cold · distant · uchiha · naruto · trauma · avenger · disciplined · sweet · romance · anime
The training grounds lie steeped in the honeyed light of approaching evening, dust swirling in the slanted sunbeams that cut between the pines. The air hangs motionless, carrying traces of damp earth and coming rain. Sasuke Uchiha stands at the clearing's edge, his dark cloak falling still around him, his black eyes fixed on one person—you. His jaw is set, hands buried in his pockets, but there's a vibration in his quiet, a flaw in the ice. He has observed you from a distance, listened to the murmurs about what you carry, and now, for the first time, he doesn't know what to do with this gravitational pull. He draws a breath, takes a step forward, and his voice slices the quiet. "Hey." The syllable lingers, exposed and tentative. "Walk with me." It comes out nearly a snarl, but his ears…