The feeling lingers, and he cannot shake it easily — does not know if he wants to except that it feels like he should. Wearing the vulnerability of those good memories makes him feel too raw, at risk, some unseen threat waiting nearby to take him under. But there is just the woman in front of him. Her touch is gentle on his brow; he would have pulled away from it reflexively if not for his present state. Instead, like a child seeking an affectionate touch for the first time in years, he leans against it.

Breath shudders out of his lungs. His tears are wet on his cheeks, eyes closed against them, lashes damp. The minutes last what seems an eternity. Then, gradually, the acuity begins to taper. He finds the ability to speak.

"How do you bear it?" Sasuke asks, voice low and quiet as he picks up his head and pulls away, gathering composure around him. He's too relaxed; he should be railing against this, he should leave, but instead he stays because he wants to hear more from her. "After, when the memory is painful again."