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Shikamaru dragged his feet through the doorway, kicking aside yet another lump of scattered debris in his path. Dust danced in the light shining through shattered windows and crumbling walls into mismatched patterns on the concrete, never seeming to settle. He could see his breath playing with each particle as he sighed. This lonely place always seemed to welcome him, and despite the knowledge that it was just dust swarming around an abandoned building as it would anywhere else, this most insignificant sight always sent a shudder through him that somehow worked it’s way into a smile.
The peace was sublime. No sound but an intermittent drip. It was no wonder this place, empty of people and pressures, was his perfect escape. Noises here weren’t raised voices or begrudging mumbles; every crack and rustle was natural, timid with a menacing undertone. The unknown didn’t bother him—he was tired of knowing everything. Even through incoherent mumbles he still understood every word his parents shared, and the fact he wasn’t an adult didn’t matter one bit. Besides, he knew what arguing sounded like and he wanted to hear as little of it as possible. While he did like the bustle of his home, the normality of his friends and family surrounding him, there was something about this old factory that kept dragging Shikamaru back.
It was also the perfect place to smoke without his mother or any of her tattling friends spotting him.
He traced a line in the dirt and shuffled forward towards the raised platform he would usually perch on and fished the cardboard carton from his coat pocket. Fumbling, he looked down at his shaky fingertips as they attempted to pry a cigarette out. “Come on, man,” he whispered to himself, biting down on his lip. When he finally nestled one between his lips he shuddered. In the shadows the wind felt considerably more powerful and he let out a subtle sigh.
There was a snap. Rubble hit the floor with a thud.
Shikamaru’s head shot up, eyes darting around to look for the source of the noise. Nobody came here, this was his place, and he knew he must’ve been hearing things; a bird disturbing the silence or something. Yet, as he scanned the empty grey room and the rusting metal structures strewn around, something felt different.
A creak sounded from behind him and he turned, his eyes leading him in anticipation.
A few metres above him, perched precariously on a metal pipe, was a girl. From here it was difficult to distinguish her features, but not impossible, and Shikamaru couldn’t avoid her piercing green eyes cutting through the shadows or the gentle flicker of her hair in the breeze. He couldn’t lie: the way this stranger’s tees bore into him made it impossible to look away. She couldn’t have been more than a few years his senior—seventeen at the very most—but with such an earnest expression he was sure she could’ve passed for older. The maturity she exuded from a single glance was so impressive and intimidating that his brain, which was usually so quick and accurate in its judgments, barely even registered the beauty such a stare.
But realistically it didn’t interest him in the slightest what this girl looked like. What bothered him was the fact she had the nerve to sit atop an eroding hunk of metal as she did, unfazed by the height or it’s instability, in this disused factory of all places. This was his place. Nobody else had found it until now to his knowledge; he had liked it that way. Some girl, just because she had the nerve to sit up there, didn’t suddenly fit into his idealisation. A part of him wanted to just tut and tell her to leave, but he couldn’t help but notice her unconventional hairstyle and fearsome gaze felt all too familiar.
Shikamaru squinted up at her, only to be met with a solemn yet mischievous grin. She sheepishly lifted her hand and bit down on her lip. A cigarette sat between her own fingertips, glowing slightly in the shadow of her body. “I won’t tell if you don’t tell,” she mused, tapping away the excess ash, and immediately something clicked into place.
He remembered seeing her on the town hall steps a week prior, stood expressionless beside two boys and half-heartedly clapping the new mayor as he addressed his residents for the first time. She could only be his daughter, and that meant this girl, whether he cared or not, was a big deal.
However, Shikamaru had grown up the son of a cop, listening to the same repetitive drivel about his own father each time he met a new person, and he couldn’t help noticing the look in her eyes that seemed to say she’d had the same. Maybe she’d even met his father and recognised him in Shikamaru; it wouldn’t be unreasonable to assume given how often he heard they looked identical. But whatever the case, whether she knew him or not, the girl simply retained her awkward smile and brought her smoke to her lips without another word. Shikamaru decided to return the favour.
Lighting his cigarette, Shikamaru hopped up onto his favourite spot. With her now only slightly above him she was far less intimidating. The dark makeup surrounding her eyes still made them shoot right through him, but as he blew smoke from the corner of his own mouth he swore he could see her shudder. Something strange swelled in his chest, and he smirked as she crossed her legs, turning to face him. Only now, when he was closer, did he start to acknowledge how beautiful that shade of green was…
“Don’t worry,” he said. “I never saw you.”
A much more mischievous smile flew across her lips as she nodded in agreement. “Good.”
She didn’t say thank you, just pulled on her cigarette once more. Each moment of silence dragged on for eternity and she still stayed perfectly quiet. Shikamaru was barely surprised—he could tell she was trouble from the moment he’d spotted her, and he expected nothing less than the twinge of frustration growing in his stomach.
But she was welcome here, he decided, as long as she was always this quiet, and as long as wasn’t any trouble to him.
“Come on, Shikamaru—get up here!”
Cocking her head to one side, wisps of her hair caught the sunlight and shined like gold when she settled down in her favourite spot atop that rusty pipe. Light danced across her expression with the shadows of the trees outside, and every glint of sunlight catching her eye bounced back in the most fantastic smile. Without looking at her, it would appear no time had passed—that nothing had changed—but not looking at her was impossible when she smiled like she did.
Shikamaru rubbed the back of his neck, exasperated with her energy. “Temari,” he warned, “I didn’t trust that thing ten years ago, let alone now.”
“It was your idea to come back here, Shikamaru, not mine.” There was a hint of impatience in her voice. “So are you going to have fun or keep being a crybaby?”
Her idea of fun had always been skewed. Fun to her wasn’t sitting and watching the clouds float from one edge of the sky to the other, or idly playing chess until each move made itself. Fun to her was playfully taunting the ice cream man every day of winter until he lamented and gave her one for free, and slurping it in the rain as if it was the only way to enjoy it. On countless occasions he’d watched her climb atop roofs and stamp down until the resident emerged, confused and asking him what was going on. He’d shrug and try to hide his smile as she continued her banging above, shimmying down the drainpipe once the coast was clear once again and calling him a wimp for not joining in her endeavours.
Even today on their way here, aged twenty-seven, she’d pestered the man in the corner shop to give her a free packet of sweets with Shikamaru rolling his eyes quietly in the background. Of course he’d obliged—she always knew they would, why else would the pastime have started in the first place? And now here she was, digging into her pockets for her pick and mix, twisting a strawberry lace around her index finger.
So after all, she had been trouble to him. After all, she herself was twisted; Shikamaru had known it since the beginning and he adored it as much as it scared him. At first this crazy girl who wound people up for fun, himself included, couldn’t have seemed further from what he wanted. But the years went by and with every ice cream in the rain he warmed to her that slightest bit more, and this abandoned factory felt a little more like home whenever she was here.
Temari tore the sweet between her teeth as she looked down at him and beckoned him with her fingertips. “Up!” she commanded.
Shikamaru shoved his hand in his pocket, squeezing his fingers tightly around its contents. “Tem,” he chuckled, “can you not be a nightmare for five minutes?”
Her legs dangled, swinging childishly as she pouted. “You’re so boring.”
He nodded and bit down hard on his lip.
Just as he had a million times before he jumped up onto a separate platform to her, but instead of sitting as usual he stayed on his feet. Up here his head was almost at the same level as hers, but she still stared down at him with her perfectly devious grin and suddenly he was fifteen again. After moving to a new town together a few years back the pair of them had not yet returned to their favourite place, but now they were here Shikamaru couldn’t help noticing how nothing had changed. The building was still slowly crumbling away, broken glass still shimmered in the sunlight, and her face was still so captivatingly beautiful. Years on he was still chasing her around on her escapades and listening to every grumble and her gripe she had with the world—the only difference was nowadays he was willing to participate.
Now as he looked up at the woman he loved—the woman he must’ve always known was his, even in the very beginning—she still towered over him as she had that first day, a disastrous air of trouble lingering about her fingertips and a solemn look staining the back of her eyes. He had learned things since that day; those eyes had seen things they never should have and poured tears onto his shoulders, and yet they still fell on him with his favourite devilish glint. This woman had grown from that troublesome girl into even more of a rascal; one who’d cared for him and livened up his life in a nothing short of perfect way.
Nobody would ever be like Temari, so domineering yet so gentle when the situation called for it. Nobody had ever put him in his place like she did, or impishly bother him to better himself in the ways she would. Without her Shikamaru felt he might still be that naive little boy who snuck into the shadows to smoke, but what he knew was he would never feel alone again whilst he had her.
Yet here he was, his heart beating manically in his chest as he turned down yet another piece of candy, and felt all of her hard work on him unravelling. It was as though he was shrinking a little more with every second he spent in the spotlight of her gaze, like his beard might disappear and his voice might crack. Time seemed to grind to a terrifying halt as she finally narrowed her eyes at him.
“What’s in your pocket?”
He gulped. “Nothing.”
“Liar.” Temari toyed with a piece of candy, and Shikamaru nearly jumped down to escape her. “Empty them or I will turf them out.”
Shikamaru shook his head too quickly.
“If you’re smoking again, I swear to god—”
“Temari,” he sighed, a little relieved by her train of thought, “if I was smoking again, I wouldn’t bother being secretive about it.”
“I know that.” She frowned, crossing her legs. A flash of the past crept into his vision. “But why are you being secretive at all? We don’t do secrets, Shikamaru.”
Annoyed at his choice of words, he grumbled. “Or surprises, apparently…”
“What?”
Shikamaru rolled his eyes, perfectly aware of the losing battle he was entering into. “I just wanted to surprise you.”
“With what?”
“Well, it’s not a surprise if I tell you,” he sighed, wondering if it was best to abort the entire plan and try again another day. The pressure of all this was just too much. “Forget it, it’s stupid."
“Shikamaru, tell me.”
“No.”
“I will root through your pockets, Nara,” she warned, stuffing away her sweets and rolling up her sleeves. “And if I find anything I shouldn’t in there then I will tell your mother—”
“Okay, fine,” he growled.
He knew he shouldn’t have done in it the way he did the moment it was done. It shouldn’t have been as easy as whipping the little box in his pocket out, placing it in her palm and sitting down so as to avoid her petrifying expression as she contemplated what it meant. He knew there were words that he should’ve said in a tone dripping with love, and far better places to say them than in a decrepit old building full of dirt and daydreams. The problem was, however much he’d thought about those better places or the words that might’ve fit, none of them were his. It all piled up to one clear problem: that box had been burning a hole into his pocket for the last week, and he just couldn’t handle the pressure of it anymore.
He also couldn’t handle the silence, or the echoes of he sound of the contraption snapping shut with no words to follow.
“Tem,” he started through strained chuckles, “you don’t need to say—”
There was a thump as her feet landed beside him, and within a moment her lips were on his. Words weren’t needed—the feeling of her hands on his cheeks, in his hair, and the faint tingle of cold metal against his skin said everything. Shikamaru wrapped his arms around her waist and smiled at the lingering taste of strawberry on her tongue, losing himself in the girlish giggle she let out. But she didn’t stop, not even to draw breath, and tugged his hair from the confines of his ponytail with one agonising jerk.
Shikamaru winced as he pulled her into his lap. “Wow, woman,” he chuckled, “you’re going to kill me.”
Her hands were already working on his buttons by the time he’d blinked once, and she pushed him back into the dirt. Crawling on top of him, she bit down on her lip and locked onto his eyes. “I can say no, if you want,” she whispered.
“I feel like I’m about to get more than just a yes,” he smirked, hands resting on her hips, “and I’m pretty sure I’d like to keep it that way.”
Temari held back a laugh as she fiddled her buttons. “What would your policeman-father think about his son breaking public indecency laws one final time?”
Each word was a drawl, and the wicked tone with which she delivered it in hung in the air heavier than the dust. Shikamaru took a moment to tear his eyes from her to stare at the ring on her finger, and the way it glistened in the light, before tightening his grip on her.
A gentle gasp slipped from her lips and he smiled smugly. “I won’t tell if you don’t tell.”