13 May 2012 ( happy mothers day! )

actions scream louder than words
: her voice of adieux

She's shaking her head, cheeks flushed, eyes half-lidded and dowsed in a piercing peppermint. Her brows have sown together a stressed crease between them, skillfully topping the way her arms have folded themselves over her chest. She's stood from her spot on the candy-red stool beside him, abandoning her belongings on the counter.

"Don't," she whispers, lips pout though still majestically delicious. "Stop it. I know what you're going to say."

He's scanning over her, stunned, mouth slightly ajar.

"I know what you're going to say," she repeats, teeth grit. She snaps her head away from him, eyes now squeezed closed, almost painfully.

She's trembling, and this begins to scare him.

"JUST SHUT UP!"

The world is silent—black and white. Her arms are pressed to her sides, and her weight shifts so deeply into the ground that one would question whether she's a misplaced rose quartz statue. There's a veil of contour shading her eyes, and her rosy hair is slain over her expression, but he can still see the scorn she directs at him. He can still see and feel it.

"I know those words," she stammers. "I've said those words."

She's crying.

"They don't mean a (single) damned thing!"

He's beginning to grow melancholy, and he wants so badly to help her—but he doesn't know how. He doesn't know how, so he just listens, because that's the only grudging thing he can do.

"I've said those words. They didn't stop him. They didn't stop him from leaving." She pauses to drown in her angry sobs, and, slowly, her head lifts itself to look him in the bare azure of his eyes.

She's not angry, he notices as he traces the angle of her brows. She's sad.

"They didn't matter."

Head turning from left to right, she fixes the beautiful jades called eyes onto his.

"They didn't matter, Naruto," she croons. "Don't offer me hollow words, Naruto. I won't believe you."

At this moment, he's stood from his distant seat beside her candy-red stool. He's stood and pulled her into his arms and buried his head into the crook between her strawberry hair and the cream color skin of her neck. She stands lank, peaking over his shoulder, waiting.

"I would never do that to you," he seethes to himself, and promises to her.

In a heartbeat second her eyes close as she flings her arms around him, face now dug into the fabrics of his shirt. Her grip defeats the forces of iron, though remains gentler than the texture of a cloud.

"—I love you," she muffles helplessly. "IloveyouIloveyouIloveyou—."

She swears she'd have carried on if he hadn't kissed her.

.

note: Some bittersweet irony and a slightly more dramatic taste than my usual. I'm quite fond of this one.

Disclaimer: Credit for Naruto belongs to Masashi Kishimoto.