Chapter Text
He finds her sitting on his couch, wrapped in his hoodie and blankets, basking in the familiar comfort of everything. The sight makes him smile. He goes over to her and kisses her forehead, softly, before setting off to the kitchen to make her a cup of tea.
Always a gift, these little moments, he muses, as he waits for the water to boil. Ever since Sakura skyrocketed to stardom with her girl group Shinobi Sisters, her world had become so much wider, and sometimes it daunted him. Gone are the days that her smiles are for him alone. Now everybody seems to be watching her—either with reverent awe and adoration, or with scorn. And often they are not content to simply be watching; they must make all their feelings known, too. A blessing, but also a curse. Sakura has always been soft, and she takes each comment to heart, even the mean ones. And it hurt him too—every time he saw her gaze grow dull after reading a particularly nasty comment about her looks, her clothes, or the way she carried herself. How could anyone hate her, he struggles to understand. He peeks at her for a brief moment, and warmth blooms in his chest at the scene that greets his eyes. She has her nose buried in the fabric of his hoodie, breathing its scent in, smiling. Beautiful, his mind supplies, unbidden.
The kettle whistles, and he makes swift work of making their tea. When it is done, he walks back to the living room, and hands Sakura her mug. She thanks him, smiling sleepily, before taking a sip. He sits down beside her.
“Why is it always so good when you make it?” she wonders out loud. "I could never make tea as good as yours."
“The key is in the timing, Sakura." He chuckles. "You begin steeping tea and forget all about it. That will make it bitter.”
“Hmmmmph. Know it all.”
“I speak only the truth, milady,” he jests, miming a courtly bow. She rolls her eyes, and hits him lightly on the shoulder.
After a while she finishes the tea, and her gaze turns soft and contemplative. He nudges her. “Penny for your thoughts?”
“Ah. It's nothing. Just…” She smiles, as if embarrassed. “It's what you said.”
“Which one?”
“About timing.” She turns to him fully. “And I just thought: it's always perfect timing, when I'm with you.”
He laughs. “That makes no sense, love.”
“I know.” She blushes, suddenly shy. “I guess what I just wanted to say is that I love you.”
“I know.”
“And I always will.”
“I know that, too.”
“And no matter how big my world gets, I will always be yours.”
He draws her closer, and touches their foreheads together. “It's the same for me,” he tells her. “I am yours, too. No matter what happens.”