A/N: Man I haven't been here in a while... In any case, I got the urge to write something, so here it is- just a little short story that fell out of my fingertips and onto my computer. Hope it's decent- you can leave a review to tell me if it is :3 (or isn't, of course)

Oh, and please go into this with an open mind :) I'd rather not have flames for the ending.

A Common Error

Doesn't he know that they're married?

What is he thinking, watching them with hopeful eyes and a back oxymoronically slumped in resignation? He always seems to be at the same parties; somehow always wanting to eat out at the same time- he always finds a way to meet the new, happy, inseparable couple somewhere. Poor boy, the people whisper, he can't see how in love they are.

But Sasuke isn't blind. He sits at a table by himself, watching the happy couple on their wedding day. Watching Sakura's gown twirl around slim ankles. Watching Naruto's incomparable elation, his uninhibited joy at his rightful prize- his long desired woman. (And even Sasuke can admit, the blonde is deserving of her affection for his ridiculous determination.) He watches their unabashed smiles while he sits in a self-afflicted isolation with only his longing expression and wistful air for company. He knows, he sees it, he feels the loss of a battle he never bothered fighting. He just doesn't care to look away quite so soon. Not yet.

It was always hopeless, thinking back on it. Only a hardheaded idiot like Naruto could make twelve-year-old puppy love (a simple, shallow crush no less) last until marriage. But Sakura was smarter than that, not nearly so stubborn despite her fanciful dreams of being loved back by the handsome, dark haired boy with the troubled and vengeful soul.

He couldn't be fixed, she realized eventually, and moved on. And who was Naruto to refuse what he had always, always wanted? And who was he to try and interfere to get what he would never admit he had always, always wanted?

Poor boy, the misguided observers hum sympathetically, he had all the chances in the world to have her be his one and only. But now he's been reduced to observing, to hopelessly staring at them, past them, at an unchangeable past and a lost present and a hopeless future. All he can do now is sit and stare and wish that he had taken her when he had the chance, the onlookers say, but they're deceived.

It's not her he's watching.