Day 17
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The years used to feel so much longer, the seasons used to drag on forever, and the blending of one day into another – especially for Gaara – had always been dreadfully long. But this last year had been different; he found himself caught up in a whirlwind of mounting memories that played back the happiest year of his life.
Truly, it had started when he’d finally worked up the backbone to ask her to marry him. Beyond nervous, even though he wouldn’t have asked if he hadn’t been sure of what her answer would be, he couldn’t shake the anxiety of her potential refusal. He’d faced countless foes, overcome many adversities, and could even stare death in the face like an old friend, but the few seconds of shocked silence that passed before she gave her answer had felt like an unbearable eternity.
When she had said yes, something switched on inside of him, something that had been powerful and intoxicating, and he continued to pursue it endlessly. Suddenly, the future seemed brighter, brimming with possibilities. It was a novel feeling to have been wanted, adored, and chosen by the woman he held most dear. Her interest in him, a quiet yet intense one, had been an unexpected surprise and he had quickly responded with advances of his own. She was a very desirable woman, and there were others that circled her vying for attention.
There wasn’t any uncertainty as to why he’d been taken with her; she was an infantilely capable individual with a sharp wit and scholarly levels of knowledge. She was exceedingly intelligent, in fact, and she’d wasted no time boasting her grades and test scores from her days in the academy. He’d thought it impressive and amusing that she had been so smart as to no understand that the first round of the exams they had taken together had been geared toward information gathering since the questions were considered too hard to answer. She had simply shrugged and said they should have made them harder; she was confident she got them all right.
Her mind alone had made her a fetching candidate for the partner of a Kage, but Gaara had fallen for her beauty as well. He loved the ease at which she would rest against him, how she welcomed his hand in her own, and how he could never grow tired of admiring her in any manner she blessed him with. To him, she was the most beautiful woman he’d ever seen, especially when he saw her on their wedding day.
Glowing in the sun, silhouetted against the backdrop of his desert, she had stood before him dressed in the robes of his people. She was draped in the finest fabrics, a pale cream with goldthread embroidery handsewn with care, the draping that covered her gently catching the breeze. She’d worn gold bangles and earrings, heirlooms of his family, shimmering in the sunlight and bewitching the eyes of those gathered at their intimate ceremony. He had always thought that she would wear the styles of the wind nation well, and indeed she had looked as though she were always meant to be one of his own.
When they had traveled for their honeymoon, having gone south and stayed near the ocean, it was the first time Gaara had known extended leisure of any sort. He’d been on the move his whole life, always looking to the next mission, the next assignment, and suddenly he’d had nothing but time on his hands and a lovely new wife to fill it with. For the first day of their stay, she hadn’t received any reluctance in convincing him to waste it away with her in bed, and they’d been entangled together in one way or another from dawn till dusk. Being the man that he was, though, they couldn’t afford to be away from the city for too long, and the remaining week of their honeymoon had been spent sightseeing and visiting the ocean, his wife taking complete advantage of him as her own personal transportation and she never heard a complaint from him. She loved basking in the sun and he loved watching her tan lines get deeper each night he undressed her; though his greatest pleasure was seeing her happy and knowing that it had in part come from him.
Too soon, the day came to return to their new lives back home, and when she took up her new job and he resumed his work, he reminisced on their time spent by the seaside when he missed her, and it got him through the long afternoons and late evening before he could return to the home they shared.
The following year was a flurry of political headaches; always eased by they way she would hold him and stroke her fingers through his hair, difficult battles; though he always had faith she could manage herself no matter how much he still worried, and the satisfaction that came with seeing how his people had welcomed her and came to adore her, knowing that she hadn’t just been the right choice for him, but for his city as well. Their marriage had brought unity between two great powers of the world, set the precedence for growth and prosperity, and she had inadvertently breathed new color and life into the land with the open sharing of knowledge, culture, and commerce.
The true extent of the change she had brought with her; to the city, to his life, to himself, was imperceivable. She had permeated every aspect of his existence and stained it with the color of her. His aspirations were nothing without her at his side, he fantasized of a lineage resembling her strength and her likeness, and the longer that he admired her perspective and her insight, the more reasons he had to fall for her all over again.
“My love,” he said, drawing her close to him and breathing in scent of her. It was a scent that filled his waking life and his dreams, it followed him everywhere, and he prayed that it never stopped. “What would you like this year?”
With his head nuzzled against her chest and body slouched over hers as she twirled a lock of his hair around her finger, Sakura hummed as her husband lay embracing her on their couch. “What do you mean?”
He leaned up a little, pulling down the collar of her tank top to rest his cheek against her skin. He secured his arms around her, perfectly fit to her waist and loving the weight of her. “Our anniversary is coming up.”
Sakura smiled and proceeded to scratch her nails along his scalp. He took a deep breath and groaned in delight. “You remembered,” she said, her voice quiet; she sounded happy.
“I’ve been counting the days,” he promised her. “Would you to like to travel?” he suggested. “Or we could take some time off and stay here.” She simply observed him with that gentle gaze as he seemed to ponder something. “Maybe I’ll assign you an assistant, that would help your free time all year.”
Sakura slid her arms around him. “My free time means nothing when you’re cooped up in that office.” Gaara didn’t say anything against that, though he squeezed her waist when she leaned in to kiss him. “You might as well get yourself a few more.”
“Tempting,” he muttered.
Sakura pressed her lips against his hair, enjoying the weight of him settled between her legs as they lounged on the couch. “I love you,” she said, knowing he adored it when she said it first.
“I love you, too,” he replied; instinctual and effortlessly evoked whenever he heard her speak those words. It had been ever since the first time she had confessed it to him, and would continue to be so, year and year, for the rest of his days.
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