The door is open just enough for the wind to slip through, stirring the dust that settled in your absence. Sasuke doesn’t move from where he stands. He’s already waited this long—what’s another second, another breath, another moment of silence stretching between you?

But you’re here now. It’s never over. Not in the way he once forced himself to believe.

He lets his gaze settle on you, taking in every detail—how time has touched you but left the essence of you untouched. The same way his mind held you all these years, unyielding to distance, to absence. His kingdom for a kiss upon your shoulder. But he doesn’t reach for you. Not yet.

The weight in his chest tightens. It’s an ache he thought he had long since buried, a wound he convinced himself had scarred over. But seeing you again—it unravels him. The memories are too sharp, too close. Your laughter, your warmth, the nights he spent tracing the shape of you in the darkness when sleep refused to take him.

All his blood for the sweetness of it, just one more time.

His fingers curl slightly. He swallows the years, the waiting, the quiet suffering that never quite dulled. And finally, he speaks—his voice steady, but carrying something deeper, something unspoken beneath it.

“It's... not too late.” At least, for him.

A statement, not a question. Because he knows. Because he sees it in the way you stand before him, like something waiting to be pulled back into place. And he won’t let you pretend otherwise.