𝐀 𝐓𝐎𝐔𝐂𝐇 𝐓𝐎 𝐂𝐔𝐑𝐄 ━━ S. UCHIHA

LXV

Warning: Long chapter.

"I want to tell you about my CPS."

Damn it, (Y/n)! This is going to be the biggest regret of your life!

Maybe it was a trick of the light, but I swore Sasuke tensed. His eyes slightly widen when he heard those words come out of my mouth as if he couldn't believe it. He looks completely baffled.

The lack of movement and words make me shudder and wonder if it's worth it. The least I expected was a snarky response or a shove that would've lightened my mood. Instead, his silence adds weight to the already heavy amount crushing my chest.

You're already in this. There's no backing out now.

I take a breath, avoiding all eye contact. I lay my eyes on the one thing that manages to calm me rather than the anxiousness I'll get from seeing his reaction. That happens to be the ocean.

Twiddling my fingers nervously, I begin my explanation. "I don't really know where to start. I... I guess what CPS means in the first place. It stands for Central Pain Syndrome. It's, um..." This is a lot harder than I thought it would be. My heart creeps up my throat, making it hard for me to speak without squeaking or stuttering.

"Take your time," he tells me.

Hearing his first words since I began the confession scares me. I turn to him, not sure if I heard him correctly.

He gazes at me with a softer expression, ridding himself of the shock he had before. He's being surprisingly patient with me.

I nod, taking his advice and sorting out my thoughts. You got this. Don't panic. Remember, you trust him. "I was seven when I was diagnosed. Apparently, that's a really young age to get it at. They said it had to do something with dropping me as a child and damaging my Central Nervous System. Haha. Dad was always a klutz.

"I should probably explain what it even is, sorry," I mutter, scratching the back of my head. "I'm getting you all mixed up. This is a terrible way to explain this." Sighing, I drop my head into my hands.

"No," he replies. "If it's important to you, it's not going to be easy to say. You explain it however you want to."

"I know but..."

"And if it's too much, you don't have to tell me at all."

"But I have to!"

"(Y/n), I'm telling you—"

"No!" I inhale. "No. I have to. To explain everything that's happened. Like last Saturday... I have to make it up to you. To apologize."

"Apologize for what? You did nothing wrong."

"Apologize for getting you into this mess."

"You're overthinking this," he concludes, studying the figures screaming on the ocean as they continue their water fight. "I told you before I did it because it was my choice, not because I was dragged into it."

I open my mouth to say anything, but words fail me now. I don't know how to reply. Especially after that conversation, we had in the car when he was bringing me home. The words I said and the fact that he stood by his own words the whole time. I lost in that argument to him, I doubt I have any skills to do that now.

His eyes move back to mine. "Look, I don't care if I know what's going on with you or not. It won't change how I act or make me regret anything I did in the past. I'm not that type of person."

For some reason, it feels like my insides are slowly crushing. Like they're in a box and it's slowly shrinking on them. It's as if the weight I was bearing before I decided to start all this was becoming too much.