Chapter 8: A Night of Confessions
The warmth of Sumire's home was a stark contrast to the cold that had settled deep in Boruto's bones. The scent of her presence, a soft mix of lavender and fresh linen, lingered in the air as she moved gracefully through the small kitchen Sumire moved through the kitchen with effortless grace, her soft lavender scent mixing with the aroma of the food she was preparing. The warmth of her home was comforting, but Boruto felt an unease gnawing at him from the inside. His thoughts were tangled, a mess of emotions he didn't quite understand. Sitting at the small dining table, he watched her, his gaze lingering on the way her delicate hands worked with precision.
"Do you like miso soup?" Sumire's voice was gentle, breaking the silence but not the intimacy of the moment.
Boruto blinked, snapping out of his daze. "Uh—yeah. I mean, I'll eat whatever you make."
She smiled faintly, turning back to the stove. "You should be a little more selective. But I guess that's just how you are."
Boruto scoffed lightly. "What's that supposed to mean?"
Her eyes flickered toward him with a knowing look. "It means you don't take care of yourself."
Boruto rubbed the back of his head, looking away. He had no response. The truth was, he had barely been eating or sleeping properly. The weight of everything that had happened was crushing him.
Sumire sighed but didn't push further. Instead, she continued preparing their meal, the rhythmic sounds of cooking filling the space between them. When she finally placed a bowl of miso soup, rice, and grilled fish in front of him, Boruto hesitated.
"Itadakimasu," Sumire murmured, pressing her hands together before taking her first bite.
Boruto followed suit, taking a sip of the soup. Warmth spread through his body, momentarily easing the coldness in his chest. It was simple, but it was one of the best meals he'd had in a long time.
"Thank you," he muttered under his breath, barely loud enough for her to hear.
She smiled softly, continuing to eat. They talked in quiet tones, their conversation shifting between small topics, but there was an unspoken comfort in the silence as well.
After finishing their meal, they cleaned up together, their hands occasionally brushing against each other's. The small touches sent an unexpected warmth through Boruto, but he ignored it, unsure of what to make of it.
When they stepped into her room, Boruto immediately noticed the single bed. He let out a sigh. "I'll take the floor."
Sumire frowned. "No, you won't."
"It's fine, I've slept in worse places."
"I don't care. I won't let the person I love sleep on the floor." The words slipped out before she could stop them. Sumire's face turned red, and she averted her gaze. "I-I mean… there's enough room. We can share."
Boruto stared at her, momentarily stunned, but exhaustion weighed him down too much to argue. "Alright."
They climbed into bed, both keeping a safe distance at first. Minutes passed. Then twenty. Then thirty. Neither of them could sleep.
Sumire shifted. "This is weird."
Boruto chuckled softly. "Yeah."
She hesitated before speaking again. "I feel like I should say something, but I don't know what."
Boruto turned to face her slightly. "You don't have to force a conversation."
"I know, but…" She sighed. "I just want to help. I know you're struggling."
Boruto closed his eyes. "You already are."
The silence that followed was different this time. It was comfortable, warm. Then, without thinking, Sumire shifted closer. Slowly, hesitantly, she wrapped her arms around him from behind, pressing her forehead against his back.
Boruto tensed. "Sumire—"
She didn't answer, just held him tighter. His heart pounded, his body reacting to the unexpected warmth of her embrace. He turned to look at her, their eyes meeting in the dim light. Her face was flushed, her violet eyes uncertain.
She was beautiful.
Something inside him cracked. He reached for her, pulling her against him. She gasped softly but didn't resist. Their breathing was slow, heavy, syncing in the quiet space between them. They stared at each other, lost in the moment.
Boruto moved first. Slowly, cautiously, he leaned in.
Their lips met.
It was soft at first—tentative, questioning. But the moment Sumire responded, something ignited within Boruto. His arms tightened around her, pulling her closer. She gasped against his lips, her fingers clutching the fabric of his shirt as she melted into the kiss.
A quiet moan escaped her when Boruto's tongue traced along her bottom lip before slipping inside. She hesitated at first, then shyly responded, their tongues brushing together in a hesitant dance that grew bolder with each second.
Boruto could feel everything—her warmth, the rapid beat of her heart against his chest, the softness of her body pressing against his own. He knew he should stop. He knew this was dangerous. But at this moment, he didn't care.
Momoshiki's voice echoed faintly in his mind, sneering. "Foolish. This will only bring you pain."
Boruto silenced him by deepening the kiss, savoring the way Sumire trembled in his arms. He slid one hand up to cup her face, his thumb brushing against her cheek as he held her close.
Sumire's breath hitched when his hand trailed lower, pressing against the small of her back. She pressed against him, their bodies flush together, and Boruto nearly lost himself in the sensation. Her chest, soft and warm, was pressed against his, and he could feel her every breath, every movement, every hesitation.
He wanted more.
But he forced himself to stop, resting his forehead against hers as they caught their breath. Sumire's face was burning, her violet eyes half-lidded as she gazed at him with something that made his heart ache.
"Boruto…" she whispered, her voice barely audible.
He brushed a strand of hair from her face, offering her a small smile. "Good night, Sumire."
She buried her face in his chest, too embarrassed to reply, but he felt her lips press lightly against his shirt in response.
Boruto closed his eyes, holding her a little tighter as sleep finally began to take over.
At 30 power stones, 5 more chapters!!!