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Alright, I will warn all readers now, this story can also be called the ramblings of a mad woman in the middle of the night. It really is quite random, is OOC, doesn't relate to the manga plot at all, and well, yeah, did I mention random? But it's something that struck me on a long ride to nowhere and I just had to jot it down.
To those who read my other stories, I can only beg for forgiveness at my utter lack of updating. My excuse will be that my parents surprised me with a vacation (actually, I still haven't returned home yet) and well, the rest is self explanatory. May this appease your appetite until then.
Hope everyone enjoys.
Standard Disclaimer Applied
Hate
She had first met him in the garden.
He had been working as a servant under the Haruno household.
A sudden afternoon, he had smiled towards her.
Because she was a rebel (who had been taught not to associate with the lower classes,) and because his blue eyes and foxish grin held a certain charm, she had smiled back.
He had been nice, easy-going, and all too trusting of everyone and everything.
Perhaps that was why she had settled with him, because his childish simplicity was an escape from the pressures of her everyday activities.
He had probably been somewhat aware that she was only using him, but it didn’t matter, not to him...because (as he once told her) he would always cherish her no matter what happened.
One night, he had kissed her on the lips after a stroll and she hadn’t felt a thing (no sparks, no tingles...nothing.)
After, he had asked her to go to the country with him, and she had said yes so she would be able to escape from the boring hellhole that was her life.
They had run away at midnight, the servant and the heiress, together.
She had been sixteen then, but now she was older, wiser...an adult.
True to his word, he had moved them to the country, and they had yet to discovered.
The entire little village had believed them to be married (even though they had questioned the young age) and kindly had accepted them with open arms.
He had become an ice cream vendor, and she the faithful stay-at-home wife.
On the three year mark, he had stopped her before she had gone to bed, and had looked her straight in the eyes.
"Just tell me once, Sakura," he had whispered. "I only need to hear it once."
Naruto...
And even though she had not meant it, she had complied with his wish.
"I love you."
She had clutched him to her chest as she stared down at his motionless face, stained with the blood leaking from the bullet wound on his forehead.
Even in death, he was smiling, and she had bitterly mirrored it when she lay him down onto the cold pavement.
The tears would not come (as she felt the sky was doing enough of it already) and the brief sadness that gripped her heart was quickly overwhelmed by a burning rage.
She guessed she partially hated him, because he-her one escape- had left her, left her alone to suffer in the cold, cruel world.
But mostly, she had cursed the man who had stood behind her, silent and stoic as she grieved over her husband's body.
She had detested him because he had been the one who killed her friend, and had despised him because it had meant the past had finally caught up...she had been found.
He had grabbed her by the arm and pulled her up, dragged her to the car, and shoved her through the door with his rough hands-killer's hands-ignoring her screaming and protesting the entire way.
As they had sped away, she had snarled at him.
"I hate you."
The first few days, she had refused to eat or drink, and he had allowed her to do so...had let her act however she wanted.
Only when it had been clear that she was on the brink and would not last any longer, had he used force and shoved bread and water down her throat.
She had kicked and scratched and punched, but it all was to no avail, yet she had refused to give in (she told herself she would never do such a thing) and also had refused to cry for her misfortune; she would continue fighting.
Despite it all, on the 7th night, she had taken the bread and water he offered without a word, and had swallowed it by herself.
If he had been amused by her actions, he had not showed it on his face.
Before he had exited her room to allow her to sleep, she had snapped at him.
"I hate you."
As the days had come and left, she had come up with more and more reasons why she hated him.
She hated that she tried her best to insult him, to degrade him, and yet, he would always ignore her; that damn apathy was irksome as hell.
She hated that he never talked (never even attempted to,) because sometimes the silence between them would stretch on for so long that she wanted to scream just to break the tension.
She hated that he was arrogant, that he knew he could match her in cleverness and wit, and that he was superior in strength, so chance of escape was basically an impossible feat.
She hated that he was handsome-so so much more than her late husband-and that she couldn't help but be captivated by everything about him.
Out of curiosity, she had asked him his name on the 14th day.
He had looked at her, and told her she needn't know in that deep masculine voice that belonged only to him, and she had grown furious.
And because she had been so furious (which was what her delusional mind was whispering to her at that time,) she had concluded he needed to be punished, so she had crushed her lips to his.
All she could think was that she was insane and ill and completely embarrassing herself (though she had been satisfied that he was equally shocked as well) but yet somehow, another part of her had only been able to keep screaming that he needed to be punished and punished and punished; she had decided to listen to the latter.
Later that night, she lay naked in bed next to his slumbering form, and felt like crying for the shameful act she had committed with who she considered the enemy.
That moment of vulnerableness had been short-lived, however, as she realized he had never answered her question of what his name was.
She had quickly become furious once more.
I hate you.
She had watched in silence as her father congratulated him on a job well done (she learned his name was Sasuke) and had given him a wad of bills as payment.
She had faced him when he stood at the gates of her house, ready to depart; it was only the two of them there.
"Where are you going?" she had asked him.
"My job is completed." he had answered.
An awful sound had been suddenly heard, and then another had quickly followed, and she was shocked when she had realized those sounds were coming from her, and that she was sobbing.
She had felt wetness upon her cheeks, and was even more appalled when she had felt the tears cascading down in a constant flow.
Her body had begun to shake, and the tremors only continued to grow more and more violent.
Her legs had lost their strength, and she had collapsed to the ground in a pathetic heap.
"IHATEYOUIHATEYOUIHATEYOU!" she had screamed.
iloveyouiloveyouiloveyou
Wordlessly, he had walked over and pulled her up, swiping away the tears with his calloused palms-lover's palms-and then bending down to place a kiss upon her head.
"Goodbye, Sakura."
She sits alone in her garden-one could say it all started here- and stares at the flower she holds in her hand.
There is footsteps behind her, and she feels his warmth before she actually turns and sees him.
They don't speak, but merely take a moment to take in each other.
He really hasn't changed much, but then again, probably neither has she.
The moment passes, and finally, their eyes meet.
Surprisingly, he is the first to speak.
"Do you still hate me?"
She does not reply immediately, but instead, looks down upon his outstretched hand.
Slowly, she grasps it, and looks back up into his smirking face.
"Always."
End
-Well...I don't know, I liked it at first because I felt like I was writing in a different style than I usually do, but then I went back to edit and found that I actually don't like the (purposeful) choppiness of it that well at all. So, I'm a bit torn between this one shot, so I'll call this the experimental one shot and see how it turns out. Ahah.
-I can't really explain it, but I felt the presence of names (Sakura, Sasuke, Naruto) just didn't feel right for me when I was writing this, so I tried to leave them out as much as possible, only using them to make sure the characters were identifiable.
-Also, until the last section of the story, I was trying to make it seem like they were all in the past (which is why there was tons of had this and had that) and making the last section the "present now."
-This I felt isn't really obvious (as I'm such a bad writer,) but I wanted to portray a 'strong' Sakura where she doesn't cry (hence the OOC warning) until the section where Sasuke is leaving, which to me, shows how much she really was affected by his departure.
-And well, this is something pointless, but the word 'hate' becomes sort of a synonym for 'love' by the end of the story...yeah. (this is the part where all readers think the author is completely whacked out and belongs in an asylum..ahaha.) I suppose I should mention that his hands go from that of a "killer" to a "lover" in her mind, if that makes sense at all.
Alright, anyways, I hope it wasn't too bad (and I apologize for the boring and long and unneeded author's note.)
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