Saviour

Haruno Sakura could not believe it.

Could. Not. Believe. It.

Not to purposely refer to her best friend's comical phrase, but it was true. She was astounded, and of course, the most prominent and damning feeling of all: disappointed.

Uchiha Sasuke had come back to Konoha and he had not changed one bit.

He was still as irreverent as ever, and acted as if nobody else existed in his world. He remained a stone when Naruto hugged him, a wall to converse with and a thorn in the side.

She would blame her high expectations, however, were they really high? Hadn't he gotten what he wanted?

Of course, there was no such thing as 'enough' for Sasuke. He would keep on striving as if he was incessantly frozen in the position of the Uchiha avenger.

She used to be able to sympathise and tolerate. Nonetheless, the lack of consideration towards her was a serious pang in the chest.

She was so sick of him. She would constantly try to strike up conversation, only to be turned down by silence. She would construct events in which they could go as a group with the rest of team, but he would brush her off with training. She would attempt to see the good with him, yet she was only stroked with the exploding flaws of him.

She supposed that she was done. This was the precipice.

So, Haruno Sakura did what she was best at: shocking people.

Sasuke was neatly scraping his katana while leaning against a fine trunk of a tree until he heard a raging storm that sounded like a stampede was heading towards him, with the additional sound effects of thunder.

God, not fangirls again, he thought drearily, only to be approached by the one ex-fangirl.

Her expression was distressed. No, scratch that—angry. Wait, still not enough. Furious beyond belief.

He raised an eyebrow, beckoning an answer, but he only received shoulders that lunged up and down, catching breath. He turned back to his katana.

She nearly punched the ground out of frustration. "You," she hissed, "you know what? Fuck you."

Now that got his attention. She decided that the minor flash of surprise through his eyes was not enough.

"I'm sick of you, did you know that? I'm so sick of you. You prance around here like the tragedy child who deserves all the attention, but guess what, you don't deserve it. You've done nothing for us ever since you came back, and I doubt you ever will."

His ego seemed to take a blow at the 'tragedy child' insult, and his eyes narrowed.

"No," she continued, "don't you dare give me that look. I've held this in for so many years and I'm going to get it out. I don't know what I ever saw in you—"

She stopped, flickering her emerald orbs over his form, only to be received with a pulsating disgust in her stomach.

"—you're just... infuriating. And arrogant. And egotistical beyond belief. And ignorant, stubborn, heartless, rude... absolutely insoluble." She ignored the fact that the last term was for chemistry, because she was too lit on her flame.

"I...—I can't sit here and wait for you to change, because after so long, I realise that you won't. You won't change. I suppose if I really did love you though, I should appreciate you for who you are. Maybe I do. Maybe I don't. I don't know anymore. I'm just tired, Sasuke. Tired. That's perfect."

She smiled grimly at the confession. "I don't, I guess. I don't love you. So, yeah. I'm done. I'm finished with you." She realised that the inadequacy of her ending barely fitted with the malevolence of her beginning, but she didn't care. She couldn't be bothered to care.

She clenched her fists at the remaining spikes of pain that betrayed her words, but continued to walk away, throwing away her past, her expectations, her belief. In all truth, she was letting go of a part of her.

His resounding voice seemed to slice through the silence and catch up after her, grabbing her back. "Wait."

He stood up from his immobile position, sighing and combing through his hair with his hand. She peeked over her shoulder, not sure how to handle this sudden action.

"I... I never expected you to hold on for this long, you know," he muttered, almost incomprehensibly, almost embarrassingly.

She bit her lip. "Well... we did, Sasuke, we did, whether you care about it or not. Maybe Naruto hasn't given up on you, but I have."

She began to walk away again, only to be interrupted a second time. "However," he murmured, more confidently this time, "I never really wanted you to ever let go, though in contradiction, I did try to."

She blinked her eyes. "What are you even trying to say? I can't understand anything about you anymore."

His eyes became a piercing pool of black. "I tried to make you hate me... you could say. You're right when you say I never deserved you."

Her resolve was slowly weakening, and she hated to admit it. "You don't," she whispered, but she didn't sound as strong as she did a minute ago.

His expression became blank again, every emotion nulling. "So," he shrugged, a pitiful attempt of nonchalance, "I suggest you do it. Let go, I mean."

She stood there for what seemed like years. She truly did despise him, however he always managed to come back flying with some type of recovery, something for her to hold onto and create hope from. And he was doing it again.

She gripped her hands into fists even tighter. "Will you? Will you let go?" She realises at this moment that he never has tried to. He's given half-assed attempts, but he has never whole-heartedly succeeded in severing the bonds. Maybe there was a reason. And she begins to wonder if she was spending too much focus on the wrongs rather than the possible rights.

A cynical smirk grasps his lips, and it held exact resemblance to the replica on the night of his defection from Konoha. "No, not really."

Slowly, but surely, she comes to the resolution that she cannot do this alone. She cannot cut completely from Sasuke without him doing the same. It was a dual effort, one that he had possibly thought about and had calculated this very circumstance so that she would be trapped. She wouldn't be able to break off from him, because he would never be ready.

Just as he would never be ready to embrace her and accept the incessant fondness that inside, she never really stopped having. However, she decides that he's closer to doing that than letting go of her.

She gritted her teeth. She hated how he did this, but at the same time, she treasured it.

"You can't do this, you know," she confirms, trying to salvage the last ounces of resistance she has left, "you can't keep on turning around in the last minutes and hoping that it will fix everything."

His smirk transformed into a minuscule smile. "Maybe it will, though, one day. Maybe I'll get close enough." Maybe one day, I'll manage to say how I truly feel.

She frowned. "I—I can't work on maybes."

He began to walk closer to her, invading her personal space, breaking down her walls. "Yes, you can. I know you, Sakura."

She thought of saying no, you don't, but she would've been wrong. In the end, he knew her better than almost anybody.

His smile became softer as he touched her jaw. She was dismantling. "After all, you know I don't do maybes. I do I won't and I will."

"Then which one are you doing, right now?" She was pleading for an answer.

He pulled her face closer to his and she knew then that she had lost to him. She would always be his, and no matter how many times she would get angry, she would never stop believing in him to come back as the saviour. He was invincible.

He spoke against her lips. "I will."

And then, he kissed her, disastrously, tragically and messily, but perfectly and imperfectly at all the same time. It was fleetingly bittersweet until the warmth of it buried into the core of heart, fostering rejuvenation and fuelling her alive again.

uh. I did this quickly. I started off being horribly pissed off and then I ended being refreshed again. This wasn't meant to be the fluff since there's another one coming but hey, the story wrote itself. And I actually liked it. But it was unedited and spur-of-the-moment. Yet it proves how I cannot write anti-Sasuke/Sakura.