[A/N] Hey guys. Writing a non-AU, for the first time in a long time; Pre-Shippuden, too. Going back to my roots, I guess! XP

—please don't let it rain tonight.

::

{ six inches }

we'll never know; you'll never know

::

It's not enough to just think about him anymore, because her hands want to touch warm skin and her lips want to press against the soft, black hair that gently sways in time with the warm wind. It's not enough to just be near him, because her feet ache to close that impenetrable distance of about six inches between them that Naruto can pass so easily—Sasuke's bubble of solitude, against which she can't even press the tip of her little finger.

And she's jealous, horribly so. (She knows, it's stupid, it's stupid, Naruto is special, but just, why can't it be her?)

Her eyes flicker to his moon-lit silhouette, this beautiful thirteen-year-old boy walking silently beside her, and she averts her eyes away again, because she's confused and bewildered and perplexed.

It's not enough, it's not enough, it's not enough—but it is, because she loves him; this tiny bit of happiness, of his warmth radiating against her own bare arm, gives her the helpless push to smile and hope for tomorrow.

But today. Today, she tries not to smile when their hands accidentally brush, or let her heart beat a little faster when she notices that he's matched his pace to hers, or let herself take some glee in the fact that she has maybe not-so-accidentally stepped a little closer to him a few minutes ago, and he hasn't moved away to recreate that distance.

It's warm here, under the moonlight. But there are still six inches separating the breadths of their shoulders.

("I love you."

"You can't.")

He suddenly looks at her.

She always glances at him thoughtlessly, when she thinks he isn't looking. He, though, never meets her eyes without intention. So the few times when their gazes connect, he always looks at her confidently and calculatingly and deliberately all at the same time, and she doesn't know what to do. Like right now.

So she looks away, suddenly nervous.

And he smirks. It makes her happy, because Sasuke-kun doesn't smile often. It sets off a spark, setting her heart on fire. In a rush of sudden half-courage: "Thank you for walking me home," she says quietly, speaking to her feet.

He doesn't say anything, but gives her a tiny, tiny little nod. So she finally admits, "I'm happy." The simple words are spoken, liberated into the air and escaped from her heart, and she feels vulnerable and free.

Sasuke stops walking, and looks at her again. She meets his gaze, and immediately there comes rushing an electric shock through the length of her body. Oh.

"Until that bridge there," he says, his voice low (she nearly can't hear it, but she's learned to listen), "and then I'm going home."

She smiles. "Okay."

They mutually break their eye contact and start walking again. Sakura looks at the bridge.

Tomorrow, she thinks. Tomorrow.

And today. Today, silence permeates the atmosphere, but Sakura smiles, because he's Sasuke-kun and he's beautiful and she'll always love him. And sometimes their hands accidentally brush against each other, and he doesn't pull away. It's not enough, but it's enough.

After all, it's only six inches.