Don't own Naruto or anything affiliated with it, (sigh)
Story is KakashiSakura.
She stumbles into the cool night air, rosette hair plastered to a pale face; heading, in a haze, towards her apartment. Silent tears stream down from emerald orbs, mixing and running with blood, she moves mechanically to open and close the door and head up the stairs to her bathroom.
She pulls off her boots and in the process catches her reflection. Blood, his blood, spattered across her clothes, she pulls them off and throws them in the trash. No use washing them, she would always see the blood and nothing more. Stepping into the shower, she began methodically scrubbing her shaking body raw.
An hour later, feels like days to her, she returns to the hospital, couldn't leave him alone in here. She fills her lungs deeply trying to calm erratic breathing; finally she places her hand upon the innocent knob and turns. She almost cries again at the scene before her, gray hair matted and limp, chest rising and falling shallowly, tubes and IVs interlacing with alabaster flesh.
She crosses the room slowly, unwilling to believe this is really him. She takes his much larger hand in hers and squeezes it tightly. How could a B-ranked mission do this much to him?
She sits there who knows how long, willing him to open his eyes, more than ever she needs to see those eyes. The machines hum, taunting her, teasing her with much needed sleep. Finally she succumbs, leaning over to press her cheek to his chest, his muddled smell of rainstorms and lightning, swimming in her head.
She awakes to another night, she's sick of the darkness, turning her head, mismatched eyes meet emerald, and her visions blurs. She crawls up to lay beside him, crying sweet tears of relief; he wraps a protective arm around her.
"How long have I been out?" His deep timbre hums in the back of his throat.
"Too long." She mutters against his neck, his quiet laughter shaking the bed. She presses a chaste kiss to his lips, he smiles pulling her closer to him; feeling her body mold perfectly against his.
"Never do that to me again." She orders, soft voice suddenly serious, he smiles again before pressing a meaningful kiss to her lips.
"You know I can't promise anything, Sakura." He replies, though he wishes he could, the look on her face agrees, but her heart doesn't.
"Lie." She states simply, only needs to hear the words they don't have to be true.
"I won't do that to you again." His voice full of false conviction, she sighs burying her face into his muscled neck.
For now they'll survive on sweet lies and soft touches. They wish for a world of peace were they could lay down their instruments of death, and fall into each others souls.
She finds answers to unasked questions in his arms, and he feels the shredded remains of his heart slowly stitch back together with each kiss and touch. For what is the cherry blossom with out the tree to be her anchor?
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