A/N: I do not own Naruto. For 30 kisses prompt #9 - Dash

XXXXXXXXXXXXXX

"I hate you! I never want to look at you or your shitty art ever again!" The brushes and paint pots made a satisfying crash and clatter, as she upset them from his worktable with the back of her arm.

"Sakura-" Sai grasped at her, and got a handful of shirt and then a grip on her flesh.

"You don't get it do you?" she said, prying his hand off her shoulder. "You can't get it. You're useless Sai, you're broken and I can't fix it. I fucking tried. I tried to believe you were something more underneath that dead fish face of yours."

"Listen to me," he said, chasing behind her to the door, and she still wasn't sure if he had raised his voice or if it just sounded too loud.

She wouldn't look at him, and see that maybe desperation and possible fear. "Oh did that register? Did that hit the bottom of that empty well you call a heart? Why should I listen anymore?"

"Why the fuck am I always the one who's wrong? Do you think I wanted it to happen this way?"

"Yes I do. It's easier to not have to care. You play dumb so well, too, you manipulative fuck. I can't believe I fell for it." Must leave now, don't look back, don't look him in the eyes, there's nothing there, don't look him in the eyes.

"It was never like that!" That impossible note in his voice again, like she'd launched a kunai right into his gut. Sai didn't have feelings. Sai had practiced expressions and copied responses and fake fake fake smiles.

"I don't believe you. Not after this. You can't tell me you didn't know. You knew and you knew how I'd feel about it and what I'd do. You knew and you played by the rules because you can't think for yourself, you can't feel or think or say a damn thing without someone leading you by the nose."

"I can think for myself," he said, sounding particularly offended at that accusation as she let it fly, and he got between her and the door. She wanted to laugh, and and cry and claw his damn eyes out.

"What? Did I hurt your fucking feelings? I doubt it. There are insects in my garden with more feelings than you. I'm done."

He was still standing in her way.

"Move it before I have to expend chakra, Sai, because I'm not going to be gentle." she growled.

Something snapped in the air between them, and Sakura felt his fist connect with her face, the same second she applied her knee to his groin. He pulled her down with him as he fell and her head and shoulder hit the floorboards hard, though she heard his forehead connect with a thud.

Sai was facedown sprawled half across her, as she scrabbled to get him in a proper hold, pinning his upper body with an elbow against the back of his neck while his legs locked her hips down. Sakura knew she could really, really hurt him right now. All she had to do was shoot a surge of chakra down his spine, and he wouldn't be able to move again for hours.

He knew he was helpless. He wasn't letting go.

She shuddered, deep within, sucking her breath in with a sound just short of a sob and all of her muscles lost their strength. She fell back, arms flopping down limp against the wood, and she looked into his night-black eyes as he lifted his head from her chest and pushed himself up far enough for her to see the bloody, purple-edged gash on his forehead.

Sakura waited for him to flinch when the tears finally overflowed and dribbled into her ears. He didn't. He wasn't Sasuke. He wasn't Naruto. He was Sai and he had his own set of rules. She wanted to beat him until his face was an unrecognizable pulp.

"They already sent a team out after her. You'll just get in the way," he said, with that half-dead, doll-eyed stare he had, his mouth drawn thin. His face was still flushed like it had been perfectly painted, washed in watercolor. A line of blood trailed a path down to the side of his nose from his forehead as if to remind her he was not a mannequin.

"Go fuck yourself."

His eyelids lowered slightly. "Having sexual intercourse with bunshins is against Ninja Code statute #52," Sai said, with no hint of humor or irony in his tone. It was flat like his feelings, like his understanding of her hurt.

At another time, in another situation Sakura would have laughed, thinking that maybe he understood straight-man humor, or that it was funny that that was the first thing that came to his mind. Now she knew it was an attempt to rationalize the irrational, to make sense of her, of the part of the world that wasn't as simple as go kill this, go steal that, or draw that thing over there.

She glared up at him, and unable to help herself any longer, healed the wound. Sakura wished she had Ino's abilities, so she could implant in his head some understanding of just how much she hated that she had ever let him touch her. This was too hard, too complicated and he could only ever have the shallowest comprehension of what love was supposed to be. Why was she still here? Why had she ever come back?

"I'm sorry," he said, and brushed his mouth against her forehead, and got up.

Sakura folded herself up, her head in her hands and sobbed, listening to him clean up the swath of his floor that was covered in art supplies that she had dashed from the table with a sweep of her arm.

Even if Ino came home safe, Sakura would still be angry, and Sai would still be hopeless. She reached for the doorknob and dragged herself up, and didn't look back as she closed the door behind her.