title: it's never as hard as you think
rating: Strong T, maybe light M.
note: So this is the "happier" version of my SSM drabble black coffee that I was talking about! This is will be a short drabble series, updated frequently because the chapters aren't going to be very long. Just something to get wrap my head around before tackling bigger projects.

"Hello."

The woman sits across from him, pink hair held haphazardly in a messy braid, a grey scarf hiding the slim white column of her throat. A cup of coffee sits steaming in front of her. He notes that the white mug is slightly chipped on the handle, and so is the blue polish on her nails.

Sasuke nods in greeting, before turning his attention back to the book in his hands. His own cup of tea has gone cold now, but he barely notices.

He only has time to read three more sentences before the light scent of lavender invades his senses. He looks up, two fingers automatically sliding his reading glasses back up the bridge of his nose.

She is peering into his nearly empty cup, a wrinkle decorating her forehead. She is much too close.

"You should ask for a refill."

Sasuke shrugs once, before pointedly going back to his reading.

They sit in silence for a few long minutes until he hears her sharp intake of breath.

He does not want to do this.

"Sasuke, we need to talk." He knows without looking up that her eyes will be green and reproachful. Huge. Possibly shining with unshed tears.

She'd been crying a lot lately. He knows, because he is the one responsible.

But he will not let her manipulate him into having a conversation he vehemently did not want to have, not for all the sad green eyes in the world. Not even if his hands itched to comb wayward strands of pink back from her face. Not even if she does, actually, cry.

She falls silent once more, long fingers uncurling themselves from the mug only to spread themselves on the table. He notes her movements out of the corner of his eye, watching the slim digits tap an unknown melody against the peeling wood.

He will only speak to Sakura, he thinks to himself, to politely ask her to stop the drumming. He cannot concentrate, he will say, and then direct his eyes back to the text in front of him before he could be caught by her face, her expression, her voice—the familiarity in all her little tells.

"Sasuke, I'm leaving," she says in response to his quiet request.

He freezes. Finally puts the book down.

"The café." He levels his eyes at her, taking off his glasses with deliberate movements.

She sighs, a single puff of air that ruffles her bangs. "No. Konoha. I'm leaving Konoha. I've been offered a very good position at a top ranking hospital in Suna," she slants a look at him from beneath lowered lashes, "And besides, I think…I think it'd do both of us good to spend some time apart. Maybe when I come back things can…things can go back to the way it was before."

It will never be the same, he wants to say. Not when he knew what her naked skin felt like under his hands now. Not when he could imagine perfectly the weight of her long legs locking themselves around his waist or the feel of her breasts in his palms. Not after he'd cataloged every inch of her by sight and taste and touch. When he closes his eyes he can still recall the hushed, quiet sounds she makes under him, the exact green of her eyes as she reaches her peak.

He drowns himself in the memories for a moment, and by the time he resurfaces she is already gone, a crumpled ten-dollar bill lying on top of the table.

Her cup of coffee is empty.

It only takes another second for him to decide that even if he'd been the one to break her heart in the first place, he cannot, will not, lose her—

Some might call him a selfish man, he thinks with a ghost of a smile, but he's never actually denied it.

Sasuke only pauses long enough to scoop her money off the table, throwing down his own instead, and then he is striding out of the small café, eyes already sweeping the streets for any sign of pink.

He would catch her, and then he would make her listen, though he's never been very good with words. But despite his lack of eloquence, she would make up for it with her own quiet understanding. Sakura was always like that, always watching him, observing, noting what he wanted to say before he even realized it himself. His steps are hurried now, hands clenching when there is no sign of the girl.

A cold November wind rolling through the streets suddenly makes him realize that he'd forgotten his coat back in the café. Sasuke grits his teeth and keeps walking, making the left that would eventually take him towards her apartment.

She'd said her flight was tonight.

Uchiha do not give up.

When Sasuke arrives at her apartment, her windows are dark and empty. Slipping his cell phone out of his pants pocket, he dials the number without thinking, staring intently up at the darkened windows. He wonders where she is now, if she was taking a cab to the airport or if someone—most likely Naruto—was driving her. Wonders if she really thinks she is getting away from him.

She may have said that she hoped everything could go back to the way it was before there'd been a them, but she's mistaken. Sasuke may have broken it off, may have been the one who'd left her crying hot, angry tears in her apartment, but he will not have her forget him. That will never be an option.

The call goes through, "This is Uchiha Sasuke, president of the Uchiha Corps. I need you to put through a list of every flight going out to Suna tonight—and then delay them. Yes. All of them."

He snaps the phone shut on the flustered exec on the other line.

He will catch her, and then he will never let her go.

tbc