Chapter Text
If Sarada had thought Boruto was touchy before they were dating, the way he was now was a whole different level. In class, he’d find some way to be next to her, then his leg, or hand, or even just his finger would find some way to touch her, pressing his warmth against her skin until she had to struggle to focus in class. And god, when they were outside together, his hand was always around hers, intertwined, or he’d place his arms around her shoulders, pressing her closer to him.
And she was sure he’d be no exception on their date. Their first date. She tried not to think too hard about it, lest her whole world sway and stomach turn, and the date end before it even starts. She shuddered at the thought, shooing it away.
In classic Sarada fashion, she had turned up slightly early—if thirty minutes before the date began counts as slightly early . Though regrettably, she wished she hadn’t. For one, Boruto wasn’t here, and that gave her mind all the more time to scrutinise every little detail about her appearance.
Maybe she was too dressy? Not enough? Did her make-up look like it had been done by a preschooler—blame her unsteady hands; it was just that the mere thought of this date made her tremble. She sighed, wishing she’d had a better dress code than ‘ whatever you want’ . Could he have been any less specific if he had tried? If she tried hard enough, she could think of a thousand different possibilities of how dressing how she wants would end up not matching the situation, because that dress code was the vaguest—
“Sarada!” Boruto called out to her, waving as he approached. Her breath hitched as she met his gaze. So, this date was happening. No big deal. She was calm. She was fine.
“H-hey.” She hated the slight wobble in her voice, but she tried not to fret over it…too much.
“Sorry, I’m late…I just didn’t know what flowers to get you, and then mum and Himawari wouldn’t pick up the phone—anyway! Here.” He practically thrust the flowers into her hands, averting his gaze as he did. A pleased smile pulled at her lips as she accepted the bouquet, warmth spreading through her as their fingers brushed. “I didn’t know if you’d li—”
“Thanks.” They were red roses. “I love them.” His returning smile was enough to calm her nerves, just as it always seemed to do. “So…where exactly are you taking me?” She questions, one hand hugging the bouquet tightly to herself and the other firmly enveloped in Boruto’s warm hands.
“Well…you know what? You’ll see in a second.” He said, shaking his head. “Come on.” He didn’t wait for an answer, dragging her around the corner before stopping in front of a quaint pastel building. She raised an eyebrow at him.
“I didn’t think this was your thing.” She smirked, eyes sliding from the bubblegum pink awning to the sky blue door to the pictures of cute animal-shaped chocolates plastered to the window.
“Yeah, well—you’re meant to be the focus here, anyway.” He mumbled, cheeks slightly red. Sarada’s own cheeks flamed. “I’ve been told it’s the best place for a date…and I’m hoping you like it.” He shrugged, oh so casually, despite the way he bit the inside of his cheek as he glanced down at her from the corner of his eye. When she met his gaze, he was quick to look elsewhere.
“Come on, then.” She tilted her head at the shop, squeezing his hand. He gave her a soft smile before he led her inside. A soft ring chimed from above their heads, and the sweet scent of chocolate greeted them.
Though the moment they walked through the door, Boruto froze.
“I thought you said you weren’t working today.” He practically hissed at his sister, sending a cautious glance at Sarada. Himawari, for her part, simply smiled up at him.
“I got called in last minute.” She shrugged, though Sarada wondered just how much of that was true, watching as her soft grin turned downright mischievous. “Come on, I’ve got the best seats just for you.” Sarada turned, an eyebrow raised at Boruto, who sighed, shaking his head.
“Sorry…I didn’t know she’d be working today—ugh, I mean she said she wouldn’t be,” Boruto muttered under his breath as he ran a hand through his hair. Sarada flushed, averting her eyes. She hadn’t expected the simple movement of running his hand through his hair would look so…good.
“Doesn’t hurt if it means we get the best seats, right?” She said, giving his hand a soft squeeze. This time, she was the one dragging him, following Himawari to the back of the building. Her eyes widened as they approached their seats, and she couldn’t help but send an appreciative glance at Himawari. Because all it took was one glance to understand why these were the best seats in the building.
Overlooking a window that took up just about the entire grey brick wall were their seats, appropriately coloured in light shades of pink, green, and yellow. The morning light streamed in through the window, painting their space in iridescent rainbows and soft oranges and to top it all off, there was what could only be described as a wall of flowers, twisting and climbing up the brick, a pink and green halo around the window.
“Wow…” Boruto mumbled, and Sarada mutely nodded her head. “I guess having a person on the inside does have its perks.” Himawari shook her head softly before motioning for the chairs on either side of the table.
“Take a seat. I’ll get you two started.” She said, and Sarada’s shoulders perked up. Now she might finally know what they were going to do. She sat across Boruto in one of the pastel chairs, the bouquet of roses tucked safely to the side of the table as she observed what lay atop it.
Sarada’s eyes bounced from the paint brushes in front of her to the square piece of white chocolate that Himawari placed in front of them and then to the paint palette she brought out next. Sarada’s eyebrows scrunched.
“What…exactly are we doing?” Sarada voiced aloud, gazing at the two siblings.
“Painting chocolates.” Sarada heard the unspoken ‘ obviously’ in Himawari’s words. “Paint whatever you like, but most couples usually paint each other.” She said with a wink, hand raised in the air in a wave as she walked away.
“Oh, thank god.” Boruto sighed. “I love Himawari and all, but I thought she was going to crash our date.” Sarada stifled a laugh.
“You know she wouldn’t do that.” Sarada shook her head, still trying to suppress her laugh…though she had to admit that she’d had the tiniest worry about it too. “Wait, so is this…chocolate?” She rolled her lips to the side, feeling almost silly at the question as she pointed a finger at the paint palette.
“Er, yeah?” Boruto’s words came out more as a question than an answer, but Sarada stared, wide-eyed, at the ‘paint’ nonetheless. The paint, which they would normally consume. “You think we can eat it?” Sarada gave him a blank look. “What, you were thinking it too!” He exclaimed, cheeks flushing.
“I was not! ” She huffed, crossing her arms before they faltered. “Do you think they coloured it with food dye or something else?” He raised his eyebrow in return, and in her hurry to turn away, to save herself the embarrassment, she accidentally kicked him in the leg.
Before she could even apologise, he’d trapped her legs between his, making every word she could have replied with into mush.
“Just ‘cause I was right doesn’t mean you have to kick me in the leg, you know.” He said, leaning forward to rest his head on his arm.
“I didn’t mean to!” She huffed out, placing the back of her hands against her cheeks to try to cool them. “H-hey!” She stared at Boruto, who now held her hands in his, his grip so firm that she wondered if he ever planned on letting her go. Not that she would—
She mentally shooed away that thought before it would haunt her in her dreams, along with the rest of her embarrassing moments.
“Don’t hide it, it’s cute.” He froze for a moment before he cleared his throat. “I-I just…I mean, like seeing you…blush.”
“You mean you like making me blush?” She corrected, head tilted in challenge, even as said blush burned the back of her neck, even as sparks raised through her veins at his touch. He shrugged in return.
“Er, I’m not fussed either way.” He had the audacity to laugh at her embarrassment, and if her legs weren’t still trapped between his, she really would’ve kicked him. “Anyway, stop distracting me. I’m supposed to be drawing you.”
“I wasn’t—you weirdo.” She mumbled as he finally let go of her hands, though not before he let his fingers linger across the back of her hands, tracing the curve of it. He didn’t let go of her legs just yet. “You know you don’t have to draw me, right? She said we could paint anything.”
“Does that mean you’re not painting me?” He retorts instead, a pout forming on his lips that she’s ninety percent sure is fake.
“That’s not what I said.” She reaches for a paintbrush, assessing the colourful assortment of chocolates before her. “I just mean that…” She twisted her lips, trailing off.
“You know, she said most couples paint each other…so I want to paint my girlfriend .” She couldn’t help but roll her eyes even as a symphony of butterflies erupted within her stomach. She made a mental note of the word, wondering just how many times he was going to say it that day. His record was thirty.
“Well then, I’m about to paint the best self-portrait you’ve ever seen, boyfriend .” She had no idea where that had come from. She was no artist by any means. Her best self-portrait only extended to silly stick figures, but she said it all the same, anyway.
“Oh, you are so on. But don’t be mad when I eventually win.” He smirks before his smile drops. “You think we can eat our, er, canvas?” He questioned, eyes darting to the block of white chocolate propped up before him, ready to be used as a mock canvas.
“What’s your obsession with eating our art supplies?” Sarada shook her head, swatting his hand away from the chocolate. “And how are you supposed to draw an accurate picture of me if my face is half chewed off?” He huffed out a laugh.
“Why not? I think it really catches your true essence.” He said, making a camera with his fingers. “Sarada Uchiha, my girlfriend with the chewed-off face.” She made another mental note. Two.
“God, you’re ridiculous—you’re lucky you’ve trapped my legs.” She tried to free her legs, but that only seemed to make his grip stronger.
“Whatever you say, and stop moving so much, will ya?” He said, placing a hand on her knee beneath the table. She chewed the inside of her cheek, trying to ignore the funny way her stomach tumbled at the touch. She instead tried to focus on the ‘canvas’ in front of her, dipping her paintbrush in yellow ‘paint’. It was a losing battle as he let his hand linger for a touch longer. “It’s hard to draw you when you’re moving so much, you know.”
She was about to retort that he should listen to his own words when she caught something—or rather someones —from the corner of her eyes. She turned her head, eyebrows twisting as she gazed at the figures that ducked behind a wall. Perhaps it was just her wild imagination, though she couldn’t help but recognise that shade of ginger hair, the one that just about peeked out from behind the wall.
“What’re you…?” Boruto began, his head turning to the empty wall. Sarada shook her head.
“Thought I saw something…it was just probably some other customers now that I think about it.” She let out a self-conscious laugh, focusing her gaze back on Boruto. She observed him for a moment, taking in the hard lines of his jaw, the blue of his eyes and the birthmark she’d traced all those months ago in her room. Her fingers tightened around her paintbrush. Maybe she could reach over right now. There wouldn’t be much distance to cover, anyway.
“What’re you looking at?” Boruto’s shoulders rose, and she couldn’t help but trail her eyes from his neck to his cheeks as a soft blush bloomed across them. His lips twisted to the side, and now suddenly she couldn’t help but stare at that. Though when he cleared his throat, she looked up to meet his gaze.
When had he gotten so close again?
“I just, er, I was trying to make sure I’m painting you accurately.” She mumbled, her heart thrumming just a little louder. From this distance, she wouldn’t have to lean very far at all to kiss him. She ducked her head, painting a few absent-minded strokes on the canvas. The yellow strokes looked more like a nest than hair, but it would have to do.
“Uh huh, is that right? Because last I checked, my hair didn’t look quite like that.” He grinned at her glare.
“Hey, I didn’t comment about the way you drew my hair.” She argued, sending a glance at his canvas. The harsh black lines fanned out in ways that she was sure weren’t physically capable with her own hair. “You’ve made my hair look like a tornado.”
“What do you even mean?” He exclaimed, moving his head every which way. “I think it looks perfect.” He huffed, crossing his arms. She stifled a smile at the way he tilted his head in the air in mock offence. Though it was like he knew instinctively that she was holding back a laugh, and the moment he sent a glare her way, the laugh burst free across her lips.
Boruto began shaking his head, though he stopped mid-motion, his eyes caught on the empty wall.
“Oh, my god.” His voice was just a breath as he continued to stare at the wall, frozen in his spot. Sarada, too, turned, eyes searching for whatever might have caught his attention.
“What is it?” She questioned, pulling at his sleeve to snag his attention. He turned to her, giving her a weak smile.
“Er, one second.” He muttered, holding a finger up before he got up from the table. She watched as he disappeared behind the wall, leaving her to stare at an empty pastel wall, wondering just what on earth he had seen.
Maybe she should follow him, see what was going on. But he would’ve told her to come with him if he wanted her to, right? And who knows, maybe he needed to take a call or something, and his leaving had absolutely nothing to do with the reason he had glued his eyes to the wall. Sarada tapped her finger against the table, sending glances every so often at the wall.
She had been moments from getting up herself when he appeared.
“Where’d you go?” She questioned, crossing her arms. He gave her an incredulous smile.
“You won’t believe our luck, you know.” He let out a weak laugh. “Come on, I’ll explain on the way.”
“Wait, what?”
“And one thing led to another, and Inojin was called into work last minute too, and ChoCho and Shikadai tagged along to keep him company, and somewhere along the way, Mitsuki turned up too and…yeah.” Boruto sighed, scratching the back of his head. “I-I don’t even know…like what are the chances?” He mumbled, leading her down the twisting dirt path of a park.
“How on earth does that even happen?” Sarada couldn’t help but laugh at the ridiculousness of the situation, even as she shook her head. “Oh god, I don’t want to know what ChoCho will say when I see her next.” Boruto shuddered beside her.
“Ugh, yeah, ditto.” Boruto groaned. “But that’s the last time I’m taking dating spot recommendations from Himawari.”
“Well, it still went well—”
“Woah, woah, woah. It’s not over just yet, you know.” He said, abruptly grabbing her shoulders, the bag containing their unfinished self-portraits swinging on his arm.. “I want this to be perfect, so there is no way our first date is going to end like that .” She gave him a pleased smile, her heart doing the tiniest flip.
“Well, if you insist…” She trailed off, hugging the bouquet to herself.
“Wait right here, I’ll be back in…ten minutes?”
It took him twelve minutes, but she cut him some slack. His breath heaved as he approached her, arms carrying a picnic rug and an assortment of other items concealed within a bag.
“Where’d you go?” She asked, helping him with the bag, much to his protest.
“Just…here and…there.” He huffed, dropping the picnic rug to lean on his knees, trying to catch his breath. “Wait! I-I’ll do it!” His breath still came out unsteadily, even as he pried the picnic rug out of her hands. Her lips curved down, unimpressed, as she placed her now-empty hands on her hips.
“Boruto, putting a picnic rug down isn’t the most excruciating thing in the world, you know.” Sarada sighed, knowing very well that her words fell on deaf ears. She huffed out his name in exasperation even as he continued to smooth out the rug along the grass before he patted the spot beside him.
“What kind of boyfriend would I be if I let my girlfriend do all the work?” He grinned, eyes drifting to the blush colouring her cheeks, her ears, her neck. That made it three.
“Jeez, when’d you get so…cheesy?” She mumbled, taking her spot beside him. There was but a hairsbreadth of space between them, and all it would take was for her to lean against him to close the gap. She momentarily wondered if she should, though it seemed Boruto made the decision for her.
“I might’ve had some lessons about it here and there.” He said, offhandedly, reaching across her to grab the bag containing whatever mysteries Boruto had gone to collect. Sarada’s eyebrows knotted.
“What lessons?” He froze suddenly—he was still reaching across her—and she could see the way the back of his neck burned. He self-consciously rubbed a hand against it, and she wondered if he’d felt her gaze. From the intense way her eyes practically burned a hole into that spot, she didn’t doubt it. He coughed as he straightened up, his gaze averted.
“ChoCho might’ve cornered me to give some lessons on how to be a better boyfriend.” Sarada’s mouth dropped open. “I think she might’ve called it ‘ How to be a good boyfriend to Sarada Uchiha, so she doesn’t dump your sorry little ass for someone who deserves her way more and loves her to the moon and back and also so I don’t bury you in an unidentified field 101 ’ or something.” Sarada couldn’t help the surprised laugh that escaped her lips.
“And you never told me this because?” Sarada’s laugh got louder the longer Boruto’s unimpressed stare held.
“Because it’s so embarrassing? And because I don’t want to admit that she’s mega scary?” He rubbed his hands down his face. “Seriously, I’m surprised I’m not already in some unidentified field .”
“Is it less embarrassing if I think it’s kinda, maybe, sorta… cute ?” She sent a sidelong glance at him, her words practically ending in a squeak. Boruto shrugged, but his red face seemed to mirror her own.
“I mean…it’s not the end of the world if you do…” He mumbled, absently toying with the straps of the bag. “I—” He cut himself off, instead leaning to place a soft kiss upon her cheek. If she hadn’t seen with her own eyes the movement happen, she might’ve thought it was a trick of the light. “Anyway, I er got us some art stuff—no chocolate this time.”
“Shame. You can’t eat them anymore.” She said, though every nerve of her being focused on his kiss. She placed a delicate hand on her cheek, wondering if the pressure was too much. Maybe she’ll rub away the kiss and lose every inch of its warmth that spreads through her body. She ignored a small shiver that raced up her spine…maybe she’ll have to ask him to kiss her again.
“Ha, ha, very funny.” He deadpanned. “Just consider this your redemption for your wacky drawing skills, okay?” He grinned at her eye roll.
She couldn’t help but let her gaze linger over his arms as he set up the paint equipment in front of them, couldn’t help the stupid grin that spread across her lips at the way he colour coded their things—red for her and yellow for him. God, he was such a dork. Maybe if she wasn’t practically snuffing out the life of the picnic rug with her bone-crushing grip, she would’ve jumped into his arms.
Though one question flashed to the front of her mind. How on earth had he managed to do it all in twelve minutes?
“So…? What do you think?” He spread his hands in a flourish, revealing the newly set up paint equipment as though he were a magician ready to reveal his next daring trick.
“I love it.” She gave him an appreciative smile, and when he returned it, she couldn’t help but let it roll over her, warming her skin and flushing it red.
“Good, now sit here so I can paint you properly.” He motioned for the space in front of him, their eyes meeting as she moved. She hadn’t meant to sit so close to him; it was just that the shuffle to sit in front of was a very short motion, so naturally she had no choice but to be close. It wasn’t as though she particularly wanted to only leave just enough room to fit two small canvases.
The quiet hum of the park mixed with their soft conversation, the sun shining golden rays through the gaps within the leaves. Sarada's eyes wandered every so often to Boruto, though she couldn’t help but notice that he seemed intent on studying her . She squirmed in her spot, pressing her brush harder against the canvas as though the blue paint might calm all her frazzled nerves.
“You know, you don’t have to keep looking at me so much.” She mumbled after a while. She could only take so much more of the way his eyes would burn into her, turning each spot his gaze lingered over a soft shade of pink. Boruto shook himself out of his thoughts with a startle, eyes moving up to meet hers.
“What do you mean, stop looking? How else am I supposed to paint you correctly?” He questioned, and her lips tugged to the side in contemplation. Sure, he had a point, though it was one she would rather he’d not make.
“It feels…I don’t know…I’m just not used to it.” She mumbled, averting his gaze when he lifted an eyebrow.
“Well, you’re looking at me, too.” He pointed out, dipping his paintbrush.
“Yes, but not like that .” His eyes shot up to meet hers, eyes widened as his cheeks reddened.
“Am I being too weird?” He asked, his words soft, and she hurried to shake her head. She reached out for his hand, giving it a firm, reassuring squeeze. He held it for a moment longer before letting go.
“I-you know what, you can keep looking…it’s not that I mind, I just feel kinda self-conscious.” She admitted, bowing her head to conceal her face. She’d rather he not see her flaming cheeks, because why on earth had she admitted that? She wondered if there was a way to take it back.
“Why? You look really pretty right now, you know?” He said, and she wasn’t sure why he’d said it like that. Like it was obvious. “It’s kinda hard not to stare.” He admitted.
“Oh.” She mumbled dumbly. “Thanks…you’re pretty too.” Could she even say that? She didn’t have a clue, but she let the words roll off her tongue, anyway. He huffed out a laugh.
“I know. I’m probably the prettiest guy, you know.” His grin widened.
“I think your prettiness just dropped a bit.” Sarada deadpanned, and Boruto gave an exaggerated frown. He clasped a hand over his heart.
“Ouch, Sarada, don’t be so mean!” He bemoaned. She half-expected him to place his hand to his forehead, mockingly fainting in some dramatic fashion or other. She rolled her eyes half-heartedly, even as a ghost of a smile overtook her features.
With one hand to support herself, she leaned forward, the other hand reaching out to ruffle his hair when the canvas on her lap fell off. She let out a startled gasp, though in her panicked state to prevent the canvas from dirtying the rug with paint, she lost her balance. But just as he always seemed to be, Boruto was there right when she needed him, his hands bracing around her.
She inhaled sharply, her nose brushing against his collarbone as she looked up to meet his gaze, his cologne messing with her brain. He stared back, and she wondered if the tightening of his arms was to stop her from falling further or…to pull her closer. A stray thumb rubbed circles across her waist, and she had to remind herself to breathe. She exhaled out a soft breath, eyes glued to the way goosebumps rose across Boruto’s flesh.
“Thanks.” She mumbled as she blinked the dazed look out of her eyes, finally getting her bearings. She pulled herself away from him, her palm pressed against the back of her neck to cool her flush.
“If I didn’t see you being such a klutz, I might’ve thought you did that on purpose, you know.” She could hardly make out what he said as he bent his head, gathering her messed-up paint supplies.
“Guess you are too pretty for me.” It was meant to tease, though it came out far too strained. She coughed into her hand. “Sorry…I don’t know why I said that…or did that.” She said with a wince.
“It’s fine—” The moment Boruto flipped over her canvas, he burst out laughing and just as it always seemed to do, it eased away the tension in an instant. “Is—oh my god, is that me? ” He said between choked laughs. Sarada scowled, snatching the canvas away.
“It’s my, um…artistic interpretation of you, okay?” She replied defensively. Boruto doubled over laughing.
‘Artist interpretation of me? Is that why my head is so round? ” Boruto took one more look at the picture and burst out laughing again. Sarada turned her body, this time shielding it from view for good.
“No, that’s to fit your giant ego . ” She grumbled. “Alright then, fine, show me yours. I can’t wait to see this masterpiece .” She said and before he could so much as protest, grabbed the portrait from his side.
She didn’t bother to hide her laugh that burst free.
“I see why you thought I made your head round.” She snickered. “You’ve made me into a triangle .” A small part of her hoped that she didn’t look nearly as…geometrical as he had made her look.
Boruto gave her an exaggerated frown, snatching the painting to hide it behind his back.
“What happened to artistic interpretation and all?” He grumbled back. “I was going for a more abstract look, you know.” Sarada had to bite her lip to hold back a laugh. Abstract? Well, she supposed that was one way of putting it.
“I didn’t expect it to turn out this way after you’ve spent so long looking at me, you know.” She said, moving to sit by his side. He leaned against her, grabbing the painting to analyse it some more.
“You know, I think I know what’s wrong with it.” He said after a while, a sly grin tugging at his lips. Sarada’s eyes narrowed. “Your head’s still intact. It’s meant to be chewed off, you know.” Sarada groaned.
“I’d like it if my head were in one piece, thanks.” She said, crossing her arms. Boruto let out a sigh, leaning his head against her shoulder, and Sarada adjusted her position to make him more comfortable.
“Well, that’s a shame. I think it’d really suit you.” He mumbled, burying his face in the crook of her neck. “By the way, did you get a new perfume or something?” He asked. She felt the soft tilt of his head as he tried to look up at her, the soft tickle of his hair against the spot where her neck met her shoulder.
“Sort of.” She absentmindedly traced patterns into the rug, her next words almost a whisper. “I was just saving it for a special occasion.” She felt rather than saw his smile as he reached for her hand.
“I like it. You should wear it some more, you know.” He said, lifting his head to place a soft kiss on her cheek. She sighed into his touch, letting him cup her cheek as he continued the soft trail of kisses until he reached her lips. Though he didn’t kiss her. It was as though he was determined to kiss anywhere but the one place she needed him to.
“I know you’re doing that on purpose, Boruto.” Because he always did. Because every time he kissed her, he seemed to tease her first, kissing her cheeks, her ears, even her neck, before Sarada all but had to cup his face and pull his lips to hers. “It’s annoying.” She grumbled, trying to reach for him. Though he was one step ahead of her. He reached for her hands, holding them in his firm grip. That jerk.
“Really, because you’re really red, you know.” He mumbled into her cheek. She wouldn’t deny that it was probably flushed, just like he’d said. “I think you secretly like it.” Her lips curved down.
“I like kissing you like this more, you big tease.” She said before crashing her lips to his. She sighed into the kiss, wrapping her hands around his shoulders when he released them from his grip. The feel of his lips over hers was soft and familiar, and when his hands splayed across her back, pulling her in, she all but melted into him.
“You’re still taking my picture of you home, got it?” He pulled apart just for a moment, his voice hoarse as his words fanned over her lips.
“Obviously.” That was all she could manage before her lips found his again. Her hands drifted into his hair as she soaked in his every touch, his every taste. “I really loved this date, you know.” He kissed her harder.
“I think you’re what made it good.” He said, burying his face in her neck. She shook her head, but he didn’t let her speak, let her protest.
She let herself get lost in the kiss, at the way he nipped at her lip and wished with all her might that this day might just last forever.
Boruto’s hand faltered as he reached for the lamp, its soft glow embracing the room in a warm gold. His eyes locked onto the canvas, a disfigured—but still perfect—version of himself staring back. He let out a soft laugh, eyes still wandering over the not-so-perfect painting. He couldn’t help but notice the words etched across the canvas. ‘Sarada’ , it said. His eyes softened as he flicked the switch off.
He fell back onto the bed with a sigh, though he knew he wouldn’t be able to fall asleep so easily. Energy buzzed through his veins, and he could still feel her lingering touch, as though it had marked a permanent place on his skin. Maybe it had. Maybe that was why his face burned even now, when she was nowhere near him.
God, he wanted to scream into his pillow.
He licked his lip, wondering if the day had even been real. The taste of Sarada on his lips was his answer. His touch was featherlight as he brought his fingers to his lips. Maybe he could still feel her warmth ghosting over him if he felt for it hard enough, and suddenly he really had to suppress the urge to scream into his pillow.
His eyes drifted again to where he knew the painting was and wondered if she’d done the same. He’d picked out the perfect spot so he could see it from anywhere in the room, placed it with so much precision so he wouldn’t damage it, and placed it right next to their picture, the one they had taken all those days ago, when they were just friends .
The words felt funny now.
He swallowed thickly as he averted his gaze, trying to calm his racing heart. He couldn't believe it. Maybe he should pinch himself.
Because he really had become her boyfriend, no matter what.
