Chapter Text
It is a wintry evening, and the sky is starless—or at least, so it appears, since the streetlamps at this hour have begun their tireless illumination of the city. Friends and strangers alike pour into the sidewalks, all in search of a balm to quiet their turbulent hearts. You know how it is—the conditions of our existence make it so—we are always trying, reaching, striving for communion. Always longing to find that other soul with which our own will claim kinship, that other person with whom our hearts will cry that we are finally home. And very few are those fortunate enough to find that boon for themselves.
This is not a happy thought, and maybe you will rue me for bringing it to your attention. Let me offer this in recompense, then—let me lead you through a story. Maybe there you can find a hopeful resolution, or at least a way to fill a lonely hour.
It begins—but no, this is not the beginning. The beginning of this story, their story, has long passed. They met, they loved, they parted ways—and this is where our tale picks up. It might be more fitting, then, to say it unexpectedly resumes. Our story unexpectedly resumes on this winter evening in a quaint little bar, in this restless old city.
Uchiha Sasuke sits down at a corner booth, where he could watch the crush of people unobserved. He has come here after a long day of unfulfilling work, thinking he would rather find distraction in a glass of whisky than head home to his empty apartment. It has been doubly so, since he and Sakura had broken up. If they were still together, she would have moved in with him, and filled the space with her light and her laughter. But it was not to be. He loved her, that much is certain—he loves her still, if he is to be completely honest with himself. But even with all that love they could not be happy. They crashed and burned, and that has left him here, the solitary king of the ashes.
He pours himself another glass, growing intoxicated both from the spirits and the memories flooding back into his mind. He is fast approaching the point where one’s mind becomes pleasantly blank from drunkenness, but something stops him short, almost sobering him up. He had his eyes on the door at that very moment, when it opened and she came in.
The sight of her, after those long months, is at once a breath of fresh air and a lancing pain in his chest. He watches her from across the room, as she smiles, and talks to the waitstaff, and orders herself a drink. But it is different. Knowing her for as long as he had, he could see how her smile lacked its usual warmth and vivacity. It was not the smile she had always greeted him with when they were together—where her whole face lights up and her eyes crinkle at the corners as she meets his gaze.
Even until the very end she had smiled at him like that. That day, when she said goodbye, the sight of it had been blinding and beautiful. What cruelty, he thinks. How cruel that so painful a memory should be attached to a scene of such beauty.
They had been sitting on the grass, basking in the last golden rays of the afternoon sun, and she was resting her head on his shoulder. Like she always did, like he thought she always would. But she had unlinked their joined hands, and unburdened him of her warm, dear weight. And then she had pressed a note into his hand, her eyes shining with unshed tears.
This is where we end, Sasuke-kun.
Haruno Sakura is on vacation. She had taken it earlier than usual this year, because she was tired and sorely needed to run away. Everywhere she turned the world seemed to ask things of her, and after giving so much of herself she felt utterly spent. So she escaped to this seaside city, for the span of a few weeks. To disappear. To forget, and likewise be forgotten—if only for a while.
Because, truth be told, the root of her heartaches is him: Uchiha Sasuke. It has been months, but the thought of him is still a gloomy cloud over her days. The questions are in her mind always—insistent, incessant.
I loved love you, with all of my heart. How could that not be enough for you? How could I not be enough for you?
How much more would you have taken of me, to satisfy your burning need?
So she had torn herself from the life they once shared, though it was hard. That last day had been tauntingly beautiful, as if to cast doubt on her decision of flight. She pressed against him then, taking comfort in his warmth and solidity —ah, if only for the last time.
And then she did what she set out to do: she let go her perch, and spread her wings. To freedom.
If she were to be honest with herself—she knows she might have stayed even then, if there had been something like longing reflected in those dark eyes. But there was nothing, only pools of bottomless black that would drown her if she stayed. So I must pay the price of loneliness, if I want to be free. Her heart was shattered by the thought, but there was no way around it. So be it, then.
She banishes the reminiscences with a resolute step, instead fixing her eyes on that which lay in front of her. She draws comfort from the fact of the chill wind, the unevenness of the cobblestone footpaths, the people—all unfamiliar faces, unburdened by associations. Everything showed itself new and fresh—perhaps to mark a fitting farewell, to the life that she has left behind.
She slides the barroom door open, smiles at the bouncer. She heads to the counter to order herself a drink. This is routine, comfort—her safe space. Here she could be bubbly, happy Sakura, who knows how to smile and say the right things. Here, where everything is transitory and thus all interaction is delightfully measured and reciprocal—where her fellow creatures would… ah, how did it go? A small smile slips onto her face as she recalls the phrase: grace for grace and love for love allow.
She sips her beer, letting the subtle bittersweetness wash over her tongue. And then she feels it—a prickle on her nape, that palpable sensation of a gaze alighting upon her. Scanning the bar, she meets a familiar pair of dark eyes.
Sasuke-kun.
For a moment they are each locked in the spell of the other’s searching stare. After the initial shock of discovery, Sakura realizes something more, and it takes her breath away. Something seemed to be shining in the depths of his gaze. Is it regret? Longing? The embers of their erstwhile affection?
At any rate, she feels she cannot simply let the moment pass—she must follow the impulse to come to him, and if he would speak, to hear what he has to say. She crosses the room, trying to decide if this was fate or foolishness.
Our lovers have been unexpectedly set on each other’s path, and they wait for the encounter with bated breath. The walk from the bar to the booth would not take Sakura more than the briefest of moments, but to them it feels longer. The sight of the other had sent them down the glittering avenue of memory, as if to soften their hearts against the meeting to come.
Fondness begins to well up in each lonely heart. Could their parting have been a misunderstanding?