Chapter Text
Despite its modest size and location in a less-than-desirable neighborhood, their apartment possessed a certain luxury, the in-unit washing machine tucking neatly beside the small bathroom.
While they had agreed to divide household chores, laundry remained a task they preferred to handle individually.
Sakura had stifled a laugh of amusement and disbelief when Sasuke admitted, with an almost embarrassed grumble, that he’d never done his own laundry before. Still, his determined approach to learning—a furrowed brow and sleeves rolled to his elbows—was endearing.
Fortunately, it was a skill that was surprisingly easy to pick up. The only hiccup Sasuke encountered so far was using Sakura’s detergent the first time he washed his clothes on his own, which ended up with him smelling like Sakura for the entire week.
He did not mind this as much as the unwanted attention and puzzled stare he got from people on the street, clearly bemused by the incongruity between the stoic demeanor he often projected and the gentle, floral scents that enveloped him. The experience quickly prompted him to switch to a detergent with a more neutral scent for future washes. Apart from this adjustment, his main grievance with the chore was the tedious process of air drying and meticulously folding his clothes.
Out of all his responsibilities, doing laundry was the most straightforward and trouble-free task Sasuke had to contend with—until one notable incident. On that particular day, Sakura had underestimated the amount of rain expected.
The weather forecast has warned her of showers in some places, but because it was only June, Sakura dismissed it with a shrug. The last few days had been bathed in golden sunlight, so she assumed it would be nothing more than a light drizzle. But as she hurried home from class, the heavy clouds loomed overhead. They were darker and larger than she had anticipated, rolling towards her apartment with ominous intent.
The first raindrop struck her cheek like a cold warning, followed by a cascade that drenched her in seconds. She fumbled for her phone, her fingers trembling as she texted her roommate. The relentless downpour hammering the streets in compensation for all the sunny days and an unapologetic announcement of the rainy season’s premature arrival.
Drenched from head to toe, Sakura stumbled through the front door, shivering as water dripped from her hair onto the wooden floor. Her eyes landed on her roommate, completely engrossed in his class assignments and seemingly unaware of her arrival.
It struck her as odd to see him sitting at the table with his back to the front door. Normally, he preferred the side facing the room, where he could glance up and track any movement. Something about his choice of seating today felt off, but she didn’t linger on the thought for long.
“Uchiha-san, did you get my text?” She asked, her voice a little shaky from the cold as she bent down to tug off her shoes, sending tiny droplets scattering across the floor.
“Over there,” he replied curtly. Sasuke didn’t bother turning around, merely lifting a hand to gesture toward the white basket on the floor.
As Sakura stepped cautiously into the main room, her gaze fell on the laundry basket, and she leaned over to inspect its contents. Inside, her clothes were neatly dried and organized by type—shirts folded perfectly, socks paired with precision. But as her eyes moved downward, they froze at the sight of her bras and panties, folded just as meticulously.
A wave of heat surged to her cheeks, burning away the residual cold from the rain. Her face turned a vivid shade of red, her breath hitching as mortification settled in. The dainty bows and playful patterns decorating her undergarments seemed to taunt her, every frilly detail feeling impossibly loud in the silence of the room.
In that instant, everything clicked. Sasuke’s unusual seating arrangement—his rigid posture with his back firmly turned toward her—and his refusal to meet her gaze suddenly made perfect sense.
How could he? Especially after he had to spend an undisclosed amount of time searching up how to fold certain garments on his phone as he handled women's underwear for the first time? After he discovered Sakura’s undergarments adorned with little bows and cute patterns?
He should have anticipated that Sakura hadn’t thought it through when she asked him for the favor. But what was he supposed to do? He couldn’t have ignored folding only her underwear or leaving all her clothes in disarray. He was not taught to not follow through with his promise or do tasks half-heartedly, no matter how awkward or uncomfortable.
With that said, how could he face her now?
Or more pressingly, how could she ever face him again?
All she wanted to do now was crawl into her futon and sleep this nightmare away.
Sakura stammered out a shaky “thank you” before snatching the entire basket into her arms and bolting for the bathroom. The door slammed shut behind her, a barrier of thin wood that did little to muffle the awkward tension still hanging thick in the air.
Inside, Sakura leaned against the sink, staring at her reflection in the mirror. Her face was still flushed, a soft pink creeping from her cheeks to the tips of her ears. She inhaled deeply, forcing herself to calm the rapid fluttering in her chest.
“Next time,” she muttered under her breath, glaring at herself as she vowed to follow every single word of the weather forecast lady’s advice. “Every. Single. Word.”
Meanwhile, Sasuke was burying his face in his hands, cringing at the situation they had found themselves in.
Unfortunately, the trouble didn’t end there for Sakura. When she emerged from the bathroom, shivering slightly from the cool, damp air, and discreetly tried to grab her futon, Sasuke had to break the awkward silence to inform her that he hadn't managed to save her futon in time. It turned out she had picked the worst possible moment to wash something that only needed occasional cleaning.
Sakura stared at him blankly, her face a strange blend of disbelief and amusement. She didn’t know whether to laugh or cry at the absurdity of it all. The situation was so ridiculous that it left her torn between frustration and helpless amusement.
Without another word, she fetched her thankfully dry blanket and began to wrap herself in it. The futon had been her last hope for comfort, and now it was gone.
“What are you doing?” Sasuke asked, his voice filled with confusion as he watched her make herself at home on the floor.
“Making the best of the situation,” she replied, her voice dry, laced with a hint of resignation. She pulled the blanket tightly around her, sinking into its warmth as if trying to escape the sting of the day’s embarrassing events.
The narrowness of the blanket forced Sakura to wrap it tightly around herself, her movements stiff and awkward as she struggled to make it work. The fabric clung uncomfortably, cocooning her so tightly that her limbs felt pinned, leaving her unable to stretch or even flip onto her back.
Sasuke watched her struggle from his spot, his expression utterly unimpressed. The corner of his mouth quirked in a slight, almost imperceptible frown as he observed her comically tangled form. He realized that his roommate was probably working through her shock at the news, but he couldn’t help thinking that if her intention was to appear pitiful, she certainly succeeded.
He was half-tempted to just let her figure it out, to leave her to her own stubbornness and let her suffer the consequences. But Sasuke knew better. He’d seen her toss and turn enough nights to know that she wouldn’t stay still and the blanket she had wasn’t enough to cover her properly.
If she insisted on using it as both cover and cushion, there was no way she’d be comfortable, particularly after she had come home drenched from the rain. He feared that she would end up sleeping directly on the tatami mat this way. What if she ended up sick?
Finally, with a long drawn-out sigh, Sasuke gave in to the growing sense of exasperation.
“You can use my futon,” he offered, getting up and holding his rolled-up blanket in his arm.
“It’s okay. It’s only for one night,” Sakura answered in a flat, emotionless tone. She didn’t even glance up at him as she curled deeper into the blanket, as if trying to shut out everything—including the discomfort she was clearly in. “Can you turn off the light?”
Sasuke didn’t think she looked okay at all. He knew it was her fault for neglecting the weather forecast and understood she was dealing with the consequences. But it still didn’t sit right with him for her to sleep like that while he lay comfortably in his futon.
“You’re not going to be able to sleep like that,” he warned, but his message seemed to fall on deaf ears.
Her reply came dismissively, as though she hadn’t even heard his concern. “Don’t worry, I’ve done it before.”
Sakura shifted slightly beneath the blanket, adjusting it as if to emphasize her point. She wasn't a fan of it, but she had accidentally fallen asleep directly on the tatami mat quite a few times before. Sleeping on her blanket instead of a futon wasn’t ideal, but it wasn’t unbearable either.
Sasuke couldn’t help but feel a twinge of frustration. She wasn’t exactly convincing him, but it was clear she wasn’t going to budge.
“Just get in the futon, Haruno,” Sasuke insisted with crossed arms and a determined stare.
Sakura’s eyes met his, but they were distant, glazed with the shock of everything that had happened. She opened her mouth to respond, her voice quiet, and resigned. “This is divine punishment for my hubris, Uchiha-san.”
Sasuke's eyes twitched as he felt his patience thinning. Why was she refusing when he had so graciously offered her his futon? If he continued to push, it would begin to sound like he was begging her to sleep in his futon.
Clicking his tongue in irritation, Sasuke walked over and began to use his feet to roll Sakura—still wrapped in her blanket—until she landed face-first on top of his futon. The blanket shifted awkwardly around her as she tried to adjust to the unexpected relocation.
“What’s the big deal?” Sakura exclaimed, her voice muffled by the pillow.
Sasuke sighed again, feeling a surge of frustration. He reached overhead and switched off the light, casting the room into a dim, quiet ambiance. With a deliberate calmness, he settled himself on the tatami mat next to Sakura.
“I told you, you can use it,” he reiterated, his tone softer now, hoping she would finally accept his offer, if not for her comfort’s sake then at least for his peace of mind.
With great effort, Sakura unraveled herself from the tightly wrapped blanket. The darkness seemed to disorient her, and she blinked a few times, struggling to adjust her eyes to the low light. It took her a moment to locate Sasuke in the dim room, his silhouette faint but unmistakable.
“But you’ll have to sleep on the mat!” she protested, concern creasing her brow.
Truthfully, the idea of sleeping directly on the tatami mat wasn’t exactly appealing to Sasuke since he had never done it before. Hell, he was still adjusting to sleeping on the futon after years of sleeping on a mattress. Despite this, he was fairly certain he’d sleep better this way than if he had not offered his futon at all.
“You said it yourself; it’s only going to be for one night,” Sasuke insisted calmly.
Sakura hesitated, her conflicted gaze lingering on him. “But this futon is yours,” she reasoned.
“Then I get to choose whether or not to use it,” he replied without missing a beat.
The finality in his words seemed to settle the matter, and Sakura, still slightly stunned, realized that she had no real argument against that. She found herself in this situation more often than she’d like when it came to Sasuke—his decisiveness always leaving her feeling a step behind. Yet despite that, a gnawing guilt continued to churn within her, reminding her that this mess was ultimately her fault. She hated that Sasuke was shouldering the burden—her burden—by himself.
Unable to suppress the impulse, she blurted out before she could stop herself, “Do you want to share the futon with me?”
In the dark, she could see Sasuke snap his head back toward her, but she couldn’t see his expression clearly. He froze for a brief moment, either incredulous or considering her offer; she wasn’t sure. However, whatever fleeting thoughts crossed Sasuke's mind, he ultimately opted to dismiss the proposal. In a gesture that conveyed both finality and resignation, he lay back down, resuming his previous position.
“Go to sleep,” Sasuke said tersely. There was a gruffness to his tone that made Sakura feel like he was upset with her. She couldn't blame him if he was, given the circumstances and her own thoughtlessness. The room fell into a heavy silence after Sasuke’s curt command.
Sakura lay still, her thoughts swirling in the dark. She quietly reprimanded herself for even entertaining the idea of asking him to share the futon. What had possessed her to do that? She had been trying to keep her distance from her roommate after the underwear incident, so why did she have to go and blurt out those words?
Lying in his futon, Sakura knew she was right to refuse his offer initially. The thought of being surrounded by Sasuke’s lingering scent kept her too awake to fall asleep, the sensation both comforting and unsettling. Yet, in a fleeting moment of contemplation, she entertained the unexpected opportunity to feel closer to him, if only for a night. It wasn’t as if it would mean anything. Just one night, and once her futon dried, everything would return to normal.
But fate, as it often does, had other plans in store. The rain didn’t let up, and the days that followed were filled with the constant patter of droplets against the windows. Fortunately for Sasuke’s aching back, Sakura decided to simply dry her futon at the nearby coin laundry.
^^^^^^ 𓆏 ^^^^^^
After a week of relentless rain, the sun blazed back with an almost oppressive heat, the air heavy with the scent of damp earth as the dry season stubbornly lingered.
Sasuke stirred from his slumber, the golden morning light slipping through the gaps in the curtains and casting warm patterns across the tatami floor. A faint stillness hung in the room, and he quickly noticed Sakura’s absence. The low table by the wall caught his eye—bare now, though he could still picture it as it had been last night, her books and papers fanned out in meticulous disorder. The faint, bittersweet aroma of her coffee hung in the air, mingling with the faint woodsy scent of the room.
Slowly rousing from his futon, Sasuke ran a hand through his tousled hair, the strands sticking to his forehead with the lingering heat of the morning. Although his exams were behind him, Sakura’s last test loomed today.
Over the past week, her routine had become a relentless cycle—nights spent hunched over her textbooks and notes, the faint glow of her desk lamp cutting through the darkness, followed by early-morning departures before the first rays of sunlight. He knew this pace wasn’t sustainable, but he also recognized the immense pressure she was under. With her scholarship on the line and her dream to be a doctor, Sakura was determined to secure top grades.
Adding to their stress, the heat had been unbearable lately. The unforgiving temperatures seemed to cling to Sasuke, leaving his shirt drenched in sweat from the mere act of walking in the scorching sun or being cramped in the stuffy, suffocating train. Each step outside felt like a battle against the oppressive air, the relentless sun beating down on him mercilessly.
Thankfully, Sakura’s schedule often kept her occupied at school for most of the day, giving Sasuke the freedom to shed his shirt within the confines of their apartment. When she was at home, Sasuke opted for a thinner, more breathable shirt to adapt to the stifling heat. Since the day he changed his choice of clothes, however, he’d begun noticing something he couldn’t quite ignore: Sakura’s gaze seemed to wander in his direction more often than before.
At first, he dismissed it as a product of his imagination. But as the days passed, the glances grew more frequent and lingered a moment too long for it to be a coincidence. Every time he caught her in the act, his heart skipped an involuntary beat, a faint rush of heat blooming in his chest.
Sasuke had always been in good shape, a lifetime of discipline and training carving out a body built for strength and endurance, though he rarely paid much attention to his own appearance until now.
Now that his arms and chest were more exposed in sleeveless shirts, Sasuke couldn’t help but notice the subtle shifts in Sakura’s behavior. When they talked, her usual steady eye contact faltered, her gaze darting nervously away from his sculpted biceps or broad shoulders. The faint pink flush creeping across her cheeks betrayed her composure, and she’d often fidget with her hair or tug absently at the hem of her shirt as though searching for an anchor.
Even in quieter moments, her changes in demeanor were hard to miss. If he so much as called her name, she’d flinch, startled, her eyes widening before she quickly masked her surprise with a shaky laugh. The ease and calm she usually carried seemed to crumble in his presence, replaced by a flustered energy.
Sometimes, Sasuke would feign ignorance, pretending to be absorbed in his own tasks while covertly watching Sakura struggle to concentrate on her task with wandering eyes and a blushing face to see how long she would last. Though he would never openly admit it, Sasuke found quiet satisfaction in knowing that he could so effortlessly steal her attention, her focus unraveling under the weight of his proximity. It was a subtle power he didn’t know he wielded until now, and he couldn’t help but relish it.
Was it unfair of him to do so? Perhaps. But Sasuke believed it was justified—a payback for previous events, namely the forgotten shirt incident or the cockroach incident, hell, even the countless mornings he’d woken to find her blanket kicked off, leaving her sprawled in unceremonious disarray. If anything, it was balance restored. For someone who once refused to even share a room with him, Sakura wasn’t nearly as innocent as the image she so carefully portrayed to others, and he not only wanted to prove it but to make her admit it.
It was only fair to turn the tables on Sakura. She had teased him plenty, knowingly or not, and now it was his turn to give her a taste of her own medicine. After all, why must he always be the one who is left flustered by her? This was a matter of pride for him, a challenge he had resolved to embrace. He refused to be outdone by this dense and oblivious girl.
As his thoughts swirled with determination, Sasuke’s eyes caught a glimpse of Sakura’s unmistakable pink hair bouncing rhythmically as she made her way down the road. The sight of her, so familiar yet oddly thrilling, sent a jolt of anticipation coursing through him. Without a second thought, he pushed himself up, his steps swift and purposeful as he moved toward the front door.
Usually, by the time Sakura arrived home, Sasuke would have made the effort to throw on a shirt. but not today. Leaning casually against the doorframe, his arms crossed loosely over his chest, he allowed the hallway lights to accentuate the subtle definition of his muscles. The faint sheen of heat still clung to his skin
As the door swung open to reveal Sakura, Sasuke watched with quiet amusement as her gaze immediately snapped upward. Her steps faltered; the momentum of her entrance suddenly interrupted. The sound of her panting, surely a result of climbing the stairs under the brutal heat outside, ceased abruptly. Had she neglected herself so much that he would be so out of shape?
A smug smirk tugged at Sasuke’s lips as he watched her freeze. Sakura’s green eyes went wide, her breath hitching audibly in her throat as a vivid blush bloomed on her face. Sasuke could practically feel her gaze tracing its way downward from his face, moving slowly, almost reluctantly, past his neck before snapping back up to meet his eyes, as though she had just regained control of herself. Sasuke took it as a hint to lean in just a little, savoring the sight of her struggling to regain her usual composure.
“Welcome home.”
Sakura, visibly flustered, struggled to find her words as her face turned a shade darker. Her eyes darted nervously from Sasuke’s amused expression to the floor beneath her feet. Her voice wavered, a mix of surprise and confusion coloring her words.
“U-Uchiha-san, what—? You—?” She paused, swallowing nervously to steady herself before attempting to continue. “Are you...waiting on the laundry?”
She cast a quick glance toward the unloaded washing machine, then shifted her focus to the empty drying rack outside, as though searching for any plausible excuse to shift attention away from Sasuke’s shirtless state. Though her reaction wasn’t as explosive as he expected, there was still something undeniably entertaining about seeing his roommate so thrown off, desperately attempting to redirect the conversation from the elephant in the room.
“It’s too hot for a shirt today,” he answered casually, seemingly unbothered by his unusual state of dressing.
“D-don’t you think it’s still better to wear one?” Sakura stammered. Her attempts to articulate a coherent thought were hindered by her uneven breathing, seemingly a sign of her growing unease. She shifted awkwardly, her gaze dropping to the floor, her eyes unfocused as she wrestled with her thoughts.
Sasuke took a deliberate step toward her, closing the space between them with purposeful intent. His eyes locked with hers, his voice low and teasing. “Why? Isn’t it easier for you to ogle without it in the way?”
If it was possible, Sakura’s face flushed an even deeper shade of red. Heat bloomed in her cheeks as her embarrassment spread like wildfire, igniting every inch of her skin. Her features twisted in mortification as she instinctively took a step back, putting distance between herself and Sasuke.
His unexpected proximity and teasing remark left her paralyzed, her throat dry, and her words tangled in her chest. Her mind raced, thoughts colliding in a frantic whirl, trying to process Sasuke’s unusual behavior and the sheer absurdity of the situation, which fried her mind in more ways than one.
Her heart hammered against her ribs as she struggled to speak, her voice faltering and words slurred from her lips in a tangle of frustration. “I-I don’t—I didn’t mean...”
Her eyes darted around, searching for something—anything—to ground her. Her breath came in shallow gasps, quick and erratic, as if she were struggling to catch her breath in the midst of a storm. Yet her movements felt sluggish, as though the world had slowed down, stretching the moment into an eternity where time itself seemed to mock her helplessness.
At that moment, concern flickered in Sasuke’s eyes as he observed Sakura’s unusually disoriented state. Being taken off guard was one thing, but the way Sakura was reacting, as if the very ground beneath her had shifted, was far more concerning than he had anticipated.
“Haruno?” Sasuke’s voice, usually steady and cold, now held a rare edge of worry as he took a cautious step toward her, his instincts urging him to be gentle, though his mind was racing with questions.
Before he could receive a response, however, Sakura took another step back, her body swaying precariously. The color drained from her face, and her breaths came in short, uneven gasps. But just before she toppled over, Sasuke’s instinct kicked in.
“Hey!” Sasuke exclaimed, his voice sharp with urgency, as his arms instinctively wrapped around Sakura’s waist to provide stability. His fingers grazed the fabric of her clothes, but he quickly realized that it wasn’t enough. Sakura’s body swayed unsteadily in his grip, as if her legs were no longer capable of supporting her.
Confusion and concern churned in Sasuke’s stomach, his chest tightening with a strange, unfamiliar anxiety. Gently but firmly, he guided Sakura to a nearby corner. Her body leaned heavily against him as he maneuvered her with his hands on her arms, the warmth of her skin seeming to pulse beneath his touch.
Once they reached the corner, Sakura sank down, her movements slow and uncoordinated, as if the world around her had blurred into an unrecognizable haze. She sat against the wall, her gaze vacant and unfocused, her eyes glassy and distant as she stared up at the ceiling with an unsettling blankness. Sasuke could hear the uneven rhythm of her breaths—shallow gasps that seemed to catch in her throat, her chest rising and falling erratically.
“Haruno?” Sasuke asked again, his voice thick with worry, the edge of panic he usually kept hidden now creeping into his tone. He crouched down in front of her, his hand moved to brush a damp strand of hair away from her flushed face, and he immediately noted the clamminess of her skin.
His pulse quickened as he placed a hand on her forehead, his fingertips tingling from the warmth that seeped through her skin, like fire simmering just beneath the surface. Only then did the full realization hit him—his roommate was burning up with a high fever. The playful atmosphere shattered in an instant as the weight of the situation crashed down on Sasuke.
Her panting, her dazed confusion, the slick sheen of sweat clinging to her skin—they weren’t just the result of the weather or his teasing, though they might have exacerbated things. He cursed inwardly, regretting his earlier lightheartedness in the face of her obvious distress.
Fueled by a mix of concern and frustration, Sasuke quickly sprang to his feet. His hands, usually so composed, now felt clumsy with the weight of his worry as he unrolled Sakura’s futon. Gently, yet with a force born of desperation, Sasuke lifted her into his arms and carried her over. Her body felt unnaturally warm against his chest, the heat of her fever seeping through his clothes like a burning reminder.
Once there, he laid her down, his fingers lingering a moment too long against her skin as he tucked the blanket around her, though the feverish heat radiating from her body made it seem pointless.
Grabbing a small towel, Sasuke wetted it with cold water from the kitchen sink and wrung it out before placing it on Sakura’s forehead, hoping the coolness would provide some relief from the fever that had overtaken her.
Knowing that Sakura was studying medicine and likely kept medications close at hand, Sasuke began to search through her belongings. He recalled that she had even given him some supplements the other day. After rummaging through drawers and cabinets, his hand closed around a small box tucked away in a corner.
Opening it, Sasuke found several blister packs of pills, each one labeled with a series of medical terms that might as well have been in a foreign language. Frowning, he carefully read through the instructions and labels on each pack, trying to decipher which pill was meant for what condition and at what dosage.
His brow furrowed in concentration as he double-checked the instructions, ensuring that he would give Sakura the right medication.
Sasuke had never really had to take care of a sick person by himself before. While he knew the basics of fetching water, wetting a towel, and ensuring Sakura was comfortable, the finer details—like choosing the right medicine—were unfamiliar territory for him. He stared at the blister pack in his hand, its medical jargon an indecipherable maze of confusion. He just hoped that he was doing this right.
Leaving Sakura to rest, Sasuke carefully placed the medicine with a cup of water within her reach. He adjusted the towel on her forehead and pulled the blanket up to her shoulders.
The apartment was unnervingly quiet, the usual hum of everyday life replaced by a tense stillness that mirrored his own unease.
Throughout the remainder of the day, Sasuke carried the weight of worry with him. He paced silently through the apartment, checking on Sakura at regular intervals. Each time, he observed her breathing, felt her forehead for any change in temperature, and silently urged for her to wake up soon.
^^^^^^ 𓆏 ^^^^^^
Sasuke was just about to turn in for the night when a soft groan reached his ears, faint but unmistakable. His heart skipped a beat, the sudden sound of her voice stirring a surge of concern that tightened his chest. Without hesitation, he hurried to Sakura’s side and retrieved the thermometer he had used earlier to place in her mouth.
The minutes stretched out painfully, each passing second heavy with anticipation as he watched Sakura closely. Finally, the thermometer beeped, breaking the silence with a sharp, mechanical sound. Carefully removing it from Sakura’s mouth to check the display, Sasuke felt relief wash over him as he saw her temperature beginning to decline. It wasn’t a dramatic drop, but it was enough—a sign that she was improving.
Sasuke, still unable to fully shake the worry that lingered in his chest, reached for the glass of water he had left nearby when Sakura stirred. Her eyes fluttering open, and for a moment, Sasuke thought she might drift back to sleep. But then, with effort, she managed to sit up just enough to take a few small sips from the glass he handed her. Her movements were slow and laborious, as though each motion required more energy than she had left to give.
“Do you want to eat?” Sasuke asked, his voice unusually tender.
Sakura shook her head slowly, her expression pained.
“Should you be eating?” He asked hesitantly. Truthfully, he actually trusted Sakura’s knowledge in this matter more than his own, as he wasn’t sure what the protocol for sick individuals was. Was it better for a sick person to skip meals and rest or should he force feed them so they would have enough energy to recover quickly?
“I will vomit,” Sakura answered weakly, her voice barely above a whisper. Her hand trembled as she gave the glass back to him before lying back down.
Although Sakura was getting better slowly, Sasuke could tell that her eyes were still unable to focus on him. Something about that observation caused all his frustration and worry that had been building up all day to bubble over.
“Why are you such an idiot?” Sasuke blurted out before he could stop himself. As soon as the words left his mouth, his heart sank as he realized how it must have sounded. He had meant to express his concern, but instead, his emotions had come out all wrong.
Sakura, her eyes still closed, let out a small hum that sounded like a question—a soft, almost uncertain sound that told him she was still aware of him, still present despite the haze of illness clouding her mind.
Sasuke sighed heavily, his shoulders slumping as he ran a hand through his hair. He hadn’t meant to be so harsh, but seeing Sakura like this stirred a complex mess of emotions in him—anger, helplessness, but overwhelming of all, concern.
His gaze softened as it returned to Sakura’s face, her features still pale and exhausted.
“You’re going to be a doctor, Haruno; you’re supposed to be smarter than this," Sasuke continued, his voice softer now but tinged with disappointment. “You’re supposed to know how to not get sick. You should have texted me the moment you felt unwell.” Before I stupidly tried to mess with you .
He paused, his eyes lingering on her face, then grabbed the now warm towel from Sakura’s forehead and dunked it into the small bucket of cold water he had placed nearby earlier. As he wrung it out, he couldn’t shake the nagging feeling of responsibility.
She hadn’t been cooking or eating as much lately, he realized, and probably hadn’t been getting enough rest or drinking sufficient water in the hot and humid weather.
Was it his fault for not paying enough attention? Sakura had been under immense stress preparing for her exam, staying up late studying and neglecting her usual routines. The sudden, extreme shift in weather recently probably only made matters worse.
“But smart people often get sick,” Sakura murmured in a slow, breathy voice. It was a faint attempt at humor, a small spark of her usual wit flickering through the haze of illness.
Sasuke scoffed softly, the edge of worry in his voice lightening for just a moment. “You believe that superstition?”
Sakura let out another low hum, as if pondering his question. “You aren’t sick, Uchiha-san?” she asked, her voice soft and slurred with fatigue.
Sasuke could tell his roommate wasn’t fully aware of what she was implying. Yet, even in her delirious state, the teasing tone in her voice managed to irk him.
He frowned, feeling a pang of annoyance rise within him. He gripped the wet towel, wringing it a little too aggressively before dropping it on her forehead with an unintended “splat” sound.
Sakura responded with a delayed, almost inaudible sound of discomfort from the sudden coldness of the towel pressing against her fevered skin.
“Go back to sleep,” Sasuke demanded tersely.
Sakura let out a tired giggle, a delicate, mirthful sound. Her fatigue seemed to momentarily lift as a small, genuine smile spread across her face.
”I like you, Uchiha-san,” she murmured, her voice soft and sincere, carrying a warmth that made Sasuke’s heart skip a beat when her words registered.
Sasuke’s hand, which had been gently adjusting the towel on her forehead, froze mid-air in its retreat back to his side. His eyes searched for hers but they were already closed, her breathing steady and calm.
“You’re a really kind person,” Sakura continued in a whisper that quickly dissipated into the air like a wisp of smoke.
Sasuke remained quiet, allowing Sakura’s words to linger in the silence of the room, hoping that she would elaborate on her words. He was accustomed to receiving praise, but never with “kind.” It was a word rarely associated with him, and he found himself contemplating what he might have done to earn such a perception from Sakura. His mind lingered on it, turning it over like a puzzle he couldn’t quite solve.
“Will you stay with me?” Sakura’s soft voice broke the stillness of the room once more, almost tentative.
Sasuke considered her question carefully. It should have been a straightforward answer—a simple reassurance of his presence by her side, which he had done the entirety of the day. But Sakura’s earlier words—A confession?—made him pause. Was she aware of the weight her words carried or was he reading too much into it?
“Yes,” Sasuke finally replied, his voice steady and calm, though his heart was beating a little faster than usual. Despite the swirling, conflicting thoughts in his mind, the word felt right, as though it came from a place deeper than logic or reason. It felt like the only answer he could give her.
Sakura gave the tiniest nod; her expression relaxed as if a weight had been lifted off her shoulders. “It’s dark out,” she murmured, her voice fragile and quiet. “I don’t like to be alone.”
Sasuke’s gaze shifted to her face, noting how the line of her lashes glistened with moisture. For a moment, Sasuke thought she might be crying. But her even breathing soon reassured him that she had drifted to sleep; her vulnerability lay bare in the quiet of the room.
Sasuke stayed by her side for a while longer, adjusting the blanket around her shoulders, making sure it covered her fully.
Given that this was the first time Sasuke had taken care of someone, he couldn’t help but feel a mix of pride and frustration. He believed he was doing a rather good job of it, yet, beneath the surface, a nagging sense of inadequacy gnawed at him.
Since they had started living together, Sakura had naturally taken on the role of the dependable one. From teaching Sasuke how to cook simple meals to showing him the proper way to do laundry. She would anticipate his needs, bringing him a glass of tea when he was buried in his studies, even when he hadn’t asked for it. Her nurturing nature had created a comfortable routine that Sasuke had grown accustomed to relying on.
But now, their roles were reversed for the first time, and Sasuke found himself in unfamiliar territory. As he cared for Sakura in her time of need, Sasuke couldn’t help but compare his efforts to the seamless care she had always provided for him.
If Sakura were in his shoes right now, he was certain she wouldn’t be stumbling cluelessly around, unsure of what to do, or asking the sick person how she was supposed to help them. Living with Sakura had made him acutely aware that, despite his desire for independence, he was woefully unprepared to manage on his own.
Every nitpicking complaint and sharp remark he had directed at Sakura had been a way for him to deflect his frustrations rather than confront his own shortcomings. His pride had always been a barrier, and he hadn’t truly understood it until now. Despite that, instead of retaliating, Sakura had always responded with patience and understanding, guiding him gently through the challenges of everyday life, even when he’d been too proud or stubborn to admit he needed help.
He hadn’t even needed to ask, but yesterday morning she had made his favorite onigiri for breakfast and attached a lucky charm to the strap of his bag. It was only when he arrived on campus for his exam that Sasuke noticed these small gestures of kindness from her. Despite their relationship being nothing more than that of roommates, Sakura had always gone out of her way to consider Sasuke’s need, to make his day just a little bit easier without expecting anything in return.
Sasuke felt a pang of guilt as he thought about it. He had never truly acknowledged just how much she had done for him, how much effort she put into their daily routines, and how little he had reciprocated. He admitted to himself, in the quiet of the moment, that he hadn’t always been the best roommate. Deep down, he had been aware of it for a long time, but it had been easier to ignore or push those thoughts aside than to face them.
Due to this, he often found himself jumping at every opportunity to help Sakura whenever an inconvenience arose, as if these small acts of assistance could somehow make up for everything she had done for him.
Deep down, he knew it wasn’t enough. What he wanted to do now wasn’t simply reciprocate favors. He wanted to become more considerate, more attuned to her needs. He wanted to think of her not just as someone he shared a living space with, but at the very least as a friend, as someone who deserved his attention and care just as much as she did him.
Sasuke sat quietly beside Sakura, watching her peaceful face unnaturally devoid of its usual smile. His fingers hovered over her soft cheeks, and he gently poked them, as if hoping his touch might somehow rouse her from her deep slumber. But Sakura remained blissfully unaware, her breathing steady and undisturbed.
Resting his chin on his hand, Sasuke poked her cheeks again, this time with a hint of exasperation. “You better get well soon,” he muttered softly, a silent plea for her to wake up and be the Sakura he knew once more.