheerful in the morning light. He can't help but prefer his own view.

Sneaking past Naruto, who's missing a sock and looks like he spent the night wrestling with his blanket, he enters the kitchen. Down the hall, the door to Sakura's bedroom is closed.

So much for leaving her alone. Yet again, he has inched shamefully close, forgetting himself, seeking her help and comfort like a hurt animal. What does she think of him now?

Sasuke lets his face screw up as his lungs tighten with a hot, growing pressure. He's completely alone in the thin early light, but the back of his neck prickles with the urge to hide.

He could leave.

Before anyone wakes up, he could leave, and worry about looking Sakura in the eye on the morning of a different day. He can picture his next steps perfectly, laid out for him like a well-trodden path in dense undergrowth. He'll ease the door shut behind him without a sound. Slink through the empty streets, find his spot at the end of the dock in the Uchiha district, and breathe in the thick, deserted silence.

He can't imagine what will happen at all, if he stays.

Sasuke's ears ring with a high, faint echo of last night's laughter. So many difficult things had to come to pass, in order for the three of them to sit together in that room, and laugh.

Well, he wasn't laughing. The delicate ring takes on the off-pitched clang of an annoying bell. It was more Naruto and Sakura, laughing themselves dumb for no understandable reason…

An empty, gnawing feeling in his stomach catches his attention. He's hungry.

It's not that Sasuke makes the decision to stay. He simply finds himself not leaving.

He finds himself thinking about breakfast. Investigating the contents of the fridge—barren except for his own groceries—and wondering what he can cobble together. It can't hurt to have something ready for whenever the rest of Team Seven decides to wake up.

He quietly roots through the pantry to see what else he has to work with. Sakura owns a lot of unopened bottles of high-end, strong liquor and many variations on hot chili oil. Who knew?

What's something easy and quiet to make? Soft boiled eggs, maybe. With chili oil from Sakura's stash, rice, and—green onions. He rolls his eyes.

The simple breakfast he has planned turns into quite an array. When the eggs finish up too quickly, he whips up a side of steamed vegetables. Then he slices up a place of fruit. When still no one stirs, he peels away the eggshells. The work is tricky and impractical with one hand, but he manages without mangling any of the eggs. They feel soft yet firm, all signs hinting to a runny yolk inside.

Sasuke turns from one task to the next, calm except for the mildly churning feeling in his stomach. If there's a fire on the stove, an apple waiting to be sliced, he will be too preoccupied to consider what else he could be doing. To kill some more time, he tips water into a small planter of wilting herbs perched on the windowsill. The basil has seen better days, but the mint should recover.

The apartment remains quiet. Sasuke scrapes chili oil from the bottom of a jar—it must be her favorite, because it's nearly empty—and bends to spoon the oil over the eggs. If he's left alone for much longer, he may need to start on Sakura's paperwork.

"Oh," Sakura says.

Sasuke's hand freezes in midair. A drip lands on the table.

Now that they're facing each other, it's less awful than he imagined. Her green-eyed gaze is full of sleep. She's wearing her pink robe again, hair mussed in a way that genin Sakura never would have allowed.

"You're still here?" she says, mostly to herself.

Her gaze is appraising, a little surprised. Like she was not expecting to see him.

"Why wouldn't I be?" Sasuke responds. His voice contains a perfect blend of apathy and mild offense. He says it like he was not just in agony over it. And then: "I'm making eggs."

Sakura rocks back on her heels. Her toes curl, then she points. "There's sesame oil up in that cabinet."

It takes a second, then he nods. He's been wondering where it is.

"I'll get it!" Naruto bounds into the kitchen. "Are those eggs? They smell good."

Sasuke sets the spoon down. "I don't think eggs smell like anything, dobe."

"It's a compliment! Just accept the compliment!" The sesame oil joins the assortment of condiments on the table.

In near unison, they each pull out a chair. Sakura's table is meant for two and barely fits them all. Naruto piles on the green onions with a chuckle and douses everything with an extra wave of shoyu—not surprising that he wants the salt. Sakura quietly reaches for the near-empty jar of chili oil.

Sasuke breaks his egg open and the yolk runs out, silky and soft. Naruto makes a happy, muffled sound through his mouthful of food. The aroma of freshly-made rice floats in the air.

Eventually Sakura looks up from an empty plate. "Is there more?"

His stomach curls with sudden warmth. "I'll make more."

There's still half a carton of eggs left. He lowers each of them into a pot filled with shallow water. Luckily he made enough vegetables for a second round.

"Don't you live nearby, teme?" Naruto says, drumming the table. Sakura looks extremely interested in something written on the back of the jar of chili oil.

"You could say that," Sasuke says, and covers the pot. The trick to a good soft-boiled egg is steam.

"My throat feels as dry as a desert," Naruto rambles on. "Is that a side effect of weed?"

"That's a side effect of never drinking water," Sakura chimes in, with the exasperated tone of one who's picking up an old argument.

"I do drink water. Ramen has water."

"Ocean water," Sasuke mutters.

Sakura laughs.

Sasuke's head jerks around, certain he didn't hear right. She's wearing a smile, though it fades slightly when he looks over.

"I forgot I wanted to make tea," she says, rising.

Naruto chuckles to himself, then like a snare going off, he springs up, and his arms are opening, snagging Sasuke around his shoulders, Sakura by the wrist. Hesitation twinges on Sakura's face before Naruto's embrace crushes them all together.

"Look at us! Finally together again!"

Sasuke's heart is racing. The angle that Naruto is holding them has his arm bent at an awkward angle near Sakura's ear as he tries not to touch her more than he already is.

Seconds before he resolves to pull away, Sakura releases a breath against his shoulder. It sounds like a breath she's held inside for a long time. He feels when her frame becomes less stiff. When her hand creeps lightly to the small of his back.

And Sasuke lets his hand relax, landing softly on her hair, where it seems to have belonged all along.

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Notes:

my copy of tears of the kingdom is tragically still in the mail :') so I decided to distract myself by getting this chapter up! is anyone else planning to play?

fun fact: team 7 getting high is one of the very first scenes i wrote! it's kind of silly (but also kind of not). it made me want to just fill this story with whatever moments and scenarios i was craving to read myself.

thank you so much for reading your comments and kudos mean the world and never fail to make my day!