Something Like Love [fic]
Title: Something Like Love
Genre: Primarily friendship, with a bit of romance. Angsty and fluffy at some points.
Rating: PG-13, or T.
Pairing/Characters: Sasuke/Sakura.
Warnings: None, really.
Word Count: 898.
Summary: Sasuke visits Sakura's apartment, and they almost avoid the issue.
Disclaimer: Naruto belongs to Masashi Kishimoto.
The door’s answered at the very moment he’s about to run away, and Sasuke finds himself looking down at Sakura. She’s caught off guard, and he can see her stumble inwardly for a second, but she recovers and smiles politely but not genuinely. She seeks his gaze with challenge in her eyes, but he can’t make eye contact. Sasuke’s eyes are tired and unfocused, and he may have been a little afraid.
“Sasuke-kun,” she says, chilly and cordial at the same time. It hits him like a physical blow, because while he never cared what she thought of him, he didn’t think it would be this. He can feel the hatred lurking just below the surface, lashing out in her formalities, masking a deeper reality. She is still in love with him, and Sasuke thinks that though it will take a long time for her to forgive him, when - if - she does, he could marry her. But he isn’t the kind of man Sakura wants to grow old with.
Maybe he’s in love with her, maybe not. He probably is. Sakura’s a reference point, a line on the background that never wavers while the fleeting foreground is roiling with battles, and bloodshed, and the endless pursuit of vengeance. She’s been there for as long as he can remember, the pale pink head of hair bobbing through the crowd - at festivals, at the Academy. She’s never been gone, Sasuke thinks. Even at Sound, she haunted his dreams.
He doesn’t know what to say to her. He’s at a loss for words, and he shouldn’t be, because he’s Uchiha Sasuke and no one expects him to say anything. Being at a loss implies that there is something he should be saying. Instead, he just looks past her left shoulder and studies the fist-shaped dents in the wall. Words float into his head, and he doesn’t think about them before he says them, because if he does he won’t.
“I’m sorry.”
Sakura is quiet for a long moment, and Sasuke drifts his attention away from the dents in the wall to look at Sakura. She’s beautiful, he realizes, all long, shapely legs and creamy white skin. Her hair is cropped short permanently now, and the texture seems rough, but the colors are as vibrant as ever. And her eyes-they’re bright, and green, and give away absolutely nothing. She’s become one of those people who are perfect only because of their imperfections.
“Good,” Sakura says finally. She steps aside, and Sasuke wavers briefly before coming in. The apartment is messy but not overly so, and she walks into the kitchen and calls out casually, “Tea?”
Sasuke shakes his head, and Sakura grabs a can of soda for herself and returns. The silence between them grows stretched and awkward, until Sakura breaks it.
“I’d hit you, but I assume Naruto already did that.”
Sasuke’s in the process of nodding when his head’s jerked backward by a fist flying into his jaw. He’s too bewildered, by the fact that he didn’t see it coming, to be hurt or angry. Sakura gets him an ice pack, and offers him the couch. He presses the ice pack to his jaw while she stares at the wall along with him and drinks her soda.
He gets up to leave after a few seconds of silence, because the last thing he wants to be doing right now is staring at a portion of heavily abused drywall with Sakura. She doesn’t try to stop him, not until his hand is on the doorknob.
“Sasuke-kun,” she says quietly, quietly enough that he could pretend he didn’t hear her. He opens the door, but hesitates.
“I-I can’t forgive you.”
Sasuke turns around to face her - maybe because it would be easier for her to hear him, or maybe because he’s fascinated by what he can’t see in those eyes. “I didn’t expect you to,” he says, matter-of-factly.
“But,” Sakura says, “and-and I know this is selfish, but…it was for the best. For me. I had to focus on myself, care about myself for once. And for you, I suppose. You…needed closure. You needed to do what you wanted to do, come to terms with the past. But I don’t think I can ever forgive you. If not for what you did to me, then for what you did to Naruto.”
Sasuke thinks that it’s one of the only times Sakura’s ever told him the truth - the complete truth, not sugarcoated to make it easier for him to swallow. This Sakura - she was lurking within the twelve-year-old genin he had knocked out and left on a bench, and he wondered that if he’d looked hard enough she would have come out on her own, a blossoming that didn’t have to be triggered by heartbreak.
Sasuke turns around to hide a smile, and walks out the door.
Yes, he’s probably in love with her.
Genre: Primarily friendship, with a bit of romance. Angsty and fluffy at some points.
Rating: PG-13, or T.
Pairing/Characters: Sasuke/Sakura.
Warnings: None, really.
Word Count: 898.
Summary: Sasuke visits Sakura's apartment, and they almost avoid the issue.
Disclaimer: Naruto belongs to Masashi Kishimoto.
The door’s answered at the very moment he’s about to run away, and Sasuke finds himself looking down at Sakura. She’s caught off guard, and he can see her stumble inwardly for a second, but she recovers and smiles politely but not genuinely. She seeks his gaze with challenge in her eyes, but he can’t make eye contact. Sasuke’s eyes are tired and unfocused, and he may have been a little afraid.
“Sasuke-kun,” she says, chilly and cordial at the same time. It hits him like a physical blow, because while he never cared what she thought of him, he didn’t think it would be this. He can feel the hatred lurking just below the surface, lashing out in her formalities, masking a deeper reality. She is still in love with him, and Sasuke thinks that though it will take a long time for her to forgive him, when - if - she does, he could marry her. But he isn’t the kind of man Sakura wants to grow old with.
Maybe he’s in love with her, maybe not. He probably is. Sakura’s a reference point, a line on the background that never wavers while the fleeting foreground is roiling with battles, and bloodshed, and the endless pursuit of vengeance. She’s been there for as long as he can remember, the pale pink head of hair bobbing through the crowd - at festivals, at the Academy. She’s never been gone, Sasuke thinks. Even at Sound, she haunted his dreams.
He doesn’t know what to say to her. He’s at a loss for words, and he shouldn’t be, because he’s Uchiha Sasuke and no one expects him to say anything. Being at a loss implies that there is something he should be saying. Instead, he just looks past her left shoulder and studies the fist-shaped dents in the wall. Words float into his head, and he doesn’t think about them before he says them, because if he does he won’t.
“I’m sorry.”
Sakura is quiet for a long moment, and Sasuke drifts his attention away from the dents in the wall to look at Sakura. She’s beautiful, he realizes, all long, shapely legs and creamy white skin. Her hair is cropped short permanently now, and the texture seems rough, but the colors are as vibrant as ever. And her eyes-they’re bright, and green, and give away absolutely nothing. She’s become one of those people who are perfect only because of their imperfections.
“Good,” Sakura says finally. She steps aside, and Sasuke wavers briefly before coming in. The apartment is messy but not overly so, and she walks into the kitchen and calls out casually, “Tea?”
Sasuke shakes his head, and Sakura grabs a can of soda for herself and returns. The silence between them grows stretched and awkward, until Sakura breaks it.
“I’d hit you, but I assume Naruto already did that.”
Sasuke’s in the process of nodding when his head’s jerked backward by a fist flying into his jaw. He’s too bewildered, by the fact that he didn’t see it coming, to be hurt or angry. Sakura gets him an ice pack, and offers him the couch. He presses the ice pack to his jaw while she stares at the wall along with him and drinks her soda.
He gets up to leave after a few seconds of silence, because the last thing he wants to be doing right now is staring at a portion of heavily abused drywall with Sakura. She doesn’t try to stop him, not until his hand is on the doorknob.
“Sasuke-kun,” she says quietly, quietly enough that he could pretend he didn’t hear her. He opens the door, but hesitates.
“I-I can’t forgive you.”
Sasuke turns around to face her - maybe because it would be easier for her to hear him, or maybe because he’s fascinated by what he can’t see in those eyes. “I didn’t expect you to,” he says, matter-of-factly.
“But,” Sakura says, “and-and I know this is selfish, but…it was for the best. For me. I had to focus on myself, care about myself for once. And for you, I suppose. You…needed closure. You needed to do what you wanted to do, come to terms with the past. But I don’t think I can ever forgive you. If not for what you did to me, then for what you did to Naruto.”
Sasuke thinks that it’s one of the only times Sakura’s ever told him the truth - the complete truth, not sugarcoated to make it easier for him to swallow. This Sakura - she was lurking within the twelve-year-old genin he had knocked out and left on a bench, and he wondered that if he’d looked hard enough she would have come out on her own, a blossoming that didn’t have to be triggered by heartbreak.
Sasuke turns around to hide a smile, and walks out the door.
Yes, he’s probably in love with her.