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He said, “thanks, Sasuke,” and walked away.
You remember because you can never forget. Five months of letting go and you're back where you started. Your chest feels like an open wound, sore and abused. You never wanted any of this, never thought this would happen.
But most people don't. (You are not most people.)
For two weeks you have gone through your days remembering those words. You don't seek him out. You remember what happened last time you tried. Instead, you get angry. You take in that anger you felt all those months ago and add fuel to the fire.
It burns bright beneath your breast, a beast of a blaze. You feel like your gaze could kill a lesser man and you wish he was one.
(Late at night you think of him as Lesser but then you Remember and…)
During the third week you hear, “hey, bastard!”
It takes everything in you not to flinch but then it doesn't matter because you are angry . You are fucking furious. How dare he. You are not a toy. He can not play with you and then toss you to the side.
When he finally reaches you standing like a statue on the sidewalk, your scowl is so deep it could crack stone. He doesn't say anything for a moment, smiling and focused.
“Hey… what’s up?” What’s up. The words remind you of high school sucker punches and you are left reeling. What’s up. It has been two weeks since he walked off with “thank you” and nothing else.
You are still young and full of fire so you clench a fist and swing. It doesn't meet the definition of a sucker punch, not this time, but it feels just as good.
He stumbles back, hand coming up to touch the tender spot on his face. You sneer at him, face twisted and ugly. “Fuck you.”
You expect him to swing back but his fist doesn't clench, his body remains loose and you feel as though something important has been lost.
He sighs.
“I just…. You’re so fucking difficult, Sasuke.” He practically spits the sentence out, brows furrowed. “What the fuck am I supposed to do with you?”
You want to tell him he wasn't supposed to just walk out, wasn't supposed to thank you and fucking Leave. Instead, you curl your lip up at him, “Get lost.” You tell yourself you never wanted him anyway.
“This is what I mean! This shit you’re doing right now! What the fuck do you want ?” He shoves himself into your space. “You want me to get lost?” His voice is so fucking loud. “What? Nothing to say? What do you want ?” He sounds angry and earnest but all you can hear is “thanks, Sasuke” and the fade of his footsteps.
You want to finish what he started all those months ago. There’s nothing else to say.
You turn away and walk and it feels like it’s over until it isn’t. His hand is there, on your wrist, dragging you back in. You feel like you’re underwater, his voice muffled and distant. Adrenaline has made itself a home in your veins and your hands are shaking. He talks too much so you shove your mouth against his, a sad parody of a kiss.
His fingers are tense around your arm but he doesn’t pull away. His free hand comes up, wraps loosely around the other wrist. You think his eyes might be closed but you don’t want to know if they aren’t. Yours are.
He tries to gentle the kiss, pulling back and pressing in until your breath comes slower and the tension fades. It feels sweet and quiet and you have to tell yourself to keep breathing. It gradually slides into a deeper kiss, wet and still just as slow. You don’t realize you're trembling until he pulls back, mutters your name under his breath.
There aren’t any questions. He presses back in again in the middle of a stupid sunlit street and you forget what it means to be in a public place. Your hands slide up his arms, brush across his shoulders and chest. He lets out a breathy moan and grips your hips.
“Sasuke… Hey, Sasuke…. Come back to my place.” He makes his request quietly between presses of lips and tongue and you remind yourself to calm down even as you agree.
You know how this ends.