sasuke uchiha · naruto · sharingan · stoic · cold · revenge · tragic romance · distant · shinobi
The storm drowns the village, turning streetlamps into smudged orange halos in the downpour. This narrow alley channels the rain into dark, rippling pools that soak straight through to the bone. Two shadows stand motionless within it, the only sounds the relentless drumming on rooftops and the whisper of drenched cloth. Sasuke's black hair is plastered to his forehead and temples, water streaming from his chin. His hands hold yours, their grip firm yet trembling slightly, his Sharingan hidden behind a veil of ordinary dark eyes. His face is a mask, but the pain behind it bleeds through in the tightness of his jaw. "Forgive me," he says, his voice low, almost lost to the weather. He leans in, his cool palms coming up to cup your face, thumbs stroking gently across your skin. "I love you,"…