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At the last minute, they had decided to skip the prom. Instead of going to school to schmooze with their year mates and dance the night away to a selection of well-worn love songs, they go to one of the city playgrounds. Sasuke drives them there, and Sakura fills the silence with chatter and singing—the songs that hold meaning for the two of them, the music that drew them together.
Is there a better sound in the world? he wonders, as he steals a glance at her. She is radiant in her merriment, a scene of breathtaking beauty. He knows this will be imprinted in his mind as one of his most precious memories. This leads him to thoughts of the future, and a cold hand briefly closes on his joy. How could I go on without this?
His musings are cut off by their arriving at the park. After they have both alighted from the car, they race to the old swings and sit themselves down on the rusty seats, mindless of the fancy clothes they are wearing. They pump their legs and swing themselves, going as high and as fast as they dared, laughing all the while.
They tire of the exercise soon enough, and they simply stop, watching the city as evening slowly spreads her blanket over everything. The stars are invisible because of all the lights around, but the moon could be seen. It hangs low and bright, and on account of the occasion perhaps, unspeakably beautiful.
Sakura reaches a hand out to him, and he meets her in the middle, entwining their hands. He turns to look at her. She still has her gaze on the moon, but tears shine from the corners of her eyes.
“I guess this is it, no?”
“Hm,” he agrees. He does not know what else to say. Or if there is anything that could still be said. They have come to this—the last few months before graduation, before their impending separation. They were not so naïve as to think that they could last it out. So they are here, to part on their own terms.
“I love you, Sasuke-kun,” she tells him, softly.
“I love you, too.”
She lets go of his hand and goes over to where he is seated, to wrap her arms around him. He breathes in the gentle sweetness of her, before he tilts his head up to capture her lips with his own.
There—in an old playground lit by streetlamps, under the silent stars—they share the longest, most tender kiss of their young lives.
She is the one to pull away first. She smiles down on him, and cups his face with both her hands. “Don’t forget me, please,” she asks him.
“You don’t need to say that. I won’t forget you,” he reassures her, with the ring of absolute certainty in his voice.
“Nor I you,” she vows. She smiles, and there is fragility in it, but also hope. She continues, “But promise me something else.”
“What is it?”
“When we are older, and we cross paths again, and you can find it in you to love me again… please, will you do it?”
“You’re an annoying woman.” He takes both her hands, and kisses her knuckles. “I will, Sakura. There is no doubt about it.”
No more words pass between them that night, but they each go hence, hopeful. Brave.
I will meet you, and love you again, someday.