Disclaimer: Nuh uh. I don't own Naruto.

'Don't throw it; this is not a love letter. I've given up on you. P.S. Your piercing looks sexy as hell.' Laughing, she lets the flames lick it away— it had all started with these foolish one-sided chats on Post-its.

trashy lovesick

berryboom

Ouch. What the—

Sakura bit her lip to keep herself from swearing out loud in the sudden, sharp pain and irritation that followed—this was the third time in a row that she had hurt herself while cleaning out the attic. Crimson liquor seeped from the diagonal cut across her index and dropped on her snow white apron.

She wiped away the blood with a dishcloth and sucked at her finger, before reaching out charily and cautiously to pick the dismembered shards of stained glass with another rag and dumping it in a huge bottle green plastic sack. Beneath the fine layer of powdered glass and dust worth of five or more years, was something cubic and silvery.

Sakura squatted down and ignoring the bags and old suitcases filled with long forgotten clothes, not to mention the broken racks which had to be thrown away and the numerous things she had to clean out from the hardly-ever-touched loft, pulled the cube out of the heap, brushing away the grime and holding it up to the slight ray of sunlight coming from the window.

It was a small-sized chest, the kind she used to keep her jewelry in. Curiosity arousing inside her, she fumbled with the lock and was glad to see that it was open. Expecting to see something exciting—maybe some old ornaments? She had been reading Treasure Island too much—she was a bit surprised to see that it contained stacks of notes, much-abused papers and supposedly documents. They seemed to be very neatly ordered for something that had been buried away for five years or so.

She unfolded the first note intriguingly.

Hey there, Sasuke-kun!

I'm Sakura. You must have seen; I'm in your class, the one with the light red hair? No, it isn't pink. I sit a few seats from you; I'm the one who was Alice in yesterday's play. So anyway, we all, Naruto, I, Ino, Kiba and everybody are having a partying recess school tomorrow. Will you come, please?

-Sakura

Reading that ancient memoir that she herself had written and dropped into the bag of a certain someone, back when she was in second grade, made her red lips pull up at the corners, but also felt mystified. Had Sasuke saved these—even the first one? She had always thought he received her scribbled notes and turning a blind eye, crumpled them up and threw them away. Of course, she had seen him read them, every other time with an annoyed crease between his eyebrows, but she never thought he would actually preserve them, in a safe, in all order!

Amused yet dazed, her attention totally diverted, she picked up the second one to reminisce.

Hello, Sasuke-kun!

Why didn't you come? It was so fun! We had party hats, and party paupers and a clown and everything! And did I tell you, it was actually Choji's birthday? His mom sent us a BIG cake! You should have seen it. Anyway, can I sit with you tomorrow?

-Sakura

That birthday had been her blossoming hope. She hadn't actually known that Sasuke, being a proud member of the elite Uchiha clan, totally declined any social invitations. She had been very young then, bubbly and fresh and innocent and foolish and lovesick. Like many girls in her class, she had totally lost her tiny heart to the quiet Uchiha, but she was not as bold and confident as her friend Ino had been. Though she had wanted to talk to him, she had resorted to pick up the pencil, and the cute pink Post-it notes, to try warm up the Uchiha. She had peeped at him as he stood alone in recess, munching on a tomato, and at dismissal, when his brother came to take him back home. All with a shade of rose tinting her cheeks, wondering what he would do when he read her note.

She chuckled. That first day she had actually gone home and thrown a tantrum that she wanted to eat nothing but tomatoes. She looked down and read the next. It was short, and she clearly remembered what had happened after that.

Sasuke-kun!

I just wanted to tell you something! You look so cute!

-Sakura

That day he had reached her while she slung her bag over her shoulder to leave school. Sakura had on her face a delightful shade of crimson as he stopped in his tracks before her, but what came out of his mouth plummeted her spirits and filled her eyes with tears.

"I am not cute. And you are annoying."

At that time, it was a very big insult. Her parents were frazzled as to why their daughter had arrived home with her eyes puffy from crying. Throwing herself facedown on her bed and hammering her pillows, she had promised herself to ignore Sasuke and his pretty face and his pretty voice and not waste any notes on him—

But of course her promises all evaporated.

She was in ninth grade and still in love with Uchiha Sasuke.

She leafed through all childish little memos of pleas, invitations, praises, and compliments and arrived at the same, striking pink Post-it note with her familiar squiggles, which indicated that it had been written in her freshman year.

Hola, Sasuke-kun!

Fancy having a walk after school?

-Sakura

Hey, Sasuke-kun,

What were your marks in the Math test yesterday? I had problems with the last question. Will you help tutor me?

-Sakura

Sasuke-kun!

Hi.

-Sakura

Sasuke-kun,

Did you like my hairstyle? I know you love long hair!

-Sakura

Sasuke-kun,

Why are you even friends with Naruto? He's such an idiot and he annoys the hell out of you, I know! Can we sit together in Math today instead of with Naruto?

-Sakura

Sasuke-kun, hi!

I missed you in the holidays! How were yours? Why don't you reply me ever?

P.S. Naruto was the only one who stayed back home. He's so pitiful.

It was after countless comments following up to the ones that she, in her growing frustration and envy at him not paying any heed to him whatever she did, whenever she tried perking up a conversation with him, and whenever she wrote him letters, had started badmouthing Naruto in front of him. He usually spent his time with the blonde latter, even though their personalities clashed like fire and ice.

When she had finally started being bold enough, having grown up through the years and matured with her friends, she had tried talking to him. It was then he swerved at her, his tall body shadowing over hers, his eyes burning glares into her skin, and spoke through his teeth:

"I also stayed back. We both stayed back. Home? No. Don't say like you understand loneliness! Annoying b—" And he only refrained himself from adding bitch.

In those years, she was still unfamiliar to the fact that her love of life was an orphan. His words had stung, yes, but her eyes didn't prickle anymore. She was fourteen and growing and bubbly and foolish, and still a lovesick. He was fourteen and growing and quiet and shrewd, and he didn't pay an ounce of attention to her.

And still she continued writing him one-sided notes on pink Post-its.

That is, until her junior year. That year's anecdotes comprised of a few, she observed and remembered, pulling them out of the coffer.

Sasuke,

You looked hot today. I think you should wear red often. Btw, will you go out with me to prom?

-Sakura

Sasuke, yo!

Why did you have to take Karin to the dance? Karin? Seriously? How low can you stoop?

-Sakura

P.S. And no, I'm not jealous. At all.

Sasuke,

You glared at me all day, and didn't even talk to me, once! What's that supposed to mean?

-Sakura

P.S. And how many times do I have to push myself forward, only to have you repel me like I have some disease or something?

Sasuke!

Don't throw it; this is not a love letter. I've given up on you.

-Sakura

P.S. Your piercing looks sexy as hell.

That was the end of it. Sakura patted the bottom of the chest, and came up with only one much-abused piece of pink paper, folded and unfolded so much that it resembled old, wrinkling parchment. She extracted it gingerly, afraid that it would somehow disintegrate in her hand. When her eyes appraised the content and had satisfied her heart, she folded it away, her eyes closed and her smile frozen in place.

She had finally learned one thing that year, that nonchalant was what it was all about. She had convinced herself that in order to capture her precious's attention, what she had to do was not to deprive other boys of her company, and loosen a little. Sakura had started dating other males, others who looked at her in the kind of way she associated with herself staring at the Uchiha, and she would wonder what lacked in her—what was something Sasuke didn't seem to like in her.

The last year had done the magic. She did not know why, but it was only the matter of moving by slow degrees. Leading him on. Sure, he had started devoting his sight to her—'Am I prettier? Does he like my shorter hair better? Is that why he now looks at me?' were her thoughts—and there were times when she brushed past the Uchiha and managed to squeeze a tiny smirk out on his lips, when she looked up from her books and her emerald eyes collided with his coal black ones. It was all in her better judgment that she followed Ino's expert advice and detached herself—even when all she desired was to stare back into his black pools until she drowned.

She was in her last year, about to leave for college, grown, but still bubbly and foolish and lovesick—and that was why she had crept up from behind, desperate and anxious, and carefully thrown in her a small note on cherry paper inside the depths of his open bag.

Sasuke,

I love you.

-Sakura

Sakura had been walking home dejectedly, her shoulders slumped and her short light coral hair hiding her face, because she was leaving Konoha Academy and so was he, and they would never be together again—

"Sakura."

She had stopped, amazed and disbelieving that this particular voice could be speaking her name, calling to her, so that was why she was frozen in place with her heart jumping painfully against her ribs as if trying to escape from her body. Wordlessly, he trailed his hand down her cheek, cupped her chin and kissed her softly and gently.

And that was the beginning of their relationship, something that solidified as hard as rock over the years.

As she sat on the floor of the attic, the chest in her lap, her hands enclosed over the papers, old and comforting as they were, her eyes closed as she reminisced old memories, she realized how fortunate she was, and how her love story was nothing short of a modern fairytale. She had never ever dreamed that even in those years Sasuke did have some speck, some mole of feeling towards her, a sentiment that had caused him to preserve these silly notes as foolish and babyish as they were.

There was a tepid, fuzzy feeling in her stomach and light warmth that was spreading on her cheeks, promising a familiar reddish color. Sitting there, suddenly, she was a child again, bubbly and fresh and innocent and foolish and lovesick—and she saw it with other eyes, how silly she had been.

Although, she couldn't decide whether what she had found was trash or gold. Before she could give it a thought, she heard the bell ring once commandingly and the front door open.

When Uchiha Sasuke, her husband, reached the living room, Sakura was watching the notes burn in the fireplace, the flames licking up the old paper hungrily, and she was smiling.

"Sakura," he acknowledged, walking up behind her as she continued to stare at the fireplace, where the paper was now a worthless pile of ash. She turned around as he tucked a lock of her shiny pink hair behind her ear, and mumbled softly to him, "Welcome home."

As soon as he had disappeared upstairs to change out of his business suit, Sakura was seized by a harebrained, childish impulse. She still had to clean the attic. She pulled a new pack of Post-it Notes from the basket present on the kitchen counter, grasped a pen, and scribbled a note.

Laughing softly, she placed the pink paper beside his lunch on the kitchen table, and sprinted up the stairs to the loft to complete her pending job.

Sasuke,

Love you. I'll be waiting in the bedroom later.

-Sakura

And to think it all started with those foolish one-sided chats on Post-its.

OWARI

A/N: I dunno, honestly. Reviews are love. They make me write.

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