fanfic: The Issue
Title: The Issue
Chapter 1: Decency
Author: kauru_ryu (aka ursancanine)
Rating: M
Genre: AU, Gen, Romance
Wordcount: 4000-ish
Summary: On the issue of decency, compatibility, and love. Wherein Naruto, Sasuke, and Sakura reconsider their respective situations.
A/N: I hate ff.net. Srsly. After seeking out fics (and rereading The Bridge series by fool.0 and revisiting Sunfreak's and Alcyone23's pages), I've decided to write a little something. Well, two somethings but the other something is being uncooperative so I wrote this instead. lol I hope you like it. Reviews would really help. Thanks for your time. :D
OH AND I DON'T OWN NARUTO. /)_- i forgot about disclaiming. lol
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The Issue: Decency
By ursancanine
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Sakura has been crying for over five hours now. And when I say five hours of crying, I literally mean, five hours of non-stop sobbing, sniffing, and sighing, punctuated with the occasional whine and hiccough. She dry-swallowed for around twenty times now and two jumbo packs of tissues have been obliterated into a mass of pulp, snot, and saline. She’s now on her toilet paper stack, rolling a length around her fingers before folding them and slapping the makeshift handkerchief onto her face.
At least she stopped the incomprehensible mutters and mumbles of complaints after the first two hours. Makes me think though, how much water she drinks, considering how her eyes resemble faucets now. Her face is red, lips swollen, eyes even more. Her pink hair is frazzled, the chunked up tresses in distress as if conveying that yes, this girl is currently undergoing her breakdown and no amount of tea or ice cream will stop those tears from flowing.
She wipes her nose and upper lip before she starts sobbing again, shoulders shaking uncontrollably and hiccoughing again to regain the oxygen she lost for her efforts. She won’t stop crying. I coax her into eating some more ice cream before she burst into another series of whines and sniffs. I can only grimace as she tremblingly reached out for the spoon and her roll of tissue.
I let her grab the gallon bucket, and seeing that one of the pillows on her side is about to fall off, I take it and put it on her other side. You’re such a good friend Naruto. She chokes out the words before letting out a strangled cry and stabbing her spoon into the ice cream, her hands suddenly on her face with another round of shaking and hiccoughing. I sigh and push the pillows around her even more as she starts mumbling again about stupid guys and their stupid attitudes and their stupid, stupid melodramatic testosterone-induced acts of so-called manliness. I cringe again and try to smile at her, just to appease this girl who I’ve known since I was four.
I look at the clock. It’s four in the morning and I knew I was going to be neck deep in trouble for going as far as to accompany Sakura and her love woes. Sasuke’s probably home now though. And if he’s home, he’d probably call any minute now-
The doorbell rings and Sakura accentuates the sound with a small cry. I look at her, muttering that I’ll be back, just gonna answer the door, and I proceed to the door to see who in their right mind will visit a girl in distraught at four in the morning. If it was that guy I’m not going to hesitate and shove my foot down his throat for doing this to Sakura. I open the door and I see Sasuke, hair disheveled, panting, and face contorted into something like stress and confusion.
O hey.
I got home three hours ago Naruto.
O fuck- really?
Yes really.
I’m sor-
What the fuck happened?
Sakura’s date. Get in.
Sasuke rolls his eyes and enters, shrugging off his jacket and eventually his vest. He’s been working as a barista at the café near the campus, taking the night shift to accommodate his studies in the morning. I close the door as he enters Sakura’s flat, looking around and finally setting his eyes on the girl on the couch. Sakura looked miserable and I’m praying that Sasuke tries his best to not worsen the situation. Sakura hacks out a cough and a strangled moan, digging back to her ice cream before coughing again.
I look at Sasuke, and he looks back, confusion marring his features once again. He moves to Sakura and touches her shoulder. Sakura sullenly looks up to him and cries even louder (my god it’s a vicious cycle) and cups her face with her hands. Sasuke cringes at this and looks back at me and coughs, motioning to come with him to the kitchen.
Once we got there, I grab a pitcher and fill it with water, Sasuke trying to find the right words to ask. He moves his hands slightly, muttering phrases and I chuckle at his expense. I earn a glare in reply. What do you mean Sakura’s date happened?
Sighing, I glance at Sakura for a second and settle the pitcher on the kitchen table. I look at him pointedly, his half-glance attentive. I can see he’s tired and a bit irked by the fact that I ended up in Sakura’s apartment instead of ours. I sigh again and tug on his shirt muttering that I’ll explain later and I’m pretty sure that Sakura’s out of fluids because of her cryfest. I take the pitcher again, squeezing his right shoulder and retrieving a glass from the counter. Sasuke jerks a bit, rubbing his face with his palms, hiding a yawn from me. He’s really tired. You should sleep.
We’re in Sakura’s flat. Just saying.
I snort and proceed to Sakura to give her a glass of water. I cringe again when she looked at me with her puffy eyes and I sigh as she accepted the glass of water I poured for her. Her lip is still trembling, the moisture making it look more swollen. I feel bad for her. She gives me back the empty glass, her sullen face unchanging. I think she’s dried out. She looks down on herself, her creased red dress, slightly wet because of the ice cream tub, the pillows around her, and that damnable stack of tissues on the ground. I watch her pitifully.
Sasuke’s at the kitchen entrance now, leaning on the post, arms across his chest, with a look on his face that clearly says wrap it up. I glare at him and I glance to and fro Sakura and Sasuke. He just keeps giving me that look. I grit my teeth and focus again on Sakura. She’s finally closed those faucets thank god. She just looks miserable now; shoulders slumped forward over her body. I sigh again and I pry the bucket off her legs. She looks at me again. You’re a good friend Naruto.
I smile at her, closing the tub with my left hand as I put my right to cup her left cheek. I keep smiling and I give her a penguin kiss, whispering to her to go to sleep, tomorrow’s going to be a better day. She sniffles for the last time and tries to smile and mutters a thank you before hugging me again. My smile’s getting awkward now, with Sasuke getting even more irked by each passing second. The tub of ice cream is really cold.
As Sakura’s breath evened out, her exhales tickle my ear. She’s asleep. Good.
I put the ice cream on the coffee table. Lifting her up, I motion Sasuke to help me clean up the area so I can put her to bed. He glares at me before rolling his eyes again and comes near to pick up the pillows. I carried Sakura to her room, Sasuke trailing behind me with an arm full of pillows. I smile inwardly at how cooperative he is when tired.
Finally, I tucked her in, pillows covering each side (Sasuke mutters Sakura isn’t a baby you dolt) and I make the effort to brush her hair up with my hand. Sasuke had already back tracked to the living room to pick up the tissues. I follow him, taking my time to fluff up the abused couch (Sakura must’ve missed her mouth one time, there’s a creamy pink stain on the arm of the couch) and to reposition the couch in front of the coffee table. I sigh again, proceeding to help Sasuke with the tissues (he ended up taking care of the unused ones, taking them to Sakura’s bedside table in case she ends up crying again).
When Sasuke gets back to the living room, the area’s as spotless as it had been before Sakura burrowed to cry her eyes out. I sit down on the couch, staring at the half-full bucket of ice cream and a pitcher of water. He sits beside me and pours himself a glass. I see him rub his eyes as he finishes his drink. Clearing his throat he asks me again what happened?
I look at him straight in the eye. Sakura-chan got dumped by that fucker Seiji during their supposed date tonight.
Oh. Wait, ‘supposed’?
Yeah. He was with another girl when Sakura-chan showed up at the restaurant.
What the fuck.
Yes fuck. Turns out the fucking idiot played the field on her. I was so fucking mad when I found out Sasuke. She was sobbing hysterically when she called me. Fucking prick. My hands were fisted now; I can practically imagine myself asphyxiating the bastard with my bare hands till his eyes pop out.
Oh.
Is that all you’re going to say?
Sasuke glares at me, daring me to force him to talk about this. I bite my lip as I silently snarl at the idea of what that fucking prick did to Sakura. I mutter obscenities, thinking of how ludicrous this situation is, of how stupid that guy is. I rub my face with my palms. Sasuke lets out an annoyed sigh before leaning back and staring at the ceiling.
This wasn’t the first time someone hurt Sakura. The first time it happened, she cried but not this much. After all, the guy meant well, breaking up with Sakura. He wasn’t as stupid as Seiji and hell of a lot more considerate. He ended it on the grounds that it’s not working out. Whatever that meant, Sakura was able to forgive him. The second was a lot easier to handle as Sakura was the one who dumped the guy. She didn’t cry one bit but Naruto had to suffer through a day of carrying innumerable shopping bags to join her in her shopping-therapy sessions. The next two guys were pricks but Sasuke saved Sakura from all the trouble by scaring them off. Who knew bringing a sword to school could be so intimidating?
I smirk at the memory of how the two idiots scrambled away from Sakura every time Sasuke and I start walking to her. It didn’t help them any more with Sasuke’s sadistic smile pointed at either of them when they try to start a conversation with her, Sasuke toying with the very real blade of the sword during Freelance Art, sharpening the gleaming steel while watching every movement the two made. Sakura only realized what he was doing when I ended up guffawing when he stabbed the human sculpture I was making. He smirked and told me that the thing looks better with a sword through its ass.
To say that Sakura was mad is an understatement. She was fuming when she found out what we were doing. Even Sasuke’s supposedly logical explanation went unheard, instead we were slammed by her estrogen-induced rantage on the idiocy of the male species and how can she find a decent guy if we’re guarding her like a pair of Rottweilers. She kept prodding our chests with her palette knife; I can still remember the stabs and the pinprick of a bruise that really hurt when I poked it.
In any case, we still kept a lookout for Sakura. She’s not dumb- Sasuke and I are both aware of that. But she has this inclination to end up attracting the wrong type of men, the idiots, the jerks, and the pricks. It’s quite a miracle that Seiji even got past our radar. This makes me guilty. I hate feeling guilty. I could’ve done better in protecting her-
You know, she’s bound to find a real decent guy.
Sasuke mumbles beside me his head raised still, half-lidded eyes on me.
Don’t blame yourself for this. You aren’t her only friend.
I blow a breath out loud, rubbing the back of my neck to ease the tension. It’s been a long night and over-thinking Sakura’s situation might worsen my headache to a migraine. Sasuke sits up, leaning forward to face me. Expressionless as ever, he lightly touches my knee and says that we really need to get some sleep.
I glance at him, smiling, and I face him completely. His eyes look a little bloodshot, skin slightly paler than usual, black pupils a little faded. He looks really very tired. I sigh at him, crinkling my eyes, amused at how he looked. It’s not every day I can see him tired like this. He shakes his head at my look and my smile widens as I move over to his back, sitting, touching his shoulders, rubbing through his collarbone, and meeting my hands to the back of his neck.
He lowers his head to allow me to massage his back, kneading out the knots in his muscles, moving my hands at the expanse of his back, downwards from his shoulders, across his spine, down to its end. I move my hands to his sides and upwards back to his shoulders. He is tense. When I started tugging on his shirt, he snorts and mumbles something about Sakura’s couch. I laugh quietly at him, softly reminding him that it was a long night and we need to wind down by controlled physical contact. He snorts and lets me shrug off his shirt, exposing his pale back at me. I kiss his nape as I continue to run my hands across his back.
Real decent guy, huh?
He grunts.
I wonder.
What about?
Being decent.
I know Sakura deserves better. But in any case the word decent seems to be very relative in the mind of most women. Most women, not excluding her, tend to see the best in the people they’ve set their eyes on. Heck, Moegi once told me that she liked Konohamaru because he’s funny. Funny, eh?
Point?
Point is, what do you mean by decent?
Are you asking for a technical definition of the word Naruto?
I can practically see the smirk that accompanied this question. I chuckle again, glad that some of the tension’s gone from his back. Relaxing, Sasuke practically squishes me into the sofa. I pinch at his side, earning me a flinch and more space to sit on. I start running my hands to his hair, massaging the crown of his head, unmindful of the wax that’s gradually covering my hands. He uses too much of the junk. I say so.
Hair wax over hair pins idiot.
Aw Sasuke-chan I thought you’d like yo-
He leans back at me with his weight, shoving his elbows to grind at my sides. I retaliate by biting his right shoulder and pushing my hips upwards. He slips and falls on his ass on the floor. I laugh loudly now, unmindful of the sleeping girl in the bedroom. He grunts, facing me and flops his whole body on me. I can feel his snicker on my chest, his breath, staggering. You are tired.
Way to point the obvious.
He moves his body lower, burying his face on my navel. I place my hands on his head, staring distractedly at the painting Sakura hung over her television set. It was the painting she made three months ago, during a workshop with Sai. I remember him- he reminds me of Sasuke, except the bare midriffs and creepy smile. He and Sakura got along though. She laughed at his monotonous jokes and he smiled a lot at her efforts in trying to emulate his impressive talent in ink and wash painting. In the end of the three-day workshop, Sakura got the hang of it, producing the cherry blossom painting in front of me. It’s beautiful, even with its monochromatic color scheme. The kanji is perfect, heavily stylized yet legible. And to think that she used red ink on this one.
Sasuke shifts, mumbling something on my belly. It tickles- I pull at his bangs. He growls and shifts upward, lifting my legs to straddle me. Let’s go to sleep Naruto.
‘m not sleepy.
Crossing my arms across my chest I pout at him petulantly. He hates it when I do that; it’s not like I can smirk like he does so I settle for this. I can see the return of the tick on his temple and I laugh kissing it, as he exasperatedly untangles himself from me. He stands up and stretches, his eyes still trained at me. He shakes his head again and leaves. Where do you think you’re going?
To bed.
We’re in Sakura’s. Just so you know.
There’s a couch in her room.
It’s an ottoman.
Whatever.
It’s too small.
You can lie on me.
The suggestive lilt in his voice did not pass by me. I try to glare at him muttering about horny bastards and not-our-apartments; I hear him sigh and his footsteps padded lightly on the floor before Sakura’s bedroom door creaked as he entered. I stay on the sofa, still mulling about the situation, of how things would’ve been better for her. I keep thinking that maybe, just maybe, the decent guy for Sakura is out there, waiting, much like how she is now, cocooned in pillows and a blanket, tears even in dreams.
I tap my fingers on the coffee table, tracing the moisture that pooled by the ice cream tub. I mindlessly draw a face, aimlessly thinking in the middle of the night (I meant early morning) trying to grasp what happened again, the wrong that occurred between Sakura and Seiji. Besides his two-timing scheme, Seiji was an average guy. Unremarkable appearance (Sakura kept talking about his stupid glasses), unremarkable attitude (Sakura said he’s a gentleman- whatever that means), unremarkable aptitude (Sakura said he’s smart), even an unremarkable daily lifestyle (Sakura shrugged off the whole call-center agent setup; he plays guitar Naruto).
Glancing at the clock, I realize that it’s been over an hour since Sasuke arrived. Sasuke- he’s a decent guy. Studious, meticulous, and gorgeous- these are simply exaggerations made by the majority who meet him daily. I smirk when I realize that yes, these are exaggerations. Sasuke’s studious because he has the habit of opening a book unrelated to fiction. He’s meticulous because he knows the best is worth the effort. He’s gorgeous because…
Well, physically, Sasuke is nothing short of the adjective. Tall, dark, and handsome- I remember Sakura gushing about him when we were in middle school. I wouldn’t admit it- the only retort I could make is a jab at his attitude. Yes, Sasuke is a fine specimen of a man, aesthetically speaking. Some girls even called him an Adonis. I could only say he’s a statue. I snicker at the memory. Come to think of it, he’s the opposite of dark. Paper-pale in complexion, I remember telling him that he ought to use himself as a canvas for art class back in high school. He just sneered at me and told me to use myself as a palette. I threw a can of turpentine at him.
Chuckling at my recollections, I pour myself some water. Sasuke isn’t all bad. Sure he had his flaws (on the inside). But he’s decent enough to be a good enough boyfriend- decent enough to know when things are going bad, when his ego gets the better of him, when he knows he’s crossed a line. He’s bad at expressing himself but he’s not any worse than any other average guy in the world. He’s a gentleman, when you tilt your head sideways, a little bit, taking a peek underneath all his sarcasm, snark, and subliminal narcissism.
I finish my water and settle the glass on the table. I think of how I ended up with him. It was inevitable, I guess. Between Sasuke and Sakura, I had my fair share of attraction. Sakura is beautiful, soft, and pliant. I’ve loved her since we were kids and I’d be lying if I said I didn’t like her from the very beginning. She was a shy girl when I realized how attracted I was to her, hiding behind her waist-length hair, smiling coyly like any other thirteen-year-old. She is beautiful; even after years of friendship, cannot deny her that adjective.
And Sasuke. Raging, ruinous, and reckless, Uchiha Sasuke was the person I couldn’t get enough of. He was a winded bull, a tortured soul, a frozen flower amidst the concrete world that was my life. I never was good at poetry but I’d only give those words to describe him. I wanted him in spite of, to stop him in his rampage, self-destruction. I knew better then, even if I was too stupid to understand the ego boundaries set by the environment he grew up in. I shattered the aquarium he swam in. I poured in the ocean into the bowl, drowning him of the very water he needed but never knew.
Messianic, I know, but it’s true. I pushed him till he snapped. And he did. Despite the baggage and burden thrown at me for what I did, I held on fast because I knew there was something more than what he kept showing to others. I think of the Dark Ages of High School, the drama, the idiocy of my peers, the superficiality I’ve survived from. I knocked Sasuke off the pedestal because I knew he was lonely up there. He knew he was too- but when you’re way up top, you sometimes forget, even in pointless solitude, how to get back down with the rest of creation.
I’ve gone too far in my musing. The clock is ticking behind me, each second poking at my head to get to sleep. But I can’t stop thinking. What if I didn’t get Sasuke? What if I didn’t catch him? What if I did but didn’t keep him?
What if it was Sasuke and Sakura instead?
I shake my head for thinking like this. Brooding was never a talent of mine. I stand up and collect the tub, the pitcher, and the glass. I think of what to do next- should I sleep or should I prepare breakfast? It’s almost six in the morning now. Maybe I should make something good when cold, or maybe something easy to reheat. I mull things over as I enter the kitchen.
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Did you enjoy it? I know Naruto’s a bit OOC but he’s a very hard character to write. Trust me, Naruto’s complexity is way juicier than Uchiha (all of them yeah?) :D I love crying Sakura. I don’t know why. Please review thanks! Oh and yes, I’ve only slightly proofread this, any grammatical error and/or spelling mistakes pointed out are highly appreciated. Thanks. :D ILY ALL. :D
Chapter 1: Decency
Author: kauru_ryu (aka ursancanine)
Rating: M
Genre: AU, Gen, Romance
Wordcount: 4000-ish
Summary: On the issue of decency, compatibility, and love. Wherein Naruto, Sasuke, and Sakura reconsider their respective situations.
A/N: I hate ff.net. Srsly. After seeking out fics (and rereading The Bridge series by fool.0 and revisiting Sunfreak's and Alcyone23's pages), I've decided to write a little something. Well, two somethings but the other something is being uncooperative so I wrote this instead. lol I hope you like it. Reviews would really help. Thanks for your time. :D
OH AND I DON'T OWN NARUTO. /)_- i forgot about disclaiming. lol
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The Issue: Decency
By ursancanine
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Sakura has been crying for over five hours now. And when I say five hours of crying, I literally mean, five hours of non-stop sobbing, sniffing, and sighing, punctuated with the occasional whine and hiccough. She dry-swallowed for around twenty times now and two jumbo packs of tissues have been obliterated into a mass of pulp, snot, and saline. She’s now on her toilet paper stack, rolling a length around her fingers before folding them and slapping the makeshift handkerchief onto her face.
At least she stopped the incomprehensible mutters and mumbles of complaints after the first two hours. Makes me think though, how much water she drinks, considering how her eyes resemble faucets now. Her face is red, lips swollen, eyes even more. Her pink hair is frazzled, the chunked up tresses in distress as if conveying that yes, this girl is currently undergoing her breakdown and no amount of tea or ice cream will stop those tears from flowing.
She wipes her nose and upper lip before she starts sobbing again, shoulders shaking uncontrollably and hiccoughing again to regain the oxygen she lost for her efforts. She won’t stop crying. I coax her into eating some more ice cream before she burst into another series of whines and sniffs. I can only grimace as she tremblingly reached out for the spoon and her roll of tissue.
I let her grab the gallon bucket, and seeing that one of the pillows on her side is about to fall off, I take it and put it on her other side. You’re such a good friend Naruto. She chokes out the words before letting out a strangled cry and stabbing her spoon into the ice cream, her hands suddenly on her face with another round of shaking and hiccoughing. I sigh and push the pillows around her even more as she starts mumbling again about stupid guys and their stupid attitudes and their stupid, stupid melodramatic testosterone-induced acts of so-called manliness. I cringe again and try to smile at her, just to appease this girl who I’ve known since I was four.
I look at the clock. It’s four in the morning and I knew I was going to be neck deep in trouble for going as far as to accompany Sakura and her love woes. Sasuke’s probably home now though. And if he’s home, he’d probably call any minute now-
The doorbell rings and Sakura accentuates the sound with a small cry. I look at her, muttering that I’ll be back, just gonna answer the door, and I proceed to the door to see who in their right mind will visit a girl in distraught at four in the morning. If it was that guy I’m not going to hesitate and shove my foot down his throat for doing this to Sakura. I open the door and I see Sasuke, hair disheveled, panting, and face contorted into something like stress and confusion.
O hey.
I got home three hours ago Naruto.
O fuck- really?
Yes really.
I’m sor-
What the fuck happened?
Sakura’s date. Get in.
Sasuke rolls his eyes and enters, shrugging off his jacket and eventually his vest. He’s been working as a barista at the café near the campus, taking the night shift to accommodate his studies in the morning. I close the door as he enters Sakura’s flat, looking around and finally setting his eyes on the girl on the couch. Sakura looked miserable and I’m praying that Sasuke tries his best to not worsen the situation. Sakura hacks out a cough and a strangled moan, digging back to her ice cream before coughing again.
I look at Sasuke, and he looks back, confusion marring his features once again. He moves to Sakura and touches her shoulder. Sakura sullenly looks up to him and cries even louder (my god it’s a vicious cycle) and cups her face with her hands. Sasuke cringes at this and looks back at me and coughs, motioning to come with him to the kitchen.
Once we got there, I grab a pitcher and fill it with water, Sasuke trying to find the right words to ask. He moves his hands slightly, muttering phrases and I chuckle at his expense. I earn a glare in reply. What do you mean Sakura’s date happened?
Sighing, I glance at Sakura for a second and settle the pitcher on the kitchen table. I look at him pointedly, his half-glance attentive. I can see he’s tired and a bit irked by the fact that I ended up in Sakura’s apartment instead of ours. I sigh again and tug on his shirt muttering that I’ll explain later and I’m pretty sure that Sakura’s out of fluids because of her cryfest. I take the pitcher again, squeezing his right shoulder and retrieving a glass from the counter. Sasuke jerks a bit, rubbing his face with his palms, hiding a yawn from me. He’s really tired. You should sleep.
We’re in Sakura’s flat. Just saying.
I snort and proceed to Sakura to give her a glass of water. I cringe again when she looked at me with her puffy eyes and I sigh as she accepted the glass of water I poured for her. Her lip is still trembling, the moisture making it look more swollen. I feel bad for her. She gives me back the empty glass, her sullen face unchanging. I think she’s dried out. She looks down on herself, her creased red dress, slightly wet because of the ice cream tub, the pillows around her, and that damnable stack of tissues on the ground. I watch her pitifully.
Sasuke’s at the kitchen entrance now, leaning on the post, arms across his chest, with a look on his face that clearly says wrap it up. I glare at him and I glance to and fro Sakura and Sasuke. He just keeps giving me that look. I grit my teeth and focus again on Sakura. She’s finally closed those faucets thank god. She just looks miserable now; shoulders slumped forward over her body. I sigh again and I pry the bucket off her legs. She looks at me again. You’re a good friend Naruto.
I smile at her, closing the tub with my left hand as I put my right to cup her left cheek. I keep smiling and I give her a penguin kiss, whispering to her to go to sleep, tomorrow’s going to be a better day. She sniffles for the last time and tries to smile and mutters a thank you before hugging me again. My smile’s getting awkward now, with Sasuke getting even more irked by each passing second. The tub of ice cream is really cold.
As Sakura’s breath evened out, her exhales tickle my ear. She’s asleep. Good.
I put the ice cream on the coffee table. Lifting her up, I motion Sasuke to help me clean up the area so I can put her to bed. He glares at me before rolling his eyes again and comes near to pick up the pillows. I carried Sakura to her room, Sasuke trailing behind me with an arm full of pillows. I smile inwardly at how cooperative he is when tired.
Finally, I tucked her in, pillows covering each side (Sasuke mutters Sakura isn’t a baby you dolt) and I make the effort to brush her hair up with my hand. Sasuke had already back tracked to the living room to pick up the tissues. I follow him, taking my time to fluff up the abused couch (Sakura must’ve missed her mouth one time, there’s a creamy pink stain on the arm of the couch) and to reposition the couch in front of the coffee table. I sigh again, proceeding to help Sasuke with the tissues (he ended up taking care of the unused ones, taking them to Sakura’s bedside table in case she ends up crying again).
When Sasuke gets back to the living room, the area’s as spotless as it had been before Sakura burrowed to cry her eyes out. I sit down on the couch, staring at the half-full bucket of ice cream and a pitcher of water. He sits beside me and pours himself a glass. I see him rub his eyes as he finishes his drink. Clearing his throat he asks me again what happened?
I look at him straight in the eye. Sakura-chan got dumped by that fucker Seiji during their supposed date tonight.
Oh. Wait, ‘supposed’?
Yeah. He was with another girl when Sakura-chan showed up at the restaurant.
What the fuck.
Yes fuck. Turns out the fucking idiot played the field on her. I was so fucking mad when I found out Sasuke. She was sobbing hysterically when she called me. Fucking prick. My hands were fisted now; I can practically imagine myself asphyxiating the bastard with my bare hands till his eyes pop out.
Oh.
Is that all you’re going to say?
Sasuke glares at me, daring me to force him to talk about this. I bite my lip as I silently snarl at the idea of what that fucking prick did to Sakura. I mutter obscenities, thinking of how ludicrous this situation is, of how stupid that guy is. I rub my face with my palms. Sasuke lets out an annoyed sigh before leaning back and staring at the ceiling.
This wasn’t the first time someone hurt Sakura. The first time it happened, she cried but not this much. After all, the guy meant well, breaking up with Sakura. He wasn’t as stupid as Seiji and hell of a lot more considerate. He ended it on the grounds that it’s not working out. Whatever that meant, Sakura was able to forgive him. The second was a lot easier to handle as Sakura was the one who dumped the guy. She didn’t cry one bit but Naruto had to suffer through a day of carrying innumerable shopping bags to join her in her shopping-therapy sessions. The next two guys were pricks but Sasuke saved Sakura from all the trouble by scaring them off. Who knew bringing a sword to school could be so intimidating?
I smirk at the memory of how the two idiots scrambled away from Sakura every time Sasuke and I start walking to her. It didn’t help them any more with Sasuke’s sadistic smile pointed at either of them when they try to start a conversation with her, Sasuke toying with the very real blade of the sword during Freelance Art, sharpening the gleaming steel while watching every movement the two made. Sakura only realized what he was doing when I ended up guffawing when he stabbed the human sculpture I was making. He smirked and told me that the thing looks better with a sword through its ass.
To say that Sakura was mad is an understatement. She was fuming when she found out what we were doing. Even Sasuke’s supposedly logical explanation went unheard, instead we were slammed by her estrogen-induced rantage on the idiocy of the male species and how can she find a decent guy if we’re guarding her like a pair of Rottweilers. She kept prodding our chests with her palette knife; I can still remember the stabs and the pinprick of a bruise that really hurt when I poked it.
In any case, we still kept a lookout for Sakura. She’s not dumb- Sasuke and I are both aware of that. But she has this inclination to end up attracting the wrong type of men, the idiots, the jerks, and the pricks. It’s quite a miracle that Seiji even got past our radar. This makes me guilty. I hate feeling guilty. I could’ve done better in protecting her-
You know, she’s bound to find a real decent guy.
Sasuke mumbles beside me his head raised still, half-lidded eyes on me.
Don’t blame yourself for this. You aren’t her only friend.
I blow a breath out loud, rubbing the back of my neck to ease the tension. It’s been a long night and over-thinking Sakura’s situation might worsen my headache to a migraine. Sasuke sits up, leaning forward to face me. Expressionless as ever, he lightly touches my knee and says that we really need to get some sleep.
I glance at him, smiling, and I face him completely. His eyes look a little bloodshot, skin slightly paler than usual, black pupils a little faded. He looks really very tired. I sigh at him, crinkling my eyes, amused at how he looked. It’s not every day I can see him tired like this. He shakes his head at my look and my smile widens as I move over to his back, sitting, touching his shoulders, rubbing through his collarbone, and meeting my hands to the back of his neck.
He lowers his head to allow me to massage his back, kneading out the knots in his muscles, moving my hands at the expanse of his back, downwards from his shoulders, across his spine, down to its end. I move my hands to his sides and upwards back to his shoulders. He is tense. When I started tugging on his shirt, he snorts and mumbles something about Sakura’s couch. I laugh quietly at him, softly reminding him that it was a long night and we need to wind down by controlled physical contact. He snorts and lets me shrug off his shirt, exposing his pale back at me. I kiss his nape as I continue to run my hands across his back.
Real decent guy, huh?
He grunts.
I wonder.
What about?
Being decent.
I know Sakura deserves better. But in any case the word decent seems to be very relative in the mind of most women. Most women, not excluding her, tend to see the best in the people they’ve set their eyes on. Heck, Moegi once told me that she liked Konohamaru because he’s funny. Funny, eh?
Point?
Point is, what do you mean by decent?
Are you asking for a technical definition of the word Naruto?
I can practically see the smirk that accompanied this question. I chuckle again, glad that some of the tension’s gone from his back. Relaxing, Sasuke practically squishes me into the sofa. I pinch at his side, earning me a flinch and more space to sit on. I start running my hands to his hair, massaging the crown of his head, unmindful of the wax that’s gradually covering my hands. He uses too much of the junk. I say so.
Hair wax over hair pins idiot.
Aw Sasuke-chan I thought you’d like yo-
He leans back at me with his weight, shoving his elbows to grind at my sides. I retaliate by biting his right shoulder and pushing my hips upwards. He slips and falls on his ass on the floor. I laugh loudly now, unmindful of the sleeping girl in the bedroom. He grunts, facing me and flops his whole body on me. I can feel his snicker on my chest, his breath, staggering. You are tired.
Way to point the obvious.
He moves his body lower, burying his face on my navel. I place my hands on his head, staring distractedly at the painting Sakura hung over her television set. It was the painting she made three months ago, during a workshop with Sai. I remember him- he reminds me of Sasuke, except the bare midriffs and creepy smile. He and Sakura got along though. She laughed at his monotonous jokes and he smiled a lot at her efforts in trying to emulate his impressive talent in ink and wash painting. In the end of the three-day workshop, Sakura got the hang of it, producing the cherry blossom painting in front of me. It’s beautiful, even with its monochromatic color scheme. The kanji is perfect, heavily stylized yet legible. And to think that she used red ink on this one.
Sasuke shifts, mumbling something on my belly. It tickles- I pull at his bangs. He growls and shifts upward, lifting my legs to straddle me. Let’s go to sleep Naruto.
‘m not sleepy.
Crossing my arms across my chest I pout at him petulantly. He hates it when I do that; it’s not like I can smirk like he does so I settle for this. I can see the return of the tick on his temple and I laugh kissing it, as he exasperatedly untangles himself from me. He stands up and stretches, his eyes still trained at me. He shakes his head again and leaves. Where do you think you’re going?
To bed.
We’re in Sakura’s. Just so you know.
There’s a couch in her room.
It’s an ottoman.
Whatever.
It’s too small.
You can lie on me.
The suggestive lilt in his voice did not pass by me. I try to glare at him muttering about horny bastards and not-our-apartments; I hear him sigh and his footsteps padded lightly on the floor before Sakura’s bedroom door creaked as he entered. I stay on the sofa, still mulling about the situation, of how things would’ve been better for her. I keep thinking that maybe, just maybe, the decent guy for Sakura is out there, waiting, much like how she is now, cocooned in pillows and a blanket, tears even in dreams.
I tap my fingers on the coffee table, tracing the moisture that pooled by the ice cream tub. I mindlessly draw a face, aimlessly thinking in the middle of the night (I meant early morning) trying to grasp what happened again, the wrong that occurred between Sakura and Seiji. Besides his two-timing scheme, Seiji was an average guy. Unremarkable appearance (Sakura kept talking about his stupid glasses), unremarkable attitude (Sakura said he’s a gentleman- whatever that means), unremarkable aptitude (Sakura said he’s smart), even an unremarkable daily lifestyle (Sakura shrugged off the whole call-center agent setup; he plays guitar Naruto).
Glancing at the clock, I realize that it’s been over an hour since Sasuke arrived. Sasuke- he’s a decent guy. Studious, meticulous, and gorgeous- these are simply exaggerations made by the majority who meet him daily. I smirk when I realize that yes, these are exaggerations. Sasuke’s studious because he has the habit of opening a book unrelated to fiction. He’s meticulous because he knows the best is worth the effort. He’s gorgeous because…
Well, physically, Sasuke is nothing short of the adjective. Tall, dark, and handsome- I remember Sakura gushing about him when we were in middle school. I wouldn’t admit it- the only retort I could make is a jab at his attitude. Yes, Sasuke is a fine specimen of a man, aesthetically speaking. Some girls even called him an Adonis. I could only say he’s a statue. I snicker at the memory. Come to think of it, he’s the opposite of dark. Paper-pale in complexion, I remember telling him that he ought to use himself as a canvas for art class back in high school. He just sneered at me and told me to use myself as a palette. I threw a can of turpentine at him.
Chuckling at my recollections, I pour myself some water. Sasuke isn’t all bad. Sure he had his flaws (on the inside). But he’s decent enough to be a good enough boyfriend- decent enough to know when things are going bad, when his ego gets the better of him, when he knows he’s crossed a line. He’s bad at expressing himself but he’s not any worse than any other average guy in the world. He’s a gentleman, when you tilt your head sideways, a little bit, taking a peek underneath all his sarcasm, snark, and subliminal narcissism.
I finish my water and settle the glass on the table. I think of how I ended up with him. It was inevitable, I guess. Between Sasuke and Sakura, I had my fair share of attraction. Sakura is beautiful, soft, and pliant. I’ve loved her since we were kids and I’d be lying if I said I didn’t like her from the very beginning. She was a shy girl when I realized how attracted I was to her, hiding behind her waist-length hair, smiling coyly like any other thirteen-year-old. She is beautiful; even after years of friendship, cannot deny her that adjective.
And Sasuke. Raging, ruinous, and reckless, Uchiha Sasuke was the person I couldn’t get enough of. He was a winded bull, a tortured soul, a frozen flower amidst the concrete world that was my life. I never was good at poetry but I’d only give those words to describe him. I wanted him in spite of, to stop him in his rampage, self-destruction. I knew better then, even if I was too stupid to understand the ego boundaries set by the environment he grew up in. I shattered the aquarium he swam in. I poured in the ocean into the bowl, drowning him of the very water he needed but never knew.
Messianic, I know, but it’s true. I pushed him till he snapped. And he did. Despite the baggage and burden thrown at me for what I did, I held on fast because I knew there was something more than what he kept showing to others. I think of the Dark Ages of High School, the drama, the idiocy of my peers, the superficiality I’ve survived from. I knocked Sasuke off the pedestal because I knew he was lonely up there. He knew he was too- but when you’re way up top, you sometimes forget, even in pointless solitude, how to get back down with the rest of creation.
I’ve gone too far in my musing. The clock is ticking behind me, each second poking at my head to get to sleep. But I can’t stop thinking. What if I didn’t get Sasuke? What if I didn’t catch him? What if I did but didn’t keep him?
What if it was Sasuke and Sakura instead?
I shake my head for thinking like this. Brooding was never a talent of mine. I stand up and collect the tub, the pitcher, and the glass. I think of what to do next- should I sleep or should I prepare breakfast? It’s almost six in the morning now. Maybe I should make something good when cold, or maybe something easy to reheat. I mull things over as I enter the kitchen.
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Did you enjoy it? I know Naruto’s a bit OOC but he’s a very hard character to write. Trust me, Naruto’s complexity is way juicier than Uchiha (all of them yeah?) :D I love crying Sakura. I don’t know why. Please review thanks! Oh and yes, I’ve only slightly proofread this, any grammatical error and/or spelling mistakes pointed out are highly appreciated. Thanks. :D ILY ALL. :D