She sits in the twilight, enfolded in his arms, strong arms that have killed and maimed and been maimed and stained and are still stained because a whole eternity of scrubbing will never rid him of the blood on his hands, these hands that grow so gentle when they caress her face, and she leans into those caresses but doesn't close her eyes, wondering what she ever did to deserve him and never knowing that he's wondering the same thing, only about her, because surely his sins taint him, mark him, so neither one closes their eyes, and she knows that if she blinks he'll be gone, so she keeps them open even after they begin to sting, and soon they begin to water, and he sees her tears and he carefully wipes them away with his – stained! – fingers and he asks her what's wrong, to which she replies that she loves him loves him loves him, and he grows very still, and when he says nothing, she tells him it's okay and turns her attention back to the sky, dark as his heart and his soul, because even though he doesn't love her he is willing to sit there and hold her and that's all she ever wanted (well, not counting her foolish fantasies of requited love because that's all they are, wistful dreams and hopes), and she leans back into his chest, sinking fully into his embrace, and she sits with her damp eyes wide open into the night and his arms around her and together they watch the last of the light fade away, and even though she knows that when her eyes close, he'll disappear, she looks up, not quite at him, and her mouth smiles quietly.

(but her eyes are cold and tired and dead from being open for so long as they stare unseeingly into the distance, gazing at some distant point just above his shoulder)

- - -

Trying out a new style. We recently read a story in English class that consisted of one continuous sentence, so I had an urge to try it out for myself. It's supposed to be Sakura and Sasuke, but I suppose it can be anyone at all.