orangeflavoryawp:

Written for SasuhinaRW18, Day One: Words

(I’m not late.  Okay, I am but it’s fine.  It’s fiiiiine.)

::  

Wasuremono: forgotten or lost things; an item left behind somewhere or forgotten at home ::

“You
will not join her,” he breathes decidedly in the space between them.  The space that is slowly closing.  This is him not pretending anymore.”
–  Hyuuga Hinata.  Uchiha Sasuke.  Just outside their windowsill, heartbreak
still hangs heavy.

Can be read here: https://www.fanfiction.net/s/12980523/1/The-Scent-of-Snow

And here: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15043445

* * *

Hinata
doesn’t close her windows in winter.

           “You can smell the snow, you know,”
she says, fingers curling around her tea cup, nose red and runny.  She sniffles, staring down into her cup.  She swirls the tea slowly, grazing the cup’s edge
with every rock of her wrists, but never really going over.

           “You can’t smell snow, Hinata.”  He frowns at her across the table.  

           She doesn’t lift her gaze.  “Maybe you
can’t,” she teases.  And then she
sneezes.

           Sasuke leans over and pulls the
blanket draping her closer around her neck.
It’s a pointless thing to argue, anyway.

           She sneezes again.

           “You’re being impractical.”

           Her swirling stops.

           “It smells like Hanabi’s kimonos,”
she whispers suddenly.  “Like her hands.”  Hinata’s brows furrow.  “Like her kunais.”

           Sasuke watches her from across the
table.  He doesn’t imagine he’ll ever be
able to understand what it is to have a sister.

           Even more so, what it is to have a
dead one.

           But he still leaves his window open
that night.

           (Itachi never smelled of snow
anyway.)

Keep reading

Hoooooly shit, darling.

I am

Delighted

Ruined

Awed