The Glory of His Eyes

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A/N: I just had this in my head and had to get it down. Ooc-ness

Disclaimer: I don't own Naruto. Sasuke. Or Neji. Nor Sakura.

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A man with gorgeous black locks stood next to a woman with green orbs in front of a stone. "It still hurts." He whispered into the atmosphere. "I know, Sasuke-Kun. I know." She spoke softly, knowing it still hurt the adult to think about his former lover.

He crouched down, placing a callous hand over the name. "Neji was breathtaking, you know?" "Indeed he was, Sasuke-Kun." The pink haired lady cooed back. The man suddenly felt a small pang in his chest. "Sakura," He mumbled, grabbing his left side of the chest. "Yes?" She called back, worry evident in her voice. "Is my…my heart still supposed to feel this way?" He questioned, a shake in his voice. "Yes, it is." She crouched beside him, looking at his onyx eyes, trying to find something…that would maybe comfort the male. "Do you think…That maybe, is he happy?" She smiled slightly, not a smile of happiness, but one of knowing. "I'm positive, Sasuke-Kun." "Good." He called back, standing up right.

Sakura did not move, she only stood there. "Sasuke-Kun?" She whispered, now feeling that sad pang in her own heart. "Yes?" He looked down at her. "What did you first like about Neji-San?" Her question startled him for a moment, but he answered it with a small sense of pride. "His eyes. They had something deep in them, deeper than most anyway. When I looked into them he wouldn't have a gaze of love, but one of misunderstanding. His eyes were his strength. His eyes were almost what made him, him," He paused, his chest growing tighter. "When he looked back into mine though, it still did not show love, but…a sense of glory. Even when he was sad or angered about something, those complex, white eyes would show glory." He whispered the last part, though she heard it completely. "The glory of his eyes?" She questioned, still confused. The man before her smirked, exactly like her friend used to. "Yes, Sakura, the glory of his eyes was what attracted me. Even though you may not understand it…The glory of his eyes…" He paused. She looked back down at the grave, reading the inscription she could feel the sting in her own eyes.

It was never my eyes that made me who I was, but the man's who stood by my side. It was never me. It was him, and though he doesn't understand it, it was only the glory of his eyes.

"No, you're both wrong," She whispered, "It was the glory of their eyes. Not one or the other."