Persistence: Sasuke/Sakura
Fandom: Naruto
Characters: Sasuke & Sakura
Genre: Romance/Angst
A knock on his door alerts him to her presence; he knows it is her because even her knocking is characteristic of her treatment for him, it is soft, hesitant, almost shy… but persistent. Grudgingly, he saunters over to his door and opens it - only a crack - the light filters in and he has to squint to cope with the sudden brightness.
“I’m not gonna let you in, you already know that.”
“I don’t really expect you to, Sasuke-kun. But it would be nice if you do let me in. Oh, but I won’t push you, though.”
“You’re already ‘pushing me’ by being here.”
It is rude, but he closes the door on her. He almost feels sorry for her because she’s a lady and ladies are supposed to be respected. But what kind of lady would go to a guy’s house uninvited and without a chaperone, his mother would most certainly have been displeased. But that’s petty and superficial because his mother’s dead and her opinion doesn’t really matter - not anymore - he already gave up too much for a dead clan. Enough is enough. He wouldn’t allow dead and nonexistent opinions to have a hold on his life, not anymore.
The real reason why he doesn’t really feel sorry for her is because he knows that she knows that she can leave any time. And if she chooses to stay and suffer, then it’s her fault. A voice in his head tells him that she just wants to help, but he ignores that voice, as he always does. He knows he should just really retreat to his room and hope she goes away. But he has this irresistible urge to look at her and see what she’s going to do even though he already knows what it is that she will do, so he peaks at her through the cracks on his front door. He tells himself that he’s doing this to see if she goes away but he knows that he’s just deluding himself. He’s doing this to see if she stays, and he hates himself for it.
He sees her move to sit on the porch, her legs stretched in front of her, her back leaning on the door. Sated, he slumps on his side of the door, his position exactly the same as hers if not for the bent knee and the slouched shoulders. They stay like that for a while, silent, their backs separated by a thin slab of wood. Her visits are always like this, spent in complete silence. After an hour or two of nothing, she gets up, leaves a bento box, says goodbye and that she’ll come back, and goes on her way. He wonders why she even bothers. Though, secretly, her every visit is his guilty pleasure. There is still a bit of the kid who hankers for attention in him, after all. And she seems perfectly willing to give what the child in him needs. The problem is that the adult in him doesn’t want to accept what she’s so willingly offering.
“Why do you always come here?”
There’s a long awkward silence before she finally answers.
“I-I care about you, Sasuke-kun.”
Her voice is sad and hesitant and so very pathetic. And he thinks that it’s only miserably appropriate. He’d be sad too if he was head over heels in love with someone who was incapable of doing anything nice - someone worthless. He tilts his head back, leaning on the hard wood, and closes his eyes. For some reason, their situation frustrates him.
He was back in Konoha, courtesy of Naruto and Sakura and his half-dead state when they found him. It was the most shameless and undignified show of drama that he had ever seen in his whole life. And truth be told, he would’ve preferred it if they had just left him there to rot. He was, after all, so very very tired of fighting, of breathing. He’s tired of everything, really. But apparently, they don’t want him to rest. They’re still forcing him to live on - to realize that there’s something worth living for. Worthless, insufferable, naïve fools. They just don’t realize that people are different. And he’s just seen too much absurdity in life to believe that it has meaning. Really, anyone who had to avenge a clan by killing off its remaining members would think that life was absurd too. Nobody could really blame him for having defeatist thoughts.
And he thinks that all of Naruto and Sakura’s efforts to bring him back were tainted with their own selfishness. It wasn’t really an admirable act of devotion and loyalty and love towards a misguided friend like everybody seems to think so. He thinks that they went after him because they just couldn’t wait. Because in their hearts of hearts, they knew that if they sat back and waited, they’d eventually fall in love with each other and forget about the friend and lover that they promised never to forget. In a sense, they would be abandoning their friend. They’d be worse than trash.
But if they just waited, he would’ve eventually come back - it was his plan from the very start. Hell, he didn’t expect that he’d be too mind-fucked to still want to live after his revenge. But still, the fact remains that he always planned to come back - to return to Konoha victorious with a smirk gracing his face and his brother’s head in his hands, and call the new hokage ‘dobe’ and marry the girl who proclaimed her undying love for him, finally indulging in the things that he denied himself just for the sake of his revenge. But those were the thoughts of an idealistic thirteen year old who really didn’t know much about the world despite everything he’d been through. The battle-weary twenty-one year old knows better. In the bowels of Oto, he had seen how ugly the world could be. And he never really forgot the images of those people who had been experimented upon, their bodies poked and punctured as if they were mere animals. These people only made him realize how much he really had, how good his life was, how lucky he was to have a best friend and a girl who loved him. His problem - the massacre of his whole clan - seemed trivial as compared to the problems of those in Otokagure. He was privileged compared to those people there. But he was always selfish and stubborn and too damn proud, so he pursued his revenge, taking advantage of those who deserved his pity, making their lives even more miserable just to make his own better. He’s a horrible person, really. So that’s why he wonders why she always comes to him.
It’s been a month since his return. The first half of the month he spent in the hospital. He had expected to be put in jail after his recovery. And that suited him just fine because he really didn’t want to face everyone. The villagers would look at him with disdain, and he’d just cringe and die a bit every time Naruto and Sakura would share one of their inside jokes - he’d seen enough of those on their journey back to Konoha, and he’d see how ugly the world is again. But his luck - or lack of it - was as constant as ever. He was levied a light punishment and even hailed as some sort of semi-hero for getting rid of some of Konoha’s biggest enemies.
And if they weren’t going to imprison him, then he’d imprison himself. And so here he is, in the confines of his stately but desolately empty manor - a crooked recluse, teetering between doing the practical thing which is to plunge a knife into his chest yet doing the selfish thing which is to cling desperately and shamelessly to life like he was once told to do. He really should just get it over with, after all, he already knows that the world’s not going to change and that it’s going to stay ugly. He really wishes that they had just left him to die. Because if they did, then he wouldn’t have to be here, waiting for the courage to get that knife and end everything. He wouldn’t be saddled with a decision. And he thinks that this is perhaps the reason why he doesn’t go out anymore, even to buy food. Because in his warped and twisted mind, there’s a difference if he dies by starvation rather than a self-inflicted wound, it’s indirect - a deranged coward’s thoughts, really, but he doesn’t really care - not anymore.
“I-uh, I’m going home now, Sasuke-kun. I’ll be back tomorrow. Bye.”
He hears some shuffling outside and he knows that she’s getting ready to leave. When everything’s quiet again and he’s pretty sure that she’s gone, he opens the door. It’s almost dark now, and it’s easier on his eyes. He takes the bento box that she left - it’s some random meal that her mother probably cooked, sometimes it’s teriyaki, sometimes it’s katsudon, today it’s a simple donburi - but it’s always lovingly prepared and delicious and it always has tomatoes. And this is why he’s still alive even after two weeks of not going out. She always comes. From the first day of his self-inflicted confinement, she has been there with her damnable bento boxes and her companionable silences. It’s really shameful, how desperately he’s clinging to life - he can’t even starve himself properly. She won’t let him.
It’s the highlight of his days, really, her visits. But she doesn’t know that.
And so their little routine goes on. She comes back the next day, and the day after that, and the day after that too. Just as she always promises she would. She’s consistent and he’s still alive - still clinging. Until one day, two weeks after that one visit wherein they exchanged words, she doesn’t come. She promised she would, but she didn’t. And he doesn’t know why. He doesn’t bother to find out, though. He thinks that she’s probably on a mission or something. The next day rolls in and she still doesn’t come. And the third, and then the fourth… and then the fifth, and he starts to worry… no, not about her, he’s selfish, remember? He starts to worry that he’ll finally succeed in starving himself. And he’s suddenly quite aware that even though it’s more indirect, purposely starving is as much a suicidal act as slitting his wrists… and maybe he’s just afraid of death, even after everything he’s been through - because ‘selfish’ does mean ‘excessively love for self’, doesn’t it? And when she still doesn’t come on the sixth and seventh days, he decides to go out and find her. He tells himself that he’s just curious and that he wants to see if she has finally given up on him and if she has forgotten her vow of eternal love and if she’s fucking with his best friend already, like a cheap disloyal slut - she doesn’t deserve his insults, but he doesn’t care. She promised she’d come back and he resents the fact that she didn’t - he’s bitter and he’s angry and he feels betrayed… and he’s not worried that something happened to her… no, never that, he’ll never admit that - not even to himself. Dreadfully weak from hunger, his body already noticeably thinner than it was a week ago, unaware that he looks like a complete mess, he saunters over to his closet and pulls out some fresh clothes, puts them on along with his pack of weapons - he feels naked without those sharp and deadly things strapped to his body, really - he heads on to the door and-
It’s familiar and it fills him with warmth and waves of relief - the sound of soft and hesitant knocking. He knows it’s her. And with haste that betrays his claim of ‘not caring’, he goes over to the door and opens it - not a crack, not halfway - he opens it fully. And the light filters in and his eyes feel like they’re bleeding but it’s okay, because along with the sunlight is her. And it’s another testament to his selfishness - that he’s happy that her arm is covered in bandages. And he’s rooted to his spot, just drinking in her very presence.
Fandom: Naruto
Characters: Sasuke/Sakura
Genre:: Angst/Romance
“Sasuke-kun?”
She looks pretty like that, with her head cocked to the side, a confused expression in her face, her rosette hair blowing about with the wind. He thinks it’s the prettiest he’s ever seen her. But her expression is changing and it’s changing to one of worry and shock, and her eyes are rapidly filling with tears, and she’s coming over to him, and he thinks that she’s even prettier like that.
“Sasuke-kun! Oh, Sasuke-kun…”
And he allows her to pull him into an embrace and sob into his chest. It’s reminiscent of all those times years ago, when they were but young genins, when he would wake up from whatever hell he’s been and see her crying over him and hugging him. They’re his guilty pleasures too - her hugs and her tears.
“You're late…”
His voice is hoarse, his tone accusatory. And it only causes her to sob harder and cling tighter. They stay like that for several minutes - or hours, he can’t really tell. He closes his eyes, reveling in her warmth and her love. But it scares him too - this warmth of hers - because it makes him vulnerable and he’s so close… so damn close to giving in… it’s too tempting and… he’s tired, and he’s thinking about how he doesn’t know what happiness feels like anymore and… he pushes her away and steps back.
“I won’t let you in if you’re not going to stay…”
She laughs - and it sounds like bells and he thinks it’s the most beautiful sound he’s ever heard. And she steps through the threshold, first one foot, then another. And when she’s standing inside his house, a huge smile on her face and tears in her eyes, a lump forms in his throat and his heart constricts painfully, and it’s terribly uncomfortable. It's too uncomfortable to make him happy, yet it's not entirely unpleasant either. So he racks his head for things forgotten and settles on something not quite good yet... but close enough... he's not yet happy but he's getting there. And as he looks at Sakura who is, amazingly, inside his house and moving to hug him once more, and muses on how terribly nice it feels like to hope.
Characters: Sasuke & Sakura
Genre: Romance/Angst
A knock on his door alerts him to her presence; he knows it is her because even her knocking is characteristic of her treatment for him, it is soft, hesitant, almost shy… but persistent. Grudgingly, he saunters over to his door and opens it - only a crack - the light filters in and he has to squint to cope with the sudden brightness.
“I’m not gonna let you in, you already know that.”
“I don’t really expect you to, Sasuke-kun. But it would be nice if you do let me in. Oh, but I won’t push you, though.”
“You’re already ‘pushing me’ by being here.”
It is rude, but he closes the door on her. He almost feels sorry for her because she’s a lady and ladies are supposed to be respected. But what kind of lady would go to a guy’s house uninvited and without a chaperone, his mother would most certainly have been displeased. But that’s petty and superficial because his mother’s dead and her opinion doesn’t really matter - not anymore - he already gave up too much for a dead clan. Enough is enough. He wouldn’t allow dead and nonexistent opinions to have a hold on his life, not anymore.
The real reason why he doesn’t really feel sorry for her is because he knows that she knows that she can leave any time. And if she chooses to stay and suffer, then it’s her fault. A voice in his head tells him that she just wants to help, but he ignores that voice, as he always does. He knows he should just really retreat to his room and hope she goes away. But he has this irresistible urge to look at her and see what she’s going to do even though he already knows what it is that she will do, so he peaks at her through the cracks on his front door. He tells himself that he’s doing this to see if she goes away but he knows that he’s just deluding himself. He’s doing this to see if she stays, and he hates himself for it.
He sees her move to sit on the porch, her legs stretched in front of her, her back leaning on the door. Sated, he slumps on his side of the door, his position exactly the same as hers if not for the bent knee and the slouched shoulders. They stay like that for a while, silent, their backs separated by a thin slab of wood. Her visits are always like this, spent in complete silence. After an hour or two of nothing, she gets up, leaves a bento box, says goodbye and that she’ll come back, and goes on her way. He wonders why she even bothers. Though, secretly, her every visit is his guilty pleasure. There is still a bit of the kid who hankers for attention in him, after all. And she seems perfectly willing to give what the child in him needs. The problem is that the adult in him doesn’t want to accept what she’s so willingly offering.
“Why do you always come here?”
There’s a long awkward silence before she finally answers.
“I-I care about you, Sasuke-kun.”
Her voice is sad and hesitant and so very pathetic. And he thinks that it’s only miserably appropriate. He’d be sad too if he was head over heels in love with someone who was incapable of doing anything nice - someone worthless. He tilts his head back, leaning on the hard wood, and closes his eyes. For some reason, their situation frustrates him.
He was back in Konoha, courtesy of Naruto and Sakura and his half-dead state when they found him. It was the most shameless and undignified show of drama that he had ever seen in his whole life. And truth be told, he would’ve preferred it if they had just left him there to rot. He was, after all, so very very tired of fighting, of breathing. He’s tired of everything, really. But apparently, they don’t want him to rest. They’re still forcing him to live on - to realize that there’s something worth living for. Worthless, insufferable, naïve fools. They just don’t realize that people are different. And he’s just seen too much absurdity in life to believe that it has meaning. Really, anyone who had to avenge a clan by killing off its remaining members would think that life was absurd too. Nobody could really blame him for having defeatist thoughts.
And he thinks that all of Naruto and Sakura’s efforts to bring him back were tainted with their own selfishness. It wasn’t really an admirable act of devotion and loyalty and love towards a misguided friend like everybody seems to think so. He thinks that they went after him because they just couldn’t wait. Because in their hearts of hearts, they knew that if they sat back and waited, they’d eventually fall in love with each other and forget about the friend and lover that they promised never to forget. In a sense, they would be abandoning their friend. They’d be worse than trash.
But if they just waited, he would’ve eventually come back - it was his plan from the very start. Hell, he didn’t expect that he’d be too mind-fucked to still want to live after his revenge. But still, the fact remains that he always planned to come back - to return to Konoha victorious with a smirk gracing his face and his brother’s head in his hands, and call the new hokage ‘dobe’ and marry the girl who proclaimed her undying love for him, finally indulging in the things that he denied himself just for the sake of his revenge. But those were the thoughts of an idealistic thirteen year old who really didn’t know much about the world despite everything he’d been through. The battle-weary twenty-one year old knows better. In the bowels of Oto, he had seen how ugly the world could be. And he never really forgot the images of those people who had been experimented upon, their bodies poked and punctured as if they were mere animals. These people only made him realize how much he really had, how good his life was, how lucky he was to have a best friend and a girl who loved him. His problem - the massacre of his whole clan - seemed trivial as compared to the problems of those in Otokagure. He was privileged compared to those people there. But he was always selfish and stubborn and too damn proud, so he pursued his revenge, taking advantage of those who deserved his pity, making their lives even more miserable just to make his own better. He’s a horrible person, really. So that’s why he wonders why she always comes to him.
It’s been a month since his return. The first half of the month he spent in the hospital. He had expected to be put in jail after his recovery. And that suited him just fine because he really didn’t want to face everyone. The villagers would look at him with disdain, and he’d just cringe and die a bit every time Naruto and Sakura would share one of their inside jokes - he’d seen enough of those on their journey back to Konoha, and he’d see how ugly the world is again. But his luck - or lack of it - was as constant as ever. He was levied a light punishment and even hailed as some sort of semi-hero for getting rid of some of Konoha’s biggest enemies.
And if they weren’t going to imprison him, then he’d imprison himself. And so here he is, in the confines of his stately but desolately empty manor - a crooked recluse, teetering between doing the practical thing which is to plunge a knife into his chest yet doing the selfish thing which is to cling desperately and shamelessly to life like he was once told to do. He really should just get it over with, after all, he already knows that the world’s not going to change and that it’s going to stay ugly. He really wishes that they had just left him to die. Because if they did, then he wouldn’t have to be here, waiting for the courage to get that knife and end everything. He wouldn’t be saddled with a decision. And he thinks that this is perhaps the reason why he doesn’t go out anymore, even to buy food. Because in his warped and twisted mind, there’s a difference if he dies by starvation rather than a self-inflicted wound, it’s indirect - a deranged coward’s thoughts, really, but he doesn’t really care - not anymore.
“I-uh, I’m going home now, Sasuke-kun. I’ll be back tomorrow. Bye.”
He hears some shuffling outside and he knows that she’s getting ready to leave. When everything’s quiet again and he’s pretty sure that she’s gone, he opens the door. It’s almost dark now, and it’s easier on his eyes. He takes the bento box that she left - it’s some random meal that her mother probably cooked, sometimes it’s teriyaki, sometimes it’s katsudon, today it’s a simple donburi - but it’s always lovingly prepared and delicious and it always has tomatoes. And this is why he’s still alive even after two weeks of not going out. She always comes. From the first day of his self-inflicted confinement, she has been there with her damnable bento boxes and her companionable silences. It’s really shameful, how desperately he’s clinging to life - he can’t even starve himself properly. She won’t let him.
It’s the highlight of his days, really, her visits. But she doesn’t know that.
And so their little routine goes on. She comes back the next day, and the day after that, and the day after that too. Just as she always promises she would. She’s consistent and he’s still alive - still clinging. Until one day, two weeks after that one visit wherein they exchanged words, she doesn’t come. She promised she would, but she didn’t. And he doesn’t know why. He doesn’t bother to find out, though. He thinks that she’s probably on a mission or something. The next day rolls in and she still doesn’t come. And the third, and then the fourth… and then the fifth, and he starts to worry… no, not about her, he’s selfish, remember? He starts to worry that he’ll finally succeed in starving himself. And he’s suddenly quite aware that even though it’s more indirect, purposely starving is as much a suicidal act as slitting his wrists… and maybe he’s just afraid of death, even after everything he’s been through - because ‘selfish’ does mean ‘excessively love for self’, doesn’t it? And when she still doesn’t come on the sixth and seventh days, he decides to go out and find her. He tells himself that he’s just curious and that he wants to see if she has finally given up on him and if she has forgotten her vow of eternal love and if she’s fucking with his best friend already, like a cheap disloyal slut - she doesn’t deserve his insults, but he doesn’t care. She promised she’d come back and he resents the fact that she didn’t - he’s bitter and he’s angry and he feels betrayed… and he’s not worried that something happened to her… no, never that, he’ll never admit that - not even to himself. Dreadfully weak from hunger, his body already noticeably thinner than it was a week ago, unaware that he looks like a complete mess, he saunters over to his closet and pulls out some fresh clothes, puts them on along with his pack of weapons - he feels naked without those sharp and deadly things strapped to his body, really - he heads on to the door and-
It’s familiar and it fills him with warmth and waves of relief - the sound of soft and hesitant knocking. He knows it’s her. And with haste that betrays his claim of ‘not caring’, he goes over to the door and opens it - not a crack, not halfway - he opens it fully. And the light filters in and his eyes feel like they’re bleeding but it’s okay, because along with the sunlight is her. And it’s another testament to his selfishness - that he’s happy that her arm is covered in bandages. And he’s rooted to his spot, just drinking in her very presence.
Fandom: Naruto
Characters: Sasuke/Sakura
Genre:: Angst/Romance
“Sasuke-kun?”
She looks pretty like that, with her head cocked to the side, a confused expression in her face, her rosette hair blowing about with the wind. He thinks it’s the prettiest he’s ever seen her. But her expression is changing and it’s changing to one of worry and shock, and her eyes are rapidly filling with tears, and she’s coming over to him, and he thinks that she’s even prettier like that.
“Sasuke-kun! Oh, Sasuke-kun…”
And he allows her to pull him into an embrace and sob into his chest. It’s reminiscent of all those times years ago, when they were but young genins, when he would wake up from whatever hell he’s been and see her crying over him and hugging him. They’re his guilty pleasures too - her hugs and her tears.
“You're late…”
His voice is hoarse, his tone accusatory. And it only causes her to sob harder and cling tighter. They stay like that for several minutes - or hours, he can’t really tell. He closes his eyes, reveling in her warmth and her love. But it scares him too - this warmth of hers - because it makes him vulnerable and he’s so close… so damn close to giving in… it’s too tempting and… he’s tired, and he’s thinking about how he doesn’t know what happiness feels like anymore and… he pushes her away and steps back.
“I won’t let you in if you’re not going to stay…”
She laughs - and it sounds like bells and he thinks it’s the most beautiful sound he’s ever heard. And she steps through the threshold, first one foot, then another. And when she’s standing inside his house, a huge smile on her face and tears in her eyes, a lump forms in his throat and his heart constricts painfully, and it’s terribly uncomfortable. It's too uncomfortable to make him happy, yet it's not entirely unpleasant either. So he racks his head for things forgotten and settles on something not quite good yet... but close enough... he's not yet happy but he's getting there. And as he looks at Sakura who is, amazingly, inside his house and moving to hug him once more, and muses on how terribly nice it feels like to hope.