x by Ebony x
I have no rights to Naruto (or anything else for that matter)
Sooner or later, something's going to give way.
Sooner or later, it'll all get better.
Sooner or later, you always said.
I guess I believed you.
Her hands rest in her lap, against the soft white fabric; unwrinkled and unsoiled, as she sips her tea (far too hot, but her mouth knows no complaint). Her eyes, pale and far-off, flicker to the window left open to let sweet sunlight pour down and into the room, like warm honey dripping over her skin.
There is an everlasting silence all through the house, which not even the wind dares disturb. And both of them long for it to end, but neither knows how to bring that about, so they sit (together) and wait.
Across from her, he sits. He has picked up his teacup a few times, but has not yet taken a drink, aside from politely wetting his lips. His fingers linger restlessly on the edge of the short table, rich, dark chocolate in color. His eyes, pale and somber, dart over her every now and then, trying to decide what/whom they are looking at. Short pieces of blue-black hair curl around her pale face, light colored lips set just slightly in thoughtful frown.
The silence is choking him, now, as he runs a fingertip along the rim of the cup. He could strike up a conversation about the weather, but they can both see the sun and azure sky through the window, and that would make it seem like they were avoiding something anyway. Not that they aren't, he just wants to avoid it more skillfully, for that wouldn't blow things altogether and then what would he do? He doesn't even know what they are avoiding, really, it seems more like they are avoiding everything all together, and it's beginning to get under his skin. And it itches.
"Neji-niisan?" she asks quietly, and he stirs from his thoughts, lifting his fingertip from the cup. Faint curls of steam wrap around his hand like ghostly ribbons, causing his porcelain skin to grow warm and damp.
Biting her lip, she continues to stare out the window, breath whispering over her lips like a wordless song as she exhales, but so softly, he can barely hear (and he's straining).
"Do you think…he'll come back?"
The words echo in the aching space between them, waiting patiently to for an answer (one that may never actually come, but they wait anyways). Yes, that was always her question, wondering when the blonde would return, after he had run off after the Uchiha once again. Once again.
Finally, he conjures a response from the vast noiselessness, leaning forwards a little, though she's still so far away.
"Sooner or later," he says, softly, and she nods, not minding that this is what he always tells her, nor that he looks away as he says it, pausing for a short time before.
"Sooner or later," she repeats, mostly to herself. And the silence once again overtakes them, while his fingers begin to dance noiselessly on the tabletop. She glances over at him, mouth twisted in a small, forced smile. They meet eyes and he looks away again, as if he has been slapped, or perhaps kissed (or perhaps both). They meet eyes and she turns back to her window, breathing in the fresh, moist smell of the outside. It had rained earlier that morning. They can smell it.
There so many things he could say. So many things he wants to say. But in this blaring quiet that makes his head pound and throb (and he's begging for just a little noise to make it go away), he finds himself weakened. He can't. It reaches into his desert-dry throat and pulls out the words that have caught there; so long, they've begun to rot.
The diminuendo just goes on and on…
He stares at her a while longer (almost as if he expects her to say or do something) before standing, bowing to her before he leaves the elegant room. She sits at the table like a doll, raising the teacup to her lips before letting the bitter liquid trickle down her throat.
And alone she sits in the silence.
I guess you believed me.
Sooner or later, is all I can tell you.
Sooner or later, it'll get worse.
Sooner or later, this deafness will give way.
Sooner or later…