A/N: oh. my. god. YOU GUYS. I can't even begin to explain how many times I've written and rewritten this one-shot over the last three months. I've been working on it most nights and I honestly have lost faith in whether it's any good or not, I've made so many edits. I even drafted a dozen other stories while trying to finish this and now my head is just a mess. Anyway. This is the best I could do, without driving myself insane over the ending. Read the epilogue, or don't, it sort of works either way, I'd like to think most fanfiction is kind of up to the reader as it is. Please review, it means the world. Other stories are being updated as we speak. Hope you're all well.

x

Disclaimer: I do not own Naruto.

"So...how are you?"

He had heard she was arriving in Konoha today, and even though he's not obligated to accompany her in any way (he hasn't been for years now), by some force of habit or magnetism, he finds himself walking her to the Hokage Tower.

"Still just as fine as I was when you asked me the first time today," she shrugs.

"No," he replies. "That was just a formality. I just want to know...how things are. With you. From one friend to another friend."

"Who said we were friends?"

"Would you play ball for once, woman?"

She smiles at his agitation. "Everything's good. Same old, nothing new. Nothing to complain about."

"Suna's fine?"

"Yup."

"Your brothers are okay?"

"All two of them."

"Love life's peachy?"

"Don't ask me inane questions, Nara."

"Avoiding the question...that's suspicious."

"Why do you care?" she snaps. "Or are you just trying to irritate me, as always? You're the reason nothing ever gets done around here, clearly."

"Relax, woman, I'm just making conversation."

"And this is the best you could do?"

"At least I'm trying."

"Well, don't, because you suck at it," she says bluntly, but her mouth curves upwards into a grin. "You'd better not still be in love with me, Nara."

"Tch. Too troublesome," he waves her off. "Maybe you're still in love with me?"

"Don't flatter yourself," she snaps. "I'm doing just fine without you dragging your feet behind me. You should consider yourself lucky that I'm even talking to you."

"That's rich, considering I broke up with you."

That shuts her up, and he's crossed the line and he knows it. Part of him feels bad, but the other just wants to make her understand even an inch of his frustration, the addictive pain he suffers by simply being in her vicinity.

"No matter now. We're not together anymore, so—"

"Would you take me back, if I asked?"

She's silent for a moment; then she wants to laugh out loud.

"Not even if you begged."

"Even your willpower isn't all that concrete, Temari."

"If you're trying to get a rise out of me, Nara, it's not going to work."

"Then why don't we play a game?" he offers, knowing she'd be hard-pressed to refuse such an enticing invitation. "Seduce me, I dare you. Give it your best shot. Make me sorry I ever broke up with you."

"And why would I sink to that level? Demean myself in that way for your sick idea of pleasure?" she spits angrily.

"Because I would do the same for you," he says simply, stopping and turning to face her as they reach the entrance of the tower. "Let's see who's telling the truth. Prove to me that you feel nothing for me, and I'll leave you alone. I will never bother you again, long as we both shall live."

"And if you win?"

He merely smiles to himself and begins to walk back towards his own house. "There are no winners or losers in this game, Temari."

The first step is noticing.

She's got to enter his mind and make a home for herself there, so that no matter where he is or who he's with, he can't help but notice her.

She deliberately goes out for dinner with their friends so that he'll be watching her from the other end of the table, eyes continuing to drift between his company and the source of the raucous laughter that seems to ring in his ears. She's engrossed in conversation, genuinely invested in this rare opportunity to catch up with a group she never really sees anymore; for the first time, he wonders what it must have been like for her after their breakup, finding a new life in a new village only for it to disintegrate due to divided loyalties. It all came down to his selfishness, but he chooses not to dwell on this as he sips his beer and watches her turquoise eyes sparkle in a way they hadn't done since they were together.

When she feels his eyes on her, she brushes her hand through her golden tresses or sits forward in a way that makes her collarbones stand out and her cleavage more prominent. She swirls her drink with her straw and then lifts it out, catching the stray droplets with the tip of her tongue before licking her lips and letting it sink back into the cocktail. She's good. But if there's anything she taught him, it was all the non-verbal cues; the communication a simple glance or movement of a finger could encapsulate.

In the moment that he looks away, she feels disappointed. She'd figured she could hold his attention a little longer, but it wasn't bad for a casual attempt. She refocuses on the conversation at hand, until she sees him pull out his hair tie and shake out his dark locks in her periphery. He's doing this on purpose, she notes to herself. He would never usually go to the trouble of enduring his friends' comments about how rare it is to see his hair down. Not for long it seems; as he begins to scrape his hair back, all the while holding some nondescript conversation with Choji opposite him.

As he catches the loose strands and effortlessly hooks them back into his grip, smoothing the sides out as he does so, her gaze follows his chiselled jawline, sharp as a knife edge yet soft enough to be his weakness.

She would know; admittedly, it was hers, too.

He's just as attractive to her now as he was then—maybe even more so now that they were no longer together and he was something that needed to be attained. But as quickly as she notices her feelings, they dissipate once more.

He hurt her.

So as far as she's concerned, she hates him.

She stands up and beckons Ino to accompany her to the bathroom. The girls walk arm in arm, laughing and smiling all the while as old friends do, and the guilt creeps back into his conscience; he knows how much she valued their mutual friends, and that he's essentially responsible for taking them away from her. She had always been a lone wolf prior to meeting him—Ino and co. were most likely the first real friends she felt she could trust.

The guilt is giving him a headache. But he can't pull his eyes away from her figure, sashaying in his line of sight, strong and beautiful as ever. He wonders if she could really follow through with it; how far can she go to seduce him? Moreover, if he gave in to his inevitable desire for her, would she act on simple lust?

He's in way over his head, and he knows it. She'd always been good at getting her way, who's to say she wants anything more than just to punish him for what he did to her?

Even if that's the case, he thinks, I wouldn't mind.

The second step is reminding.

She comes to visit him in his office a few days later, arriving unannounced and entering uninvited. He makes no protest, but simply questions her presence.

"The Kazekage sends his best wishes," she replies.

"That's all?"

"Of course not," she laughs. "Maybe I'm not all that respectable in your books anymore, but even I'm not that desperate for Shikamaru Nara's attention."

"So? What's this about?"

"The Kazekage sends his best wishes. He would also like for you to get a head start on this paperwork." She hands him a large envelope, which he cautiously accepts and opens.

"This is all preparation for the Chunin Exams," he surmises. "We're not supposed to start planning this until next month." He replaces the document and slides the envelope back towards her, satisfied he's stood his ground.

"Shikamaru," she says sternly, commanding so much authority with her tone that his head jerks up at the sound of his name. "Do you think I was born yesterday?"

That's not what he expected her to say. So he settles for a relatively safe response: "I'm not sure what you're getting at."

"I've coordinated these exams with you five times in the last eight years, Shikamaru. I know as damn well as you do when the preparations begin, so don't pull that condescending bullshit with me." She crosses her arms over her chest in an attempt to steady herself and stay levelheaded. Calmer, she adds, "Some new regulations for this year's exams have been proposed by the Sunan council, since they're the hosts on this occasion. Of course, these need to be approved by certain government tiers in each village, and you're the first port of call in Konoha."

He exhales. "Fine. Won't you take a seat?"

"I'm not going to waste my time watching you read a sixty-page document, Nara."

"Surely we both need to be reviewing this?"

She almost laughs. "Don't you think I would have read it at the time Gaara was signing it? Or have you forgotten that I am, in fact, from Sunagakure?"

His face breaks into a smile. "Now who's being condescending?"

"Just giving you a taste of your own medicine."

"Well, either way, you should stay in case I have any questions. It is your job after all."

She opens her mouth to argue, before realising she has no argument. He's right; by definition, her job as the ambassador is to oversee inter-village affairs and offer assistance as necessary.

Wordlessly, she pulls up a chair and sits next to him.

"Don't forget that I'm playing too, Temari," he smirks quietly, under his breath but audible to her ears. "And the game is on."

"Are you entering a team this year?"

He doesn't look up from his paperwork. "No. I've been too busy as the Sixth's Advisor to train a team for a while."

"Now you're just bragging."

"Hardly. Ninety-nine percent of the time I'm just playing errand boy."

"I'm sure that's not true. You must be, what, twenty three now?"

"Mm."

"Wow. Last time I was in this room, you'd just turned twenty one."

He doesn't need reminding.

"Shikamaru; I know you're disappointed that Temari-san's in Sunagakure on your birthday, but could you try and be a little less...moody? You're casting a dark aura over the whole tower," Kakashi jokes, as Shikamaru sulks across the desk.

"Sorry," he mumbles, his voice not much cheerier than his face. "Bad day for pest control to quarantine my office."

"Let's just hope it's the only one."

"Seems to be. No other room had a sign on the door."

A knock.

"Enter."

A sheepish messenger appears. "Excuse me, Lord Hokage; I'm sorry to interrupt, but I have a message for Nara-san, marked as high priority from the Kazekage Office."

"Suna?" Shikamaru queries. "What business would Gaara want with me?"

"Maybe it's about the Chunin Exams."

"Maybe," Shikamaru agrees, as Kakashi dismisses the messenger. "It's private and confidential, though. Can't imagine what he'd want to tell me that he can't even run past you."

"Well, open it and use your judgement, I guess," Kakashi says absently, eyes already back to the never-ending paperwork in front of him.

Wordlessly, Shikamaru takes the envelope into his lap and carefully slices open the seal with his finger, slipping out the contents. A note falls out first, which he cautiously opens.

"Shikamaru,

Twenty-one, can you believe it? I still remember saving your ass when you were twelve. I can honestly say I never expected us to end up together (mostly because I didn't think you'd ever find the courage to ask me out), but we did, and I think I love you even more than I did yesterday, and the day before that, and all the days before that. I wish we were together right now, so I could show you how much I love you today, which is a whole damn lot.

You didn't realise at the time, but when I stopped by your office last month and you left for that meeting with the village planners, I noticed the lack of photos on your desk and set my mind on fixing that. So, I got a little creative, taped over the security camera and snapped a few shots for you to...remember me by. Take a look; they're in the envelope."

He tips out the rest of the contents and several photographs fall into his lap. He picks them up, only to promptly dip his hand below the table again when he realises they're pictures of his very creative - and very naked - girlfriend, artfully posed on various surfaces in his office.

He feels his cheeks flush, amongst other things.

His eyes return to the note.

"I hope these keep you going on those cold, lonely nights until I'm back. If you wish hard enough, maybe I'll appear in your office right now to recreate them. Too bad it's sealed off for pest control, right?

Temari"

His heart nearly stops.

That woman is something else...

"So?" Kakashi utters into the radio silence, though he doesn't look up from his work. "Anything I should know about?"

Shikamaru coughs and replaces the contents in the envelope. "No. Just some contracts he needs me to amend as soon as possible." He stands up from his seat and tucks the envelope under his arm. "Lord Sixth, I feel bad about imposing on your space. I'm gonna go work in the library, okay?"

"Are you sure? I was joking earlier, I don't mind-"

"See you later!" Shikamaru calls, already halfway down the corridor.

"Oh, didn't see you there, Nara," she smirks, draped in all her bronze skin and blonde glory over his desk chair. "Can I help you?"

He swallows.

"Glad to see I can still render you speechless," she grins, standing up and sashaying over to him, painfully slow and seductive.

When they're face-to-face, only centimetres apart, he simply asks, "H-how..."

She puts a finger to his lips and breathes huskily, "Why don't you fuck me and find out?"

"Your office hasn't changed one bit," she continues to muse. "Still organised chaos. Smells the same, too."

He feels himself still at that comment. It brings back all too familiar memories of both their tentative beginnings as colleagues and their clandestine encounters as lovers; the way their mandatory (read: innocent, often reluctant) discussions about work had morphed into her lying to Union staff about an urgent matter that needed the Nara's attention—the urgent matter being his inexplicable need to press her against the wall and all but tear her clothes off. He remembers the feeling of his fingers buried in her wild hair, the electricity of her lips trailing along his neck, the squeak of the wood as they rocked the desk; hears the moans, smells the sweat, unfazed by the piles of paper cascading onto the floor.

By the way she's running her fingers along the edge of the desk, he can tell she's thinking about it, too.

He inhales sharply.

"Maybe it's time for a change," he says, matter-of-fact and avoiding eye contact. "Shouldn't stay stuck in the past."

"No, you shouldn't," she murmurs in agreement, eyes staring straight out of the window. "But you know what they say, old habits die hard."

That's not true, he thinks. You were always more of an obsession, anyway.

The final straw is jealousy.

She would know; that's why they broke up.

Tonight, they're at a society ball for one of Konoha's upper-class families; he's dressed sharply in black tie, she's in a floor-length satin gown with a side slit that slides over her silhouette like a second skin.

Naturally, they've both brought dates. Hers, a tall, well-built gentleman with coarse brown hair, bronzed complexion and feline eyes, characteristic of a Sunan. His, a poised, pristine blonde with silken skin and the occasion gloves to match.

He catches her eye from across the room; she doesn't acknowledge him, turning her attention back to her date, as if he were just another face that so happened to pass through her line of sight.

So he switches focus and enjoys the company, or at least smiles and nods as she stutters through polite conversation. He decided to start seeing this girl around two weeks ago—about as long as Temari's been in Konoha, now that he thinks about it—and he knows it's cruel and petty of him, but so long as she's not showing any remorse, neither will he.

Don't let her get in your head. You've got the upper hand here. He shakes his head in frustration.

"Is everything alright, Mr Nara?" another guest at their table asks.

"Oh, I think I'm just feeling a little warm," he says lightly. "If you'll excuse me, I'm heading outside for a cigarette."

"Do you need me to come with you, Shikamaru?" his date asks sweetly.

"No, thank you," he smiles in reply. "I'll ask the wait staff to top up everyone's champagne on my way out."

Of course he'd be out here.

Of all the people to run into around the back, why did it have to be him?

Well, we're both grown men. We can smoke in silence.

As he fiddles around in his pocket, he wants to curse his luck.

"Need a light?"

He looks up, and sees the man holding out a metal lighter towards him. He graciously accepts.

"Thank you," he replies, sliding the cigarette between his lips and cupping it as he lights it. He inhales deeply, then lets the smoke filter out of his nostrils, creating soft wisps that trail through the cold night air.

"You're welcome," he says graciously, as Shikamaru returns the lighter, replacing it in his pocket.

"You're here with Te—Lady Temari, correct?"

He doesn't know why he's said it, but the words fell out of his mouth and now he can't take them back.

"Yes," the man smiles. "How do you know her?"

We're old friends.

/ She tried to destroy our village once.

/ We battled each other.

/ We fucked. A lot.

/ We made love sometimes, too.

/ She saved my life.

/ We dated for two years.

/ She's the sister of the Fifth Kazekage, how could anyone not know her?

"We work together at the Shinobi Union," Shikamaru says, without missing a beat. "Occasionally we organise the Chunin Exams together."

"Ah," he comments, some recognition crossing his face. "You must be Shikamaru Nara, the Sixth Hokage's Advisor."

"I didn't know I was famous," Shikamaru jokes, though his voice is empty of humour.

"Temari mentioned you once. Said you were the smartest person in the Land of Fire."

"Well, I wouldn't go that far."

"She did add that you have an infuriating attitude, so I took it with a pinch of salt," the man laughs, a deep, bassy sound from the hollow of his throat.

"I take it you two are close?"

"One could say that," he chuckles, but it quickly peters out into a more serious tone. "The friendship between our families dates back for centuries. We kept each other sane at many a dinner party when we were children."

"Growing up in Suna's aristocracy has its perks, I imagine."

"Mm." He stubs out his cigarette. "I should head back inside. It was nice speaking with you, Mr Nara."

"Call me Shikamaru." They shake hands.

The man turns to leave, but instead of offering up his own name, he says, "Don't be a stranger."

"Was everything okay?" his date asks when he returns to the table.

"Absolutely fine," Shikamaru smiles back at her. "In fact, would you care to dance?"

When they head for the floor, he realises she's already beaten him to it. Her date gracefully glides her around, waltzing effortlessly in time to the music, and her laugh lights up the room as she holds onto his shoulder and lets him twirl her as he pleases.

Shikamaru retaliates by closing the distance between himself and his date, handling her with a little more force and intention than appropriate for a waltz, but he needs to assert himself in order to capture the right attention.

To capture her attention.

He wants to show her all the ways he could grip her by the waist, press his body against hers, dip her, spin her, drive her insane. And she accepts the challenge: there's a lull in the music, and she releases his hand to straighten his bow tie, encouraging his grip to explore further down her back in a way that was definitely not suitable for the crowd they were amongst tonight. He whispers in her ear and her eyes widen, cheeks flushing red as she slaps him playfully on the chest.

But Shikamaru's not quite ready to give up yet. Without a second thought, he dips his date, lips following and landing on her neck, lingering there as if in slow motion. She gasps at the sensation, and she is not the only one.

He raises her back upright as the song ends, to the applause of the waiting guests. "Bravo!" one of the councilmen exclaims. "What a riveting performance!"

"I feel as though I've just witnessed the opera," another adds, nodding in approval.

As Shikamaru straightens himself out, his eyes scan the room, but Temari is nowhere to be seen.

"Temari," he breathes, finally, when he finds her on the balcony.

She doesn't turn around.

"You should go," she says quietly, elbows leaning on the railing as she looks up at the night sky.

"Come on, Temari, don't act so innocent. It's just a game—"

She turns around to look at him, eyes pained, hardened; half-angry, half-humiliated. She presses her back against the cold railing, clutching it tight with both hands until her knuckles turn white; as if by letting go, she'll crumble. "How could you do that to me, Shikamaru?" she whispers. "How fucking dare you?"

He knows what she's referring to, and while he wants to tell her it wasn't pre-meditated or malicious, he can't claim it as an absolute truth. He didn't mean to start seeing this girl around the same time Temari returned to Konoha, in much the same way he didn't mean to kiss her neck in such an overtly erotic way; it was subconscious, some part of him wanting to provoke her, to make her notice him the way he had always wanted to be noticed by her.

And now she had noticed, he hated himself for it.

"I'm sor—"

"I've put up with a lot of shit from you over the years, Shikamaru. I knew you'd be just the right amount of asshole to bring her here. But for you…for you to do that. Something we always kept for ourselves. The touch that hurt and healed and always brought me back to you. The weakness I had for you and only you. To exploit it like that, with her—her of all fucking people—I, I can't even begin to wrap my head around it. I hate you so much, you goddamn coward."

He's a coward, that much he is certain. Afraid to confront the past. Afraid he will never stop loving her. Afraid of the truth, so he disguised it with the game. And now he's paying for it.

He should never have brought Shiho here.

"This is ridiculous, Temari," he declares, exasperated. "Fucking ridiculous."

"Would you calm down and stop being such an asshole about it?" she snaps in retaliation. "It was one dinner."

"One too many," he says through gritted teeth. "You're giving him the wrong idea."

"You know I hate it as much as you do, but I have a duty to my village. To Gaara. This man is important to Suna's economic survival; it's imperative we maintain a good relationship with him."

"I'm important too, aren't I?" he argues, pacing with his hand to his temple. "Don't you know what this is doing to me, Tem?"

"Shikamaru. You know how I feel about you. There's never been a question about it."

"How many more times?" he bleats, at a loss. "How many more dinners, how many more favours, how many more nights are you going to have to pretend to be an eligible bachelorette for the sake of your village?"

"You're blowing this out of proportion," she mutters. "And besides—what else am I supposed to do? What excuse am I supposed to give? It's not like we're married."

As if the mood couldn't become any more tense, she can practically hear his heart drop to the floor.

Shit.

"Ah, Shikamaru, I didn't mean it like that—"

"Don't you care about maintaining this relationship, Tem?" he asks quietly. "What we are to each other, doesn't that matter to you?"

"I'm trying my damned hardest!" she exclaims. "But it's starting to feel like the third degree, Shikamaru. You get so fucking paranoid about who I'm with and what I'm doing, can't you just trust me?"

"Trust you?" he spits. "How can I trust you when it feels like you're trying to hide our relationship? As if I'm the affair?"

"Don't act so innocent. I know you'd choose an easier life, an easier lover, if you had the chance. How's that Shiho girl? Is her tongue still dragging along the floor after you? Maybe you should just be with her. Blonde, smart, quiet, unassuming—ticks all your boxes. You must've dreamed about a life with her at some point or another."

"You're unbelievable," he seethes. "She and I were colleagues, that is all we ever were and all we ever will be. Do you really think so lowly of me, Temari? That I'd sacrifice everything we have for some person I worked with for two weeks?"

She bursts into laughter, so unexpected it's almost maniacal. "And yet, you think so lowly of me that I'd go off with some random man after one obligatory dinner."

"You can't seriously put those two things on the same level. Shiho's just the threat you've made her out to be in your head; these Sunan men are essentially asking for your hand in marriage! They're blackmailing you, Temari; demanding your company and your interest or they'll drop their business with the government."

"It will never get that far."

"Because sooner or later you'll give in. You'll say yes."

"No, because we'll be m—" she pauses. "Never mind. Realistically, we knew it would come to this from the beginning. Eventually I'd have to choose between you and Suna."

He sighs. "I think you've already made your choice."

The door slams shut behind him.

They exchange looks for a moment; eyes empty, lost, unable to find their way back to each other.

He drops the eye contact; she's turned back to the sky, so he moves to lean against the railing with her, albeit facing the other way. "You're right. About me being a coward…about still being in love with you…all of it. And I couldn't figure out how to love you, at least not in the way you deserve, so I've just been hurting and hurting you and making a mess."

"That would be an understatement," she says bitterly.

"I'm sorry. For tonight, and everything before." His gaze focuses on her, sincere and unwavering, though she continues to avoid it. "I know it doesn't really mean anything at this point, but it's still true."

"Given how we used to solve our problems back then, your verbal apologies never really meant that much anyway." Her eyes meet his at last, and to his surprise, she's smiling.

He chuckles. "Fair enough."

It is a while before she next speaks. "Treat her well, Shikamaru."

He arches an eyebrow in confusion.

"You'd be good together, if you just gave it a chance." She places a hand on his cheek. "Really, you have my blessing—"

He interrupts her with his lips against hers, soft and warm, asking her to desist and yield to his touch. This is different from all of the kisses they've shared before; unhurried, without the frenzied passion or kindling lust that often inspired the physicality of their relationship. It's the kind of contact that attunes her to her own heartbeat, that she feels in her skin and her shoulders as she relaxes, letting him tell her whatever he needs to tell her, like this.

The next thing he knows, he's blacked out on the floor.

"Oh my God, Shikamaru, are you okay?"

He blinks and, after the haze in his head clears, recognises her in his field of view, crouched in front of him. But the shadow cast over him clues him into the fact that they are no longer alone.

"What the hell, Nara?" Temari's date barks.

"Blame me, not him," she hisses in response. "He has no idea."

"No idea about what?" Shikamaru asks cluelessly.

"About how to keep your hands off another man's fiancé, apparently!"

For someone as smart as he, his brain is having a hard time trying to process what he's just heard.

"You're engaged?" he manages, still in disbelief.

"It would seem so," she says simply, as if her omission of this major detail was the most honest mistake in the world.

"No, it wouldn't," he retorts, teeth gritted. "Where's the ring?"

"We haven't made a public announcement yet," she explains. "So we'd rather keep the whispers at bay until it's in the paper." She inspects his jaw, and sends her irked fiancé to cool his head.

"When were you going to tell me?" he asks quietly, grimacing through the pain still reverberating in his face.

"I was kind of planning on letting you find out on your own," she admits, brushing a loose strand of his hair behind his ear. "After all, you and I are as good as strangers now."

He sighs, defeated. "I guess I deserve that."

"When you left...it broke my heart. I remember when were together, I started to think, 'this could be it', you know? We'd been through so much over the years, loved each other so relentlessly, that I began to imagine what the rest of my life would be like with you. And I saw it, Shikamaru. I could picture it, clear as day. And it was difficult and tiring and mind-bending but we were happy."

"You chose Suna."

"I would've chosen you."

His breath hitches a little in his throat.

"But you made the decision for me, before I could even get a word in edgeways."

Checkmate.

Stupid, stupid, stupid.

All this time, they were supposed to be it—the be all and end all. She had loved him with her whole being and he'd been scared and naïve and unprepared to accept it.

And now they were here, at this meaningless ball with people he didn't care about, and he was trying to win at a game that never existed in the first place.

She had never agreed to play, only indulging his childish behaviour to spare his feelings, when all along she had promised to marry someone else.

He's only realising it now. It's supposed to be his ring on her finger and her head on his chest as he whispers sweet nothings and her ex-boyfriend that he punches in the jaw for interfering with their relationship. Their wedding, their future children, their days playing shogi and reading books and falling asleep on the sofa together.

She was all he'd wanted since day one.

How had it all gone so wrong?

"Back then…I had it sorted. I figured we'd get married, you know? That's why I never worried about all those men trying to court me. Because there was you."

His chest feels tight.

"What you were trying to say…back then…" he realises, playing out the conversation in his head.

"Yeah." She sighs. "I guess I didn't want to jump the gun and say it outright. I didn't need you to commit to me there and then; I just thought you'd be smart enough to read between the lines."

He isn't. Wasn't.

She looks away, smiling sadly. "But you left."

"Shikamaru! Open up!"

"Go away."

"We all received it this morning, so I know you got one too!"

"I don't know what you're talking about—"

"Stop being such a coward, Shikamaru!"

Silence. Then, the door opens.

"Really?" Ino huffs as she stalks into his apartment, wasting no time on small talk. "This is your plan? To avoid everyone until the wedding's over in three months' time?"

"It was going well, until you showed up."

"You think you're funny, but it's just sad," she says flatly, turning once they're in the living room. She crosses her arms defiantly. "So?"

"So what?"

"Are you going?"

"Are you kidding?" he laughs. "Why would I do that?"

"You love her, don't you?"

He makes no comment.

"Well, if you love her, then you want her to be happy," she says, taking his silence as agreement. "Even if it's not with you."

"My presence isn't going to do anyone any favours," he fires back. "The guy hates me. It's just a pity invitation."

"The invitations are for important people on an important day in her life. And you, Shikamaru, were the most important person to her for two years. You can't just pretend she never existed."

"From now on, I need to," he sighs. "We made a deal…I said I'd leave her alone for good…"

"You're going to let some dumb deal cost you the woman you love?" she snaps. "This better not be one of those half-assed challenges you raised because you were overconfident."

Again, nothing.

"You've got to be joking. Really, Shikamaru? Have you learnt nothing?!" She wants to smack him around the head. "How can people be so book-smart, yet life-stupid?"

"It doesn't matter now. They were already engaged before the bet anyway. She was always going to move on, live the rest of her life without me."

"Don't you at least want some closure?"

"No. I really, really, don't."

"Why not?"

"Closure means seeing the person I love, love someone else. And even I'm not enough of a masochist to do that, Ino," he says with a sombre finality.

"Don't be like that, Shikamaru. You're stronger than this."

"I thought so, too." But she's always been my weakness.

The wedding goes without a hitch. Well, apart from theirs.

They got hitched.

Ha, ha.

He groans internally at his mind's own half-hearted attempt at making light of the situation. His internal monologue had been nothing short of depressing whenever the subject arose, and he could only imagine his outward demeanour being equally morose; perhaps more so, given the way he was draining a bottle of whisky in the dark and letting his fourteenth cigarette of the night burn down to his fingers.

It hadn't really hurt until he'd admitted to himself that he'd lost.

Lost the game; lost her.

Lost her to someone else.

Finders, keepers.