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It's raining. Heavily. Or at least that's the first word Uchiha Sasuke would use to describe it. And the next would be loud . But that doesn't make it any harder for him to hear the knock on his door. He answers, even if it takes a while, he does. His pace is slow, but he still reaches for the door, drags it open, and looks at his visitor.
Sakura does look up at him, but only a moment later. Her green eyes, like thin glass, seemed like they could break with the slightest touch. But he doesn't say anything. His eyes widen, but he doesn't know if it shows. He doesn't know if he wants it to show.
"Hi." Is all she says and it barely reaches his ears.
And then there's this silence and Sasuke does not know what to say to her. Not yet. But for some reason, he's suddenly reminded of the time they went to another one of Naruto's parties. Naruto finds reasons - which don't exactly seem like reasons to Sasuke - to throw parties; whenever and wherever he likes. At bars, at his house, at random places, at noon, at night, at dawn; wherever, whenever.
He remembers vividly, Sakura didn't hate parties. But she didn't exactly like it either.
"Then, why go?" He had asked her when she told him this. They were lying on his bed. Sakura on top of him, her stomach pressed onto his back, their fingers entangled.
"Because there's dancing involved."
Sasuke looked at her, expressionless, and she knew he wanted her to continue so she did.
Then he remembers her, bored at someone's birthday party, playing with the glass of beer in her hands. He doesn't remember whose birthday it was, but he remembers Sakura, her dark purple dress that hugged her body, earrings that matched her clothes, hanging from her ears, only peeking out when she shakes her head or laughs; it sparkles for a second or two and then disappears behind her pink strands once again, but still visible if you kept looking at her. This, Sasuke remembers; how he looked at her as he sipped some sort of drink he doesn't remember the taste of. He got up from his seat and stood behind her, whispering "can we go home yet?"
"I know it's kind of boring. But there's a dance floor." She had said to him, her eyes sparkling with enthusiasm, as she pointed to the dancefloor.
"So?" Sasuke was not a good dancer. Or maybe he does not remember the last time he danced. So he concluded that he was a bad dancer; because you're always bad at something you haven't done yet, at least according to Sasuke you are.
"So, we're dancing."
"What- no."
"Yes, come on! I promise it's fun. Please, Sasuke-kun. This party is so boring and dancing is so not . So, please?"
And so they danced. He does not remember much of what they actually did on the dancefloor but he remembers being annoyed at Naruto for whistling and later coming home and going straight to sleep; maybe with the smallest of smiles on his face as he, for a moment, lived through his day once again.
He then remembers Sakura, waving at him from the dancefloor at the place they were supposed to meet after her shift at work, for drinks. It was an evening, and you could tell by looking at the sky, how it sighed in exhaustion from burning throughout the day. Summer evenings are typically sleepy and fatigued. The streets were filled, as usual, with parents buying things their children liked before getting home, couples meeting one another at the end of the day, shopping together after a rough day of work, crossing things off their checklists, friends, hand in hand getting freshly made street food in paper plates and cheap tissues and still , laughing as the sauce drips and leaves a bright stain on their new clothes; everyone unanimously, anticipating for that one moment when they reach home. And Sasuke knew, Sakura's day must have been just as long and rough as anyone else's, if not more. But she was dancing when he saw her. He had walked to her and asked her if she wasn't tired, to which she replied, "so tired," and then she smiled, "but, I'm dancing." As if it's supposed to take it away instead of tire her out more.
"Hn." Was his reply. He didn't understand why she would want to dance if she was exhausted. But he didn't stop her. Instead, he silently took a seat behind the counter, from where he could see her clearly. He remembers clearly how he calculated the point from where he would see her the best.
And now, he didn't know why she was standing in front of his doorstep, fully soaked in the pounding rain, so strong that he wonders if it has left scars on her skin. He wonders if the raindrops were not just made of water, but of poisonous kunai which has now pierced through her body. She seems vulnerable and hurt and he doesn't know why; he decides he shouldn't ask. Not now. He wouldn't want her to ask him if he was in her place. That was reason enough for Sasuke, so instead, he asks,
"Wanna dance?"