Naruto 1. Invincible Summer

It's sunset.

The sky bleeds pink and yellow over the horizon, night isn't far behind. The temperatures are slightly cooler now, not quite as stiflingly humid, and there's even a pleasant breeze that pulls through her hair as she tugs her jacket tighter around her shoulders. Her legs are folded beneath her and it's just her and the smell of the sea and the endless ocean in front of her as she waits for him to come back.

It's the last day of vacation, a blissful week spent on the beach with Sasuke, and what a perfect vacation it was. Sakura's excited to head back to Konoha University, but a few more days of this? She smiles as she inhales the scent of dying summer. She could get used to this.

She's happy now. It's not a shadow, it's not an imitation. There are moments, of course, when she's sad, and scared, and angry, and frustrated, but every day, she's happy. Things are going well. Things are going _right._

There's a sudden warmth around her shoulders and the smile on her face broadens and she looks up to find Sasuke with the blanket from the car.

"Hey, handsome," she breathes.

He smiles at her. It's Sasuke's version of a smile anyway. Softer than a smirk, one corner of his mouth tilted higher than the other. Not a wide, bright smile like Naruto's, but gentle in a Sasuke way, and a smile she knows is just for her, so she loves it all the more.

Then he sits beside her on the beach towel they're sharing, and she leans her head against his strong shoulder and releases a contented sigh. If she could stay like this forever, she would die happy.

"We should head back soon," Sasuke says softly. She knows him very well by now, and can hear the slightest tinge of regret to his tone. He might never vocalize it because that's just not Sasuke's way, but it's nice to know she's not the only one who will miss this idyllic beach vacation when it's over. "It's a long drive back."

"I know," Sakura sighs. She cuddles deeper into the blanket that smells like cigarettes and sunshine and _Sasuke,_ pulling it tight around her and she wants to drown in the warmth and perfection of this moment. It's getting darker, and Sasuke's nothing if not practical; they'll be driving through the night if they stay here much longer, and tomorrow they'll need to pick classes at school and it's a big day an important day lots to do lots to do but can you blame her for wanting to put it off a little bit?

"I just wish we could stay longer," she admits to the soft cotton of the sweatshirt he's wearing. "I had such an amazing time."

She thinks back to late night walks on the beach, popcorn on the boardwalk, a ride on the Ferris wheel. Tender kisses shared beneath fireworks, fireworks shared beneath crisp cotton hotel bedsheets, and the uninhibited magic of being 19 and immortal and in love, and she doesn't want to ever leave.

"Aa," is Sasuke's response. Ambiguous and understanding all at once.

"I love you," she says, just because she can. And he answers with a kiss dropped to her temple, without articulating the words because he doesn't need to for her to believe in them. She looks up at him and thanks every god there ever was or could be for letting someone like Sasuke Uchiha into her life, stars in her eyes as he smiles in his Sasuke way and stands up, offering her his hand.

"Let's head back," he murmurs. He pulls her up effortlessly (sometimes, Sakura forgets how very _strong_ he is) and when she's on her feet, he smoothes back candy pink beach waves out of habit. His fingers through her hair send a jolt like a thunder strike coursing through her body, and without warning, she winds her arms around his neck and presses her lips against his.

The last kiss of summer, and certainly the sweetest, and she falls a little bit more in love with him than she already is.

"Okay," she whispers against his mouth. "Let's go home."

Home is a new apartment in the building across from Ino's and Shikamaru's. Home is a tiny one-bedroom that's very expensive, hard to maintain, problem-ridden and _perfect because it's theirs._

Home is her heart in Sasuke's hands, his gentle half-smile and the echo of waves rolling in against the shore.

Home is Sasuke and Sakura and all the bittersweet magic that burns in between.

* * *

She's beautiful with the dwindling summer starlight shining in her eyes.

She's like summer itself, balmy and gorgeous and dazzling, full of promise and laughter and everything every girl has aspired to be since the dawn of man. Not a stitch of makeup, just flawless tanned skin, wild pink, sunbleached hair and a stunning smile, and she's his and there's times he still can't quite believe it, but here she is.

"The car's packed up," he says, even as he commits the sight to memory. Of Sakura, her lips kiss-swollen and her eyes full of nothing but happiness. The waves crash behind her, the wind tugs through her hair, and there's the slightest cherry-red flush to her cheeks heralding a mild sunburn. It's time to go, he knows, but Sakura is not the only one to regret this perfect vacation's end.

She kisses him again, and threads her tiny fingers through his to show willing. He guides her back across the beach to where he's parked the Jetta, their footsteps crunching through the sand; he sees Sakura cast one last, longing, parting glance at the ocean he knows she loves before she's back to herself again, chattering and giggling and teasing and everything that makes her his girlfriend.

Sasuke's 20 years old now.

He's 20, and he's starting his junior year of college.

Oh, and he has no idea what he wants to be when he grows up, besides a fixture in the life of Sakura Haruno.

At the beach for the week, spent in the amorous company of the most amazing girl on the planet, it's easy to forget all the murkiness and uncertainty of Real Life. Real Life isn't spent kissing every inch of your girlfriend's perfect body on the sand while she cries out your name and makes you weak; Real Life isn't spent knocking back bottles of Yuengling while you toast to fireworks and each other; Real Life isn't spent sharing vinegar-soaked French fries at the mini-golf pier.

But they're heading back to Real Life now, and it's not so easy to forget anymore.

Sasuke can't tell her how confused he is. How muddled his life has become, not without sounding ungrateful for who she is to him. There's nothing in the world he values more than Sakura Haruno, and to complain to her about having no direction anymore (without the staggeringly high expectations of a family he no longer lives to please) would only upset her. He's not the most sensitive guy in the world, but he's also not completely heartless.

He knows that Sakura's happy these days, but that she's still fragile. Like newly-made glass, delicate and breakable. Their relationship was never easy when it mattered, and she's not as self-assured as he knows she should be.

He can't risk her beautiful smile.

He'll figure this out on his own. He's got to.

"Need me to drive?" she asks, when they reach his car. The backseat is full of their things, towels and suitcases and souvenirs for their friends (none of whom were happy at being left out of their romantic getaway). "You must be tired."

"I'm fine, Sakura," he replies. "Get in."

She does, and he loves the way she looks in his passenger's seat. Relaxed and comfortable, one leg propped up on the dashboard and her iPhone in her hands as her thumbs fly across the screen, and she laughs brightly at something he doesn't know.

"Phillies beat the Yankees 9-8 in extra innings!" she exclaims boastfully. "What do you say to _that?_"

Sasuke buckles himself in and takes a look at her, her green eyes full of mischief and laughter, her smile as genuine as he's ever seen and thinks to himself, the Yankees can lose every game in the season if it means she'll smile like that forever.

"Still a long ways to go till the playoffs," he says instead, rolling his eyes at her antics. "Don't get ahead of yourself."

When he's with Sakura, he doesn't feel as anxious as he knows he should about his lack of direction. Talking with her, even when it's serious, even when they're arguing, he's reminded of what an amazing person she is and focusing on that, he can postpone making any abrupt decisions for his future.

But they're heading back now. Heading back home to their tiny apartment with the queen-sized bed and the sheets that smell like Sakura, and with every mile they drive, he's closer and closer to the uncertainty that threatens to swallow him whole.

He's Sasuke Uchiha.

He's 20 years old.

And he has not one _fucking_ clue what he's going to do with his life.

And there's no running from that. Not anymore.

* * *

**note..** Here you go :) Part Two of this story-that's-taking-over-my-life. Hope you like it! Let me know what you think :)

xoxo Daisy

See you soon!


	2. Sabbatical

Sakura isn't quite sure what it is, but something is bothering Sasuke.

They're both quieter than normal this morning, now that vacation's over and it's back to Real Life. They're both tired from driving all night and even if they love this apartment and each other, there's a profound aura of sadness as they bid an idyllic summer (their first together) goodbye.

But that's not all. Something else is on his mind.

She's pretty good at reading Sasuke these days. And he's always been notoriously difficult to read by anyone's standards, since he's so quiet and private and he doesn't like to talk about things that bother him. Sakura understands that about him.

But she doesn't like it. This hazy not-knowing.

He's not mean to her, or overly moody. He doesn't appear sad or even angry. It's a quiet kind of frustration, she thinks, that's simmering behind black-and-silver eyes across from the coffee table in the living room.

She smiles at him all the same, ignoring her gut instinct, and asks a neutral question to see if she can distract him from whatever's on his mind.

"So have you decided what classes you're gonna take?"

Sasuke's face is perfectly composed as he pours himself a bowl of Cheerios, but Sakura can't help but note the shift in the atmosphere. It's tense now. Almost suffocatingly so, and she isn't sure how, but maybe she's said something she shouldn't have.

"No," he replies flatly.

This is surprising in and of itself. Junior year is the year a student must declare his major; she knows Sasuke's running out of time to decide. She declared herself premed in her freshman year and has been steadfastly working towards that. Sasuke, she knows, entered Konoha University as prelaw, but changed it during the spring semester after admitting he didn't want to become a lawyer.

She wants to keep talking, since it's not like Sasuke to postpone something so important, but he's not meeting her eyes anymore and even if he doesn't say anything, doesn't raise his voice or even look at her, she knows she's treading into Dangerous Territory.

Instead, she pours herself a bowl of Cheerios same as Sasuke, even if she doesn't feel much like eating, and breakfast is spent in absolute silence after that.

* * *

Sasuke loves his apartment.

It's small and overpriced, but between Sakura's internship at the hospital and his part-time job working on cars at the student garage, they make enough to get by. And everything they have is _theirs._ They work for their money and each other, and even if their sofa was purchased secondhand and nothing matches the way it ought to, it's _theirs._

They have a decent-sized living room connected to a kitchen that functions also as a dining room, with a small table and chairs they have yet to unpack. There's a bathroom off to the other side down a short hallway, littered already with Sakura's shampoo and soap and lotions and sprays and brushes and straighteners and a million other things he never knew existed before moving in with a girl two weeks ago.

Then there's the bedroom, with the queen-sized bed they bought and navy blue blankets and sheets and pillowcases that already smell like mint-jasmine shampoo and something distinctly (Sakura) floral. Most everything else is still packed up in boxes and waiting to be unpacked; it's a chore for this evening, after they head to the Registration Building on campus to pick classes.

Sasuke does not want to pick classes.

He does not know what he wants to be when he grows up, even if he's grown up already.

It's putting a strain on his relationship with Sakura, he knows, as he brushes his teeth, staring his reflection down with as much apathy as he can conjure in the tiny bathroom mirror above the sink. She knows something's wrong even if she doesn't know what it is yet, and he knows she gets nervous about things like that.

The shitty thing about leaving a girl once is she's always afraid you'll do it again.

Sasuke knows he has Sakura's forgiveness. Freshman year, when they were together, was a volatile time for both of them, and the timing wasn't right and they weren't right in the head or right for each other at the time. They both did things that hurt one another (even if he did decidedly _more)_ and even if they've moved on from all of that, he knows that Sakura hasn't forgotten.

She's a nervous girl by nature, he knows. He spits toothpaste into the sink and watches it swirl down the drain with more fascination than strictly necessary, but he finds it hard to look back at his own reflection at the moment. She's been through the wringer, and even if she's so much stronger (impossibly so) than she used to be, he knows that there's still a frightened, unsure, insecure little girl trembling in the skin of her diamond-spine exterior.

Not knowing what's bothering him might be worse on her than actually knowing, but there are some things, Sasuke knows, that must be solved in private. There are some battles that must be fought alone, and Sasuke won't use Sakura as a shield for his own indecision.

She appears in the doorway of the bathroom, dressed casually in a little summer dress he's never seen before and sandals and her hair's up in a ponytail, showing off the smooth column of her neck and the familiar pink scar that gleams even brighter against newly-tanned skin.

"Hey," she says with a smile he knows is just for him. "I'm gonna head out now with Ino, okay? Our appointments are at two with the advisors."

"Aa," he replies. His eyes zero in on the scar as they often do, as if it's a constant surprise; as if he forgets the circumstances that caused its appearance until he sees it again, and remembers that Sakura was not always the bubbly, happy-go-lucky girl with the Hollywood smile she is now.

Sakura not only fought her inner demons, she _thrashed_ them. And she did it alone.

He's got to do the same thing.

Until these long, long months of uncertainty are nothing more than a harmless scar on the otherwise-unblemished skin of his ambition.

"Be careful," he says automatically, and he places his blue toothbrush in the holder next to the pink one.

"I will," she answers with a sweet kiss to his cheek. "I'm babysitting Hana-chan tonight, though. I know your appointment's not till six, but if you want to stop by after you can. Otherwise I'll be home later on, probably closer to eleven. Shikamaru's taking Ino out for dinner, they're planning what to do for Hana-chan's first birthday next week, and-"

"Sakura." (She's starting to ramble; if she keeps it up, she'll be late for her appointment.)

She giggles and kisses him again and she's out the door with a flip of her ponytail.

With hours to kill before having to make earth-shattering life decisions, Sasuke decides that now is as good a time as anyway to proceed with the unpacking. And maybe, between hanging shelves and unfurling carpets, some life-altering epiphany will strike him in the back of the head and supplant enough conviction to make all this shitty self-doubt a thing of the past.

Sasuke's never been overly optimistic, but you can never say he isn't hopeful.

* * *

Hana is growing every day into a stubborn little girl who owns Sakura's heart. (Whatever remains that doesn't already belong to Sasuke, of course.)

Ino leaves with Shikamaru and Sakura's alone with the baby and she picks up her goddaughter and coos and fusses and delights in the way Hana squeals and shrieks with happiness. She never thought she would feel an attachment like this to a baby that wasn't hers, but she loves Hana every bit as much as she would her own child, and enjoys these moments of pretend motherhood every now and then.

In no way, shape, or form is she ready for a baby of her own, and she knows Sasuke isn't either. But a few hours of make-believe here and there are harmless, and she appreciates her own baby-free-zone of a life even more when those hours are over.

"How's my baby girl?" she asks, rubbing her nose against Hana's as she sits her on her knee.

Hana babbles something incoherent in response.

"Well that sounds _fabulous,_" Sakura replies, apparently enthralled, and Hana is delighted with the attention. "Do go on."

More unintelligible noises, punctuated by elated giggles and wild, uncoordinated hand gestures and Sakura's soon laughing along with her goddaughter.

"I have a secret," Sakura whispers. "Guess who's birthday is coming up?"

Hana looks amazed by words she's never heard before.

"Yes! You're gonna be _one year old,_ little girl! That's almost grown up, practically! Just like your Mama! And we're gonna throw you the _biggest,_ most _obnoxious_ birthday party in the _world_ because we _can._ And you're gonna get _presents,_ and Naruto and Hinata-chan and Sasuke and everyone will be there because _you,_ little one, are the most _ridiculously loved baby in the universe._"

Hana grabs Sakura's hair in grubby little fists and big blue eyes are fixed on her face in rapt attention. She might not know what these words mean yet, but she knows Auntie Sakura's tone and it's happy and bright and that means good things, surely.

"You're getting so big," Sakura murmurs, stroking silky blonde curls until Hana rests her head against her shoulder sleepily. "So big, and so pretty. Soon you'll-"

There's a knock at the door. Hana, who previously looked more than ready for bed, knows who it is and lets out a piercing squeal of delight as she reaches for the door.

"Come in!" Sakura calls, smiling brightly, as Sasuke walks in.

He's wearing a white V-neck T-shirt and dark jeans, the picture of casual summer, and he looks so damn _good_ that Sakura absently licks his lips. Then she remembers the impatient baby in her arms, and holds her out to Sasuke, who crosses the room towards her looking mildly irritated.

"How many times I gotta tell you to lock the door when you're here alone?" he demands, his unhappy expression promising a scolding, but it's not as intimidating as it should be, seeing the blonde-haired, blue-eyed baby bouncing gleefully in his arms.

"Oh, relax, Sasuke, we knew it was just you," she scoffs with a roll of her eyes.

He shows every sign of wanting to snark at her some more (he's absurdly overprotective), but Hana, now being held by one of her favorite people in the world, demands his undivided attention, and begins babbling the same story she'd told Sakura.

Sakura loves Sasuke, but she's damn near crazy about him when she sees him with Hana.

He's such a hardass on the outside. Sharp eyes, blunt demeanor, six feet of solid, lean muscle and no patience. She's seen him intimidate the hell out of guys who come onto her with little more than a look, and seeing various bruises on Naruto after some of their manly scuffles confirm that in a fight, he's as tough as he looks.

But with _Hana Nara?_

He doesn't coo or gesticulate wildly the way Sakura does, but he listens to her baby speak, and he makes sure her head is supported and she's fed and clean and happy. His naturally-protective instincts kick into high gear when he's babysitting the youngest member of their expansive, makeshift family, and she knows without needing to speculate that someday, Sasuke will make an excellent father.

He disagrees, she knows. Doesn't have much hope for himself in that arena, but Sasuke's biggest critic has always been himself. And she understands that perspective completely.

Years of self-loathing have made her an expert.

But Sasuke's bringing her out of that bit by bit. As she looks at him fondly, watches him untangle one of Hana-chan's barettes from a lock of blonde hair with gentle fingers, she hopes she's doing the same for him.

"How'd it go?" she asks. "Sit," she adds, with a gesture to the sofa, "and I'll make you something to eat, you've got to be starving."

He's not as tense as he was this morning at breakfast. Maybe it's Hana's presence, since Sakura knows how much he likes the baby (even if he won't outright admit it) or maybe things just went well at the advisor's office. Either way, she's pleased.

"Fine," he replies. He sits on the sofa and sets Hana on the carpet, and watches her vigilantly as she plays with her stuffed animals so she won't hurt herself. "You get all your classes?"

"Yup!" She rattles them off one by one, chatting amiably as she throws together a quick round of pancakes, the only thing Ino has in the cupboard above the stove. "Dr. Tsunade hooked me up with all the best courses, I'm really excited to keep going. What'd you choose?"

Sasuke's quiet for a moment before replying.

"I'm taking a semester off."

Surprised, she drops the spatula with an undercooked pancake on it onto the floor. The noise startles Hana, who looks up from her game with Sasuke to see what's going on.

"You are?"

"Aa."

"But…why?"

It's back again. That tension that made breakfast so uncomfortable. Sasuke glances at her with a heavy gaze, and Sakura gets the feeling that she's not going to learn anything more about this right now. Wanting to head off a storm (because between their tempers, it's bound to happen), she tries again.

"Tell me at home?" she asks.

"Hn."

And Sasuke goes back to playing with the baby and Sakura returns to her pancakes with a clean spatula and worry in the creases of her forehead.

What's going on with Sasuke?

She doesn't know, and she's nervous to find out.

* * *

Sakura shows every sign of wanting to continue their conversation the moment they cross the street from Ino's and step inside their building. Sasuke weighs his options on how best to proceed with this upcoming hellstorm, but when he unlocks the door and they head inside, he's rewarded with Sakura's happy gasp of surprise.

He's made a fair amount of progress on the apartment.

The furniture is set up, the sofa with the mismatched armchair, the coffee table with a few chips in it since they found it at a flea market, the flat-screen television he'd conned Naruto out of. Everything's set up in the living room.

"You did so much already!" she exclaims, looking around. "Looks like all there's left to do is the girly stuff…I'll get to that tomorrow! Oh, Sasuke, thank you so much!"

She throws her arms around his neck and kisses him soundly on the lips.

That's the thing about Sakura, he thinks, temporarily losing himself in this inferno of a kiss that's quickly heating up. Whenever he thinks he knows what she's going to do or say, she turns around and stuns him stupid with the polar opposite reaction of what he'd been expecting. And it takes _so little_ to please her.

Something like hanging a flat-screen from the wall should not warrant such appreciation, but Sakura appreciates _everything._

Suddenly he doesn't want to talk about his last-minute decision to take a semester off. Suddenly that's the last thing on his mind.

Because Sakura's in his arms, her legs around his waist, her lips on his neck tracing a scorching line of fire down his skin, and maybe she doesn't want to talk either.

"Tomorrow," she promises in his ear, a confirmation that now is not the time to explore what's happened. He lets out a stifled groan of relief and surrender and half-carries, half-drags her to the (freshly-furnished) bedroom. Then there's pink hair against navy blue sheets and open, trusting green eyes and Sasuke will think about all that shit _later._

Later, Sasuke will confront who he is without his family's ambition.

And he loses himself to this blissful night with Sakura, because he's anxious (terrified) for what he might find when he does.

**note..** An update for you all, because the Phillies are on a three-game win streak and now Doc Halladay's back on the pitcher's mound! May all the haters quiver in fear. PLAYOFFS BABY.

But I digress.

This story will be formatted like 'Horizon', told in alternating points-of-view but where 'Horizon' tended to be more Sakura-centric, this one will focus primarily on Sasuke. I love the idea of Sasuke's newest ambition being _finding_ a new ambition, and all the shit that comes along with not being the person you thought you were, and trying to be somebody better. (If that makes sense.)

Let me know what you think :)

xo Daisy Jane

See you soon!


	3. Disdain

He's gone when she wakes up, which always scares her.

She trusts Sasuke. She does. But remembering what it felt like, standing in the snow while he drove away, the absence of a goodbye or explanation dense and heavy between them, still makes her stomach ache.

She sits up on the bed and rubs her eyes and when she sees the note on the nightstand, the minor grip of anxiety around her heart vanishes instantly.

"Early shift at the garage.

Didn't want to wake you.

-Sasuke"

She giggles a little, dismissing her brief moment of panic as residual silliness from a rockier time that no longer exists. Plus, she loves Sasuke's surly, no-nonsense personality and how well it shines through in this note. Sweet and considerate, without being overly saccharine.

It looks to be a nice day already. The sunlight's streaming in through the blinds, casting criss-cross patterns on the new carpet. She makes a mental note to buy some curtains, maybe something sheer, in ivory or taupe to offset the light blue walls and dark blue bedsheets. She thinks the room, at least so far, is a good blend of herself and Sasuke: soft and gentle, like she is, and simultaneously practical and simple, like Sasuke.

And she loves the room, and can't wait to hang the curtains.

She stretches her legs and cracks her back; Sasuke wore her out last night, was far less restrained than he usually was. Usually he handled her so delicately, like she was fragile, breakable, but sometimes she enjoys nights like last night, when he holds nothing back.

She wonders why he was so reckless, though. Sasuke rarely loses his temper or his cool.

She knows something's wrong, and doesn't want to dwell on it. She knows Sasuke, and knows that he likes to handle things on his own when things are tough.

_The best thing I can do,_ she thinks, stretching her sore legs and standing, _is let him work this out on his own and be there for him if he needs me._

She decides that he probably didn't eat breakfast, since Sasuke is generally stupid about his own needs. And she decides to bring him some at the garage where he's working, so whatever he's going through, he remembers that she's thinking about him.

* * *

It's a slow morning at the garage. They're gonna cut Sasuke early, which suits him fine; he plans on heading to the gym to work out, even if he's still a little drained from the night before.

The only thing to do is rotate the tires of some rich kid's expensive Miata. Sasuke personally has no interest in the make or model. Too small, too flashy. He prefers German-made cars; his own loud, low Jetta is proof of that, but this kid, whoever he is, is loaded and Sasuke's not gonna turn his nose up to easy money just because he dislikes the car.

The car's lifted up, and Sasuke can see that there isn't even a nick in the cyan paint when he starts. Obviously, the kid takes care of his car. Or at least pays somebody to do that for him.

Sasuke's wealthy as well. It's something he often forgets, being that he chooses to work for his own money, and live in a tiny one-bedroom with his girlfriend who works for her own money. He muses to himself, as he negotiates the lugnuts from their holes, that if he's being honest, he wants nothing to do with the opulence of his family.

In short, Sasuke doesn't think much of the upper class. Even if he's a part of it.

"Careful with those hubcaps," the boy who owns the car says bossily, and Sasuke rolls his eyes. "They're worth more than your car. My father paid a lot of money for those."

"Tch."

Sasuke's not paid to be polite to customers, so he's not, if they're dicks like this kid.

A typical tire rotation doesn't take long, but Sasuke's very, very good at his job, and the whole process is done within minutes. Mostly, he couldn't stand listening to Trust Fund Kid prattle on and on about his precious Miata, which, Sasuke's itching to tell him, is a girl's car. So he does an excellent job as always, even if he'd rather take his lug wrench and smash the little snot's windshield in with it, and hands the keys back over.

The pay transaction is interrupted by the arrival of someone who looks extraordinarily out of place. Against the greasy backdrop of the garage filled with sweaty mechanics and half-built engines is a girl with long, straight candy pink hair in a miniskirt and heels, smiling bright as the sun behind her.

Sasuke feels his annoyance reach an apex.

What's she thinking of, coming down here in that get-up? He feels rather than sees all the guys in the garage glance at her, and even if he trusts Sakura these days, he doesn't enjoy his coworkers ogling her like some half-dressed centerfold.

"Hey," she says with a warm smile that immediately cools his temper. "I thought you might be hungry. I know you don't eat if I don't make you."

The reason for her visit is clear, then; she holds out a paper bag to him and inside, he finds a cereal bar, a handful of cherry tomatoes, and a Monster energy drink. Perhaps the worst possible breakfast to the outsider, but this is Sasuke's favorite, and he finds himself smirking down at her.

"Annoying," he says, fondness coating the word, and her smile brightens, if that's possible.

"Hey there, sweetheart," the Miata kid interjects, and Sasuke feels the smirk slide off his face till it's an all-out glower. His eyes are locked on Sakura and begrudgingly, Sasuke laments having fallen for a girl as dazzling as she is. Especially lately, when she's radiant in her happiness. "What's your name?"

"Sakura," she replies carelessly, without looking away from Sasuke, which pleases him. "Anyway, what time do you get off? Naruto's been looking for you, he wants to go to the gym later."

"I'm headed there in a few minutes anyway," Sasuke replies. "What are you gonna do tod-"

"Well, Sakura-chan, how 'bout a ride in my car?" the clueless Miata kid offers, and Sasuke's grip on the lug wrench tightens marginally.

"No thanks," she says dismissively. To Sasuke, she continues, "I'm going grocery shopping in town, we're out of eggs and trash bags. You need anything while I'm out?"

"Who are you going with?" he demands. Sasuke does not like letting Sakura go into town alone.

"Ino, she needs to pick up party supplies for Hana-chan's birthday party. I'll text you later."

In her heels, she reaches his chin, so she still has to stand on tiptoe to kiss him quickly on the lips, and he smirks into the kiss, since this annoying, too-pretty girl is his, and even if the rest of his life is falling apart (and it seems to be), she's still kissing him in front of the Miata kid like she's proud to do it.

He knows he's one of the reasons she's so happy all the time, and as he watches her bounce out of the garage as suddenly as she came in, he thinks that if a girl like Sakura smiles because of him, maybe he's not such a screw-up after all.

"Ino, how much vodka do you need? It's a baby's birthday party."

"There's not gonna be any other babies there, though. Just all of us, and my parents, and Shikamaru's."

"Still. Maybe we should've brought the boys to carry some of this."

"Oh quit whining and skip your cardio today, Forehead."

Sakura loveslovesloves shopping, and she loveslovesloves Hana, and she loveslovesloves Ino, and she loveslovesloves vodka. But she doesn't feel like all of those things go together sometimes, and that's where she disagrees with Ino, who seems to want to make Hana's first birthday into a frat party.

But Ino has her car today and Shikamaru's home with the baby, so they carry bottles and bottles of liquor and load it up into the backseat before heading to the party store down the street. At least they don't have to carry everything back to Ino's apartment in the school bus.

They stop and grab some frozen yogurt on the way, feeling more than entitled to a little treat what with all the money they're spending on this party. Sakura gets cake batter flavor and sprinkles peanut butter cups and chocolate jimmies on top, and they eat as they walk and then Ino asks the same question that's on her mind.

"So how are things with Sasuke?"

She thinks about that for a moment before answering. Is she happy? Absolutely. There are moments in the day when she'll be sad or angry or frustrated, and times when she fights with Sasuke because for as much as they love each other, they are very, very different people. But she's happy every day.

Is the same true for Sasuke?

It's harder to tell with him. He's not exuberant with his emotions; his temperament rarely changes, and what he's feeling doesn't show in his face very often, but it alwaysalways shows in his eyes. Black eyes flecked with silver in the middle, and he seems content. She's secure in his feelings for her.

But that contentment lately is tinged with something foreign, something she doesn't often see in Sasuke: worry.

He's frustrated about something. She wishes she knew what it was for sure, but she's intimidated to ask him, because if there's one thing Sakura hates about Sasuke, it's the wall he's so good at erecting. The second he feels she's crossing some kind of boundary, the wall is up and she can't break through it.

"Pretty good," she answers, but because Ino's her best friend and you can never never lie to your best friend, she adds, "but I think something's bothering him."

"Like what? You guys not hooking up as often?"

Sakura blushes into her yogurt. "No, stupid. That's…that's never been a problem for us."

Ino laughs.

"It's…I don't know. He's taking the semester off, but he won't tell me why."

"Really? Doesn't sound like Sasuke, he's usually such a good student. Nothing wrong with it, though, you know? He probably doesn't know what major he wants."

"I know. He did prelaw the last two years but it was never his passion. I just…don't think he knows what his passion IS. Besides baseball, anyway."

"And you."

"Ino."

"I'm just saying! What about his job at the garage? He'd be a great mechanic."

"I know, he's so good at it. But I think he does it for fun, I don't think he takes it seriously."

"What do _you_ see him doing?"

Sakura thinks on that, and smiles wistfully at the sun overhead as they walk. "He could do just about anything," she says with fondness. "He's…good at everything. Learns quickly. And I could never tell him what to do with his life, he's had enough of that growing up."

"But…?"

"But I always saw him as a police officer."

Before this moment, Sakura never realized she felt that way about Sasuke. It was something she thought of occasionally, when she pictured the future: Sasuke in a uniform, taking down bad guys and villains and assholes on a much larger scale than what he's been doing lately: intimidating guys who come onto her.

But now that she says it aloud, it makes perfect sense. Sasuke is naturally protective; it's one of his most dominant traits. Not just of her, but of all of their friends, and of course baby Hana. He has a rigid sense of right and wrong, aside from smoking the occasional spliff, and mercilessly beating his best friend for recreation.

"You know what? I totally see that." Ino looks contemplative, as if the idea's just occurred to her as well.

"But it's not up to me," Sakura says firmly. "It's his call. Whatever he wants to do, I'll support him. I just don't want him to think I'm pressuring him one way or another. Whatever he decides, I want it to be what will make him happiest. You know?"

"Then keep doing what you're doing, doll. Be there for him, but don't get in his face about it. Let him work it out on his own."

As if on cue, they reach the party store and conversation melts from serious, relationship-evaluation to light-hearted debates on which color streamers Hana will like best. A relaxed, happy afternoon is spent at the store with no more thoughts of indecisive boyfriends nagging at the brain.

* * *

On the way back home from an excruciating workout with Naruto, Sasuke checks the mail in the mail room of their building out of habit, not really because he expects anything to be there. They're a young couple after all, he and Sakura, and his parents are dead and hers are estranged, and aside from the cable and electric bills, he doesn't actually anticipate receiving anything else.

The small envelope with the name _Haruno Sakura_ scrawled hastily on the front is a surprise.

He sees that there's a return address to Suna, with the name _Haruno Mebuki_ attached. The name is unfamiliar, except of course the surname: it occurs to Sasuke, who looks at the envelope as though it's caught fire, that Mebuki must be the name of Sakura's mother.

He's shocked as he stares at the envelope, wondering what to do next. Sakura's been in contact with her mother?! No, it doesn't sound like her, not like the smiling, happy girl she's become now that she's freed herself of her past restraints. From what little she's told him about the subject, he knows that her father was physically abusive to her growing up, and her mother was emotionally abusive; to establish contact with them now that she's all settled in on her own would be a huge step backwards for her.

But then how did Haruno Mebuki know their address? Which building, which apartment number?

And how will Sakura react?

Should he read the letter? He knows it's a gross invasion of privacy, but he wants to know why Sakura's hated mother is trying to contact her, how the Harunos found his apartment and what their intentions are. He knows that this can't be prophetic of anything good.

All his previous exhaustion from the grueling workout is banished entirely from his body, which stands stiff and alert, tensing for a battle he's not entirely sure how to fight. The cool sweat on the back of his neck feels icy and he takes the letter and the cable bill up to the apartment on the third floor with him.

Sakura's not home yet, not that he expected her this early, since he knows shopping trips with Ino tend to last much longer than long. But that suits him fine, because he takes a seat at their half-finished kitchen table and opens the letter to read it.

If the Harunos are trying to get ahold of Sakura, Sasuke knows damn well they are going to have to go through him first to do it.

Sakura fumbles with her keys, arms laden down with so many plastic bags full of party supplies, and finally steps inside her apartment. A long day, a long busy day, and now it's nighttime, her favorite time, and Sasuke's keys are on the kitchen counter which means he's home, and she's missed him, and she hears him in the living room and sets her bags down and dances towards him with a smile.

"Hey, handsome," she greets with a sweet kiss to his cheek. He smells amazing, freshly-showered and his hair's almost dry, but still a bit damp. He's wearing a T-shirt and sweatpants and holding a piece of paper in his hands, and when she takes a seat next to him, she's surprised to see his eyes so full of concern as they snap to her face.

"Everything okay?" she asks him, her smile fading a little in the face of such solemnity. Sasuke's quiet and serious by nature, but this is strange even for him. There's no relaxation anywhere on his handsome face and she feels her stomach tighten at the prospect of bad news. "You look worried."

"Sakura are you speaking to your parents?"

The question is asked calmly, rationally, and Sakura's eyes widen. What sort of game is he playing? She wonders. Sasuke knows she hasn't spoken to her parents in years.

"Of course not!" She almost laughs at the absurdity of it all, and wonders if this is Sasuke's terrible attempt at a joke. If so, it's not funny. "You know I haven't said a word to them since I left Suna. Why are you asking me that? What's going on?"

Sasuke holds her gaze as he presses the paper into her hands. Confused, her gaze drops to the envelope. She sees the return address.

Haruno Mebuki.

Her mother.

There's numb shock at first, and then she's aware of Sasuke's hand on her wrist, his gaze suddenly severe.

"Calm down," he tells her sharply. She wonders why he's looking at her like that, and then she becomes aware that she's shaking.

_An attack?_ She thinks dazedly, and it's been so long since her last episode that she's plumb forgotten how quickly they can come on. Sasuke's grip is tight, almost painful, and he doesn't let her look away from his face; he's trying to keep her calm, talk her through it.

"It's okay," he says. "Just breathe. We'll figure this out."

Her heart's racing but she tries to take Sasuke's advice, tries to regulate her breathing and battles back the dense, icy grip of anxiety that threatens to take hold of her heart.

"How?" she whispers finally, tears in her eyes. "How'd she find me? Sasuke, how?"

She'll have to read the letter to find out, she knows, but her fingers are trembling and she can't even move to extract the letter from its envelope. Sasuke's hand falls from her wrist to rest comfortingly on her knee, and he says softly, "Read the letter, Sakura."

So she pulls out the innocuous piece of paper and reads the words that threaten the idyllic life she's built for herself.

It's all she can do not to scream.

* * *

**note..** Obviously, I'm grieving over the recent trades of Shane Victorino and Hunter Pence. They are both so devastated by this separation from me that they both went 0-4 in their debut baseball games with LA and San Francisco. WHY DO BAD THINGS HAPPEN TO GOOD PEOPLE UGH PHILLIES WHY.

But I digress.

I wanted to set up Sasuke's disdain for his own upbringing in this chapter, which is going to be a big part of this story later on. And Sakura hasn't had any contact with her parents since going to college, and with good reason, so this is another big subplot I'm excited to get into. Thank you to everyone who's so patient with my erratic updating schedule (it's hard out here for a pimp.)

Love y'all. Get at me!


	4. Resolve

Sasuke hasn't seen her like this in a long time.

Not since that fateful day in the gym two years ago, when he was yelling and she was yelling and they were fighting and he grabbed her wrist and she lost her mind. Not since he learned the reason behind her madness.

He's got to keep her calm. If it's an attack coming on, he needs to keep her breathing normally through it so she doesn't freeze up. _I was an idiot to think she was trying to contact her parents again,_ he thinks gravely, grabbing her thin arm so she has something to anchor her to what's happening. _Not if it brought out this kind of reaction._

"Calm down, Sakura," he says sharply. He wishes he knew how to be the gentle, comforting presence he knows Sakura needs right now, but it's not in his nature, not in his capability. He can only be sharp and harsh and hope it works in a roundabout way. "_Sakura._ Relax."

_I'm right here,_ he thinks, but she can't hear it and there's tears in her eyes now and she's white as a sheet, there's none of her cute summer's tan anywhere on pale, pale cheeks and what can he do to stop this, huh? _You're okay, Sakura, I'm right here. I won't let anything happen to you._

But she can't hear it because he can't say it.

"Sasuke," she whispers, as she stares at the envelope like it's the Grim Reaper. "Sasuke how did they find me? How do they know where I live?"

Sasuke knows. Sasuke's read the letter already.

"Read," he says softly. "Just read it. Calm down and read it."

And Sakura pulls out the paper with shaking hands and begins to read.

* * *

"Sakura,

It's now been two years since you left our house, and we have yet to hear from you.

I contacted the bursar's office, whereupon I was referred to the Academic Advisory Office, who provided your address. They mentioned that you were sharing an apartment with a roommate; certainly you can imagine my distress at learning your roommate was a man!

Clearly you have abandoned all sense of propriety and responsibility, and like the flighty young woman we knew you to be back in high school, you've moved in with a boyfriend before you're even 20 years old. Your father is furious, and I am understandably disappointed in you. You have forgotten, in two short years, your family foundation, and brought a considerable amount of shame and embarrassment upon your parents.

I expect a reply, Sakura. You have been permitted to run wild for these last two years like a harlot, and it's high time you answered for your actions.

-Haruno Mebuki"

* * *

Sakura can almost hear her mother's reedy, judgmental tone ringing throughout their tiny apartment. She stares at the letter, stares at the words, stares at the no-nonsense penmanship and it's like Mebuki's in the living room right at this moment, standing in practical heels on the light blue carpet with a drink in her hand.

"You don't have to answer her," Sasuke mutters, and she looks over at him with glassy eyes.

"Just forget about it," he says, and he looks angry, and she can tell it's on her behalf, but it's still menacing. "You don't have to talk to them if you don't want to."

"I thought they wanted nothing to do with me, Sasuke. This makes no sense. Why now? It's been _two years_ since I left Suna. It's not like they _missed_ me or anything, what's going on here?"

"Go take a shower," Sasuke says gently. "Calm down."

"But-"

"Sakura."

She bites her lip but understands. Sasuke always sounds so pushy, but she's gotten really good at reading what's underneath the underneath. There's concern in his face, worry in his eyes, and they hide under all the anger and impatience and arrogant detachment that define his personality. But that doesn't mean he doesn't care.

This is just how he shows it.

She's breathing a little slower now and her heartrate's going down, which is good. It's not a full-on attack, thanks to Sasuke, and he's right, because a shower will make her feel better.

She moves quickly into the bathroom and it's only after the door's closed and locked and she's separated from Sasuke that she allows herself to cry.

* * *

Sasuke's furious.

He should have thrown the letter out.

Now he sits here alone on the sofa while Sakura's showering and he knows, _knows_ she's crying. She just doesn't want to cry in front of him.

Was he wrong, then? To think that the wounds of Sakura's past had healed? Or were they just scabbed over, easily ripped open again with the right, wrong amount of force?

His eyes scan the letter again and he _burns_ at what it says. Harlot, it says. Disappointment, it says. Flighty. Shame. Embarrassment.

Things he can never associate with his girlfriendbestfriendroommate soulmate. Things her mother calls her. Things she's grown up listening to, trusting, believing.

Things that have been so indeliby ingrained inside of her that here are bonus pieces to the puzzle of Haruno Sakura he thought he'd already completed.

Robotically, mechanically, he stands up and leaves the letter on the coffee table. It's a nice table, cheap and a good find at a flea market with hardly any nicks in it at all, and it goes reasonably well with the sofa they found. He runs his fingers idly along the armrest as he circles around it, smoothing the mismatched crosshatching left by Sakura's back until it's all one solid, flawless color again.

He starts making dinner. He can't do much; he's not like Sakura in the kitchen, but he can do eggs, so he cracks them in a bowl and checks for red spots. Turns on the stovetop, drops some vegetable oil on the frying pan. He flips the eggs and scrambles them with a spatula, all the while listening for the shower to go off and Sakura to emerge.

He toasts some wheat bread burnt, Sakura's favorite, and applies a liberal amount of margarine, the cheap stuff, because that's what Sakura likes. He reaches inside the fridge for milk, thinks better of it, and grabs an unopened bottle of wine instead.

It's a Bad Idea, but sometimes, Bad Ideas should be indulged. And he's shit at comforting people, but alcohol does an all right job on him. Maybe it'll work wonders on Sakura.

* * *

Sakura steps out of the shower and dresses quickly in a pair of Sasuke's boxer shorts and an oversized T-shirt she's swiped from his side of the drawers. It's old, the fabric worn down to that most comfortable texture, smooth and light, and it smells as much like Sasuke as it does like fabric softener. She wants to drown in it because she's never felt safer than with Sasuke draped around her.

She doesn't know what she's going to do about her parents.

The more she thinks about it, the more obvious the reason behind their sudden communication becomes. As she stares at her pale reflection in the foggy bathroom mirror, running a brush mindlessly through her hair, she realizes that her parents, who are all about appearances, must have run out of explanations as to why they are no longer in contact with their only daughter.

People talk, see. Sakura knows that people talk. And people will want to know why the perfect daughter of the Haruno family-who-lives-on-Cherry-Street hasn't been home for the holidays.

Abruptly, her fear is replaced with boiling hot anger. She stares at the girl in the mirror, almost unrecognizable with such violent fury burning in her eyes, and her hands grip the sides of the sink as tightly as she can without cracking the porcelain.

Sasuke is all the family she needs, she vows. Sasuke and Ino and Hana and Naruto and Kiba and everyone she's met and loved since she's been here. She is 19 years old, living independently, and after 17 years of imprisonment and misery and hopelessness spent in the house on Cherry Street, she is finally her own woman. Free of the shackles of her past and she is _never looking back._

She will not respond.

She will throw the letter away. Burn it, even, and she will watch the corners fold in on itself until it's nothing more than ash and a memory, just like her past.

She won't go back there. Never again.

She splashes cool water on her face and waits until the anger's melted from her expression. She doesn't want Sasuke to see her inner turmoil, only the resolution that she's allowing to take its place. Sasuke has so much on his own plate to worry about; she doesn't want to add one more thing to his list of shit to take care of.

_He already takes care of me,_ she thinks with a real smile, and she smells scrambled eggs and too-burnt toast the way she likes it as she steps out of the bathroom. _He doesn't need all this added shit._

He's setting two places at the coffee table, his back to her as she emerges, and she winds her arms around his waist from behind, leans her cheek against his back and breathes in his scent and smilessmilessmiles.

"Smells good, handsome," Sakura murmurs, less about the eggs than the scent of spice and fire on his skin. His muscles flex beneath her touch and a familiar arousal that only cools occasionally, never actually extinguishes, ignites inside her stomach.

"You all right?" he asks, turning in her arms so he's facing her. His black eyes search her face like he's trying to divine answers from her skin, but there's no need for him to worry right now, because she's at peace with her decision. Family is right here, in front of her, holding her and worrying about her and making her scrambled eggs with too-burnt toast and is that _wine_ on the table? Lord does this boy love her.

"I'm fine," she replies with a smile she doesn't need to fake. "I'm fine," she reiterates, when he doesn't look convinced. "I'm not going to answer her. I don't need anybody but you."

Sasuke looks pleased with her answer, if his little smirk is any indication. He draws her in for a kiss that's so sweet she wants to cry, and they sit back down on the sofa with their dinner-that's-mostly-breakfast between them. The bottle of wine is shared, no glasses dirtied unnecessarily, and Sasuke pulls a cigarette out of nowhere and presses it into her hand.

Understanding, she smiles up at him and sticks it between her lips, lets him light it for her. She inhales deeply, relishing the taste of tobacco and the rough, tangy feel of smoke in her lungs and out, and then she presses the tip of the cigarette to the corner of Mebuki's letter.

It catches fire slowly, the embers dancing idly to and fro; it's moments and then minutes before the letter is nothing but ash on the table that has almost no nicks in the wood, but now has a few scorchmarks. Sasuke swipes the mess into the trash can.

It's like it never existed.

* * *

She falls asleep first, tucked between his body and the back of the sofa, in her favorite spot: the corner where the sectional couch meets. Like a sleepy kitten with a smile on her face, her hair curly and wild since she didn't blow it dry before bed, her cheeks flushed healthy pink.

Sasuke knows he makes her happy. He knows he makes her feel safe. He just wishes he knew HOW he does those things, because mostly it feels like he fucks up left, right, and center when it comes to Sakura. He feels like he's flying blind in this relationship because he wants to give her the world, but he doesn't even know how to tell her how much he loves her.

"I love you," he says quietly, testing the words; they fall on deaf ears, because he's too much of a coward to tell her these important things when she's up and awake and looking at him with those golden-green eyes full of sunshine and starlight. "I won't let anything happen to you." Slightly louder, but Sakura sleeps. "You're my family." Louder still. "Sakura I love you so bad. I love you all wrong. But you're mine and I'll take care of you, I swear it."

Someday he'll be able to say the things he thinks about her every second of every minute of every day. Someday there will be strength in his voice as he tells her these promises he makes her while the moon is high and she's gone from him in dreams.

Till then, though, he'll hold her as she sleeps and when she cries he'll kiss away her tears, and he'll scramble eggs and butter too-burnt toast and pop corks and loveherloveherloveher in his silence.

* * *

It's morning now. Rainy.

Hana's birthday.

Ino, Sakura knows, will be furious; so much of what they have planned for the baby was to have taken place outdoors. Now the festivities must be moved inside, and Ino's apartment is small.

Sakura dresses quickly, knowing she must head over to Ino's immediately to help with the decorating and the cake baking and the wine-tasting because no party is complete without wine, even if it's for a one-year-old. She decides on a simple cream-colored shirt that slopes off one shoulder, and tucks it into a pair of light denim shorts. How do you dress for a baby's birthday party? She has no idea.

First things first, though, she makes Sasuke breakfast while he showers because he made her dinner and she loveshimloveshimloveshim for being who he is. He emerges from the bathroom smelling like aftershave and sex and she wants to bag the whole party and show him exactly how much he means to her and in what way, but decides against it. Hana would never forgive her godmother for being tardy to her party because of unscheduled sex with her favorite uncle.

He kisses her cheek, mumbles a tired, "G'morning," and leans against the kitchen counter looking drowsy and adorable. She giggles at his morning grogginess and presses a mug of coffee into his hands.

"Morning, handsome," she says. "Big day today, huh?"

"Hn."

"I'm gonna head over to Ino's and start prepping everything for the party. Do me a favor?"

"Hn."

"Keep Naruto occupied. God knows he means well but I know Ino and she won't be able to tolerate any…diversions?"

A deep, throaty chuckle as he takes a long sip of coffee with cream in it but no sugar. 'Diversion' is a good word to describe well-intentioned, easily-distracted best friends.

"Thanks, Sasuke. Really."

"Aa."

"Party starts at four, okay? I'll see you then."

She kisses him quickly on the corner of his mouth, but he isn't satisfied with that. With a grumble of protest, he snakes his hands around her waist and pins her in place, making her giggle and breathless all at once when he kisses her again.

She laughs and dances out of his grasp, and whispers a promise she _knows_ she's going to keep:

"Later, handsome."

* * *

Sasuke trudges inside Ino's apartment with the guys; Naruto, carrying a boatload full of presents; Kiba, looking strangely quiet for some reason; Suigetsu and Neji and Sai and Lee. Ino greets them at the door looking hassled and pissed and Sasuke's already annoyed with her.

"About time!" she snaps. "Hurry up, get inside! Shikamaru knocked down the goddamn streamers and I am _never going to get a good picture of my fucking family._"

Sasuke sighs and moves past Ino into the living room. The apartment is festooned with streamers and balloons, confetti littering the carpets and glitter in the curtains. There's an enormous cake (he recognizes Sakura's handwriting on the icing) sitting on the dining room table and chips and dip and wine and it's a party, all right.

"Hey, guys!" Sakura greets them brightly, a complete and utter contradiction to the cold reception Ino gave them. She's beaming, holding baby Hana in her arms who looks absolutely delighted with the goings-on. She looks so effortlessly lovely with her hair pulled up in a ponytail and a happy baby on one hip as everyone greets her. "Here's the birthday girl!"

Hana is swamped by the guys; Sasuke is amused as much as he is revolted. All of these guys are crude, rough, almost animalistic creatures but around baby Hana, they completely lose any semblance of machismo. Naruto coos, Kiba kisses, Sai withholds any suggestive remarks. It's a sight to see.

"Hi, Sasuke," Sakura says with a sweet smile he knows is just for him. "Could you grab the baby a second? I have to help Ino find some candles and could you _please_ keep Shikamaru away from Ino till it's time to cut the cake? I swear she's gonna murder him."

Sasuke grunts and accepts Hana into his arms. She immediately grabs a hank of his hair, pulls it, laughs uproariously and babbles something incoherent to him.

He's less annoyed than he feels he should be in this situation. He adjusts his grip to keep her comfortable and when Naruto whines that Sasuke's her favorite, he smirks at him, calls him something derogatory, and enjoys being the favorite of the two prettiest girls at the party.

* * *

Sakura's glowing. Part of her feels guilty that she's enjoying this as much as she is, since Hana's not even her daughter, and poor Ino's going out of her mind with stress. But so much happiness in one room is contagious.

THIS is her family. All these crazy people (the apartment is packed to bursting with their friends and friends of their friends and people who lovelovelove Hana), from all these separate walks of life, that stumbled across her by accident and she loves them and they love her and it's perfect. There's no need to dredge up dark, tainted memories of high school and before, not with this beautiful family that appeared out of nowhere right in front of her.

She rummages in the drawer in the kitchen and finds what she's looking for: the elusive #1 candle that will illuminate the cake she spent all day baking and icing and decorating.

"Gotcha," she says victoriously.

"Need any help?" a voice asks from behind; she turns to see Kiba, one hand in his pocket, the other wrapped around a can of beer.

"No, thanks, found the little piece of shit," she replies cheerfully, showing him the candle. "Enjoying yourself?" she asks teasingly, gesturing to the beer.

There's a somewhat glazed look to his eyes that kind of confuses her. Yes, there's alcohol and yes, Kiba's old enough to drink it, but this isn't the kind of party you get shitfaced sloppy at, and Sakura knows Kiba, has seen him at his best and worst, and recognizes the symptoms of complete drunkenness.

"You bet," he replies, his gaze a little unfocused. "You look great," he adds.

"Oh, thanks! Nothing special. I'm covered in icing and drool and confetti and _ugh._"

"No," he says. "You look great," he repeats. "Gorgeous. Happy."

"Um…thank you, Kiba. I _am_ happy. Are you okay? You look a little…off."

"He makes you happy, doesn't he?" Kiba continues, taking a long swallow from his beer and crumpling the empty can in one fist. She winces at the sudden noise, and the tension that descends upon them in the kitchen is so thick you can cut it with a knife, she thinks.

"Who does?" she asks.

"S'suke. He makes you happy, right? I want you to be happy. I thought I could make you happy."

"Kiba…what are you talking about?"

He takes a step towards her, and she quickly steps back. She doesn't know what's wrong with Kiba, but she's never seen him like this before. There's a certain wildness in his deep brown eyes, tempered by the glaze of alcohol and the color's high in his cheeks. And beyond that is a sadness so deep she can feel it in her blood, and abruptly, she knows what he's talking about.

"Oh, Kiba. I'm…I don't know what to tell you. This really isn't…the time, or place, but…"

"You don't gotta say nothin to me, babe," he mumbles, his old pet name for her slipping out in what she hopes is a drunken moment he won't ever remember; vaguely, she hopes Sasuke can't hear this discussion. If he knew what Kiba was saying, he'd break his jaw. "Long as you're happy. But I coulda made you happy, babe. I coulda."

Sakura is saved the agony of replying by the kitchen door swinging open. Ino's there with her hands on her hips and hell in her eyes, and under normal circumstances, she would have wanted to know exactly what was going on. Fortunately for Sakura, though, she's 100% concentrated on the party and doesn't say a word about the rather incriminating scene before her.

"Oh, thank Christ you found the fucking candle," she sighs in relief. "Hurry up, let's light this shit so I can put Hana to bed and drink till I'm not this stressed out psycho bitch."

Sakura giggles awkwardly and avoids Kiba's probing gaze, ducks around him and joins everyone in the living room.

She doesn't see him at all, for the rest of the party, and wonders if that's a good or bad thing.

* * *

Kiba walks home, stumbling along the street, drunk and angry and heartbroken all over again.

Haruno Kizashi books a flight to Konoha with his wife.

Sakura has no way of knowing that just because she's decided to let go of the past, doesn't mean the past has decided to let go of her.

* * *

**note..** Sorry for the wait. I appreciate the patience and relative lack of heckling. Lolz. Let me know what you think! I promise drama and l'amore and excitement next chapter, mhmm. Enjoy your Mondays!

xoxo Daisy


	5. Loose End

Sakura's distracted.

They leave Hana's party last, and Sasuke notices the faraway look in her eyes as they head across the street to their building. He's curious but doesn't press; most likely, she's still a little preoccupied with her mother's unexpected correspondence. He, more than most people, appreciates that sometimes, you just need some space, so he doesn't pry.

Still, though, he wonders.

He unlocks the door for them and they step inside their apartment. The air conditioner's been running all this time, a real waste of electricity, but it feels so amazing on his skin that he can't bring himself to care. After all those hours spent in Ino's cramped apartment, surrounded by dozens of guests in the late summer heat, it feels great.

Sasuke kicks off his shoes and pads over to the refrigerator, popping the cap off a Yuengling can that he knows doesn't taste anywhere near as delicious as the bottle, but it's much cheaper. He watches the cloud of fizz erupt over the opening, waits a moment, then knocks back a long swig, leaning back against the kitchen counter.

Sakura's looking at him from across the apartment, still standing in the doorway, but the look in her eyes isn't faraway, isn't dreamy, isn't distracted. She's looking right at him so hard and so fierce it's like she can see _through _him, and he recognizes that gaze.

His stomach flips in anticipation as she moves fluidly towards the kitchen, never taking her eyes off of his. There's something _blazing_ in her beautiful green eyes, like a live wire, she closes the distance between them and kisses him with enough passion to set the kitchen (or is it the world?) on fire.

The beer's forgotten. It doesn't matter that absolutely nothing warned him of this onslaught, that Sakura, until a few seconds ago, had been lost in her own thoughts, even worried. All Sasuke knows and sees and feels and tastes and hears is Sakura, her breathy moans, the hot whispers in his ear, the way her blunt fingernails slide across his skin.

"Come on," he murmurs into her ear the way he knows she likes. She understands, and lets him lead her back to their bedroom; he pushes her onto her back on the plush mattress and takes a moment to drink her in.

Her shirt's rumpled, her hair wild, her legs stretch for miles across the coverlet and she's got that _fire_ inside her that makes him love her as much as he fears this power she has over him.

She could bring him to his _knees_ if she wanted to.

"You're so beautiful," he breathes, almost reverently, and she is. The most unfairly, absurdly beautiful girl ever created, and something darkens in her eyes like he's saying all the right things, and she grabs him by the collar of his shirt and pulls him on top of her, their lips meeting in a searing kiss.

It's like lightning scorching earth when he kisses her. She's out of her shirt in no time at all and so is he, and he can't remember how it happened or why. She kisses his neck, his jaw, the corner of his mouth while her little hands explore his body, each gentle touch igniting an animalistic need within him that he knows he can't control.

"Tonight," Sakura breathes against his mouth, "don't be gentle."

He raises an eyebrow at her.

"Tonight," she continues, her fingers creeping beneath the beltline of his jeans and driving him _insane,_ "go as hard and as fast as you can."

"Sakura," he growls, his body actually _trembling_ with the effort of keeping himself together when he feels like he's going to come apart. She's beautiful, she's sex she's perfect she's the sexiest thing he's ever laid eyes on and when you talk like that, you fucking tease, you'd better be prepared for the consequences…

"Sasuke tonight let _go,_" she urges him.

Every inch of her body implores him to surrender to his basest needs, to take her like a man and show her, physically, how much she means to him.

Let go, Sasuke.

She's never asked for anything easier to give.

* * *

She's been stressed lately. It's no secret.

Kiba's unexpected advance leaves her worried and guilty. She wasn't ever in love with him, but she did, and does, love him and that he might be hurting because of her makes her heart ache. She doesn't know how to handle that.

Her mother's unexpected correspondence leaves her angry and nervous. She wants nothing to do with her parents, with returning to a time when everything was scary and the only thing to look forward to was solitude. She doesn't know how to handle that, either.

Then there's Sasuke, and whatever's troubling him enough to take a semester off of school. She wants to know, wants him to be able to trust her with whatever's going on in his head, but she doesn't want to pry, doesn't want to push him away. She _really_ doesn't know how to handle _that._

These things gather inside of her, eat away at her and make her anxious. Anxiety's never been something easy for Sakura to deal with. She needs an outlet, something through which to expunge these negative feelings. She needs to let go.

Basking in the aftermath of really, really excellent sex, the kind where Sasuke didn't hold back and neither did she, with his head laying on her chest, her fingers moving through his damp hair as they breathe raggedly, hearts racing, _that_ she can handle.

"I love you," she tells him, her voice raspy from screaming and the words slurring in her exhaustion. But it's good, this feeling. It's wonderful. It's like shedding a fur coat in summer, like dropping a set of barbells too heavy for her to carry. Weightless, floating, free.

He mumbles something into her chest that she can't hear, but his hands moving slowly up and down her sides are gentle and tender, so whatever it was, had to be something sweet. Sakura's learned that Sasuke very rarely discusses his emotions, his reactions, but by no means is he not communicating them. It's just a matter of interpreting his actions, and Sakura _loves_ actions, because actions do not lie.

"Do you have work tomorrow?" she asks quietly, picturing a Sunday full of sex and Sasuke, while a familiar heat steals between her aching thighs.

"Aa," he murmurs, an assent. She sighs wistfully, disappointed, and he looks up at her through half-lidded, exhausted eyes, a gentle smirk lifting one corner of his mouth. "Disappointed?"

Sakura giggles tiredly, runs one slender finger down the angular line of his jaw. "You have no idea."

He chuckles, deep and throaty and since he's so close, laying on top of her, she can feel it inside of her like a tremor.

"We need the money. Someone's got to keep you looking pretty."

He's teasing her and she _loves_ it and she loves him and it feels like her heart's swelling, like there's too much inside of her and she chases that feeling till she owns it.

"Are you implying that I need money to look pretty?" she asks, her tone fake-frosty, but she feels the delighted smile teasing her lips all the same.

Sasuke's silver-black eyes roll. He runs a hand through his damp, tousled black hair and lays back on the pillow beside her.

"Go to sleep. Annoying."

She laughs and curls up against his side, his arm coming up automatically to drape around her waist. He smells like fire and clean cotton, his skin hot and smooth, the corded muscles in his arms tight where he holds her. There's such trust between them in those moments, and when Sakura drifts to sleep, thoughts of abusive fathers and cruel mothers and spurned ex-not-quite-boyfriends and uncertain futures melt into the low-thread-count bedsheets and Sasuke's muscled chest.

It's the best sleep she's had in weeks.

* * *

Sasuke wakes early for his shift at the garage. Sundays are usually kind of slow, but that gives him time to work on the more difficult cars, polish his skills a bit. He might get cut early, but he hopes not; even if he'd love nothing more than to stay in bed with Sakura all day, they need the money.

With inhuman effort, he forces himself to sit up, the blood rushing from his head at the change in position, and takes a moment to adjust. Tired eyes take in the sight of his girlfriend, curled under the blanket like a sleepy kitten with her cheeks flushed, a smile on her face as she sleeps. He runs a rough hand gently across her forehead, brushing her hair back out of her eyes, and forces himself into the shower.

She's still asleep when he's ready to go, so he drops a quick kiss to her cheek and leaves silently so as not to wake her.

The walk to the garage is quick, and it's early, so it's not too hot yet. It's a good time to just _think,_ away from the addictive presence of his girlfriend and the loud, obnoxious presence of his friends.

What's he gonna do?

He has a live-in girlfriend now, and even if she doesn't necessarily need him to, he's taken it upon himself to take care of her, provide for her. If you'd told him in high school that he'd move in with a girl, and put her needs before everything in his life, and all of this at age 20, he'd've laughed at you.

But reality is so much sweeter than fantasy sometimes. And Sasuke doesn't look at Sakura as a burden, as something that ties him down. He's so fucking _grateful_ that she's sticking around with him. He wants to give her the world, keep her safe and happy and smiling the way she smiles when she sleeps.

He crosses the street, cuts through the park because it's faster, and reaches the garage in record time. Usually the matter of deciding what to do with his future leaves him anxious, frustrated, angry even, but there's a relative peace taking the place of all that negativity this morning.

So he doesn't know what to do with his life.

Big deal.

Neither do most of his friends. Sakura's very ambitious, knows her future inside out and is doing everything she can to make that a reality. And he's proud of her for her work ethic, her determination, her resolve.

Naruto's convinced he's going to be president someday. And while it sounds absolutely absurd, Sasuke _knows_ his best friend. And he knows that if anyone can make something happen by sheer force of will, it's Naruto.

So those two seem to know exactly where they're going, but nobody else in their ragtag group of friends has any real direction, anymore than he does.

Maybe it's not where you're going.

Maybe it's how you get there.

He punches in on the time clock and grabs a set of goggles hanging from the wall. No one else is here yet, so no one hears him pull out his cell phone and make a quick appointment with an academic advisor.

Classes start _tomorrow_ and he's literally doing everything last minute, but he's getting his ass back to school.

If he wants to take care of Sakura, and make a future for her (_them)_ that'll keep her around, he's going to need an education.

* * *

Sasuke doesn't wake her when he leaves.

The phone vibrating loudly on the bedstand, however, does.

With a muffled moan of exhaustion, she reaches for it, her fingers brushing everything on the nightstand before she finds her phone. She pulls it close to her tired eyes and reads the text that's almost illegible against the blinding white screen that's too bright to look at right now.

It's from Kiba. A sick feeling settles in her stomach, replacing that gorgeous weightlessness that took its place last night.

"From: Kiba :)

What I said to you last night. Can we talk about it?"

Sakura sits up, tosses her hair back over her naked shoulder, and thinks about her reply. Is there anything to talk about? Is she blowing this out of proportion in her head?

Or is she just afraid of what Kiba might say to her?

"To: Kiba

If you want to, sure. Come over in an hour."

She showers quickly, and dresses in yoga pants and a hoodie that belongs to Sasuke. She ties up her hair and doesn't touch her makeup, and all of this for one clear reason:

She doesn't want to give Kiba the wrong impression of anything. She's in a happy, healthy relationship with a boy she loves entirely. Whatever Kiba was getting at the night before, she will not encourage it. She will hear him out, but her loyalty is to Sasuke, first and foremost.

Whatever he's going to say to her can't be good. Last night, in Ino's kitchen, drunk and slurring and looking almost desperate, he looked heartbroken, world-weary and frustrated. It intimidated her to see happy, charming Kiba, with whom she'd had such a great time for those few weeks last year, with whom dozens of girls were having great times lately, considering his reputation as a real playboy, in such a state.

Maybe, she mused, feeling sick, things had ended between them a little _too_ perfectly, a little _too_ cleanly. Had she underestimated him somehow? Had she thoroughly discounted his feelings for her when Sasuke came back?

_If so I'm a horrible person,_ she thinks, hating herself. _I'm a complete bitch. A horrible, horrible human being. Oh God I hope this is all just me getting carried away. Kiba what's wrong? Did I hurt you when I left?_

To distract herself, she starts in on breakfast. Pancakes are quick and easy; the batter's made up and she's just about to dole some out onto the well-greased frypan when the doorbell rings. He's early, looks like.

She doesn't check through the peephole to make sure it's him, since who else would it be? Instead, she opens the door wide and says, "Kiba you're so early, I'm still cooking, and-"

And the words are swallowed back, stuck in her throat. Eyes wide, mouth open, skin suddenly clammy. Her fingers shake on the doorknob, her stomach tight, her muscles clenched in what she recognizes as the "fight-or-flight" response. Thoughts of bacon sizzling in the frypan, of pancakes scorching on the skillet, fly right out the window along with any lingering feelings of security.

It isn't Kiba.

* * *

**note..** Hi, everyone! Wanted to get this one out since later on tonight I'm needed at the Phillies game :) If you're there and happen to see a very short blonde hot drunk mess screaming orders at the dugout (while her husband/friends try to restrain her), don't-be-shy-come-say-hi!

Oh and uh let me know what's what, huh? THANKS.

xoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxo Daisy


	6. Comeuppance

"Sasuke!" Kakashi greets him warmly from behind his allergy mask, invites him to sit down with a sweep of his arm. "Haven't seen you since my Psychology class two years ago."

"Hn," replies Sasuke. Kakashi is probably his favorite professor, even if he thought Psychology was for hacks and no one ever really understood what went on in anyone else's brain. (His relationship with Sakura was proof of that.) Since freshman year, though, Kakashi had been promoted to an academic advisor as well, and Sasuke, even if he'd never admit it, is glad he has Kakashi to help out with this next part.

He takes a seat in the chair opposite Kakashi while the latter pulls up his academic file on the computer that sits between them.

"Hmm," murmurs Kakashi. "Looks like you haven't registered for fall term yet…what's the reason for that?"

Sasuke shifts a bit uncomfortably in his chair, and is reminded of being in the principal's office in elementary school, having to explain why he punched that kid on the playground. At the time, it had seemed so necessary.

"Didn't know what I wanted to major in," he mumbles.

Kakashi smiles from beneath his mask, or at least it appears that way when his eye crinkles up. He leans back away from his computer and threads his fingers together and looks at Sasuke like an older brother might, rather than a teacher. (Here Sasuke thinks almost longingly of his own brother, deadsuicideItachi, and his mood plummets.)

"Neither do most kids your age," Kakashi says warmly. "It probably feels like you don't know where you're going next and everything's moving too fast." It does. "But there's a lot you can do with each major…you're not as boxed in as you think you are. It's just a matter of finding out what interests you, to explore what opportunities you might have."

Sasuke nods once, curtly. He doesn't like being here, having to ask for help, but it's worth it if it's going to keep Sakura around.

"So. You're 20 years old. You're a damn good baseball player if the rumors are true and you've been keeping a steady 3.75 since you transferred back from Oto University. You're in a good place to start over from Gen Ed. So. What are your interests?"

"Baseball," Sasuke replies automatically.

That's pretty much it, since he can't exactly tell his academic advisor he also likes partying with his friends and having sex with his gorgeous girlfriend.

"Baseball. I see. And do you see a future in baseball, or is it just a hobby?"

Sasuke sees himself as a professional athlete the way every boy sees himself as a professional athlete. In his dizziest daydreams, he's the star pitcher for the Yankees, decked out in blue pinstripes and playing to a crowd of 50,000 every night.

But it's not real.

"Hobby."

"All right, so we can rule that one out. But the bottom line is, to play for Konoha in the spring, as I'm assuming you want to, you'll need to maintain a fulltime school schedule throughout your four years here. So let's find something that works for you, huh? Now I saw you had declared prelaw throughout half of sophomore year. Why'd you let go?"

"Hn. Didn't want to be a lawyer."

"I see. Well, lawyer isn't the only thing you have to become with a prelaw degree. Have you ever given any thought to police work? Being a detective, maybe?" Sasuke perks up a little at that. "You have all the qualifications, according to your professors."

"What do you mean?" he asks, frowning. Konoha is an enormous school full of thousands of kids; do professors really discuss _him_ with one another?

The answer is obvious. He's an Uchiha. Sometimes he forgets that, especially lately; his friends, and Sakura especially, help him forget that, little by little, he once was nothing more than a powerful surname. To most of the world, he's still just that.

Of course they talk about him.

He frowns deeper, threads his fingers together tightly, till the knuckles bleach.

"But before you go blaming your unwanted fame for the attention you've drawn to yourself," Kakashi continues, "remember that you were once _my_ student. And that I found you memorable not because of your family, but because of your talent."

"Talent?" Sasuke asks skeptically, recalling doing little more in Psychology lectures than spacing out, thinking of everything _but_ what he was being taught, and sneaking peeks at the pretty girl with pink hair in the front row. He'd gotten decent marks in the class, but he'd hardly say he was _talented._

"Yes, Sasuke. You did very well in my class. As a Psychology professor, it's both my job and hobby to get to know people on a mental level. Would you like to hear what I thought about you?"

He says nothing in response, while Kakashi rummages around in his file cabinet. Sasuke wonders what he's looking for, before he brings out a manila file folder with the name "Uchiha Sasuke" printed across the top and tosses it on the desk between them.

"Read it," Kakashi advises. "It's the results of your aptitude and personality tests."

Sasuke remembers filling out the papers in his freshman year class. He remembers not caring much either way when Kakashi revealed he wasn't going to return the tests; everyone else had been pretty disappointed, but what did an Uchiha care for the results of some stupid _aptitude_ test, when his career had already been mapped out?

Maybe an Uchiha wouldn't care, but Sasuke certainly does. He reaches out and takes the folder.

"Take it home with you," Kakashi suggests. "Read it over, think about what it says. Then we can worry about your schedule for the fall semester."

Sasuke frowns. "But classes start tomorrow, this is the last day I can sign up."

"I can make an exception this time," Kakashi replies. "What kind of advisor would I be if I didn't give advice? Take the week, and get back to me by Friday what you want to do. And I'll see what I can do about a late registration."

Sasuke remembers his sullen attitude in Psychology, his defiance, his disrespect of this teacher he now begrudgingly admires. What exactly, in the seven _hells,_ does Kakashi see in him that's so worth all this extra help?

Kakashi smiles again.

"Take the week, Sasuke. Get to know yourself the way others have come to know you. I think you'll like what you see."

Sasuke recognizes a dismissal when he hears one. And because he's shit at expressing gratitude when it's really necessary, he nods once, and doesn't say 'thank you' on the way out.

But he thinks it all the way back to his apartment.

* * *

Sakura stares up at the visitor and has absolutely _no idea_ why her heart's pounding this hard.

She's never seen this man before in her life. Logically, she has no reason to look upon him with such fear, but Sakura's always had _very good _instincts.

And her gut instinct right now is to slam the door and run.

Instead, she's frozen, eyes wide as she looks up into the amber eyes of her unexpected guest. He's a tall, imposing man, with a pointed face and almost reptilian features. Long black hair is pulled back into a sleek ponytail, and his suit looks tailormade and expensive. There is a saccharine smile on his face as he regards her, and she does not miss the way he's staring.

She's _revolted_ by the look in his eyes as he opens his mouth.

"Why, good morning, Miss Haruno," he says, and the fact that he knows her name makes her stomach turn. Her grip on the doorknob tightens marginally and she prays that whatever this horrific fear she feels in her heart doesn't manifest on her face. "As lovely as your namesake, aren't you? Weren't you going to invite me in?"

"I don't know who you are," she says, and her voice lacks the authority she wishes it held. Instead, it sounds brittle, terrified. Who is this man on her doorstep, and why does so much as looking at him make her feel this way?

Why, _why_ did Sasuke have to work today?

"Oh, it seems my favorite student neglected to tell you about me," the strange man replies with a chuckle. "A pity, since he told me a great deal about _you._ My name is Dr. Orochimaru. I'm a professor from Oto University."

_A professor?_ Sakura thinks. _Why would a professor be visiting an ex-student months after he left?_

"I am here to see if my old friend Sasuke would care to join me for lunch," Orochimaru continues, and though he stands in the threshold, he starts to look about the apartment with an inquisitive gleam in his eyes. "Is he home?"

He's not home, but Sakura doesn't want this man to know that. She feels threatened by his very presence, by the way he looks at her, by his unclear motive for being there. And how did he ever know her name?

_He said Sasuke told him about me,_ she thinks, stalling for time, _but Sasuke…I don't think he ever discussed any of us while he was at Oto. How would he know who I am?_

"Hey, Sakura…who's this guy?"

She's saved the trouble of answering by the arrival (finally) of Kiba. Relief washes over her like water when she sees the boy she'd so feared confronting just moments ago, in the hallway of their building. He looks calmer than he did last night, drunk and wild and out of control, but slightly confrontational in front of this Orochimaru character.

"Oh, I do beg your pardon, Miss Haruno," Orochimaru says pleasantly. "It appears that my unxpected visit is an imposition on this auspicious Sunday morning. Please forgive the intrusion, and if you see Sasuke, as I suspect you might," here, she watches Orochimaru's gaze settle on Sasuke's letterman jacket sprawled across the back of the jack, his surname and number stitched onto the fabric, "do be so kind as to pass along my regards?"

"I will," she mutters, not meeting his gaze. To her shock, he takes her hand, and kisses it. His lips are cold, dry, reptilian against her skin, which feels like it's crawling, and she doesn't know why but she _hates_ this man, she _hates_ him and his cold snake lips and his oily smirk and the way he knows her name and where she lives.

Then, with a courteous nod to Kiba, who looks ready to start swinging, he's gone. The echo of his expensive patent-leather shoes vibrates throughout the hallway.

"Who the hell was that?" Kiba demands, pointing after Orochimaru.

"He said he was…one of Sasuke's teachers, from Oto," Sakura says, frowning. It's hard to calm down right now and if she's not careful, she could have an attack, something she's avoided for months now and is in no hurry to experience again. "I never heard of him before, Sasuke never said anything…"

"He was looking at you like you were on the menu or some shit. Is Sasuke home?"

"No, he's at work."

"So you'd answer the door to just anybody?"

"I thought it was you," she snaps, in absolutely no mood to hear a lecture from an overprotective friend with apparent boundary issues. She's unsettled enough over Orochimaru's presence this morning; she doesn't need Kiba to make it any worse. "You said you wanted to come over and talk, so leave it alone."

"Are you not gonna tell your _boyfriend_ that there's some creep fucking around over here looking for him?"

Sakura resents the hell out of Kiba in that moment. The way he spits the word 'boyfriend,' so full of bitterness and anger, the way he implies that Sasuke doesn't take care of her when that's _all_ Sasuke does, the way he feels like he can pull this shit _months_ after they've broken off their relationship-if-you-can-call-it-that, she hates all of it.

"You know what," she says coldly, "maybe you should leave."

She goes to slam the door, but he stops it with the palm of his hand.

"Wait," he tells her, and there isn't any anger anymore. Frustration's taken its place on his handsome face. "I'm sorry, I didn't mean anything by it, I just…"

"Just _what,_ Kiba?"

He exhales sharply through his nose, his brown eyes looking anywhere but at her, before he grinds out, "I didn't mean anything by it. But I DID mean what I said to you last night. At Ino's."

Sakura bites her lip. "What are you talking about?"

"That I could've made you happy."

She _does not_ want to hear this. She wants nothing more than to head back inside, shut the door, lock it, wait for Sasuke to get home. But seeing the desperation on his face as he looks at her makes her realize that just because she isn't going to like this conversation doesn't mean Kiba doesn't deserve to have it.

Maybe she's deprived him of this for so long, it's got to come out like this now.

"I'm with Sasuke, Kiba," she whispers. "I'm really sorry. I thought…I thought it was clear this whole time, that…"

"You never lied to me," Kiba cuts her off. "I always knew, from Day One, that you had it bad for him. And I'm glad you never pretended anything else, since it would've given me hope I didn't deserve to have.

"But Jesus, Sakura, that hope came up anyway!"

She winces.

"It came up whenever you _kissed_ me," he moves closer, "whenever you _touched_ me," she backs away, "whenever you looked up at me with that fucking _smile_ like I was your _favorite person in the world._" They're both inside now, and Sakura's petrified, not of Kiba himself, but of the words he's spitting.

"You let me think it was more than what it was," he hisses, and this time there's accusation in his eyes, burning, furious accusation. No warmth, no kindness, no charm. Nothing but whitehot venom and she's _never_ seen him look at her like that. "You told me it was nothing but everything you did contradicted everything you said. You led me _on,_ Sakura!"

"Kiba…"

"You let me _love you_ and then you _left!_"

Sakura bursts into tears. Everything he's saying, everything he's accusing her of, it's all _true._ It's all miserably, horribly, horrifically _true._

She buries her face in her hands and breaks down completely.

"I tried to forget you," Kiba hisses, attacking her ruthlessly, remorsely, now that he's got the upper hand. "I tried to move on, I had _all those girls_ after you and not _one_ of them stacked up. Even if you did that shit to me, even if you made me love you before you left, I _can't_ move on from you! Nobody out there measures up, nobody out there makes me feel all this _shit_ you made me feel without even trying!"

"Kiba please stop," Sakura sobs. "I'm sorry, I'm so so sorry. I thought…I really thought I was clear with you from the beginning and I'm _so _sorry this happened!"

"Leave him, Sakura!" Kiba snaps finally, and she stops breathing, stares up at him in shock, almost numb at this point. "I can make you happier than he can, I know I can! I almost had you, didn't I? You almost loved me! If he'd stayed away, you would've loved me!"

Sakura remembers the days spent in Kiba's company, the nights spent in Kiba's arms. She remembers the warmth of his smile, the scent of his skin. She remembers the laughter they shared, and the time and the memories also.

She remembers the way she locked her heart away when Sasuke left.

She remembers that she never gave it to Kiba.

"Kiba I loved him all along," Sakura whispers, the confession heavy in the room between them. Her fingers grip Sasuke's jacket and she watches the color drain from her hands. "I told you that. You knew. I never stopped.

"I never will."

She doesn't look up as Kiba grinds his teeth, swears under his breath. She doesn't look up as he mutters something incoherent, slams his fist against the plush cushion of her beat-up old sofa.

When she does look up, he's gone. The door's wide open, his scent lingers in the air, but there's nothing there. Nothing but the ghost of his words, the lingering sting of his accusation, dense and dank in the air.

Her chest heaves as she tries to make sense of what's going on.

The slick, oily visitor she doesn't trust, Orochimaru, he said his name was, is banished from her mind. The way she was intimidated by him for no apparent reason, the inexplicable fear that washed over her when he kissed her hand, she forgets that, too.

All she knows is the hate in Kiba's eyes. And how much she deserves it.

Playing house with Sasuke, enjoying this idyllic relationship, and like the heartless bitch she truly is, pointedly glossing over all the rough patches that led her to this point. Specifically, how she'd inadvertently toyed with the heart of a boy who tried to fix her when she was broken, before turning her back on him forever.

Kiba's only crime was to love her when she couldn't love him back.

Then there's a familiar grip around her chest, like she can't breathe, and her heart races fast like it's trying to break free of her body and _it's coming again, I'm over nothing, I'm still weak and useless and on top of that, I DESERVE this_. Her head spins and she watches the light blue area rug rush up to meet her.

Then nothing.

* * *

Sasuke checks the mail automatically; there's nothing, but then again, it's Sunday, so there wouldn't be anything anyways. He's jumpy, nervous, because he's about to read an unbiased view on his personality, a thing so convoluted and confusing he's never even _attempted_ to piece it together on his own.

Maybe this will give him the fucking direction he's been searching for so aimlessly.

The second he steps into the hallway, though, he knows something isn't right.

The door's wide open to his apartment.

Sakura_ never_ leaves the door open.

All the optimism, the reluctant hopefulness that's taken hold of him since his meeting with Kakashi, all of that vanishes, bleeds into hot summer air as he takes off at a run for his apartment.

When he finds her, she's lying on the floor, her hair covering her face, and thoughts of maybe finally figuring out what he wants to be when he grows up vanish into the balmy afternoon air.

* * *

**note..** Did I fool you? :) Here's to the Phillies taking on the Braves tonight! (And it's mean, but I hope Atlanta runs into the same trouble they did last year.)

Tell me what you think! xoxoxoxoxoxoxoxo Daisy.


	7. Alarm

**note..** Before you proceed: if you haven't read the prequel to this story, Horizon, then I'm sure it won't make much sense; it deals a lot with loose ends left in that story, conversations and confrontations, unresolved situations, etc. I don't want to have anyone read this to the end and be completely confused!

* * *

There's cinnamon tea brewing on the stovetop when Sakura wakes up.

The smell is soothing, and she opens her eyes.

She's lying on the sofa (she recognizes the worn upholstery under her cheek, scratchy and coarse). The air conditioner hums behind her and cool air dusts across her forehead, which she finds is damp with sweat when she runs the back of her hand across it. She sits up and realizes, judging from the head rush and complete _lack_ of memory that shit, she's passed out again.

It's been months since the last time it happened, and Sakura's first coherent thought is boiling anger at herself for letting it happen again. It's months of progress wasted and all the nights spent breathing normally shot right to hell because she's still that weak fragile little girl apparently. And she _hates it._

"What happened?"

The deep, concerned voice belongs to Sasuke. She blinks and then there he is, sitting on the armchair next to the sofa and there's worry on his handsome face and fuck she made him worry again and when will she stop making him worry about her he needs to worry about himself and shitfuckshit she can't do _anything right._

Tears are in her eyes and she hates that, too, because poor little baby Sakura crying about her problems again only this time, she can't even remember what they are.

She remembers waking up and making pancakes. That's all.

She knows it'll come back to her in a minute, whatever it is. It always does. So she sits up and when Sasuke moves to help her, she shies away from his hand because she's angry with herself. But he doesn't let her do that, and he grabs her wrist and presses a cup of hot cinnamon tea (she starts to cry because it's her favorite and he knows that) into her palm and then he's sitting beside her on the sofa.

"Come on," he prods her. Not too gentle, not too forceful, somewhere in the middle. She's distracted from her dizziness and confusion by how disarmingly good he smells, the heat from his body scorching her skin where their arms touch. Dazedly, she closes her eyes and Sasuke's amazing scent and the spicysweet smell of the tea in her hand all but eradicate her lingering grogginess.

She sips like she's told, and the tea is too hot for her but it feels like something, so she keeps drinking even if it numbs her tongue. She sighs, shudders a little, angrily wipes her teary eyes and avoids Sasuke's gaze because she doesn't know what to tell him.

_I'm a wreck, _she thinks.

"What happened, Sakura?" he asksf again. When she doesn't look at him, his fingers slide beneath her chin and he tilts her face in his direction, black eyes assessing her condition with concern. "I passed Inuzuka on the way here. He looked pissed."

Kiba. _Kiba._

Well there's the mystery solved, then, huh? She bites her lip as the memory of Kiba's wild, desperate face flies through her mind. How he'd scorned her, the way he'd looked at her, with all of that hatred…his pleas, to take him back, to leave Sasuke and resume what they'd…what _she'd…_ended so abruptly.

She'd broken his heart.

But could she tell Sasuke that? Could she tell him that while he was out at work, she'd been visited by an ex? One of Sasuke's friends at that. And even if Sasuke knew that she'd dated Kiba for awhile when he was away at Oto, Sakura knows he'd be furious to find out that Kiba hadn't let go.

Sakura isn't sure how Sasuke might feel. To her knowledge, he has no ex-girlfriends and therefore she has nothing to compare this situation to. She pictures an imaginary ex for her boyfriend, someone exquisitely beautiful, no doubt, someone who could have made him happy without all the extra baggage she'd carried into his life, and…

And she HATES this girl she's just imagined. And there's nothing threatening about a girl that doesn't exist.

But Kiba does exist. Kiba, when he's wild like he was this morning, IS a threat. Has shown no respect for her relationship with Sasuke, no regard at all. Is openly trying to come between them.

Sakura doesn't love him the way she loves Sasuke. She never did. She could have, someday, maybe. If Sasuke had never come home, had never come back to her, she knows she would have lowered her guard fully to Kiba and loved him properly.

Instead, she played a dangerous game with his heart, and he'd been the one to suffer.

She just hadn't known to what extent.

So now she's caught between two of the most important people in her life. Her boyfriend, whom she loves entirely, and her ex-fling-funtime, whom she loves platonically.

Telling Sasuke the truththewholetruthandnothing butthetruth will only cause problems. Kiba's dealing with a broken heart now, something that all the guilt in Sakura's bones can't mend, and to add to his troubles the solid, furious rage of Uchiha Sasuke would be disastrous.

And Sakura's trying not to bring calamity with her wherever she goes; she's had enough of that.

But can she lie to Sasuke again? Look him in his silver-black eyes, take in that concern he feels for her and lie about what's going on? Dismiss what happened this afternoon and disregard it and diminish its value when it's something really serious?

She bites her lip and more tears rush from her eyes and without a second thought, she slams the teacup down onto the coffee table and throws her arms around Sasuke's neck.

He holds her with one arm around her waist, her head tucked against his neck while she cries and cries. And she whimpers over and over, "I love you I love you I love you so much, Sasuke. So _much._ I don't want to tell you what happened today. Can you trust me? Can you trust that I have a reason for it?"

* * *

Sasuke stiffens.

Sakura's in trouble, he realizes. Something's very, very wrong.

She's gone from the confident, bubbly, happy-go-lucky girl he always knew was inside her, from the very beginning, to the same frightened, timid, anxious girl he thought she'd never be again. Something must have happened, something that's shaken her to the core.

Something she can't tell him.

But his hands are tied, aren't they? Because the last time Sakura asked him to trust her, asked him to stay out of it, he'd done the exact opposite. He'd believed her to be pregnant and a liar and even a whore, and broken her heart and his when he left. And it was all a misunderstanding.

Now here's his chance to rectify that past mistake. To come full circle and trust Sakura the way she's imploring him to trust her now.

But he doesn't WANT to.

He wants to know why he came home today and found his girlfriend lying on the floor. He wants to know what's making Sakura shake like a leaf in the wind, what's drawing rivers of tears from her mint green eyes like water from a well. He wants to know what she's so upset about, what she's so afraid of, what went so terribly, horribly wrong today that he barely recognizes the girl in his arms.

Sakura pulls back and looks up at him, her eyes teary and red-rimmed and searching his face for his answer.

"Please, Sasuke," she whispers, and he knows she has the power to bring him to his knees if she wants to. "Please just trust me. I swear I'll tell you. I promise you. Just not now. It would ruin everything, absolutely everything if I told you right now. Please trust me."

"Just tell me you're okay," Sasuke says, a little harsher than he intends, but he's rough around the edges still and Sakura's driving him crazy with worry. "Can you tell me that much, at least."

"Yes," she says quickly. Too quickly. She lies, again.

His stomach churns. He hates when she lies to him.

"No," she amends, with a heavy sigh. "Not right now, but I promise I will be."

There's nothing but truth in her eyes, so clear and expressive that he doesn't doubt her at all. She's stopped herself from lying midway through, and told him the truth, even if it's not what he wanted to hear. And it makes him trust her. Trust her from the bottom of his heart.

She must have seen the change in his demeanor, from angered suspicion to quiet acceptance, because she smiles, weakly but truly, and kisses the corner of his mouth with such tenderness he almost can't believe it. She draws back and releases a long, deep exhale before leaning against him.

He can feel the fluttery timbre of her heart beating too quickly against his chest, but as seconds dissolve into minutes and minutes pass them by, it slows down. She calms herself down like she's good at doing, and she reaches for the remote control on the table, ignoring the droplets of tea she spilled from her cup.

"You're all done work?" she asks him, the raspy lilt of her voice calm and collected, no longer upset.

"Aa," he replies.

"Good," she says, and she smiles up at him again. "Because the Phillies are on, and…oh, that's right!" She smacks her forehead, which Sasuke is about to scold her for, since she just passed out and might've hit her head on the way down. "I almost forgot…one of your teachers came by this morning."

"Kakashi?" Sasuke asks dryly. "I just left his office."

"No. Not Kakashi. One of your…Oto teachers."

Sakura says it with all the reluctance in the world, like the very mention of the place he defected to makes her uneasy. Sasuke's eyes narrow and he pulls away from his girlfriend so he can look at her properly.

"Who?" he asks. Demands. His stomach turns, because he reads the unease in Sakura's expressive eyes and knows already. _Shit._

"He said his name was Dr. Orochimaru," Sakura says, "and…"

Sasuke's on his feet in an instant.

* * *

"You answered the door to him?" Sasuke demands.

"I didn't know who it was!" she defends herself, somewhat nervous of his reaction. She hadn't thought he'd be so angry to hear of Orochimaru's visit; sure, she'd been creeped out by him, but why is Sasuke so upset?

He puts his hands on her knees and leans in close, and she's drowning in his anger, in his alarm. Not for months has she seen him lose control like this, outside the bedroom, of course.

"What did he say? How did he know where I live?"

"He didn't say. But he knew me, I guess, and…"

"You _guess?_ He knew your name?"

Sakura isn't sure why Sasuke's so alarmed, but maybe that irrational fear she'd felt seeing Orochimaru smiling benignly in the threshold of her apartment wasn't so irrational, after all.

"Y-Yes," she says nervously. Has she done something wrong? What's the story behind Orochimaru? Sasuke swears violently under his breath. "He said…you'd told him about me before."

"Shit," Sasuke curses. "I never…I didn't tell him about you. Back when I left. He guessed."

Sasuke's expression grows distant, like he's lost in some type of memory, scenario, she has nothing to do with. His sharply-defined eyebrows slope downwards in a frown, his strong jaw sets like he's steeling himself for battle. Whatever anger he's feeling right now, Sakura knows is not directed towards her, but she learns something about herself she never knew before:

She WANTS to know about Sasuke's time in Oto.

Prior to this, she thoroughly discounted the year Sasuke was gone from her life. Wrote it off, wouldn't speak of it, refused to think of it. Because that was a time she didn't want to ever repeat, or remember.

She didn't want to find out what Sasuke was doing that year she drowned herself in distractions that never drove him from her heart. She didn't want to learn he'd had another girl, or maybe more than one, that he'd had friends to replace Naruto and the others, that he preferred any moment of time in Oto to the times they shared in Konoha.

She was perfectly content, before today, to carry on towards the future and never look back.

But now, seeing Sasuke's naked agitation, and after meeting that mysterious visitor who caused such fear inside her with nothing more than a conversation, Sakura finds that she wants to know what Sasuke was doing in Oto.

She needs to.

Ignoring the time they were apart isn't good for either of them. Ignoring the time they were apart has led Sakura to ignore the time she and Kiba were together.

The confrontation that morning resonates in her head with no intention of ever leaving, until she comes to terms fully with what a sad, pathetic, evil, remorseless whore she is, at her very core.

That's what happens when you gloss over the messy parts of the past. Pretend they don't exist.

Sakura wants to know what happened with Sasuke when she wasn't there to see.

* * *

Sasuke's heart is racing. He can't see straight through his blinding anger.

Sakura doesn't know how serious this is.

_I should've known he wouldn't let me go without a fight,_ he thinks, glaring at the curtains as if expecting Orochimaru to come out from behind them. He crosses the living room in a few strides and stares out the window, searching for the bastard in case he hasn't left yet. Is he somehow responsible for Sakura's mysterious collapse? _I'm surprised he hasn't shown his face here before._

_ But he knows where I live. Where WE live._

He isn't afraid of Orochimaru. Not afraid of whatever underhanded tactics the old bastard might resort to, in order to coax him back to Oto where he thinks he belongs.

He's afraid of what he might do to Sakura.

_He knows her name,_ Sasuke thinks in near-panic. _I didn't tell him her name the day I left. Which means he researched it. Knows who she is and where she sleeps._

_ I was never meant to be here when he came by. This, like everything else he ever taught me, is a fucking mindgame. A way to let me know how accessible Sakura is to him. How easily he can reach her._

_ You fucking asshole shit, if you think I won't kill you to keep you away from her, you're wrong!_

He hasn't felt this way in years. Not since that horrible day with Itachi, when his knuckles had cracked and bruised from hitting his brother so hard, from wanting him dead, from wanting him dead from the very bottom of his heart. Except now, he pictures Orochimaru's sallow face purpling with bruises from his angry fists. Wants it. Needs it.

His hands grip the curtains tightly, the material straining against the curtain rod.

Orochimaru has a reputation.

He's ruthless, merciless, and above all else, he's a collector. He's known for educating, influencing, the best and brightest, the law students who become the most successful lawyers; when he failed to court Itachi properly, he'd sunk his ambitious teeth into the neck of Sasuke's education with no intention of ever letting him go.

But Sasuke had left. He'd lost control of both Uchiha brothers, both of them legends. And it had pissed him off.

Orochimaru operates much like Sasuke's parents did, whentheywerealive, whenhewasn'talone. He's not afraid to act outside the law, because he _is_ the law, and he knows how to cover his tracks.

Uchiha Fugaku worked the same way. Manipulated his circumstances so he was always a step ahead.

Until he was blown halfway to hell by his fucking murderous uncle, along with Sasuke's beautifulguilty mother.

Sasuke isn't sure how far Orochimaru will go this time. He isn't sure what he will do to coax Sasuke back to Oto, back under his thumb.

He knows, though, that when he didn't deny the existence of a girl all those months ago, when Orochimaru guessed that it was a girl that had beckoned him back to Konoha, he'd given himself away; he'd revealed, however inadvertently, that there was someone in the world who Sasuke cared about.

Someone who could be used against him.

Orochimaru had already identified her.

Sasuke knows for sure, that Sakura doesn't know how serious this is. How dangerous this can get, and hoq quickly.

He doesn't want her to know.

Picturing the fear in her face just a few moments ago, the anxiety that had been so bad and so toxic, she'd lost CONSCIOUSNESS, he knows he can't add to that. He can't tell her the truth about what's happening without terrifying her.

He'll take care of it on his own, without her knowing the full extent of this.

Already he's making contingency plans.

"Sasuke?" she asks timidly, and she's at his shoulder, looking up at him with concern and confusion all over her gorgeous face. She places a tiny hand on his arm, trying to make him relax the tense muscles. "Sasuke what's wrong? Please tell me what's going on. Did I do something wrong?"

Blaming herself again. He scoffs. Typical Sakura.

"Listen to me," he says firmly, and her wide eyes show him he's got her full attention, and good, because this is too important to screw up. She's too important to lose. It's out of the question. "Sakura don't let him in here again. If you see him, you call me. You don't let him in here, you understand?"

He doesn't like talking to her so harshly, but he hopes she'll understand the desperation in his voice, the urgency. She hesitates, bites her lip the way she does when she's thinking.

Can she really demand answers from him if she's not willing to give them in return?

Apparently not, because she sighs and nods.

"Okay," she says quietly. She doesn't press him for details.

"Don't walk to class alone," he continues, imagining Orochimaru tailing her home from a lecture. "I'll go with you. Or Naruto. Or Inuzuka." He nearly misses the look of agitation on her face at the mention of Kiba. "Somebody. Not by yourself. Sakura you gotta trust me on this one."

"Okay," she repeats. She isn't happy, he can tell, at being bossed around with so few details as to why, but, like he trusts her, she trusts him, too. She trusts him enough to know he'll tell her what's going on when he can, when the time's right. Not when she demands the answer.

"If I'm not here with you," he murmurs, "lock the door. And every time you leave, lock it. You hear me?"

Sakura nods. There's uneasiness written all over her face and he fucking _loves her_ because she trusts him.

He isn't sure what's gonna happen next. He isn't sure why Sakura collapsed today, why she's nervous and sad and jumpy and why she doesn't want to tell him just yet what's going on. He isn't sure why Orochimaru chose today of all days to reach out to him.

He isn't sure how far Orochimaru's willing to go.

But he'll be prepared for anything.

He almost lost Sakura once.

He won't do it again.

* * *

**note..** Yeah, like I said, this one's very Horizon-heavy and I doubt people would be able to follow it properly without reading that one first. But here's some of the (oodlesandoodles) conflict creeping up in this one. Hope you enjoyed it, and I pray (to Thor himself) that like the taste of the very first Pringle from a fresh can of Pringles, it leaves you craving more.

Love you, lovebugs! Let me know what you think per favore!

xoxo Daisy


	8. Rethink

The envelope on the table catches her attention. It's noticeable because it's orange and clashes violently with the light balsa wood, and the name _Uchiha Sasuke_ on the front scrawled with a thick black Magic Marker stands out.

"What's this?" Sakura asks, reaching for it.

Sasuke glances at what she's holding in her hands and takes a seat beside her on the sofa. "Oh. The results of our aptitude and personality tests, from freshman year Psych. Kakashi gave 'em to me."

"Really? I didn't think we'd get them back till we graduated! Why'd you get yours early?"

"Hn. He thinks it'll make it easier to figure out what to major in."

Sasuke looks a little uncomfortable, and he eyes the envelope like it intimidates him somehow, and it occurs to Sakura that maybe she's been underestimating the toll this indecision has been taking on her boyfriend. Maybe she hasn't taken it seriously, that his confusion is becoming predominant in his life.

_Makes sense,_ she thinks, feeling guilty to have missed it. _So much of his life was decided for him…and when he gave that up, he didn't know what else to do. Sasuke's ambitious by nature. But now he doesn't have a clear ambition…nothing to work towards. And I'm so caught up in myself that I didn't even realize!_

How much has she missed out on, lost in this fairy tale romance? She'd been blind to the situation with Kiba, which is hard enough to deal with. But now, she's allowed herself to become so besotted with the positives in her life that she's completely oblivious to the negatives.

And for as happy as she is with Sasuke, there _are_ negatives.

"I'm sorry, Sasuke," she says quietly, and she stares at her knees so she doesn't have to see his face.

"For what?"

"I think I…I think I chose not to see the way things are."

"Spit it out, Sakura."

"I'm sorry if I haven't been supportive enough of you," she murmurs. This day sucks, it just _sucks._ "I don't think I took it seriously enough, how confused you were trying to pick a major. I think it I took it for granted that you'd figure it out on your own, and I didn't want to get in your way or anything, but maybe I could've done more to help. I'm sorry I didn't."

Sasuke sighs, a deep, frustrated sigh before he chuckles, and she looks up at him in surprise to see a smirk tilting his thin lips.

"Always apologizing for things you didn't do wrong," he chastises, but there's fondness in his expression. "Besides…if Kakashi's right, the answers are all here," he adds with no small amount of sarcasm, taking the envelope from her and opening it unhurriedly.

"So what does it say?" she asks, curious. Part of her is jealous that Sasuke gets to read his results early. She wonders what her aptitude and personality tests say.

But maybe if she wasn't so fucking self-centered, they wouldn't be in this mess in the first place.

* * *

Sasuke's eyes skim over the circles he'd filled in to all the questions that had seemed so asinine at the time. But he looks at the test now with a new perspective. Maybe this really can help him out. At least shed some light on some interesting prospects he hadn't yet thought of.

Sakura peeks over his shoulder to read, too. Silly, nosy girl. She seems more interested in this than he is, and part of him wonders if Sakura wants to get to know more about him that she doesn't know already. He knows he isn't the easiest person to understand, but he thinks Sakura does a pretty good job so far.

"You tested so high in almost everything!" she says, sounding jealous, and Sasuke rolls his eyes. "Look at that! Well, you bombed Social Interaction and Cooperation…but you tested crazy high in Analysis, Protective Instincts, Physical Strength and Perception…"

A smirk unfurls on her pretty pink lips, and he raises an eyebrow in question. Every inch of her is smug as she leans back into their scratchy sofa and folds her arms in triumph.

"Knew it," she giggles.

"Knew what, smart ass?" he demands, not liking the way she's looking so satisfied.

Green eyes shine in mischief, and she replies, "I'm not telling you."

"Sakura…"

"I don't want to be another person telling you what you should be doing with your life," she tells him flatly, and even if she's teasing, there's seriousness in her tone as well. "I'll just say that I have an idea in my head about you ten years from now. But I don't want to influence your decision. It's got to be all you."

He's touched by her devotion to his independence, but irritated by it as well. A little direction is what he needs right now, and Sakura's the only person on the planet besides Naruto who knows him well enough to provide some of that. And she's holding out on him.

"Annoying," he tells her, snatching the results back and poring over them himself.

She giggles and stands off the sofa. "Take some time and think things through," she tells him, the same advice Kakashi gave him. "I'm gonna get changed. I have to buy a study guide down at the Student Union for my Organic Chem class. I'm gonna need all the help I can get, that class looks like a monster."

"I'll go with you," he says automatically. It's later in the day, and he can't be sure Orochimaru isn't still skulking around campus, hoping for another opportunity to confront Sakura. Letting her alone right now is out of the question, even if she always gets so touchy about his overprotectiveness.

"You don't have to, handsome." She kisses his cheek. "It's not far. I won't be long."

"I'll go with you," he repeats forcefully, and she sighs in resignation. "Go get changed."

Absolutely, it's out of the question for Sakura to wander around by herself at the moment. Things are uncertain, and he isn't entirely sure of Orochimaru's motives for coming here, if not only to intimidate him. Until that situation's resolved (he's got no clue how to resolve it), he needs to make sure someone's with Sakura at all times.

She grumbles to herself all the way to their bedroom, and he hears her rummaging around in the closet that's primarily her clothes for something to wear, clearly displeased with his bossiness. He smirks to himself. Even if she's frustrating as hell, she's also extremely amusing. Especially when she's pissed.

He's still got scratch marks running up his sides from last week, the last time he pissed her off right before he kissed her.

* * *

It turns out to be a pretty good day after that. They buy the study guide with no drama, and meet up with their friends for souvlaki afterwards. Kiba is notably absent; when Sakura subtly (worriedly) asks where he is, Ino tells her he's babysitting Hana, and she's relieved, and goes back to enjoying her time with her friends and her boyfriend.

They head back home (she loves calling it home) and Sasuke's holding her hand. He's not a typically demonstrative boyfriend in public; he rarely walks around his arm around her waist, and he _never_ kisses her if people are watching, and most of time they walk side by side like friends, and Sakura likes it that way, since no one needs to see what goes on behind closed doors. But she likes when Sasuke holds her hand now and then, and appreciates it more for its rarity; his fingers are long, strong, calloused from working on cars and handling baseball bats, and he has the right grip. Tight but not painful.

It's dark now, and Sasuke seems marginally more relaxed than he was that morning, so she decides to press her luck.

"So, you thought about the results at all?"

He sighs. "Aa. Sakura, you know me better than anyone. So what should I do." He looks at her out of the corner of his eye, and a self-deprecating smirk's tilting his thin lips. "What should I be when I grow up?" he asks her, half-joking, half-not.

"You dope," she giggles, and his smirk vanishes, replaced with an irritated frown. "Sasuke, wait. Look at me." She pulls to a stop and makes him face her. In the heels she's wearing, she's closer to his eyeline instead of so laughably short by comparison. "You should be whatever makes _you_ happy."

"I…"

"Could do _anything,_" she cuts him off flatly. She's been such a shit girlfriend lately, and now's her chance to redeem herself. Make Sasuke see what she sees and what everyone else sees, everyone except Sasuke. "Sasuke it's just who you are. No matter what you decide to pursue, you're going to be amazing at it. You're smart. You're driven. You're a hard worker and you're way, way, way too stubborn to fail at anything."

She smiles, and Sasuke does something he would never normally do, at least not in broad daylight. He grabs her by the waist and pulls her in, and he kisses her under the dull flickering glow of the streetlight. It's a sweet kiss, a slow kiss, one laced with gratitude, and she vaguely feels Sasuke's hand linger overlong on the tattoo on her side. Even through her dress, she knows he's dawdling on the kanji for "Hope" scrawled secretly in the violets. And she wonders if Sasuke draws the same inspiration from that hidden tattoo that she does. She hopes so.

"Thanks," he breathes against her lips, a simple expression of gratitude and she isn't going to get anymore from him, and that's fine. Because Sasuke does not need to tell her everything he feels for her to know.

* * *

He feels better. Good, even, as they reach their apartment. Home, he calls it in his head, and sometimes out loud, like a private joke, or a personal victory. He almost forgets the shit that went down today, but not quite, because before anything else, Sasuke's concern is keeping Sakura safe and happy, and Orochimaru is nothing if not a threat to both. Then there's the matter of…whatever Sakura's dealing with that makes him nervous simply because he doesn't know what it is. He wishes he knew.

He does trust her, though. She's earned that from him. She's lost her ability to lie convincingly and the inclination also.

Or, she's gotten better at it. Sasuke hopes that's not the case, so he decides to give her the benefit of the doubt, and trust that whatever's going on, she'll tell him when she's ready.

And she's not yapping at him for details on Orochimaru, which shows how she must trust him, too. And he really likes that.

He sits down on the sofa and picks up his test results again. The folder makes little sense to him, unlike Sakura, who took one look at it and wore that know-it-all smile, almost smug. Knowing she has confidence in him no matter what he decides helps the process a bit, but he really wishes he could share in some of her certainty.

There's things here he just doesn't understand. Protective Instincts…is that what he is? Protective?

Sasuke never thought of it that way. Not in a good light, anyways. He's protective of Sakura more than anything else, but most of it is selfish. He doesn't want other guys around her, looking at her, coming onto her, so he makes it a point of interfering whenever necessary. The frustrating part of it is Sakura's so annoyingly pretty and charming, which makes his job of keeping her all to himself doubly difficult. And he would readily kill anyone who tried to hurt her, but is that really _protective?_ Sasuke always thought it bordered more on _psychotic._

But the words here tell him it's a good thing. It doesn't make sense.

"It's your completely warped perspective that's making this so hard for you," Sakura tells him when he asks her about it. She's taken off her pretty dress, kicked off her fancy heels, and is laying with her head in his lap reading a magazine in one of his old T-shirts. It's _distracting_ seeing that much leg when he's embroiled in trying to sort out his life and pick a fucking major, but he's enjoying the view too much to complain. "Sasuke do you even see yourself around Hana?"

He frowns, confused.

"It's one of the things I like best about you," she remarks offhand, turning a page in Cosmo without even looking up at him. "You'd do anything for the people you care about. And watching you with Hana just shows what an amazing father you'll make someday."

Sasuke's jaw very nearly drops. A good _father?_ Him? Not on any planet in the Andromeda Galaxy.

"You don't see yourself the way everyone else sees you," Sakura murmurs. "I wish you did. Take a harder look at yourself. Or maybe, it's not even that difficult." She sits up, puts down her magazine, and twists her body so she's facing him. "Sasuke when you were little, what did you wanna be when you grew up?"

Sasuke hesitates, and isn't sure why he's hesitating, so he presses, "Why."

"Just answer the question."

He's self-conscious about this without really knowing why, and he mumbles, "A cop. A detective, actually."

But that was a long time ago. Back when Mommy and Dad were still alive and also Itachi, back when the world was still full of once-upon-a-times and dreams-do-come-true and you-can-be-anything-you-want-to-be-as-long-as-your-parents-approve. Everyone had childish dreams that didn't come true because dreams are just that: things that get you through the day but are the farthest thing from realistic.

Sakura's knowing smile is back, and Sasuke wonders if maybe she's thought the same thing about him. That he'd make a good detective.

"Now think about that," she tells him, standing, and she presses a loving kiss to his forehead. "And read your results again."

* * *

She's laying in bed alone (Sasuke's still doing some soul-searching in the living room) when her phone rings.

She reaches for it off the nightstand and doesn't recognize the number on the screen. She frowns a little, but assumes it's one of her friends who changed their number or someone she knows who was never programmed in it to begin with. In college, you meet alotalotalot of people and sometimes it's hard to keep track. Unworried, she answers.

"Hello?"

"Sakura."

The voice on the other end is deep, gravelly, and Sakura's eyes widen. Her heart accelerates. No. No way. She changed her number years ago, there's just no way he can know it, there's just no way he can be calling it but is there any mistaking that _voice?_

"You've got the wrong number," she says shakily, her trembling thumb nearly on the End Call button when he cuts her off.

"You think I don't recognize my own daughter's voice?"

* * *

**note..** gone for awhile on this one, yeah? i was getting the vibe that people were more excited about my other stories than for this one so i kind of redirected my attention for a little bit.

about sasuke: canon-wise, before the massacre and everything, he wanted to be in the police department. so i'm kind of taking that avenue because that was his original dream, and who can't see sasuke as this all-powerful police captain a la humphrey bogart? maybe just me. whatevs.

also. please refrain from ordering me to update. and other writers on here, too. it's flattering that you want to hear what happens next, but it's not really a review. it's a demand and it's a little rude because this is a hobby for so many people, and hobbies shouldn't become obligations, yafeelme?

and i will step down from my soap box.

hope you liked it, honeybooboochildren. i love you.

xoxo daisy


	9. Relapse

Sasuke makes plans to call Kakashi in the morning. He's made up his mind, kind of.

Criminal Justice. Seems like a good idea. Most of his credits from Prelaw will transfer to this new major, meaning the last two years of his life have not been a complete and total waste like he thought. It will mean more Psychology now, more ambiguous things with no answers, but Sasuke figures he can work with that.

Given his background, he thinks that maybe he can redeem his tarnished family name by doing some actual good in the world.

And there's a flash in his head of what the future might look like. He doesn't like to think too much past Konoha University, because damn if he doesn't love it here with his stupid friends and his stupid favorite baby and his stupid girlfriend who he needs more than she needs him. He doesn't like to think that someday, these people will be gone from his life, separated by circumstance and distance, even if most of them plan to stick around Konoha, rather than disperse. He knows it's unlikely that they will stay together, regardless of the Best Laid Plans, so he tries to hold onto these moments, and not hate himself too much for leaving last year when things-got-hard.

Still, the flash in his head comes and it's nice. Nicer than he thinks it should be. A small apartment, maybe a little bigger than this one, with furniture that isn't quite so mismatched. And Sakura in a labcoat and a free, boundless smile with the world shining in her eyes, slightly older but just as beautiful, as she presses a mug of coffee into his hand and helps him straighten his tie. And he can almost feel the detective badge in his pocket, the gun slung around his waist, the warmth of Konoha sunlight on his face as they both head off to work.

It's a future he isn't afraid of, because Sakura has a career and so does Sasuke, and they're alone in the world but they have each other.

It's a future he looks forward to.

So he'll turn in a late registration tomorrow. He smirks in satisfaction at his ambiguous test results, slides them back into an envelope. Stands off the mismatched couch and heads to their bedroom, to join Sakura in sleep, because he's got a big day tomorrow and so does she.

He pauses in the threshold, because Sakura isn't sleeping. Instead, she's sitting up in bed, her back ramrod straight, her shoulders shaking. Her face is hidden by her messy pink hair and the phone she's clinging to, and she's whispering nonsense words.

Vaguely, he doesn't think he's ever seen her this scared.

* * *

"How?" Sakura whimpers.

How, indeed? How did he know her number? How did he find her? And _why?_

She hasn't seen her father in two years. Two long, beautiful years, that for as hard as they were sometimes, were the best of her life. The last she remembers of him, he'd told her she was useless, going nowhere. The night before she left for Konoha and never spoke to him again.

"I'm your father," rebukes Kizashi Haruno, his voice as cold, detached, and menacing as ever. All the more frightening, because she can tell he isn't drunk, and Kizashi Haruno has always been scariest when he is sober. "Did you think you could run away forever?"

"You have no reason, _no reason,_ to call me," Sakura whispers into the phone, terrified Sasuke will hear this, terrified he will hate her for this weakness, because _why is she never strong when it counts?_ Why must he always be the strong one trying to save her? "None, you _bastard._ I want _nothing_ to do with you!"

"The same blatant disrespect that made you such a disappointment when you were younger," Kizashi hisses into the phone, and it sounds like he's enjoying himself. Sakura, against her will, remembers the anxiety and the anorexia and the double life she led in high school, and wonders how many cigarettes she will have to smoke to calm herself down. "It has been two years, young lady, that we've allowed you to run wild with no consequences. And to hear that you're living with a boy, now?"

"It's none of your business," Sakura chokes out, tears in her eyes. "Nothing I do is your business anymore. Don't call me again. Don't…don't _ever_ come near me. Never. I'm…"

"My daughter," Kizashi finishes abruptly. "And I don't care what delusional independence you're trying so hard to hold onto. Your first responsibility is to your family."

"Family?" Sakura echoes, and her voice is stronger now, strong in her anger. "I have a family, you fucking _asshole,_ and the best part about it is it doesn't _include_ you. If you need something to tell your rich fucking friends, tell them how I made it. Tell them how I made it _without you._ Tell them _what you did to me!_ And maybe then they'll stop _questioning_ the whereabouts of _Sakura Haruno!_"

There is silence on the other line, and Sakura thinks maybe she's won. Maybe for once, she's won against the father that was never a father, the obelisk of her nightmares, the reason she will never take the stage as a professional ballerina. Her hand flies to her weak knee, soothing a phantom pain, and she thinks maybe everything was worth it just to have this moment, this shining moment of _victory,_ when Kizashi speaks again.

"Your mother and I are in Konoha." His voice is oddly calm. Somewhat detached, like he didn't hear what she said. And Sakura's eyes widen, because _they're here._ "We looked up your address in the school directory. When you never replied to our letter, we were…_worried._"

Lies. Lies, every bit of it. Sakura knows the only reason they're reaching out to her is because their high society friends find it odd that she never came home.

And she _hates._

Then her father hands the phone to her mother, who tries a different approach, one Sakura isn't expecting.

"Sakura, sweetheart?"

Sweetheart?

Though she isn't fooled even for a second, there is still a little girl inside of Sakura, one who yearns for her mother's affection. One who reminds her that sometimes, things weren't always so terrible. Mebuki was kind to her on occasion, when liquor was in good supply and the weather was nice and Sakura didn't look so fat. She remembers a smile here and there, stolen moments of maternal affection she used to cling to when Daddy hit her and Mommy looked the other way.

She remembers, and she hates herself, because part of her _thrills_ at Mebuki calling her sweetheart. 19 and she's still so _clueless._

"M-Mom," she manages, hoping she sounds strong, omnipotent, but all she hears is a pathetic little girl wanting Mommy to come to her dance recital.

"We're worried about you, darling," Mebuki coos into the phone. It's a direct contradiction to the letter she'd sent, insulting and almost threatening and so so so disappointed, because that's all Sakura's ever been to her parents. But her voice is saccharine and affectionate and if Sakura closes her eyes and pictures another woman saying these words to her, they sound sincere.

And has she come all this way to trip at the finish line? To sacrifice _years_ of emotional fortitude all for a scrap of insincere parenting that _anyone else_ could see right through?

"We haven't heard from you. Haven't seen you. Know nothing about this boy you're living with. And we came all this way. Your father took off work. Sakura I know things haven't always been…easy for us. We weren't the best parents in the world. But come to dinner with us, at least. Let us see what…what you've become without us."

"What's your angle, Mom?" Sakura whispers, because it sounds too good to be true. Mommy and Daddy, realizing their wrongs, apologizing for them, wanting to make things right. And she hates herself because she _loves them still._ Loves them. "Seriously. Why now? Just…just make up a lie for your friends! Tell them I'm…I'm traveling the world or something. Tell them whatever makes me sound least disappointing. You don't need to…pretend to try and fix things. It's too late for that."

As she says the words, she realizes, to her total _disgust,_ that she half-hopes it isn't.

"Just dinner," Mebuki replies. Sakura can't read the emotions in her mother's voice, and knowsknowsknows she's trying hard to glean something like love out of the terse syllables, but can't stop herself anyway. "You can bring the boy if you want. Just dinner."

Just dinner.

* * *

Sasuke hears Sakura's inner struggle, and he doesn't really know why he's not angrier than he is.

He knows she's going to agree to dinner. He knows she's going to see her parents. Her evil, evil parents who never loved her the right way, if they loved her at all, who never treated her right.

But he can't blame her, because if he had the chance to see his parents again, damn it he would take it.

She's not going alone, of course. Whether or not she wants him to come along, he'll be there, because he won't hear of her spending one _moment_ with the man who hurt her with his fists and the woman who made her into such an insecure, frightened little thing who had no real reason to hate herself. It's unsettling enough that they know where Sakura lives.

And the problems are just piling up. Whatever secret Sakura's been hiding from him, the situation with Dr. Orochimaru, and now _this?_ He thinks he's solved one of life's great mysteries in deciding his new major, only to have all these other…_complications_ arrive to take its place. And will there ever be a time to let his guard down and enjoy what he's worked so hard for?

When he hears the phone hang up and her shuddering sob, he pushes open the bedroom door all the way, and he sits down on the bed with her, and he says nothing.

"I know it's stupid of me, Sasuke," Sakura whispers, not meeting his eyes, because she's trying to hold herself together. "I know that. Please don't hate me for it."

Silly girl. Nothing could ever make him hate you.

"You have to think I'm…I'm pathetic for this. I do, too, you know. Think I'm pathetic. I know who they are, I even know what they want from me, and it isn't…it isn't anything good. It's all about appearances, you know? Their friends don't know why I never…you know. Went back. Why I never would. This is just…I don't know Sasuke but please, you can't hate me more than I hate myself for still _loving them._"

Without a word, he wraps an arm around her shoulders and lets her lean on him.

She doesn't cry. He thinks it's odd, but maybe she's stretched herself too thin today. It's been a very, very, very long and difficult day, and maybe she's just out of tears.

He ran out a decade ago.

"What time?" he asks a few minutes later.

"What time is what?"

"Dinner."

"You…want to come? Sasuke you don't have to, it's probably going to be awful. I don't…think I want you to see them. Or them to see you."

"What time."

"My dad _specializes_ in hurting people! Don't you get it? If he thinks I'm happy, if he thinks I'm happy with _you,_ he's going to say terrible things to you. He's going to…"

"Sakura."

She looks up at him with shiny green eyes, confused and concerned, and Sasuke realizes that she wants to protect him as much as he wants to protect her. His heart swells, but now is not the time to worry about sparing his feelings. She should be more worried that Sasuke won't lunge across the dinner table and slam her father's face into a window while her bitch mother watches.

"What time?" he repeats, and he won't ask her again, and she knows it.

"S-Seven. At…Fratelli's."

"Aa."

He's going. His tone brooks no argument, and Sakura doesn't make one. He knows she needs him there, and she knows it, too.

"But…Sasuke…whatever they say about me…_you_ know the way I am. You know who I am. Who I am now, anyway. Can you…promise me you won't…I mean…"

She looks frustrated wth her inability to articulate what she's thinking, and looks up at him with worry in her eyes.

"It won't change the way you think of me, will it?" Sakura murmurs. "What they say about me. It won't change the way _you_ think of me?"

The way she says it tells him that his opinion matters. Maybe more than anyone's, which equalizes them a little, because Sasuke _really_ couldn't care less what anyone else thinks about him if he has Sakura's approval. Seeing this, how desperate she is to have him think highly of her, has him leaning in and kissing her because there _are no words_ that can fit this moment.

They are so _fucked up._ Both of them. Unbelievably so.

This meeting with her parents isn't going to go well. It might end with Sasuke getting arrested even. An odd start to his chosen career, but he's never been all that good at controlling his temper. And she's not in the right state of mind and neither is he, and she's clinging to a childish dream of working-things-out with her parents that he should be trying to talk her out of, but how can he? When all he really wants is a chance to see the family-he-still-loves even if they ruined his life to an extent?

Sakura has that chance. Even if he hates it (and he does) and even if he doesn't want it to happen (and he doesn't) and even if he'll be left with piecing the shards of the girl they're going to break back together (and he will), he would never take that chance away from her.

All he can do is stand with her through the fallout, and trust that they'll make it out together.

Neither one of them ever sleeps that night. Kisses evolve and soon it's finding release, connecting with each other physically because words have _always_ failed them, but how can they doubt each other when he's inside her and she's under his skin and there's magic and music and sweat and _connection?_ It's a horrible habit, this sex-under-fire, and one they always resort to, and it's so _fucking_ wrong.

But Sasuke has never pretended to love Sakura the right way.

* * *

Sakura isn't proud of it, but she barely focuses on her classes the next morning. And how can she? When her life is seconds from unravelling and all she can do is fucking welcome it?

She's going to see her parents again. They're going to meet Sasuke. Her past and her present are going to collide at seven PM, and she's never even thought about how to handle such a situation because, until last night, she never thought something like this would happen.

But it IS happening, and she has no one to blame for it but herself.

The smart thing to do would be to tell her parents to fuck off, call the police, get a restraining order. That's the smart thing.

But Sakura is ruled by her heart. It's her best personality trait and her worst flaw. It's what landed her Sasuke Uchiha in the first place, it's what broke Kiba Inuzuka's heart. It's what has her showing mercy, hope, even _optimism_ at this terrifying night. The little girl inside her who wants to believe that everyone has a loving mommy and a doting daddy is making herself known, and Sakura knows it will lead to disaster, but she has a chance, right? Maybe her parents have changed.

In two years, she certainly has.

Except of course, in all the ways that matter. There's smoke on her breath and she hasn't eaten since yesterday.

Oxo

Sasuke watches Sakura get ready. She's more meticulous than ever, and he can tell she's trying too hard but doesn't want to come off that way.

He sits on the bed pretending to look over his new school schedule (thanks Professor Kakashi) but really he watches as she fusses over her appearance. She dresses carefully, trying not to look overdressed or overly casual, cussing under her breath as she rummages through the closet and discards everything she finds.

Eventually she decides on a slimming black dress, with black tights and a gray sweater and ankle-high boots. She looks like an adult, he decides, and thinks that that's what she's going for. Her makeup is perfect, darker than usual because it's nighttime, and when he sees her curling her hair, he stands off the bed and stops her.

"Put it up," he tells her firmly.

"Up?" she questions, and looks at herself in the mirror, and he can tell she's dissatisfied with the drop-dead-gorgeous creature staring back at her. It confounds him that someone so beautiful can have such a dysmorphic view of themselves, but there's a reason for this. Quietly, he gathers her half-finished hair into his hand, pulls it up off her neck, and his other hand travels to the pale pink scar on her throat.

Understanding dawns in her green eyes where they meet his in the mirror.

"Show them how you've changed," he tells her quietly, "but let them see what they did to you first."

Sakura says nothing in response, doesn't even nod. But she pulls her hair into a sleek ponytail in answer, her bangs sweeping across her forehead, the scar on prominent display. She sprays herself with perfume, touches up her lip gloss, wraps a scarf around her neck that makes her look sophisticated even if it's 80 degrees outside.

Then she turns to him and her little hand doesn't tremble when she grabs his. She kisses him on the corner of his mouth and he's almost destroyed at how much fucking _love_ she concentrates into it, and there's strength inside her as she walks into this trap, strength he admires and envies. And he loves her more than ever for this mistake she's making.

"Ready?" she asks him quietly.

No. God, no. I'll kill your father, Sakura, don't you get it?

"Yeah. Let's go."

* * *

**note..** first i want to say thank you. in my infinite self-centeredness, i get hung up on the people who favorite and alert my stories without reviewing, and it occurs to me now that i don't ever express my real appreciation for you beautiful people who review every single thing i write, regardless of how much it sucks a giant monkey dick. this story (and horizon, naturally) mean a lot to me because of how personal they are, and i am so fucking grateful to everyone who supports this story; in an abstract way, i feel better about my old circumstances because of how well-received this whole universe is. so thank you all so, so much. and i'm sorry i allow my frustration with silent lurkers to overshadow my appreciation for the people who support me the way you all have.

big ups to golden doe for picking up on the orochimaru/slughorn connection i was aiming for :)

and if you're confused by sakura's quick emotional turn-around, don't be. we do stupid fucking things for the people we love, even if they don't deserve our love. and sakura's stronger than yesterday (not unlike britney spears), but part of her never stopped wanting her parents' approval and love. she knows it's dumb. so do you and so do i. but that's life, ain't it? YEAHBUDDY.

thank you guys very much for tolerating me.

xoxo daiseeeee :)


	10. Confront

They arrive early. They leave Sasuke's car at home and walk to Fratelli's, and they do so in uncharacteristic silence.

He can tell she's trying to be brave. And she looks the part, standing straight, shoulders back, eyes forward. But her hand in his is cold and clammy for her confident strut, and when he looks at her out of the corner of his eye, he can see her jaw clenched so tight it looks almost painful.

"We don't have to do this," he says without really meaning it, because he knows that yes, they do.

"I know," she replies stiffly.

He sighs. "Relax, Sakura." _I won't let anything happen to you_ goes unsaid, but Sakura's always been very, very good at hearing the things he doesn't say.

She squeezes his hand a little bit and they head inside.

It's an unlikely scene for this dramatic reunion. Warm Italian décor, the walls painted in corals and peaches, music playing lightly in the background. The indiscernible chatter of families and lovers and friends out to eat on a weekday, the intoxicating scent of pasta and vinaigrette, the precise arrangement of tables and booths. The hostess greets them with a warm smile and escorts them to a table in the back of the restaurant.

Sasuke doesn't know what Sakura's parents look like. She doesn't keep any pictures of them in the apartment and he never saw any in her dorm festooning the walls like the ones she had of all her friends. He imagines them in his head, though; a fiercely beautiful woman who looks like Sakura, with rosy hair and pretty eyes, the kind of unforgiving beauty that Sakura always looked to as an impossible standard, while being thoroughly unaware that she'd reached and eclipsed that level of gorgeousness years ago.

Her father, he's always pictured to be an enormous, overly muscular, frightening man with angry eyes and a quick fist. This, from the way Sakura's described him in the few brief snippets she's felt open enough to tell him. So these are the people he looks for.

"Ah, Sakura."

When Sakura stiffens beside him, though, and they both look up from their table to see the newcomers, they are not the people he finds.

Interesting, how far off you can be in your perception of things. That's the one thought that overrides his anger at seeing the people who made Sakura so incomprehensibly self-conscious her whole life, how wrong his prediction about them was.

Her mother Mebuki is very tall, very thin and bony, with a severe expression on a face full of severe features. She isn't old, but her features are stretched and worn. Premature wrinkles, likely from years and years of binge drinking, carve deep lines into her sallow-looking skin. White-blonde hair is pulled back in a sleek hairstyle and her clothes look expensive, but overall, she is a rather sharp-featured, homely woman who doesn't match up to Sasuke's estimation of her in the slightest.

Vaguely, he wonders how such an unattractive person could have demanded such rigorous beauty from anyone else, but he keeps his mouth shut. That's got to be his goal for tonight; keep his mouth shut and his fists to his sides.

The man next to Mebuki is Sakura's father, Kizashi, and to Sasuke's surprise, he is not as huge and terrifying as he's been led to believe. In fact, when Sasuke stands with Sakura to greet them properly, he sees that the man is several inches shorter than he is. More round than physically imposing, his graying hair in thick clusters around his face, he doesn't think the man is intimidating whatsoever.

Then again, he glances down at Sakura standing rigid next to him, who is only ever tall in high heels and who's a hundred pounds soaking wet, and sees how she might disagree.

"Mom," she says, her voice brittle. "Dad."

It's one of the most awkward situations Sasuke has ever been in. Four people regard each other in a crowded restaurant. It's nothing like the heart-warming parent-child reunions one might expect after such a long separation. It's almost grotesque in its uncomfortability, and his hand slides inconspicuously around Sakura's, just in case she needs to run and he needs to follow.

"This is my boyfriend, Sasuke," Sakura introduces. She doesn't give his last name, doesn't seem to need to, because they all know her parents have researched them ahead of time.

"Pleased to meet you, son," says Kizashi, his tone expectedly warm as he extends a meaty hand to Sasuke, who regards it with open mistrust. All the same, he shakes her father's hand but doesn't bother returning the sentiment; they all know it'd be a lie if he did.

Mebuki's reaction to him, though, is far more telling. There's a sharp, narrow-eyed dislike in her hawkish face as she too offers a hand to Sasuke. Her fingers are bony and almost gnarled, and he makes a mental note to cut back on his own drinking, if this is the end result.

"Mr. Uchiha," she says coolly, confirming that she's more than aware of who he is.

The fact that the Harunos might be aware of the Uchihas is a thought that never occurred to Sasuke before now, but maybe he should have taken that into account, because the Uchihas are relatively infamous, at least in and around Konoha. But Sakura didn't grow up around here, so he doubted that his family name and reputation would have reached the Harunos all the way in Suna.

He doubted his own dark family history was going to endear him to Sakura's parents, but was he really out to impress them?

_Let them judge me,_ he thought carelessly, for once not remotely baited by someone having an unsavory opinion of his precious family. _I take care of their daughter in a way they never could, or bothered to._

"You look lovely," Mebuki says to Sakura, her amber eyes sweeping critically over her carefully-chosen outfit, inexpensive but stylish. "A bit curvier than you were when you left, though."

Sakura's figure, to anyone with one iota of sense, is perfect. She's thin and toned, curvy where it matters and the envy of every girl on campus. But she takes it like an insult, like a slap across the face, and he can tell by the way she bites her lip that Mebuki's comment has hurt her.

"Let's sit," Kizashi says with a hard smile. "I'm starving!"

Sasuke wills his muscles to relax enough to take his seat again. He opens the menu but doesn't read it; he's never been less hungry, and when the waiter comes by, he orders a cup of coffee just for something to grab that isn't Kizashi's throat.

* * *

"Why haven't you called, Sakura?" her father asks after a few minutes of uncomfortable silence. When he says her name, Sasuke doesn't miss the way her shoulders tense up, like she's preparing for something but isn't sure what it is or when it will happen. "Two years. Not even a phone call."

Sakura's hand rises compulsively to the scar on her neck, nearly a nervous tic at this point, and she keeps her eyes down as she mumbles, "You know why."

"Speak up, young lady." Kizashi's voice is stern this time, bordering on threatening, and Sasuke's muscles flex in anger. "We didn't raise you to mumble."

"You. Know. Why."

"We kept your room for you," Mebuki chimes in, keeping her gaze on her daughter from over her glass of wine. "You left almost everything at the house. We thought you'd at least come back for your things."

"I took everything I needed with me," Sakura replies quietly. "Everything else, you can throw out. I thought you would have by now."

"You didn't even tell us where you were going to college," Kizashi says with a frown. "Why on earth…"

"I did tell you," Sakura says, and venom coats her words and Sasuke almost doesn't recognize her. The meekness is gone, replaced with something that looks bitter but might be closer to pissed. "The day I got my acceptance letter. I told both of you I got into Konoha. It isn't my fault you weren't listening."

"It was our understanding," Mebuki says coolly, "that you were to attend Suna College, on a dance scholarship."

Sakura lets out a humorless laugh, leans back in her chair and folds her arms, her hand sliding from Sasuke's. "I lost that scholarship. Didn't I, Daddy?"

Kizashi looks remarkably unruffled as he drains the last of his beer and signals to the waiter for another one. "Not my fault you weren't paying attention at the top of the stairs," he says.

"Oh is that what you're telling people?" Sakura sneers. "Not that you pushed me down, jacked my knee, and ended any dreams I had of going pro with my ballet?"

Sasuke's temper is almost boiling at this point, but he's also morbidly glad for this experience. It's bringing Sakura out of her shell, forcing her to confront her insecurities, and she's doing marvelously. She's not tripping over her words, she's not letting them get away with the things they're saying. She's sarcastic and sure, and her backbone is made of diamond and he's never been prouder of her.

"There's no sense in rehashing the past," Mebuki says dismissively. "I want to hear more about your life now. What are you majoring in? How are your grades?"

"Premed," Sakura grinds out. "And I've had a 4.0 since _middle school._ Which you both might've noticed if either one of you ever looked at my report cards."

"Such animosity!" Mrs. Haruno looks scandalized. "Towards your own parents, even. We came all this way to see you, Sakura. Is this how you show your appreciation?"

"Why are you really here?" Sakura demands. The atmosphere is charged, and Sasuke's hand slides to her nylon-covered knee in warning. They are attracting attention now from the other patrons, but that's the least of his worries. "Seriously. I moved on. I don't want to go back anymore. I don't want any part of that. You both know what you did to me. For _years_. I won't go back to that. I have a new life now, and it's good. I'm happy. Isn't that enough?"

"How happy can you be without your parents in your life?" Mebuki tries again, but Sasuke isn't buying, and he hopes Sakura isn't either. There's some ulterior motive here, he's sure of it, but he can't pinpoint it for certain. Before now, the Harunos made no attempt to find their daughter, and prior to that, according to Sakura, they showed no interest in her life at all, to the point of not even knowing where she went off to college. Reaching out to her now makes no sense.

"When were you two ever _parents_ to me?" Sakura snaps. "You're _unbelievable._ What do you _want_."

"To get to know you now!" Mebuki exclaims. "We haven't seen you in years, Sakura. Is it so wrong for parents to want to see their only child? Mistakes have been made in the past. By all of us. But we're willing to look past all that!"

That sounds like bullshit to Sasuke. He realizes he's there as an outsider, that he knows very little of what the Harunos are arguing about besides what Sakura's managed to tell him, but what Sakura needs more than anything else is a sincere apology from her mother and father. They're not taking responsibility for what they did, for the hand they had in her rough childhood. Instead, they're saying 'Mistakes were made,' and it sounds contrived, insincere, and disingenuous. He's not buying anything they're selling.

His coffee goes untouched.

When Sakura doesn't respond, Mebuki turns to face him. Her disapproving glare instantly prickles on his nerves, and he can imagine how Sakura must've felt her whole life with those beady eyes looking down on her. But if she aims to bully _him,_ she's about to be sorely disappointed.

"Sasuke."

"Hn," he responds, a bit mockingly.

"If I'm not mistaken…your parents were Fugaku and Mikoto Uchiha. Of the Uchiha Group."

"Aa."

At the mention of his parents, though, Sasuke pictures a different scenario. Pictures what it would have been like in a different time and place; if he'd met Sakura, and they'd hit it off, and there was no tragic backstory for either of them, just two sets of happy, loving, _living_ parents. He pictures how the meet-and-greet dinner would have gone then, and comes up empty.

What If is a game he can't be bothered to play anymore, because it's _useless._ There's only reality, and those courageous enough to live inside it.

"Their story is quite notorious," Mebuki continues, while Kizashi smirks up at him, and Sakura's tense as a coil beside him for reasons he can't fathom. "You can understand my reservations, in allowing a son of the Uchiha Group around our daughter."

Sakura's jaw _drops,_ but Sasuke is more than used to the scorn of others, and none of this bothers him as much as it ought to. Instead, he smirks, relaxing somewhat, and retorts, "I didn't think you had any viable opinion anymore when it came to Sakura."

Kizashi takes Sasuke's smartass comment as a personal attack, which is good, because that's exactly how Sasuke designed it. "You'd be surprised at the level of control I have over my daughter, boy," he growls out. "She's always been a proud, willful, rebellious girl, but with the right _motivation,_ I'm certain I could…"

"Not now, dear," Mebuki says coolly, stopping her husband from continuing the rant that would have spelled his death at Sasuke's furious hands.

_He's got no control over Sakura,_ he thinks, irate. _Nobody does._

"We're not getting anywhere with this, so I'll cut to the chase. Sakura, your father and I want you to come home to Suna. Transfer to the college there. Leave this behind."

"You're kidding," Sakura laughs, while Sasuke's blood freezes.

"We're not," Kizashi insists. "You'd get a decent education. Our friends have been asking about you, you know. It's strange when a daughter won't visit her loving family. They're starting to ask questions."

"Whatsamatter, _Daddy?_" Sakura sneers. "Are their questions making you _uncomfortable?_ Hope you're not answering them honestly…you could go to jail if anybody found out about the things you did to me."

"Whatever lies you've told those around you," he snaps, "I'm not interested in examining. You'll have to confront your compulsive lying sooner or later."

"We don't approve of the company you've been keeping," Mebuki says with ice in her eyes as she glares at Sasuke, like a dangerous insect. "Running away from home in secret, never calling, never coming to visit…"

"…shacking up with an _Uchiha,_" Kizashi chimes in cruelly, and Sasuke's teeth clench in anger.

Sakura stands up suddenly, her chair screeching on the floor behind her, and Sasuke doesn't think she's ever looked this beautiful before, or this furious.

"That's not all I've done!" she says almost triumphantly. "I have an internship. I have friends, so many friends, so many _good, wonderful_ friends who love me. I have a boyfriend and I love him and he _takes care of me,_ something _neither of you_ would know anything about. And if you think for one second I'm gonna sit here and let you talk down to him or his family like you have _any right,_ you're outside your fucking minds."

Kizashi's on his feet, then, too, and so is Sasuke, without having to think about it. He towers over his daughter, whose moment of bravery is eclipsed by fear at phantom memories too horrible for Sasuke to imagine, and snarls, "I am your _father,_ you little _bitch._ And you'll watch your mouth around me if you don't want to get smacked."

"Sit down, all of you!" Mebuki hisses, but Sasuke thinks that on no planet in this galaxy is he going to stand by and let someone talk to Sakura like that. He ignores her, inserts himself between father and daughter with his fists clenched, ready to go.

Sasuke hasn't gotten into a fistfight lately, but this seems like an opportunity too good to pass up.

"People are _staring,_" Mebuki snarls, like it's the worst thing in the world, worse than a grown man threatening an innocent girl right in front of her. "Just _like_ an Uchiha. The whole lot of them, ruled by pride and arrogance…quick to violence, and…"

"_Shut up about Sasuke's family!_" Sakura almost screams, and Sasuke has to physically hold her back from charging at her mother. He's shocked. She's shown none of this aggression on her own behalf, nothing besides barbed sarcasm and vicious glares, but the second her parents start attacking Sasuke and his family, she comes out, teeth bared, claws sharp. He blocks her from moving closer to the table with his body, but she's small and quick and surprisingly strong, and it's harder than it looks. "You know _nothing_ about it, you _asshole!_"

What happens next happens very, very quickly.

The expression on Kizashi's face changes from anger to violent _fury._ He growls like an animal and his hands drop to his belt, and his intent is clear. It's the signal Sasuke's been patiently waiting for, the excuse he needs to knock him on his ass and impress upon him every possible interpretation of _getting your fucking ass beat_ when…

"Excuse me!" a fifth voice interjects, and they all look around to see the restaurant manager, looking scandalized. "I'm going to have to ask you all to leave. You are disturbing our other patrons."

"With pleasure!" Sakura snaps, seizing Sasuke's arm. She rounds on her parents, on a stunned Mebuki and a furious Kizashi, and chokes out, "Answer's no. I should never have come here, and you should never come near me again. Ever. You can tell your fucking friends back home whatever the hell you want. I'm never going back there. Stay away from me. Both of you. Fucking psychopaths. Come on, Sasuke!"

She tugs him out of the restaurant, away from the prying eyes of the other customers, the disapproving glare of the owner, the scandalized stare of her parents. She moves quickly, the clack of her heels sharp on the sidewalk outside, and they only turn around when it's clear her parents are following them.

"This isn't over, you ungrateful bitch!" Kizashi roars into the quiet night. "After all we've done for you, you think I'm gonna let you disrespect me like this? Get your little ass back here, Sakura!"

Sasuke's oddly calm as it's happening. Sort of detached from the situation, as what he must do becomes painfully, inescapably obvious. He whirls around, grabs Sakura's arm, and yanks her behind him, and his instructions are cold and clear.

"Get out of here," he orders her. "I'll take care of this right now."

"No, Sasuke!" she exclaims, her little hands closing around his bicep as she tries to pull him along. "There's no point, let's just go!"

"This is the thanks we get, huh?" Kizashi yells, drawing closer. "For raising you, for feeding you, for putting clothes on your ungrateful back, for putting a roof over your head…you're an _embarrassment_ to the Haruno family, always have been, always will be!"

"THEN WHY ARE YOU HERE?" Sakura screams, her voice piercing through the quiet. "IF I'M SUCH AN EMBARRASSMENT?! I've done more in two years than either one of _you_ have done in your worthless lives! You're shit parents, you almost ruined my life and like _hell_ am I gonna let you do it again! I'm not going back to Suna! Nothing you say will change my mind about it, so get the hell out of here!"

"Sakura be reasonable!" Mebuki hisses. "Such _dramatics,_ just like when you were younger. Always twisting the truth, always bending it to make yourself look like a victim…"

"Yeah, like the one about her being raped?" Kizashi barks out a laugh. "That was a good one! Attention whore or just a regular whore, I don't know which is worse!"

This is news to Sasuke. She _told_ her parents she was raped? She hadn't mentioned that to him…as far as he was concerned, only a handful of people in the world knew about it. But it seems that she'd told her parents, and neither one had believed her.

He hates them all over again, for doubting her when she needed their support, and turns back to Kizashi grimly set on smashing his face in.

But Sakura has had enough.

"Let's just go home!" she begs him. "Please, Sasuke, I just wanna go home!"

He moves because he loves her. More than anything, he wants to pound Kizashi Haruno into a bloody smear on the sidewalk outside Fratelli's, but he loves Sakura, and Sakura wants to go home because Sakura's about to have an emotional breakdown. So he walks away, his arm around her waist, their steps brisk on the pavement, and Kizashi's enraged shouts behind them.

"THIS ISN'T OVER HERE, SAKURA! YA HEAR ME?! _THIS ISN'T OVER!_"

Bitterly, Sasuke hopes he's right. If nothing else comes of this disastrous evening, he wants another opportunity to beat Kizashi Haruno to _death._

* * *

They barely make it back to the apartment before Sakura's hands are in Sasuke's hair, her legs around his waist, her teeth scraping lightly against his throat, and all of it soaked in tears of catharsis.

He understands this much, at least. That she's purging herself of this night and years of the same thing, that she's losing herself to her connection with him to try and forget about the connections she's broken tonight. And he meets her kiss for kiss, swallows her scream of frustration and isn't gentle with her at all, because that's not what she needs from him right now.

"I fucking love you," she gasps, when he slams her up against their bedroom door, yanks her dress up. "You're the best goddamned thing that ever happened to me, Sasuke, God!"

"I could say the same thing," he growls against the creamy column of her neck. He throws her unceremoniously on the bed, slides on top of her, but not a second later, she's reversed their positions, straddles his waist and the look in her eyes is raw and primal and vulnerable, but there's strength there as well. A strength that he doesn't think he's ever seen in her before, even at her strongest, and maybe this night wasn't a total loss.

Maybe, in a tragic way, Sakura got _exactly_ what she needed.

Just the polar opposite of what she wanted.

Then there's no more talking. He knows she'll talk tomorrow and he knows he'll listen, because communication is important in a relationship.

But the thing about Sasuke and Sakura is that they communicate best with their actions. So they lose themselves to a familiar song and dance, to sex under pressure, to connection of the most primitive order, to a bond that's weathered storm after storm after hurricane after hurricane, and she tastes like freedom and a new start.

Nothing to hold her back anymore.

And knowing that things are far from over, he wonders if this new attitude in her will last. If the strength in her eyes will sustain, and she'll move up and move on the way she deserves to.

She arches her back and his fingers slide to the kanji hidden in the floral tattoo winding up her side, and he finds himself hoping that it does.

* * *

**note..** hey! if this one looks a bit different, it's because i wanted to present the whole family confrontation from an outsider's perspective, so it's entirely from sasuke's point of view instead of how i usually alternate between the two. and no, it's not the last you'll hear about the harunos.

thank you guys so much for all the reviews. they mean a lot to me, they really keep me inspired and wanting to write more shit more frequently. :)

love you. how'd i do?

daisy.


	11. Reflect

There's no time to discuss what happened the night before, because Sakura has classes and now Sasuke does, too. She's up and showered and dressed and gone before he even wakes up, but not before she leaves a kiss on his forehead full of all the love she can muster.

She sits through lecture after lecture in a daze. She avoids the professors' eyes because she's not in the mood to answer questions or work with her classmates or do anything but take robotic notes and try and make sense of what happened.

Dinner. Parents. Confrontation. Sasuke.

_How could I have pulled him into that?_ she thinks, furious with herself. _Knowing my parents the way I do, how could I have let Sasuke come?_

Deep down, she knows there's no way she really could have stopped him. Sasuke's infuriatingly protective of her, and the odds of him allowing her to see the people who abused her for so many years without him are slim to none. She both loves and hates that about him, his quiet, unshakable devotion.

But exposing him to all of that _shit_ makes her miserable. To hear the way they'd slandered his family name, to see the judgment in her mother's eyes, the smug condemnation in her father's…

Sakura had experienced a rage so great, she hadn't thought twice about confronting the both of them. She thought she would never summon the courage or strength to challenge her parents on anything, until they'd redirected their hate onto Sasuke.

Maybe she understands, to some extent, why he was so protective of her.

A smirk lifts her lips as she realizes she is just as protective of him.

* * *

"Whoa, man." Naruto looks up from his cup of instant ramen, noodles spilling out of his mouth, surprised at the news Sasuke's delivered. "You met her _parents_ last night? I thought she never talked to them anymore."

"They looked us up," Sasuke mumbles into his coffee. He's exhausted. All of that drama last night, a long night of heated sex and an even longer day of classes, and he's running on empty. "Sakura…she wanted to go. I get it."

"How was it?" Naruto asks. "Is her mom hot?"

Sasuke glares, because that's not the question he should be asking. Naruto rephrases.

"Is Sakura okay?"

Better. He sighs deeply and replies, "I don't know. She was gone when I woke up this morning."

"She's a tough girl," Naruto sayas bracingly. "Don't worry about her."

As if Sasuke has any choice. The girl, _his_ girl, will always be a source of concern for him, regardless of whether or not his worry is warranted. And even if she didn't tell him in so many words, last night had to have been an _ordeal._

"Was it…really bad?"

"Aa."

"They…didn't like you?" Naruto presses.

Sasuke smirks. "They hated me."

"You don't look too upset about it."

"Why should I be. I'm an Uchiha. What mother wants her daughter messing around with an Uchiha."

"So why was it bad, then? If you don't even care what they thought about you?"

"They want Sakura to move back to Suna with them."

Naruto stands up, blue eyes bright with anger, and he seems to forget they're sitting in a crowded university café as he shouts, "LIKE HELL IS SHE MOVIN BACK THERE!"

"Keep your voice down, idiot," Sasuke snaps, glancing back and forth to make sure no one's listening. The last thing he needs is someone reporting back to Sakura that he's already talking about last night. Damn girl has too many friends. "She said no."

"Of course she did," Naruto says firmly, taking a seat again at his stool and resuming his ramen consumption like there had been no interruption. "She's got all of us here to keep her around, no way is she going back home. But I always thought her parents hated her. If they hate her so much, why do they want her to come live with them again?"

"Hn. Appearances."

"What do you mean, appearances?"

Sasuke sighs. "You don't know what it's like. Being raised in a place like that. Like my house growing up."

He knows what it's like. Living in a home where appearance was everything; where as long as the outside was shiny and pretty and all anyone ever saw was sunshine and roses, it didn't matter what dark, ugly, decaying, festering carcass actually lived inside. He understands the Harunos pretty well, since family tragedy and fortune aside, they're not all that different.

They don't want Sakura home because they miss her. Or love her. Or even actually want her there.

They want her home because people are starting to ask questions. It doesn't look good when a child won't visit her parents. It doesn't look good when the child never calls. It doesn't look good when a child hooks up with the only heir to a family name soaked in tragedy and scandal.

It _really_ doesn't look good when the child doesn't tell her parents where she's moving, leaves no forwarding address and takes great measures to leave everything and everyone from her past life behind.

The idea makes him sick. This moral disconnect between what's true and what's pretty. The dedication of so many people to preserving a lie, just because it looks better.

He and Naruto are quiet for a moment. His coffee is going cold but he likes it that way, a little cold and bitter, just like him. It tastes better that way, he thinks, draining the rest of his mug in one gulp, and it goes down smooth.

"There's a party in Neji's suite," Naruto says. "Thirsty Thursday. Spend some alone time with Sakura, cheer her up. Then come by, and let us cheer you _both_ up."

Sometimes, Sasuke forgets that he's still 20 years old. That he's still just a kid. That he's still in college.

Sometimes, it's good to remember.

"Aa."

"Good."

* * *

Sakura's sitting on their balcony when he comes back later that night, after his night class, hungry and tired. It's warm out but there's a comfortable breeze blowing, and she's sitting with her knees folded on the ground, her back against the red brick wall, her gaze dreamy and elsewhere and Sasuke wonders where she's at right now, because it isn't here.

Sakura travels the world sometimes, without leaving their apartment.

"Hey," he says quietly, to get her attention, almost hesitant to interrupt her.

She blinks like waking up from a dream, and turns to see him, and a sweet smile blooms on her face.

"Hey," she replies. Happy to see him, just like she always is, and the knowledge of this never fails to catch him off-guard.

He sits down beside her. It's uncomfortable, the brick hard and jarring against his back, and he wonders how long she's been out here, but he doesn't move. It really is a nice night, the sun finally setting over the tall Konoha buildings in the distance, the stars bright against the darkening sky.

"I'm really, really sorry, Sasuke."

Her voice is filled with all the contrition in the world. He looks at her and sees tears in her eyes, tears that were conspicuously absent last night, and frighteningly present today. She bites her lip and her hands tremble and he has no clue what she's sorry for. He almost never does.

"They were…they were so _horrible_ to you," she whispers, her voice choked with emotion that's teetering a little too close to hate for Sasuke's liking, because Sakura doesn't have it in her to hate anything except hot dogs and Styrofoam. "I've never…Sasuke, I'm so sorry for the things they said. It was…it was _awful._"

"Tch," he scoffs carelessly. "That's what you were worried about? Jesus, Sakura. You think I care what they think of me?"

"You…don't?"

"Stupid." But she's not stupid, she's just frustratingly naïve. And entirely too compassionate for her own good.

"I went for you, Sakura. Not because I was dying to impress them."

"Well yeah, but…the things they said about your family…and I know how much your family means to you, Sasuke, you can't tell me you weren't upset by what they said!"

"I wasn't," he says. Honestly, truly. If being with Sakura has taught him anything, it's that you should never strive for anyone's opinion except the people who really matter. And Mebuki and Kizashi Haruno mean nothing to him, so he doesn't care one iota what they think about the Uchiha family.

"But…but they used you as an excuse, Sasuke, don't you get it?"

He frowns and she continues.

"It was like…the final straw for them. They saw me being with you as the ultimate act of rebellion. Instead of what it is…being with you because I love you so much I can't stand it. They found out about you and that was their main motivation for coming here. Trying to get me to go back. I…I couldn't let them say those things. Not to you. Not about your family."

"My family's infamous," Sasuke mutters, and it's times like these, when Sakura's distressed and upset, that he wishes he were somebody else. Somebody better suited to comforting her. He's sullen and surly and he doesn't talk much, and when he does, what comes out is usually blunt truth, a detached observation, or the occasional dose of tough love. Still, he soldiers on because he has to learn this shit. "Almost everyone feels the same way your parents do about them. I expected their reaction."

"I didn't!" Sakura argues. "And I don't know _why_ but…I had this…_ridiculous_ idea that things were gonna work out last night. I don't know how they would have, I don't know what I was expecting, but…"

Sasuke understands. He understands because he knows what it's like, to be a helpless child wanting to cling to the belief that your parents are good. That even if things are hard sometimes, at the end of the day, you have a family who loves you and things will work themselves out.

Every child needs that, he thinks. But his parents were dead years ago, and Sakura's might as well be. They never had that growing up.

But they have it now, he thinks. They have it with their friends at Konoha, and they have it with each other. Family. Does she get it? Does she understand now, the way he does?

And Sakura opens her mouth and tells him everything he needs to hear.

"But…that's over now. I gave it a shot and it didn't work out and _whatever._ I have all my friends and Hana and I have _you_, and that's…you guys are the best thing about me." She smiles up at him, her fingers tracing his jaw absently and the slight, innocent touch sends shivers up his spine. "I'd never trade what I have now for anything. I'm just so, so sorry I was so stupid last night, thinking they would change. I'm sorry I pulled you into this."

He responds with a gentle kiss to her forehead. And she sighs, shedding herself of all the pain the previous night caused them both, and she leans her head on his shoulder. And they watch the sunset in silence.

* * *

Sometimes, Sakura reflects, as she laughs with Ino and Hinata and Tenten and Karin in the living room of Neji's apartment, a half-full red Solo cup of straight vodka in her hand, it's easy to forget she's 19. It's easy to forget she's a college student and should fucking act like it on occasion.

She's always so busy, and so is Sasuke, and they live together, instead of in separate dorms like they did freshman year. It's rare for students in a relationship to live in the same apartment; she and Sasuke, and Shikamaru and Ino, by extension, are exceptions to that rule. So it feels, sometimes, (and she won't admit how much she loves it) like she and Sasuke are married, and going to school is a job rather than a rite of passage. And since her best friend is also a young mother, and so many nights are spent changing diapers and fighting fevers and playing with blocks, it feels like she's all the way grown up.

But she isn't, and neither is Sasuke, and neither is Ino, and neither are any of them. So parties like this, where all of them are together and there's liquor and loud music and the euphoria of having the entire world right in front of you, remind her that her youth won't last forever and that she has to enjoy it while it does.

It's so crowded at Neji's place. All her closest friends are there, plus some of Neji's frathouse brothers and a lot of other people she doesn't know, and in the darkness it's hard to make out who's who. Even harder when she adds in the vodka component, and soon Sakura quite blissfully forgets all the stress of that week, and toasts to Thirsty Thursday with her girls.

She steps away from them to refill her cup in the kitchen, and then there's a cool arm around her waist, and she looks up to see Sasuke, obviously drunk and with a suggestive smirk on his face.

"Slow down," he advises her, gaze lingering on the cup in her hand before resettling on her eyes. "Or I'll be scraping you off the bathroom floor."

He's teasing her, and she _loves_ it, because lately, so much of their physical interaction has been a result of unsavory circumstances. She fucks him when her parents ruin her life. He fucks her when a crazed ex-teacher comes knocking on their door. They fuck each other when things are difficult.

But Sakura loves Sasuke best when he's teasing her.

"I could say the same thing to you," she slurs back, and she turns so they're facing each other and rolls her hips against his. His reaction is immediate and expected; his expression darkens, his lip curls, and he pushes her back against the countertop, leaning in close to whisper in her ear.

"You look fucking gorgeous," he growls out, and she glows. She has no doubts Sasuke finds her attractive, but she definitely enjoys the way alcohol loosens his tongue every now and then. His hands drop to the cotton-and-spandex material of the little coral dress she's wearing, and she's glad she opted for the tan-colored pumps because they elevate her enough to where she can press naughty kisses easily on Sasuke's neck, the way she's doing right now.

"When we get home," he murmurs, a dark, throaty promise edging his words, "I'm gonna fuck you so hard you won't be able to walk tomorrow."

Sakura smirks, turned on and amused all at once, and accepting his challenge.

"Who says we have to wait till then?" she asks him suggestively, pulling back from his neck to stare heatedly into his eyes. Alcohol kills off shy, proper Sakura, and lets badass, sex-on-a-stick Sakura come out in full force; drunk and in love with her life, she sees absolutely nothing wrong with having sex on Neji's pristine countertop.

Sasuke, fortunately, has some sense of decorum, even when he's as drunk as she is, smirks, and shakes his head.

"You're gonna be the death of me," he tells her. He takes her vodka away and knocks some back himself, and kisses her so there's vodka still on his lips and she can taste it, the bitterness and the heat, and her arms wind around his neck and and and…

"God, can't you guys pull yourselves away from each other for five _seconds?_" Ino moans from the doorway, and they jerk apart like scalding water was thrown between them. "Come on, we're doing shots!"

The moment is ruined, but the beautiful part about it is that Sakura knows exactly what will happen when she goes home that night. After she's through having a wonderful time with all her friends, she knows they'll pick up where they left off and the thought has her smiling as she follows Ino back into the living room, pulling Sasuke along behind her.

* * *

"All right, y'all!" Naruto's voice is loudest, as always, and Sasuke rolls his eyes as his best friend jumps up onto the couch, pointedly ignoring the way Neji glares at him. He raises a shot glass full of whiskey and shouts, "To the first fucking Thirsty Thursday of the school year!"

Sasuke sighs and smirks and takes his shot with everyone else. He glances over at Sakura, surrounded by her girlfriends, clearly bombed but having the time of her life. She's beaming, her hair messier than it was when they came thanks to their five-second makeout in the kitchen, her laugh fearless and unafraid. It feels good to see her so happy now, after such a stressful first week.

Then, almost by accident, he notices, through the darkness and the haze of alcohol that's making it hard to think straight tonight, Kiba standing off in the corner by himself. This is weird. Normally Kiba, like Naruto, and Sakura for that matter, is the life of the party, surrounded by people, cracking jokes and taking shots and laughing too loud.

Tonight, though, he's isolated, and instead of a cup in his hand, he's got a handle. He looks drunker than the rest of them, and Sasuke can't help but notice that he's staring right at Sakura.

She's oblivious to his attention, caught up now in a game of pong even though she absolutely sucks at it. She says something to Karin, her opponent, and they both laugh, but she never notices the hungry, angry, furious way Kiba's looking at her.

But Sasuke does.

His brows curl together in a deep frown, and he can't help but wonder why Kiba's staring like that.

_What the hell's going on there?_

* * *

__**note..** hi, bebes!

how'd i do?

xoxo daisy :) happy sunday!

PS: RIP twinkies. even though you're fucking gross and i hate you.


	12. Fissure

Weeks pass, and Sakura breathes easy.

She's made peace. Not with her parents themselves, but with the idea of them. That the happy family she wanted all her life is never gonna happen the way she hoped, that to wish for anything else would be foolish. That she should appreciate what she has now, in the present, how she can carry it into the future, and how to erase the cracks and fissures of the past because they _do not control her_ anymore.

So she lets go. It is not without a good deal of bitter regret, but Sasuke squeezes her hand, anchors her to what she's got now, and she realizes that she's found a family of her own. And then the bitterness melts away, and there's only relief, and _gratitude,_ because even if it took seventeen years, she's found her family and she loves them loves them loves them with everything in her heart.

The Harunos have not called. She suspects it will not be the last they hear of them, but for now, it's okay.

Everything is okay. Everything is _fine._ Sasuke's back in school, and classes are going well for both of them, and she loves her internship and she has time to spend with her friends and with little Hana, who is learning words now and getting so so big and things are going _well._

Except for one thing.

Kiba.

He's avoiding her, surely, and that's to be expected. And though she misses his friendship, she understands why he can't see her too much right now. But there's more to it than that.

He's avoiding everyone. All of their friends. He doesn't come to play with baby Hana anymore. Doesn't join the boys for pick-up basketball games at the gym, doesn't show up at their parties on the weekends. From what she hears of him, he's drinking pretty heavily, and he's back to sleeping with a lot of girls. And she's worried about him.

She makes a mistake one day, though. A sleepy Sunday when it's raining. She makes a big mistake when she tells her worries to Sasuke.

He's reading the newspaper that morning, with a bowl of cereal in front of him and a mug of coffee with cream but no sugar in it. He's the only person she knows that still reads the newspaper, the hard-copy version that gets delivered to their apartment building for free; his dark eyes examine the sports page as he lifts the mug to his lips.

Times like these, she loves him best. Feels so close to him. With his hair sleep-tousled and his left cheek flushed, since that's the side he sleeps on. She smiles a little lopsided at him and decides it's time to tell him what's on her mind. Kiba's Sasuke's friend, maybe he'll know how to help.

"Hey," she says quietly, and he lifts his gaze from the newsprint to her face, eyebrow raised in question. She sits down opposite him at their rickety little table, her own coffee steaming in the mug between her fingers. "I'm…I'm a little worried about something."

His expression hardens. "What."

"Not me," she replies quickly, watching the sudden tension in his muscles marginally loosen. "I'm fine. I'm worried about Kiba."

Sasuke's jaw clenches tightly at this, and she wonders why.

"Have you noticed he's been different lately?"

No response.

"Ino and I were talking about it the other day, she might've said something to Shikamaru about it but I figured I'd let you know, too, since you guys are friends…Sasuke he's in pretty bad shape. Doesn't go to class much anymore, he's partying hard almost every night…I'm worried something's gonna happen to him."

Sasuke takes another swig of coffee, sets his mug down with a hard clink on the balsa wood table. His face, once peaceful in the early Sunday morning light, is twisted in irritation.

"Why are you telling _me_ that."

"Because he's your friend!" Not for the first time, but certainly for the first time in awhile, Sakura's irritated with Sasuke. She doesn't like his reaction: curt dismissal of what she's trying to tell him. And she understands that with Kiba being her ex, sometimes it's a delicate subject, but first and foremost, Kiba is one of their friends, and he's in bad shape. Sasuke should put aside his discomfort the way she's doing, to help him. "He's _our_ friend. And he's not doing well…something's wrong, we need to help him. For a friend, Sasuke."

"And that's the _only_ reason, huh?"

It feels like a slap in the face, and also a confirmation as to why she's always avoided talking about Kiba to Sasuke. Exactly what she was always worried he might feel: threatened by Kiba, when in reality, Kiba was never even a serious competitor. Sasuke's letting his insecurity about his standing in Sakura's life cloud his judgment, and she resents it.

"Yes that's the _only_ reason," she snaps back, standing up abruptly. "And if you have something you want to say, then say it."

He throws her a glare that makes her even angrier, and then they have their first fight in a very long time.

* * *

She's talking about Kiba. Worried about Kiba. Asking him about Kiba.

Sasuke tries not to give into his temper, but after that party a few weeks ago, at Neji's? After seeing Kiba drunk and lost-looking, a voracious expression on his face as he stared at Sakura, oblivious to anyone else in the room? The last fucking thing in the world Sasuke wants to hear is his girlfriend fretting about fucking _Kiba._

But she's doing it. Fucking ruining his nice, calm, peaceful Sunday morning newspaper-reading ritual. Ruining the ambiance they have between them on these rare moments when it's just the two of them with nowhere to be right away. Ruining the picture she makes in one of his T-shirts and her underwear and nothing else, hair piled up on her head and an early morning flush in her cheeks.

And she gets mad. At _him._ For not being appropriately concerned about _Kiba._

"He's a grown ass man," Sasuke snaps, rising to his feet and aware that he's about to fight with Sakura. "His choices are his own. I ain't his fucking babysitter."

"No, but you're his _friend,_ aren't you?" she shouts, furious with him. He refuses to admit he finds her exceptionally attractive right now with all that feminine anger on her features, tamps it down underneath his rage that she's fighting with him about another guy. An _ex,_ at that. "You'd let _Naruto_ spiral out of control like this, is that what you're saying?"

"Why are you getting so worked up over him?" Sasuke demands finally. "Why, Sakura?"

Her eyes widen in fury. "You think…_Sasuke you fucking asshole…_do you seriously fucking think I'm…"

Her rage renders her incoherent, and she turns abruptly on her heel and storms into their bedroom. Sasuke follows right on her heels, because now that this fight has started, there's no stopping it.

"Kiba's my ex, Sasuke!" she screams. "_Emphasis on EX, since I'm with YOU and I love YOU and it's always been the case!_ But he's also my friend, and I told you about this so you'd help me help him! Not so you'd turn this into some pissing contest with someone you never even had to compete with anyway!"

She rips off his old T-shirt and rummages in her drawers for something to wear, oblivious to the fact that she's turning him on even more by parading around in her underwear, when all he wants to do is be angry with her. His indignation feels so justified in his head, but when he actually voices it aloud, confronts her with his insecurity, it sounds childish. Petty. Unnecessary.

He knows Sakura loves him. Only him. She's made that clear. She's been a wonderful girlfriend so far. Entirely loyal to him. He's got nothing to fear.

He knows all that, logically. So why does he still feel almost _intimidated_ by Kiba?

"You're such a fucking jerk sometimes, you know that?" Sakura hisses, shoving her legs into the tightest jeans he's ever seen. "You act like I've ever given you one reason to doubt me. I love _you._ I feel like I make it pretty fucking clear."

His anger makes him vulnerable, and the words are out before he can stop them.

"He was there for you when I wasn't."

Sakura stops dead in her dressing, the shirt she was about to slide over her head sliding to the bed. "What?" she snaps.

"When I was in Oto," Sasuke grinds out stiffly, looking away from her. "You…you needed me, and he was there for you."

"…and you're worried I might go back to him?" she asks softly.

"I'm not _worried,_" he snaps.

"Sasuke I don't hold the past against you anymore." Sakura's voice is irritated but laced with compassion, like she can't help but be gentle to him even when he doesn't deserve it. "Don't hold it against yourself."

"Don't downplay what I did, Sakura," he shoots back icily. "I know what I did. I knew then that there would be consequences…that I'd lose your trust. And he was there for you when I wasn't. Of course you went for him."

"Listen to me." She's right in front of him now, her bare torso pressed against his, and he looks down into her hurricane eyes because she matters. "That part of my life is over. That part of _your_ life is over. And if being with you taught me anything, it's that sometimes, you just have to let the past go. You learn from it, and you move on, and you let it influence your decisions but you don't let it make them for you."

She speaks with the wisdom of a thousand ages in a bra made of raspberry lace. She speaks with the entire rehabilitation of a girl who's been to hell and back and knows what the hell she's talking about.

"Stop _punishing_ yourself for what happened before," she orders him severely. "We both made really bad choices back then, but we're better people now because of it. You understand me? I'm with you because I _love_ you. And you're an amazing boyfriend even if you've got a terrible fucking attitude. You're _it_ for me. You're stuck with me. I won't apologize for that."

She's smirking now, and he relaxes and when she kisses him lightly on the lips, it feels like the period at the end of a sentence. Done. Finito. She's over their fight. So is he.

He was in the wrong this time.

"Sorry," he mutters stiffly, because 'sorry' is a word that doesn't always sit right with him.

"It's fine," she brushes it off dismissively. "But seriously. I don't think it's a good idea if I talk to him. He doesn't have much to say to me anymore and I think it's best that way. But would you…I don't know. Say something to him? That we're all worried about him? He might listen to you."

Sasuke sighs. When she looks at him with those eyes, he's powerless, and he thinks she's beginning to learn that.

"I'll see what I can do."

* * *

"I fought with Sasuke this morning," Sakura says to Ino on their jog that afternoon, after the rain's cleared up.

Ino has lost all the baby weight from when she had Hana, but now she complains that she needs to tone up again, so Sakura's been recruited to go on daily runs with her until she's satisfied with her physique again. Sakura doesn't mind. This gives her ample time to talk to her best friend every day.

"That's rare anymore," Ino remarks, ponytail swinging to and fro as they run. "What about?"

"I told him about how we're worried about Kiba." Talking while she runs causes a painful stitch to form in her side, but she ignores it and keeps going. "He got all defensive. Thought I was…I don't know. Thinking about Kiba too much or something."

"Well he's threatened by him, obviously."

"I don't know _why,_ though."

"Yes you do. He's your ex. And when Sasuke was in Oto, he was your go-to guy for everything. Sasuke doesn't like that there was another strong, sexy shoulder you leaned on while he was being a douchebag."

"Okay, yeah, I get that, but I always thought it was so _clear_ to Sasuke, you know? I've loved him since I met him, practically. I thought he understood."

"I'm sure he does, Forehead. But you know guys. Everything's a fucking pissing contest with them."

"Right? Well we got over it, at least."

"Fighting's good for a relationship. How boring would shit be if you got along all the time?"

"I know, I know. But I got him to talk to Kiba at some point, though. Ino he's in really rough shape."

"I know he is. D'you know he's failing chem? He hasn't showed up to class in three weeks, the professor's pissed as shit."

Sakura hesitates, but Ino's her best friend, and she's kept this secret for a long time. She slows down to a walk and grabs Ino's elbow. Now's as good a time as any, right?

"I think…I think I might know why Kiba's so out of control lately," she says. "I didn't really want to say anything because…I don't know, I thought it might complicate things. But…"

"But what, Forehead?" Ino asks, concerned. "Spit it out. If we know _why_ all this is happening, maybe we can help it."

"I don't know if we can," Sakura says nervously. "He…he told me he still loves me, Ino. That he wants me to leave Sasuke and go back to him."

Ino gasps, eyes wide. "No _way._ He knows you're happy with Sasuke, why would he even say something like that?"

"I don't know. It was so out of nowhere, too. At Hana's birthday party, he brought it up a bit…then the next day, he comes over to my place while Sasuke was at work and tells me he wants me to leave him. I can't tell Sasuke all that, he'd kill him!"

"I know he would," remarks her friend pensively. "Shit, I didn't realize he _still_ had it bad for you…and honestly I think it's fucked up he would try and interfere in your relationship. He's really messed up, isn't he? I talked to Shikamaru about it and I think the guys are having some, like, bro intervention."

"I don't know _what_ to think."

"Well it's not your fault, so get it out of that big forehead of yours. Kiba's an adult. And he knew what he was getting himself into when he got with you last year. You were always really clear with him."

"But does that make it right? I still…"

Before she can continue, though, the girls are interrupted. A sleek black car pulls up alongside the sidewalk where they're walking. The window's rolled down.

"Why, excuse me, ladies," a slick voice says from the front seat. Sakura stiffens, and her attention snaps to the interrupter. "I thought that was you, Miss Haruno!"

Long black hair and snakelike eyes and Sakura wisheswisheswishes Sasuke was here.

Ohohoh

Sasuke comes home from work that evening to find Sakura on the sofa, legs curled beneath her, cinnamon tea in her hands. She looks nervous.

"D'you have a minute?" she asks him quietly.

"What's wrong." He sits down next to her, frowning.

"Sasuke, I...I want you to tell me about Oto."

"Oto?" He stiffens. "Did something happen, Sakura?"

"N...just...we never really talked about it before. We kind of glossed it over. But...but I want to hear about it. Tell me about what happened while you were gone."

* * *

**note..** I realize I was gone for a minute on this one. But I was getting less and less feedback and more and more on other stories so I kind of focused on them for awhile. But I love this story so fuck it, I'm coming back to it. Definitely the most dramatic one I've got going at the moment but I promise always a happy ending, eventually.

Let a poor sick influenza victim know how she's doing, yafeelme?

xoxo daisy


	13. Visceral

_The days blend together and the nights do, too, and that's the way he needs it to be._

_If his life is a routine, if one balmy morning bleeds into another mild night, if he's kept busy and focused on schoolwork and a slave to his ambition, then he won't have time for petty, needless things like regret. Like guilt._

_There are times, though. Times like today and he can't forget. He can't focus on his work, he can't drown his bad mood on a long, solitary walk around the sprawling Oto campus._

_Today marks one year._

_One year since he left Konoha, one year since he arrived in Oto in his Jetta._

_Dates don't typically mean much to Sasuke, besides homework deadlines and exam days, so he doesn't really need to mark the passage of time. Few dates stick out in his mind, but he remembers the bad days. The day his family was killed in that car accident, he'll never forget that day._

_And something tells him he'll never forget today either. It's December 3__rd__. It's one year since he drove away from sorrowful green eyes with anger and fire and guilt in his heart, and even one whole year later, after countless attempts to drive her out of his heart, he's still brought down by her memory. Dragged to his knees by the very thought of her standing so thin and small and alone with the snow falling all around her, watching him drive off without even a goodbye, never knowing why he was leaving._

_And today, he blows off his lectures. Skips a Poli Sci review that he desperately needs to attend. Even skives off his one-on-one tutoring session with Dr. Orochimaru, because this one day, Sasuke can't be the robot Oto knows him to be._

_Today, Sasuke leaves his schoolbooks behind and passes on his morning workout at the gym. The guilt he's felt in the back of his mind every single day since he left consumes him and his focus is skewered, so he heads off campus. Doesn't take his car (rarely takes his car anywhere, these days), but gets on the bus to downtown Oto for a change in fucking scenery._

_He finds himself at a hole-in-the-wall bar in one of the seedier districts, a place he's never been to before, because Oto University is his self-appointed prison and he doesn't permit himself any time off for good behavior. And it doesn't matter that he's underage, not in a place like this – that's just like Konoha, and even thinking the name of his former university pisses him off with unwanted nostalgia._

_Because right now, what Sasuke wants to do more than anything, is drink himself back into his chosen apathy. He wants to pound back shot after shot of something strong, until her face disappears back to the furthest recesses of his heart._

_And it's not just her, either._

_He wants to forget Naruto, too. He wants to forget the endless parade of text messages and emails and missed phone calls, since his dumbass best friend just won't take a fucking hint. He wants to forget Ino, who he learned from Naruto awhile back had just given birth to a healthy baby girl, and Shikamaru right along with them. Because the baby's theirs, not Sakura's, and that means he fucked up. So he wants to forget the idyllic little family he was too ashamed to admit he wanted._

_And Karin and Kiba and Neji and everyone else back in Konoha, laughing and smiling without him. Laughing and smiling even though he can't do either one of those things anymore._

_He wants to forget, so he drops himself onto a tattered stool at the bar and quietly orders (demands) a shot of tequila._

_The empty seat beside him isn't empty for very long. A woman sits down beside him, shapely and he might normally have found her attractive, if his opinions hadn't been hijacked a year ago by the prettiest girl in the universe. She sits so she's facing him, and whether it's the low-cut blouse or the smolder in her shameless eyes, he knows that her intentions are less than pure._

"_Hey," she breathes. She smells like cigarettes and it makes him think of Her._

_So he hates this woman, and turns back to his third shot._

"_My friends dared me to try and get your number," she goes on, not taking a hint._

"_Hn."_

"_So how 'bout it?"_

"_No."_

"_Ooh, touchy. Girlfriend?"_

_Silky pink hair and a sunny smile and dark secrets hidden behind pretty eyes, and workouts and movies and kissing in the rain and…_

"_Fuck off," he murmurs, signaling the bartender for another._

_She huffs in irritation, blowing curly brown hair out of her ways the way She used to when she was pissed. Then she leans in closer, her breath fanning across his ear and making him tense up._

"_Look, fuck the number, okay? I think I know what you need, and I'm willing to give it to you. No muss, no fuss, you can just fuck me and we'll both forget about it the next day."_

_Maybe it's the similarity to Her, or maybe it's the differences. Sakura – he only thinks her name because he's drunk, otherwise it's taboo – would never have been this bold, this brash about anything. She was shy and subtle, secretive, even mysterious at times, and while it had captivated him, it had also infuriated him. Here was another girl, beautiful in her own right and older than Sakura, clearly more mature and full of the confidence that Sakura so desperately lacked. Offering him a momentary reprieve from this self-imposed exile with no strings._

_Whatever it is, it tempts him. For longer than a second, he debates if maybe this is exactly what he needs on this shitty fucking day. A quick fuck, ten minutes of aching, pent-up anguish released on a perfect stranger who reminds him of Sakura in a grotesque, desperate way, and then it's back to his practiced stoicism._

_He appraises the woman with narrowed eyes, and then he comes to his senses._

"_Keep the change," he says to the bartender, slamming way too much money on the counter and leaving the bar with his hands in his pockets and the woman staring after him in anger._

_It's raining when he steps outside, raining when he gets on the bus, and it's raining when he falls asleep that night with his stomach on fire from all that alcohol and his heart even heavier than before._

_Sakura is gone. She's gone because he let her go. She made her choices and he made his, so wallowing in guilt and regret about it all these months later isn't going to bring her back. She was never meant for this life anyway, and he pictures her smiling and laughing with the others back in Konoha, where she belongs._

_When he opens his eyes again, he realizes he's slept through the night. It's December 4__th__. A new day. And it's back to the grind like there was never any interruption._

_It's the easiest thing in the world to shove thoughts of Sakura and Naruto and Konoha and everyone else to the back of his mind, the way he's done every single day since he came here. Now that there is nothing momentous about the date, he can focus his attention back where it needs to be: on his schoolwork. It's almost Finals Week and to maintain his perfect grades, he's got to have his head on straight, and now, he does._

_In Oto, routine is his best friend, but it's only the really bad days he remembers._

* * *

He remembers because she's asked him to, sitting on their Konoha couch in their happy apartment months after the fact. She wants to know about Oto and he could tell her, but he finds it ironic that the only day he really remembers is the day he broke from his visceral routine. Everything else bleeds together in a hodgepodge of things he doesn't need to think about ever again, but the only day he recalls with any sort of specification is the day he spent drowning his sorrows and thinking of her.

_If she ever figures out how pathetically I've loved her since the beginning,_ he thinks, almost smirking, _then she'll probably dump my ass and call me a psychopath._

"It was a routine," Sasuke says quietly, playing with the ends of her hair. "I did the same thing every day."

"You don't miss it, though?" Sakura asks, pressing him. "If you had the chance to go back, would you?"

"'Course not," he scoffs. "Where's this even coming from, Sakura?"

She hesitates, then sighs. "It's just…I don't know. With everything happening lately, I kind of…wanted to know the truth about what you did in Oto. You always said it was just studying and working out and not much else and I believe you. But I never really asked you if you ever wanted to go back."

_I have everything I want,_ he thinks harshly, knowing that what he has is more than any man deserves. He's in love with the most amazing girl in the universe and they have a home together. He's attending an excellent school with a new, fresh ambition, and he's got a lot of friends and they're all wonderful people and they drive him crazy and piss him off and he gets to work on cars for fun and play baseball.

"I never asked you if you were happy here," Sakura whispers. "Because Sasuke, if you wanted to go back to Oto, if you only felt like you were here to make us all happy and you weren't happy here yourself, I'd go with you."

The sentiment is touching, but he's more struck by how _completely off base_ she is.

"If you don't know I'm happy by now," Sasuke murmurs, angriest with himself for making her doubt it, "then I've done a shit job letting you know."

Sakura smiles like she's settled some internal debate with herself, and then she kisses him.

"I'm happy with you," she says simply. "I'm happy every day. And I'm sorry if all this shit coming up makes it hard for you to see that, but _thank you, _Sasuke. Thank you for being here with me and thank you for making me happy."

A kiss to her forehead, and nothing more is said.

* * *

Kiba watches them through the window.

He's drunk again. People avoid him on the streets because of the way he staggers and starts. And no one's been drinking with him and people who drink alone are alcoholics, but he doesn't care.

And you can't call him a peeping tom because it's not like he _meant_ to spy on them. Because he didn't. That wasn't his intention coming by their apartment, but it's not his fault the window curtains are drawn and they live on the first floor and he can see _everything._

They're talking, but he can't quite make out the words, and he's not really sure why he's trying to. It hurts every day to see them together, and to watch them when they think they're alone, trading secrets and sentiments away from prying eyes, is nothing short of torture. There's no greater pain than loving someone who loves someone else, and Kiba's been tormented by that fact for months, now.

And because his heart aches and he's feeding into it with bourbon and regret, he stays, hidden in the nighttime shadows and he watches as Sakura and Sasuke talk quietly together on their sofa.

_They look good together,_ he thinks, hating it, and he brings the half-empty bottle to his lips and takes another swallow. _They always did._

Sasuke's sitting on the sofa with one arm slung across the back, his free hand playing with Sakura's hair. And she looks as beautiful as ever, wearing one of Sasuke's T-shirts, her bare legs folded beneath her as she says something doubtlessly lovely to Sasuke that Kiba can't quite make out.

_It used to be me,_ he thinks angrily, swaying on the spot but making sure to keep out of sight. _It used to be me she cuddled up to and said sweet shit to. It should've been me._

He's so drunk right now he can barely stand, let alone think clearly about anything, but impossibly, he recalls a memory with such visceral clarity that it almost brings him to his knees.

* * *

"_Admit it," Kiba chuckles, when it's just them alone in the common room that night. "You were surprised."_

_She laughs as she sits across his lap, knees on either side of his hips, color in her cheeks still high from so much celebrating._

"_I was," she concedes, though it's far more her style to give him sass and never cop to anything. "You got me. I've never had a surprise party before. I should've expected it, though. Between you and Ino."_

_The room is empty except for them and the pitiful remainder of Sakura's surprise 18__th__ birthday party. There's a half-eaten chocolate cake and all the blown-out candles, semi-deflated balloons and streamers and confetti strewn all over the floor. It'll be a pain in the ass to clean up, but right now, Kiba's focused on the stunner in his lap and the gratitude in her wide green eyes._

"_Thank you so much, Kiba," she tells him, with such sincerity that he almost can't believe it._

"_Anytime, gorgeous," he replies, and he kisses her._

_It's just them, alone in the room, and it's very late, and everyone else is asleep. And what Kiba really wants to hear isn't necessarily 'Thank you.' What Kiba really wants to hear is, 'I love you.' And 'I'm over him.' And 'I choose you.'_

_But he'll settle for 'thank you' because Sakura is doing her best. Sakura is becoming a different person now, slowly but surely, with her hair cut short and her new tattoo and her nose piercing; and even though she's always told him she can't love him, maybe she'll change her mind. Maybe if he just hangs on long enough, maybe if he digs his fingers hard enough into her waist to leave marks that remind her he was there and he IS there and he'll BE there the way Uchiha never was, she'll grow into a girl who has the strength to love him back._

_Till then, he'll settle for the way she lets him fuck her in the common room. Because in those precious minutes, she's connected to him and thinking only of him and while he's inside her, there's no way she can even remember there was ever a guy named Sasuke Uchiha._

_While he's inside her, it's Kiba and Sakura and she's not damaged goods. She's whole and happy and perfect and she doesn't mind that it's him slamming into her instead of Sasuke, because it's HIS name she cries out when she climaxes. HIS shoulder she bites into to stifle her screams. HIS back she sinks her nails into like an angry red love letter._

"_Happy birthday, beautiful," he murmurs in her ear, when it's over and she's sweaty and panting above him. He wants to tell her 'I love you,' wants her to know it from his own mouth and not just in his EVERY ACTION, but now isn't the time._

_Maybe it never will be._

* * *

Kiba remembers it like a blow to the back of the head, and to see her there, with her legs folded and her hair long again, so fucking _happy_ he can't stomach it, with _another guy,_ makes him sick.

Sick of her, sick of him, sick of himself, sick of _everything._

He didn't sign on for this. He didn't know that he wouldn't be able to move on from her all these months after their never-official relationship went up in smoke. He didn't know he'd find himself here at her window, forever drunk and drowning in bitterness, pretending it's him in there instead of the man – the boyfriend – she really loves.

Then he sees Sakura shift so she's straddling Sasuke. The position is the same one she'd let Kiba fuck her in at her birthday party, and to see it reenacted with _another man_ is one of the most unfair things he's ever witnessed. He watches every sordid detail, watches as she leans down and kisses Sasuke with an affection and a gentleness she'd never been able to show _him._ He watches as Sasuke's arms come up automatically to hold her in place, watches as she slides her hips against his in invitation. The shirt she's wearing rides up and he can see the lace of her panties, and…

_I never stood a chance, did i?_ he thinks with a sneer, finishing the rest of the bottle and throwing it carelessly into the street.

He shoves his hands into his pockets because he's got to get away from this. He can't be here any longer. He can't watch another fucking _second_ of what's happening in there because it's killing him. Sakura outdrew him and that's all he ever really learned from love, so now he…

Now he doesn't fucking know. But he's sick of this. Sick of everyone involved in this.

Drunk and bitter, he moves on from their apartment, heads back to the sidewalk, crosses the street. He steps on the broken glass of the bottle he's thrown and doesn't feel the shards cut through his sneakers and into his feet. Doesn't feel anything. Doesn't know anything. Doesn't _see_ anything.

Not even the headlights of the red pick-up truck as it rushes towards him, unable to stop in time.

Then, nothing.

* * *

**note..** gone for awhile, huh? i missed this universe, though.

big ups to anyone who can spot the 'hallelujah' reference.

xoxo daisy :) go phils!


End file.

Naruto, Drama, Romance