Imagine Me Without You

Summary: Depression was an ugly thing. It was one of the heaviest burdens a person could carry alone, and Sakura had it. As her marriage crumbles between her fingers and she deals with the lost of her child, Sakura is forced to call her sanity into question. But then she meets a man who changes her sense of reality, and she realizes just how complicated life could be when harboring an affair.

Amaya's Note: Well, as you can see I've changed the summary of this story, and I've gone back and edited it since it was all over the place! There was no real plot to this story, and it bothered me. So, here it is—all edited and revised! I hope you enjoy!

Original Update Date: April 11, 2013

This chapter has been revised as of October 6, 2013.

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Rating: Mature (see warnings below)

Characters/Pairing: Sasori X Sakura; minor Naruto X Sakura and Sasuke X Sakura

Themes: Hurt/Comfort, Drama, Romance, Angst, Mystery

Warnings: Strong language, mature situations, possible sexual content, secondary affairs
and psychological questioning

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Rhythmic, repetitive—a dull drone of bothersome ticks played against her ears.

The clock continued its tedious routine throughout the passing moments, so exact, so slow. And the room seemed to glow with an otherworldly smolder of silvery artificial light, flickering briefly with the television screen's quick transitions. Time seemed boundless and protracted, ebbing away at Sakura's patience almost mockingly, and it killed her.

She could say she sat in silence, but that would be a lie.

The heavy rain offered percussion to the lyrics burning beyond her imagination, rapping against the glass pane of her windows in an attempt to soothe her growing annoyance.

And she was alone.

She wasn't supposed to be like this—lonely and terrified of the passage of time. Her dreams once consisted of luxury and the warm caress of undying love; and she once imagined the smiles of animated children as they wrapped their arms around her full hips. And when she closed her eyes, she could smell—feel—the sterile burn of a blue-speckled floor of the hospital as she walked past the blue-scrubbed nurses, her own white coat fluttering with her graceful passage.

Death would come in a time too far away from her fingers, when her hair thinned white and her eyes dulled blue; sometime after her children grew tall and pregnant.

But as time went on, misery marred the once beautiful features of her fair expression and aged her by a few years. She no longer grinned at the tales of rumor her best friend spoke of, or blushed at the kisses her husband set upon her neck; and her days were full of monotonous tasks to shield her imagination of "what ifs" and "once upon a time".

She wasn't extraordinary in nearly every sense of the word: she came from a tiny prefecture in Ota, Tokyo where the trees wound into the architecture of the brick and glass. And she graduated from proficient classes with little difficulty on her part—top of her class as well. She loved and coddled, helped those who needed her attention despite past transgressions; and she married a man who once showered her in gifts.

And as time went on, her belly grew.

Her excitement made her swoon with adoration; her parents cried so happily and her husband would look at her with eyes full of such love that it made her cheeks burn and heart pound, and he would hum to her: "I love you".

He would do it over and over again as he kissed her belly, and he would cherish her as if she were a heavenly gift.

But when the spring came and blossoms bloomed, the spellbinding kick of her child stopped. His heart ceased within her womb, his body curled within himself, and he left the world before his life could even start. He had died for reasons unknown to either of them—something about stress on her uterus, if she thought back to the doctor's somber words—and it became a loss too great to recover.

For many days, maybe even weeks, they mourned. Sakura hid herself beneath the covers of her bed with a stuffed bear wound beneath her arms and chin, and she wept until she lost her breath for the day. No one could slake the pain in her trembling heart, not even her best friends and any attempt at consolation had failed with her vicious fits of anguish. And her devout husband seemed to vanish from existence with how often he stayed away from home. He stayed in the homes of his high-school pals on Friday nights and spent his hours working late enough to avoid her company. Rumors of wicked affairs had reached her ears not too long after, and despite the overwhelming tug of her heart's belief, Sakura forced herself to smile within his embrace.

When confronted, he would deny every rumor and offer her a tired smile. But on those nights where depression lingered above her head and her temples pounded with her growing hangover, they would argue for hours and hours until he finally took his leave.

"You're insane," he would always say, and that statement alone would silence her, put an end to their fights. And he would leave.

Maybe there was truth behind his words—maybe she was insane for believing the rumors, for seeing shadows that may or may not be there, but could she be blamed?

She wanted to be a doctor once, a surgeon actually; but how could she save another's life when she couldn't even sustain her own?

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Imagine Me Without You

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The abrupt purr of a familiar engine had woke her from her silent daze; and the heavy slam of the car door alerted her of just how close she was to another night of vehemence.

She counted the seconds as they ticked by, her fingers idly drumming over the surface of her armrest and her knees crossed, and she steeled the nervous pulsation of her heart just as the door crept open. Blonde hair came into view—so golden in color that it seemed unreal—and the shuffling of his movements made her heart race.

So close; he's so close.

"Sakura-chan, what are you doing up this late," he asked her, his head tilting with his confusion. She didn't answer at first; instead opting to take a slow sip of her sake as her eyes roamed over the creases in his shirt, then let her eyelids flutter close as her husband set his palms against her cheek.

He smelled so deliciously of cologne—a summery sort of scent that Sakura couldn't quite pinpoint—and his blue, blue eyes flickered with his worry.

"Are you alright?"

"Where have you been, Naruto?"

The intonation of her words was indifferent to match the casual lift of her brow, but the fire within her eyes betrayed her composure. Naruto quickly grasped the meaning hiding beneath her words, and he gave an exasperated sigh. "I was with Kiba-baka," he insisted, "we went to the bar."

The same excuse every time.

He could see her thoughts in her eyes, the accusation in her stare; Naruto dropped his head in frustration and curled his fingers into a fist so tight that the color drained from his knuckles. "Sakura, when will you drop it?"

"When will you prove me wrong," she shot back. "If you can prove me wrong, if you can physically show me that I'm wrong, then I'll stop accusing you."

"Fine, I'll have Hinata come and—"

"Do you think I'll believe a word she says? Of course she'll deny everything."

"Then what do you want me to do Sakura? Have a camera follow me everywhere I go," he questioned, his voice rising ever so slightly in annoyance, and Sakura flinched away from him. Seeing her move away so fearfully made Naruto's heart freeze over, and regret made him turn his gaze elsewhere. He moved away from her to give her the comfort of breathing space then gently took her hand in his. "Get some rest Sakura. You need it."

Sakura kept her lips pursed and slowly stood from her self-induced war.