A/N: So I tried to write something. I'm going to make this a multi-chapter fanfic, and hope for the best 'cuz it's my first try at something other than a plain one-shot. It would mean a loooot if you guys try to leave at least a 'nice' in the reviews, I get really excited and write even more when I read wonderful comments on my stories (even if most of my writing doesn't make sense even to me lol). So, this being said, I'll try to update as fast as I can.
Rating might change as the story progresses; I'm trying to restrain my fingers from writing M rated content bUT IT'S SO HARD.
Chapter 1
- The Wait -
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Nights of solitude and hopeful wishes come to be too repetitive. One night after the other. Same glistening eyes. Same silent words. Same blinding pain. Same thing.
Sakura finds herself looking at the stars from the windowsill in her apartment; looking at the way they shine and glint in the darkness of the universe. She finds herself wondering if Sasuke sees them in the same way she does—alone in bed clutching at the idea of hearing the velvet caress in his voice once again, maybe even, somewhere in the dark paths of his sinful mind, he may be saving a small, clear, untainted space for her only, too—and barely shaking her head after realising that he would never do that.
She wonders.
But wondering is what she does, and wondering is the only thing she can do in the loneliness and the uselessness of her current position with him. He left with an unspeakable—but very much heard—promise. He left to redeem himself; to get rid of the wrongful doings done in the past; to travel; to forgive and be forgiven; to stop the guilt from spreading; to observe and admire the loveliness of the world that once he was too blinded to see; to live more than he has ever lived in just a few years.
But, in any case presented to the pink-haired woman, he left to come back.
She still hopes he does, one day. No matter how far, no matter the struggles: he would return. She still hopes he does, one day, one night, enter through the big, wooden doors of Konoha to greet the people he once so much did despise, with rather newly found understatement and confidence in his poise.
She hopes, but sometimes hope is not just enough. Hope, sometimes, doesn't bring her the reassurance she needs that Sasuke is fine in his travels; doesn't let her know the due date of his arrival; doesn't make her less preoccupied. It makes her all but faithful to her resolve, unfortunately.
She removes herself from the window in a swift motion before her mind can think about it too much.
A sole tear escapes her eye, though, suddenly and without warning, and, before she can do anything about it, she grabs the curtains to close them abruptly. As if the light from the moon up above can burn her very soul.
Not a single light of the stars shines through it anymore in the cold of december, and she sighs contently laying down back in bed, exhaling an exasperated sigh.
287 nights after the year after the war, when he left, and so many more to come.
She closes her eyes.
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On day 444, Sakura finally accepts that this is not going to be easy, and that the road she's taking leading to Sasuke's life is going to be the hardest thing of all. But she accepts it. She embraces the time needed; the desperation of going to find him when she feels down; the fact that he's been away for so long; the realisation that anywhere she looks she's reminded of him and his travels.
She thinks of him when there's nothing else to focus on but the memory of the contours of his face and the bitterness of his smile.
But she accepts all of it. All of it regarding him, she accepts.
It's hard first, but she finds that the more the days passed by, the easier it was for her to cope with the ideas and the lingering sensation of hopelessness. She feels—not happy, but—close to happy, in those moments.
People said he was in wind now.
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"Da," the small voice blurts out as she's standing to the side of the big, colourful room. Ino is holding him but Sakura ponders how the parents of the baby let the loud blonde carry him around—moving from person to person, craving conversation. The baby wasn't crying for once, strangely. "Ino," she calls, eliciting the response she'd wanted; Ino turns to look at her and approaches. "Hey, want to pick him up? My arm is going numb."
Sakura doesn't comment on how the current lightness of Boruto is unable to get anyone tired, let alone let any extremities go numb. She doesn't comment on how the excitement of being free to roam through the crowd in the living room is very much obvious in her sapphire eyes.
In any case, she nods. "Sure, let me." She smiles, picking him up and cradling him in her expert arms. "Hello sweetie, auntie Sakura is here to save you from an early death."
Ino huffs unceremoniously and walks away only after she gives the pinkette an ugly face. Sakura walks away from the multitude, too.
Naruto had thrown the party as soon as he could, inviting anyone and everyone of his—and Hinata's—circle of friends, celebrating his son's birth. "As soon as he could" was in fact a month later. Sakura had advised them to wait some time so the baby wouldn't be as vulnerable to the outside world.
"Hey, wanna go with mama and papa?"
Boruto laughs and reaches in a very futile attempt to grasp—with very tiny hands, too tiny and sloppy to catch anything yet. He's not ready to coordinate his voluntary movements, she muses—the medic's rose tresses, completely ignoring her question. Or most probably not understanding a single word she'd said.
Sakura skips through the multitude of bodies until she's facing the couple she'd been looking for, utterly beautiful and flawless as usual.
"Oh, there you are," Hinata says as she sees her son in her arms. Sakura makes a move as to give the kid to her, and she takes him with a bright, bright smile full of love and affection. "I hope you haven't caused much trouble to Sakura-san, uh?"
"Da." Hinata sighs contently.
Boruto laughs again, muttering words that don't make any sense; babbling nonsense. Hinata's big smile and pleasant eyes are forgotten to Sakura as she looks at the blonde next to the Hyuuga heiress.
Naruto is looking at her. His big blue eyes are orbs piercing through her persona with a warmth she'd needed for a long time now—
"Sakura-chan, I heard Sasuke is around Fire country," he says. Then, by all means of being the hyperactive, loud blond man that he is: he beams with determination and a hint of humour. "The bastard better be thinking of coming back soon, 'ttebayo!"
Sakura barely laughs, but rather smiles with courtesy and looks at him once again. His eyes.
She knows Naruto is well aware of her feelings for Sasuke. She knows he wants to help with the waiting and the tension, but what he doesn't know is that it's no use.
Sakura is already accustomed to waiting. Sakura is already ready to take on any waiting, with patience.
She excuses herself and walks to the door of the big house of the party, weirdly unable to breathe with ease. No one is there. Then, she lets her mind wonder.
—But then they pierce her with something bizarre. She realises something that has been hidden in the confines of her brain, and instantly averts her gaze. Just by looking at him she's reminded of another man, and something else. Something at the top of her brain—hurting, hurting so much with the realisation that it may be very much true. Something that doesn't really include him or anyone else in the room full of people celebrating a few months of health and fortune for the hero's son, and the newly happily married couple that consummated their marriage right after the moon almost fell down upon them, for that matter. But rather, a good-looking Uchiha that's been absent for too long. Something scratching and biting at her hopeful heart. Something she knows it's been there from the start.
Something she's felt for 737 days, nights.
Longing.
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It's not fair, she thinks. It's not fair at all.
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The hospital is less crowded and more peaceful since the war ended a little more than two years ago—778 days if she's specific. Nevertheless, the smell of disinfectant and blood remain even in the darkest corners of the long halls.
For that, Sakura is glad—at least there are still some remains of what a hospital should be like in the building. But it doesn't cease to remind her of the putrid odour and feeling of all the lifeless bodies—of poor young and old souls who met an unreversible, bloody fate—found scattered around and through the fields of dirt and rocks in the aftermath of the unfortunate event.
For that, though, Sakura is slightly disappointed. She doesn't really want to be reminded of all the lives lost and all the weeps and pained cries of the people who met their families destroyed by the most powerful ninjas in the history of the shinobi world—now they're dead, but the loss is still everywhere she looks—every day she walks into the glass doors of her work-place.
But, she's mostly glad. For everything. Naruto and Hinata—her long time best friend and another person of the few people the female can trust—together, and happy, and with a little baby boy. Temari seemed to be getting to her senses and Shikamaru seemed to come crashing from cloud nine to establish something in his life seriously. They were coming in terms with each other, but anything else: she didn't know. Tenten worked at her own establishment of weapons—lacking some clients at the peaceful times, but still selling all the same—content. Ino, the ugly pig of a best friend had married the stoic and still-not-very-emotional Sai, her teammate. When she thought about it, it seemed surreal, but they managed and handled each other pretty well (even though Sai still bought and read books about how to feel emotions, but Ino didn't seem to mind). Almost everyone she knew and was very much alive and breathing, was relatively happy.
Sighing, she stepped into her office to notice a pile of papers from the hokage on her table. The sight of it being huge didn't escape her mind, and then she closed the door. Maybe she wasn't the only one not that happy.
Kakashi was being a lazy ass again...
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Her door opens.
"Sakura! Wanna tag along? Naruto's inviting us to eat ramen. And, well, some others too."
Snort.
"Why doesn't that surprise me."
Ino purses her lips and smiles after a while, "come on, forehead," she's reminded of the nickname from their childhood and looks at her, "wouldn't wanna miss free food."
Sakura almost chokes on the air from the sole mention; the meaning behind those words. Her jaw drops and closes back up again. "Wait—he's paying?"
Dropping all she'd been holding on the table of her office at the nod from the blond woman in front of her, she walks out of the door. "I'm in."
"Thought so!"
They laugh.
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"Sakura?"
"Mm?"
"You've been silent." Snapping out of her thoughts, she looks at her best friend and sighs, feeling her previous train of thought demising away, slowly at her strong resilience. "Sorry, Ino."
"Is something wrong?"
Hearing the sound of chopsticks hitting the tables and voices scattered in the large establishment was something due for a change. Naruto had, for once, invited them to a nice restaurant, with different dishes and food to choose from (yet still he chose to eat ramen).
Glancing at most of her friends eating and chatting away the hours made her feel slightly off. "I'm not feeling well," she but almost whispered to the blond, a small lump forming in her throat, "I think I'll take my leave."
Giving a tiny—and what she thought was reassuring—smile, she leaves the place.
The heaviness of her heart is too much to bear, she thinks, as her mind struggles to eliminate the knowledge that she may have left because of a missing—and missed—presence at the table.
Black coal eyes and brooding, demanding physique.
She quickens her pace. She doesn't want to think about him.
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On day 800 Sakura lays in bed while her heart is worn on her sleeve and her soul is out of her body—probably lost, wondering about time and space and trying to look for a desperate boy with blood-stained hands but in need for love—leaving her with no thoughts to think; no annoying realisations to try to eliminate.
Just her, the stars, and time passing by.
She can't wonder anymore.
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She can't wonder; can't think; can't stop counting the days. It's frustrating to no end and it pisses her off more than it should.
Can't stop missing. Him.
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It's when she wakes up one in 840 days he's been absent that she really opens her eyes wide. Her palms are sweaty, her lower lip quivering against the thought of the person behind the small gesture. A knock on her door sounds and echoes yet once again against the empty walls of her home, even after ten seconds pass, the sound stays inside her brain.
And she's already putting on her robe, quickly, fidgeting with the straps engulfing her waist. For a moment she's glad she'd bought a new apartment after his leave. Brushing away wild strands of hair that cover her vision, she stands in front of the un-harming object like a frozen statue.
Because she knows the person behind the wooden door of the entrance is him.
She knows.
His presence, his aura, and his chakra are printed in her heart with unwashable ink; an unforgettable touch that lingers. She could sense him more than a mile away if she tried, for sure.
As soon as she opens the door she's greeted with more than she'd ever expected. Him. It's him. But also it's not.
His eyes are as piercing cold as before but with a hint of tiredness; knowledge; warmth. Just a bit, but enough for her to smile. His face more defined, cheeks less rounded, bandana around his forehead, keeping his bangs in place. His hair longer and clothes baggier.
"Sakura."
Voice sulkier, masculine, low. She shivers in the heat of spring.
"Sasuke-kun."
He nods, eyeing her for the first time in years as she lets him go inside.
She stops counting the days that night.