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Sakura is lonely, even if she’d never admit to that. Her baby daughter keeps her occupied during the days, and she loves her, she truly does—but when night falls, and Sarada is asleep, she is once again reminded that her husband isn’t home. Probably will never be home, not really.
She could go out of course, get a babysitter and spend the evenings or nights with Ino, going to parties or to restaurants, meeting up with the girls, having fun. She did do that, in the beginning, and whenever she came home from such evenings, buzzing still with loud happiness, the dark and quiet apartment only hurt even more.
(Sakura remembers walking through the door, still grinning from the alcohol and the tasty food she’d had. She remembers how the quiet darkness had hit her like a punch to the gut, how her smile had disappeared.)
So she stays home instead. Does some paperwork, trains a little, sits around and does nothing. Sakura thinks she really wasn’t made to be alone, and a huge sigh leaves her lips. How did it come to this?
Sighing again, chest raising with the heaviness of her breath, she stands up. Today, she can’t do it. Today, she feels like she would have a breakdown were she to spend even another second in this wretched place.
(She isn’t brave enough to call anyone, to seek company. She just doesn’t want to be—she doesn’t want to be here.)
So she leaves. Not for long, of course, she couldn’t do that. Sarada is in her bed, safe and sound and asleep, and she could never leave her. Sakura takes the portable babyphone with her, just in case that her daughter wakes up, but she usually sleeps through the nights.
The cold air hits her the moment she opens the door, and she breathes it in deeply. It’s freeing, somehow. With another sigh, she brushes her hair out of her face and starts to go on her way.
Of course she doesn’t know where she’s going. Sakura doesn’t have a clear destination, she just wants to get some air, stand outside for a bit. Konohagakure is quiet tonight, at least the parts she walks through. That makes sense, of course, she subconsciously keeps herself in the outer parts, the parts of the city where less people live, the parts that aren’t bustling with life. She wouldn’t be able to handle it, not tonight.
Somehow, she ends up in the forest. Only when she stands in the clearing does she realize what part of the forest exactly—and a cold shiver runs down her spine, as memories flood her.
It’s the clearing they, Team 7 that is, had their first training with Kakashi, all those many years ago. Sakura doesn’t know whether to laugh or cry, so she just stands there, shivering, for a moment.
(It’s all too much, all of this—for a tiny moment she wishes she could go back, just be twelve years old again, back when times were simpler, and Sasuke was still with her.)
Only when she hears the cracking of some twigs behind her does Sakura realize she’s not alone; and she spins around, ready to face the other person, in case they might be an assailant.
They are, though not in the sense she thought. Naruto looks almost as surprised as she is at the sight of her, and for a moment it’s just them, the wind and the forest.
“What are you doing here?” she breathes out, voice quiet and tone flat.
Naruto looks at her, and for the fraction of a second his expression looks as if she slapped him. Then, he smiles. It’s not the wide, energetic smile she’s used to, but a small one, a quiet one.
“I could ask you the same.”
Even his voice is calm and quiet, and Sakura wonders where the small, loud boy she knew and loved disappeared to. She doesn’t say that though, of course she doesn’t. They both pretend as if the way they’re behaving is normal, they have since… Well, since the end.
“I needed to get some fresh air,” she answers, then, voice cracking a little.
If Naruto noticed, he doesn’t let it show. He nods, patiently, understanding.
“Me too.”
Then it’s just them and the wind again, silence wrapping itself around them like silk. It’s both pleasant and uncomfortable at the same time; the man feels like home to her, always has, but it also hurts. Sakura isn’t quite sure why.
After a while, they sit down together under a tree. There’s enough distance between them that someone else could sit there, and for a moment, Sakura feels the overwhelming urge to close it, to touch him. She doesn’t.
“How’s Sarada?” Naruto asks, and his voice sounds almost hoarse. He’s looking somewhere else, his gaze betraying no discernable emotion, but Sakura knows he doesn’t really care about that.
“Good. What about Boruto?”
Naruto nods, pretends he knows. Sakura knows he’s lying, he’s in his office most of the time. He doesn’t have a lot of time to be home., she hears Hinata’s voice ring in her head, on one of the evenings she had spent outside with the other girls. But we’re happy nonetheless.
(Naruto doesn’t look happy, but she doesn’t mention it. She almost feels guilty, feels as if she’s wronged Hinata somehow.)
“He’s good, too.”
There isn’t anything left to talk about, Sakura realizes. She thinks back to all the times they had talked, all the things they had endured together, how close they had become over the years. How did they drift apart this much? She almost breaks out in tears, but she steadies herself. She can’t show her weakness in front of Naruto like that. She can’t allow herself to hurt him.
It’s unbearable, sitting next to him, but at the same time, it’s the only thing she wants, the only thing she needs. Sakura doesn’t know if she loves Naruto, but she doesn’t want to find out.
(She could never do that to Hinata, or Sarada. Or Sasuke. But most of all, she’s scared of destroying everything, scared of getting hurt. Staying as is seems like the safest option, even if it hurts. Especially when it hurts.)
She’s ready to be quiet forever, if she needs to.
But Naruto isn’t.
“Sakura—” he starts, and all air leaves her lungs.
“No,” she whispers, but he doesn’t stop.
“Sakura, I—”
He looks pained for a moment, looks at her, sees her wearing the same expression, and falls quiet.
“You’re right. I’m sorry.”
The lump in Sakura’s throat gets bigger with every second, and she’s sure she’s going to cry once she’s home. Why did he have to start? Why did he have to shatter the distance between them? Now, she no longer feels like she can be quiet, no longer feels like she can just let this be.
“Why?” she asks, and Naruto understands.
He reaches out, cups her face, and she leans into the touch.
“Maybe,” he starts, and now the dam is broken; they both can’t stop themselves, not anymore, not for a moment longer. “Maybe I love you, Sakura-chan. Maybe I always have.”
Sakura stares at him. It’s no surprise, of course it isn’t. Deep down she’s always known.
(And still. And still. And still.)
She smiles a bitter smile. It almost feels like a goodbye.
“Maybe,” she says, and her voice cracks again, but she doesn’t cry. “Maybe I do too. Maybe, I always have, too. Maybe…”
She trails off, and her voice gets quieter, almost a whisper. The wind strokes through her hair, ruffles through his, and she almost hopes he doesn’t hear her.
“Maybe I just want to be yours.”
(They both know that isn’t possible, not anymore. Naruto nods, and she stands up, excusing herself. He stays behind, and she doesn’t need to turn around to know that he’s looking after her, that he will until she’s out of sight. Sakura does cry when she arrives in the house she hates, the place she refuses to call home.)