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In the comforts of her own home and the privacy of her own mind, Sakura will admit that sometimes she still feels like the shadow of her former self.
Sometimes, she still feels like she’s fourteen—alone, without a team, and without anyone to understand what it feels like to be left behind.
It usually surfaces at night, when she’s home alone in her apartment with nothing to do except think. Before the relative peace they live in right now, Sakura rarely ever had to worry about lying awake in bed with all these horrible thoughts. Most of the time, she’s either working around the clock or she’s too dead-tired to even dream let alone think.
Most nights, she can keep it at bay, the loneliness.
But then there are nights like this, when coming home to an empty apartment feels overwhelming, when there’s a boy barely five years old who didn’t make it off her operating table, when she has to deliver the news and watch as grief take over parents who put their faith in her to save their child.
Despite being a war veteran and a celebrated hero throughout the five element nations, despite the mark on her forehead symbolizing her greatness and everything she has accomplished, there are still nights when Sakura feels so small, so useless, and so incredibly weak.
Sometimes, when the loneliness becomes too much to bear, Sakura allows herself a moment of vulnerability and dials a number she knows by heart.
He picks up before the third ring.
“...’llo?”
His voice sounds muffled, sleepy, and so tired that she almost feels guilty for calling. If only the mere sound of his voice didn’t make the heaviness in her chest disappear.
“Hello Sasuke-kun? It’s me.”
Hers is a breathless sort of whisper as if any louder and the tranquility of the exchange would shatter.
“Sakura.” There is a rustling of sheets on his end of the line. Sakura could picture him at an inn, or wherever he is currently, sitting up and rubbing the heel of his palm on one eye, the analog mobile phone Naruto got him as a present at the last Christmas he was in Konoha, pinched between his cheek and his shoulder. There isn’t a hint of question in his voice as he utters her name, even when she doesn’t really say who she is, and Sakura basks in the feeling of Sasuke just knowing.
“Yeah, it’s me.”
The sound of sheets rustling reached her again, followed by some static, and this time she imagines him properly sitting up and willing himself to wake.
“What’s wrong? Why are you still awake?”
Is it cruel of her to find pleasure in hearing the worry in his voice?
“Nothing. I just—sorry I woke you up. How are you?”
There is a sigh on the other line, resulting in static, and Sakura rethinks her words and dubs herself an utter idiot.
“Sakura,” Sasuke sighs, and she can just picture him running a hand over his face and then through his hair in exasperation. “I don’t believe for a second that you called me at such an ungodly hour only to inquire about my well-being. So, tell me, what’s bothering you?”
“It’s only half past midnight, Sasuke-kun.”
“Believe it or not, Sakura, people actually sleep at this hour.”
Sometimes, Sakura still can’t get used to this Sasuke—this patient and calmer Sasuke. And sometimes she resents him for leaving too soon before she could even get used to it. It would’ve been nice to be more acquainted with this side of him and to actually know just how she could and should respond.
“I just—I don’t—” Sakura scrambles her brain for a reason, an excuse, but in the end, she knew any pretenses on her end when it comes to Sasuke are futile, so instead, what slips out of her is the truth, as always. “I just wanted to hear your voice.”
Honesty. On nights like this, that’s all she has the strength to give. Sakura knows she’s strong, but sometimes she just needs something—or someone—to anchor herself, too.
The Sasuke she knew would’ve clicked his tongue and scoffed in that haughty way he does before calling her ‘annoying’ and telling her to go to sleep.
But this Sasuke just sighs, and Sakura smiles as she listens to the static, even as it makes a grating crackling sound.
“What do you want to hear?”
“I don’t know. Tell me about your travels.”
“Bad day?”
“Yeah, something like that,” she sighs, heavy and deep, lonely and sad and most of all, guilty. Sakura has long been accustomed to death and grief, and she knows she can’t save everyone that comes under her operating table, but losing a patient never gets easier. “Tell me about yours instead.”
“What? Yesterday or the one that’s just started?”
Sakura actually huffs a laugh because there is this, too. This Sasuke and his particular brand of a dry sense of humor.
“Oh, you know what I mean.”
There is another sigh at the end of the line that sounds so much like resignation, but the fondness in his tone is undeniable as he tells her, “You’re annoying.”
“Yeah,” Sakura acknowledges, her smile turning wry, for now she knows ‘annoying’ is said out of fondness, “I know.”
Sasuke talks and does his best to fill the silence while Sakura listens through his stilted monologue with the occasional input and prompt to continue.
When sunlight filters from the slits of the curtains through her rooms, the heaviness in her chest is gone and Sakura feels light and brand new.
“Thank you, Sasuke-kun.”
“You’re welcome, Sakura,” he slurs, sleep coloring his tone, and it’s the telltale sign that makes it known to Sakura that their call is about to end, but his voice is warm when he says, “Good morning.”