fanfiction - those nights [sasusaku] part I; scowls.
alright, well this piece has been hanging around my hard drive for some time. it's a two-pronged attack on one of my hardcore ships, Sasuke Uchiha and Sakura Haruno. This first piece is Sakura's point of view.
I should have the next and final installment finished in the next couple of days. Until then, enjoy.
Title: Those Nights - Part I; Scowls.
Rating: G
Summary: Sakura dreads when the darkness falls upon Konoha.
♣
But it’s those nights that are the worst.
As the sun dips to light the other side of the world and the sky becomes inky, dotted with infinite silver flakes, she moves through her front door and softly, silently makes her way to her room.
Sometimes, as she slips upstairs, her whole body is aching; exhausted from a day of training and spars and Naruto. But that is nothing compared to the ache that riddles her heart, which pounds deep in both ventricles, in each vein and through every cell.
It’s these nights that she almost doesn’t make it to her room. Her footsteps become dangerously unsteady and her throat is tight and dry. She stumbles onto the landing, pushes herself through her door and slams it, her weary body collapsing against the timber.
For a moment, there is silence. Complete quiet before she realises she’s been holding her breath captive since she entered her home. She releases it with a shaky gasp as she slides limply to floor.
Her head is a cyclone of thoughts and memories and voices and dreams and ideas. She feels like she’s drowning, and that echoing spasm in her heart is still there; in fact, it’s been there for nearly three years.
After a while of staring vaguely at her scratched floorboards, she stands and moves across to her dresser that’s a clutter of necessities; bottles of perfume and vials of antidotes, hairbrushes and crumpled scrolls.
She sighs and her eyes drift up to meet with their reflection. Her pastel pink hair is messy, her bangs are splashed across her forehead and some of her locks are caught beneath her crooked, hastily tied headband. Her skin is pale and somewhat glossy; it seems to almost glow in the pale light of the half moon.
But it’s her eyes - those bright green lies that still surprise her. She leaves in this same position each morning with her bangs perfect and her headband straight and her emerald eyes blazing with strength and determination. She returns that evening, to see how fatigue and grief erode at the fierce facade she embodies in front of everyone.
She looks away, shame seizing hold of her stomach with a clammy grip, and she let’s herself fall to the side, the soft folds of her unmade bed catching her.
Her eyes shut slowly, so that the moon peeks through the crack between her eyelids moments before darkness washes over her.
She hates this, this time. It’s the time in which her mind can take control of her; she’s spent all day avoiding it, forcing out the sly thoughts and memories that triggered by the smallest things. She’s busied herself and her mind - healing the wounded and walloping Naruto and sharpening her jutsu - but when it’s night and she’s alone... that’s when she begins to lose herself.
Questions, unbearable questions beg to be answered but it’s not like she hasn’t tried. Yet it’s the attempting, the wondering that nearly plunges her across insanity’s threshold. And as she wades through her thick thoughts, she lashes herself inwardly, for not doing enough to stop it, for not giving it her all, for being weak and for being childish, for crying instead of fighting, for not realising...
For doing this to herself.
Her hands curl into tight fists and she is trembling. Shards of those memories erupt in her mind, and she is seeing her young self crying, begging miserably into a still night. She is seeing a pale moon, her own small hands folded and shaking. She is hearing footsteps, her own cracked voice, that cold tone... And then there he is, that arrogant face, that spiteful smirk and that remark...
“You really are annoy-”
Her eyes burst open and she exhales hard, the sound jagged, as if she were trying to blow away the memory. Moments pass. Her shining gaze is soon pulled to the small picture frame upon her windowsill and stares at it, the raw truth and joy frozen beneath a sheet of glass.
Team Seven.
Kakashi Sensei’s squad.
The four of them.
Him.
Her.
Together.
She watches the frame for what seems like eternity and soon her face is warm and sticky, a cross-patching of hot tears roll across her cheeks and dissolve into her pillow, into her hair. Her heart feels as if it’s ablaze and someone is beating on it like some untamed tribal drum.
She stares at the photograph, his young face that’s all scowls, the dark bangs that frame his pale jaw. Those jet eyes have a small glint in the corner and that’s what warms her heart and breaks it. She was so... unaware of his deep troubles, his dark obsessions...
She closes her eyes again and sighs soundlessly.
She still loves him. She believes that is basis of the unwavering pain in her heart. And as much as she has tried denying it, forgetting it, ignoring and hating it, it lingers on. She can’t help it - she is still in love with the young man that stamped on her heart, the man that left her with a “thankyou” and a small lump on the back of her head.
Her fingers reach up slowly, as if afraid the frame will run away, and the tips brush across his face, cold and glassy. She swallows hard and wraps her hands around the frame, bringing it down to lay with her through the night. She closes her eyes again, for the last time this night and the final teardrops seep out from between her lashes.
Sakura can sleep now - with Sasuke right beside her.
♣
part II will be posted asap.
thankyou for reading! 8)
I should have the next and final installment finished in the next couple of days. Until then, enjoy.
Title: Those Nights - Part I; Scowls.
Rating: G
Summary: Sakura dreads when the darkness falls upon Konoha.
♣
But it’s those nights that are the worst.
As the sun dips to light the other side of the world and the sky becomes inky, dotted with infinite silver flakes, she moves through her front door and softly, silently makes her way to her room.
Sometimes, as she slips upstairs, her whole body is aching; exhausted from a day of training and spars and Naruto. But that is nothing compared to the ache that riddles her heart, which pounds deep in both ventricles, in each vein and through every cell.
It’s these nights that she almost doesn’t make it to her room. Her footsteps become dangerously unsteady and her throat is tight and dry. She stumbles onto the landing, pushes herself through her door and slams it, her weary body collapsing against the timber.
For a moment, there is silence. Complete quiet before she realises she’s been holding her breath captive since she entered her home. She releases it with a shaky gasp as she slides limply to floor.
Her head is a cyclone of thoughts and memories and voices and dreams and ideas. She feels like she’s drowning, and that echoing spasm in her heart is still there; in fact, it’s been there for nearly three years.
After a while of staring vaguely at her scratched floorboards, she stands and moves across to her dresser that’s a clutter of necessities; bottles of perfume and vials of antidotes, hairbrushes and crumpled scrolls.
She sighs and her eyes drift up to meet with their reflection. Her pastel pink hair is messy, her bangs are splashed across her forehead and some of her locks are caught beneath her crooked, hastily tied headband. Her skin is pale and somewhat glossy; it seems to almost glow in the pale light of the half moon.
But it’s her eyes - those bright green lies that still surprise her. She leaves in this same position each morning with her bangs perfect and her headband straight and her emerald eyes blazing with strength and determination. She returns that evening, to see how fatigue and grief erode at the fierce facade she embodies in front of everyone.
She looks away, shame seizing hold of her stomach with a clammy grip, and she let’s herself fall to the side, the soft folds of her unmade bed catching her.
Her eyes shut slowly, so that the moon peeks through the crack between her eyelids moments before darkness washes over her.
She hates this, this time. It’s the time in which her mind can take control of her; she’s spent all day avoiding it, forcing out the sly thoughts and memories that triggered by the smallest things. She’s busied herself and her mind - healing the wounded and walloping Naruto and sharpening her jutsu - but when it’s night and she’s alone... that’s when she begins to lose herself.
Questions, unbearable questions beg to be answered but it’s not like she hasn’t tried. Yet it’s the attempting, the wondering that nearly plunges her across insanity’s threshold. And as she wades through her thick thoughts, she lashes herself inwardly, for not doing enough to stop it, for not giving it her all, for being weak and for being childish, for crying instead of fighting, for not realising...
For doing this to herself.
Her hands curl into tight fists and she is trembling. Shards of those memories erupt in her mind, and she is seeing her young self crying, begging miserably into a still night. She is seeing a pale moon, her own small hands folded and shaking. She is hearing footsteps, her own cracked voice, that cold tone... And then there he is, that arrogant face, that spiteful smirk and that remark...
“You really are annoy-”
Her eyes burst open and she exhales hard, the sound jagged, as if she were trying to blow away the memory. Moments pass. Her shining gaze is soon pulled to the small picture frame upon her windowsill and stares at it, the raw truth and joy frozen beneath a sheet of glass.
Team Seven.
Kakashi Sensei’s squad.
The four of them.
Him.
Her.
Together.
She watches the frame for what seems like eternity and soon her face is warm and sticky, a cross-patching of hot tears roll across her cheeks and dissolve into her pillow, into her hair. Her heart feels as if it’s ablaze and someone is beating on it like some untamed tribal drum.
She stares at the photograph, his young face that’s all scowls, the dark bangs that frame his pale jaw. Those jet eyes have a small glint in the corner and that’s what warms her heart and breaks it. She was so... unaware of his deep troubles, his dark obsessions...
She closes her eyes again and sighs soundlessly.
She still loves him. She believes that is basis of the unwavering pain in her heart. And as much as she has tried denying it, forgetting it, ignoring and hating it, it lingers on. She can’t help it - she is still in love with the young man that stamped on her heart, the man that left her with a “thankyou” and a small lump on the back of her head.
Her fingers reach up slowly, as if afraid the frame will run away, and the tips brush across his face, cold and glassy. She swallows hard and wraps her hands around the frame, bringing it down to lay with her through the night. She closes her eyes again, for the last time this night and the final teardrops seep out from between her lashes.
Sakura can sleep now - with Sasuke right beside her.
♣
part II will be posted asap.
thankyou for reading! 8)