So, uh, yeah, this is kinda depressing and angsty. But it's the middle of the night and I think it's raining; I'm allowed. Also, I am on a roll. Except it was a Tamora Pierce and Companions of the Night roll and this is my first Naruto and first Kakasaku piece in I think a couple of months but heyyy, it's something. Doesn't matter that it's short, too, cause quality versus quantity and all that, I suppose.

She has never actually spoken the words; never had them slide from her lips. The emotion in her eyes when she looks at him, the gentleness of her fingertips on his shoulder, none of this is communicated in words.

But it is alright, because he has never said anything either. Never spoken what he didn't need to say, but told her in his wide palm on the small of her back, him smiling only for her.

And she knows that she will never say it, never say those three one syllable words, because while Sakura supposes- no, knows them to be true, it's too heavy for her to be able to bring herself to say.

And if she doesn't say them, when he doesn't come back one day, doesn't walk through the gate in the evening or early morning with silver hair messier then normal, then, Sakura thinks, it will hurt less.

She tells herself that it doesn't truly matter because she knows how he feels and he knows every inch of her body and mind, but in the end, she turns out to be so, so, so wrong, and she regrets immensely having to whisper "I love you," to the unforgiving memorial that stands in the middle of the village.