By The Windowsill


Summary: There were never people too different, yet too alike at the same time.

Author's Note: Okay, Icee's been asking for a Sasuke x Hinata since God knows when (no wait, last October actually), so finally I got an idea to put one up. Anyway, please bear with me if it isn't as good as people (insert pointed glare towards Icee here) expect it to be. It's my very first attempt at a SasuHina, so please keep it in mind if suddenly you burst into laughter somewhere in the middle. Thanks!

Disclaimer: I don't own Sasuke, or Hinata.

There were never people too different, yet too alike at the same time.

He had dark eyes. Fixed in them were a frightening, icy indifference not to the people who surrounded him, but to the world in its entirety. They held strength, too, the unparalleled kind of power that remained loosely chained within him. These two, even in a simple glance, pushed people away; they wondered if he no longer cared, and they supposed it was a part of him, a part of his devil-may-care nature.

She had pale eyes. In stark contrast, they were warm and had the distinct spark of innocence in them. Looking into her almost translucent eyes, one would wonder how it was that she became such a renowned shinobi. Yet, people were drawn to her, because of her kind ways and gentle manner. They knew that despite anything, she would always be there for them.

When he took interest in a person, he would remain silent, even when her name came up. He listened quietly along with the others, with feigned indifference, and would go home each afternoon contented to have learned more about her. He never let anyone find out that he busied himself thinking of such things; perhaps he never dared.

When she took interest in a person, she would ask her closest friends all about him, every incriminating detail. She never had to pressure them much; she never asked anything of them, and they were all too excited to help her get to know him better. She had to endure several bouts of teasing, especially from Kiba, but she always thought it was worth it.

When he first said her name, it was quietly, in the safety of his home, and even then it was barely louder than a whisper. He had been watching the distant lake from his second-floor window. He did not entertain thoughts such as how much she reminded him of water, and if he did, he didn't realize it until her name had formed like fire on his lips. Realizing what he said, he turned away, closed the window, and refused to open it for the next two weeks.

When she first said his name, she had pressed her index fingers together, reddened as she focused on them with her pallid eyes, and stammered his name. No one understood it the first time, and they cajoled her to say it again, making her flush more deeply. Quietly she repeated the name, much to the raucous reactions of her teammates and her close friend, Tenten. They promised, after much prodding, not to repeat it to anyone.

When he saw her walking past, he wore a mask of complete passiveness, not even offering her a passing glance. Like always, he pretended she wasn't there – the last thing he needed was other people noticing what he strived to keep secret. And so it stayed a secret, and he only allowed himself to steal glances when he was sure no one was looking, or when he was sure no one would care.

When she saw him walking past, she followed him with her eyes, turning red as she did. She held her breath, as if a single puff of air out of place would make him vanish into thin air. She wouldn't look away; she studied every movement, every subtle shift of weight. Then, if he suddenly looked her way, she would avert her gaze and stared at the ground instead, pretending he was never there.

When he tried to talk to her, he was always calm and cool and collected. His voice was unstrained and even, and his words casual and easily chosen. Nothing about him betrayed what he kept silent about – certainly not the hands he jammed into his pockets, or the way his lips were slightly down-turned with just a hint of irritation. But he would always take note of everything she said, of the way she spoke, the way her index fingers were pressed together as she talked, and committed it to memory.

When she tried to talk to him, she was always shy and reserved. She struggled to keep her voice from shaking, and she often groped for just the right words to say. When the inadvertent blush crept onto her pale cheeks, which was remarkably often, she tended to touch both palms to them, making it a little more obvious. But she strove to make their conversations as natural as she could make them. Still, she tended to go home each day feeling more embarrassed than before.

When he decided he should tell her how he felt, he had been walking around town, looking for nothing in particular. The day was fair as the large, billowy clouds rolled over a clear blue sky in the horizon. The sun was up in the noonday sky, bringing down sweltering heat on his back. He walked into the hospital, deciding to check on his teammate, injured from a sparring match. It was then that he saw her, in the lobby by the windowsill.

When she decided she should tell him how she felt, she had been visiting a close friend in the hospital. She was standing by the windowsill, concerned for her friend, when she realized he was standing there watching her. Why was he there? But she didn't have an answer to that question. She didn't have an answer to any of the questions that ran through her mind and hammered in her ears. She took one step towards him, before she could even think about what she was doing.

When he noticed she was watching him, he put on his mask of icy indifference and approached her. He knew there was no better time than at that moment. For the first time in a while, he was afraid. Afraid of what would happen, of what she would think – he dispelled those thoughts as he came closer.

When she noticed he was watching her, she backed away a step, thinking she had called him nearer with her movement. Still, she was unable to stop his easy journey towards her, because her back was soon up against the wall and he was less than three feet away. They soon stood in front of each other, with him staring into those pallid eyes set to the ground.

When he told her the truth, he didn't smile, keeping only the grave, solemn look on his face. The truth was, he was unsure – him, unsure! – of what he should do next. He was uncertain of how she would react. He steeled himself, setting those fears to rest now that he had lifted the weight of the secret off his shoulders. He waited expectantly for her to reply, and colored slightly as he saw the blush that formed on her cheeks.

When she told him the truth, she found the courage to finally meet his eyes. She made herself strong, if only for that moment, so that she could tell him what she had to. A smile graced her face and her eyes, and she had never before meant those words more than she did then.

And it was there, by the windowsill, that they weren't so different after all.

Author's Note: And that's the end of my first SasukeHinata. Please tell me what you think of it!