"YOU BASTARD!!!" Uchiha Sasuke tensed his shoulders and mentally forced his legs to move faster so he could get the hell away from the idiot who hailed him from two blocks away. Maybe if he was lucky, just maybe, he could make it to his appointment without actually having to- "WAIT FOR ME!!" Oh no, the voice was getting closer. This did not at all bode well for – oh look, he was on the ground.

"Naruto, get off." What would his mother (may she rest in peace) say if she saw her youngest this way? Face down on the pavement, a blond-haired buffoon making himself at home on his oh-so-aching back. … Okay, honestly, she'd probably chuckle. But then, then she would make his asshole best-friend/ tag-a-long get off of him.

"This wouldn't happen if you would wait for me once in a while." Naruto sighed as he dusted his knees off, as if he'd gotten so dirty by tackling his friend and shoving his face into asphalt. Oh right, Sasuke looked down at his own shirt and sure enough,

"Great. You ruined my shirt. Now I have to go change before I can go meet up with that stupid shrink." He turned around and started making the trek back to his house, which (typically) was way on the other side of town. Before he could walk more than two steps however, the idiot was back in his path. "… I hate you."

"Oh c'mon, I have a shirt you can borrow." Something told Sasuke that he should say no, that he should just suck it up and walk the extra fifteen minutes back to his house and be an hour late for his appointment, he could just lie and say that he got the timings wrong… but no, he made the mistake of not listening to that tiny voice in the back of his head.

…

Which is why he was currently sitting in the waiting room for the aforementioned 'stupid shrink' staving off the ludicrous stares of his fellow crazies. It made sense that the only spare shirt Naruto carried around would be a disgustingly orange teeshirt with the words 'Ramen or Bust' scripted out in oh-so-subtle block red letters across the front.

"… Sooo… you like ramen?" See, this is why the shirt was bad. Bright colors make people think you're friendly. He was not friendly.

"No."

"But your shirt says you like ramen."

"Well, I don't." He grit his teeth and made sure not to look at the speaker and accidentally give this moron the slightest hint that he wanted to continue the conversation.

"… So you're here because you're a pathological liar?"

"No." Why wasn't the receptionist calling his name, it'd already been ten minutes since his appointment was supposed to have started! Why were they wasting his time? He didn't even want to be here.

"Are you gay?" He couldn't help himself and he almost snapped his neck in half in turning to look at the person he had just internally vowed to kill. Unfortunately, he was caught off guard by her pink hair and big, stupid, green eyes. "… Are you?"

"No." He gave himself a mental slap to the face and managed to stay in his too-cool-for-school persona. "Leave me alone."

"I was just trying to make conversation. Jeez. Maybe you shouldn't wear colors that attract the eye if you aren't going to put out. Conversationally speaking, of course." He could have let this end here, however, that little voice that he'd been ignoring all day hadn't actually gotten any louder.

"Why would you ask me if I was gay?" She rolled those big, stupid eyes of hers at him and muttered something about idiot insecure men, "I'm not insecure. Just curious."

"I just wanted to get your attention. You were being rude." Well good, because now he was doubting his appearance. Glad that she could make him insecure just by wanting to get his bloody attention. God. He hated crazies. "Sorry if it's getting to you … if you really want to know, I never would honestly think you were gay. Really. I wouldn't." She looked down at her hands and mumbled the last bit, he wasn't entirely sure what it was, but he wanted to hear it.

"What did you say?" She sighed in response to his query, much too loudly to be a real sigh of course.

"I said, that if you were gay, I'd probably cry because you were much too pretty."

"If you ever call me pretty again-"

"Uchiha Sasuke, the doctor will see you now." He continued as if he hadn't been interrupted.

"I'll kill you." He got up and walked away, not bothering to look back when he heard,

"So that's why he's here." Interestingly enough, she didn't sound scared.

…

"Sasuke, why don't we talk about school?" He wished he could just curl his fingers into a fist and lay into the man sitting complacently across from him.

"Fine." Unfortunately, he had to cooperate with the state in regards to his counseling so that he could continue to live alone in his family's home. Otherwise he'd be sent to foster care, and he knew as well as anybody that nobody wanted a 17-year-old orphan. All the fun bits were over already.

"How are classes?"

"Delightful."

"Any extra-curricular activities this semester?"

"No." The nameless Doctor's fingers were tapping incessantly against the wood of his desk. He was annoying the psychiatrist, he could tell. But for the love of God they went over this every two weeks. Maybe he should throw him a bone, "I was … thinking about maybe joining a club. For my resume. The guidance counselor told us that colleges look for well-rounded individuals."

"Oh well that sounds fantastic! What are you thinking about joining, Sasuke?" Considering he'd really only entertained the idea, nothing. Damn.

"Chess club." What?

"What?" This is what happened when he threw the guy a bone. He forced himself into corners. Shit. Fuck. Ass.

"Is our time up yet?"

"Oh, why look, yes it is. I think joining a club will be good for you, Sasuke. I think you should start to mix with your classmates more, maybe find a few other friends outside of that blonde boy. You've got such potential, and intelligence. Maybe you can meet some people more your… speed in this chess club. Let me know how it is, alright?"

"Hn." He stood up ready to make for the door,

"Okay then, Sasuke, I'll see you in two weeks."

"Bye." Shutting the door behind him, he let out a breath of frustration. Only one more year. That's all. Then he could end this and be on his way. Walking back through the office he couldn't help but noticed the irritating girl with the bad dye job still sitting in the chair he'd left her in. She stood up when she saw him looking at her.

"Oi, so you're finished then."

"Why are you standing up?"

"Let's go." And she latched onto his hand and pulled him out the door. Like they were friends or something.

"What are you doing?" He tried wrenching his hand from hers but, apparently, those broomstick arms of hers were misleading. She had the grip of a bloody pair of pincers. It was unearthly. "Hey, let go of me!" But she paid no heed to his words and instead continued to pull him along, down the stairs and out of the office building that housed the bloody psychiatrist. Whom, of course, he blamed for this particular happening.

A/N: So this is just something I wrote ages ago, and haven't put up because as most of you should realize, I haven't had any internet for the past month or so… yes, please, feel bad for me. It … sucks.

But enough of me complaining.

Let me begin again, ahem. This is just something I wrote ages ago, figured I'd put it up, see what you kids thought of it. If you like it, I'll continue, if not, it's scrapped. Good, yes?

Okie. Review pleeeeeeeeease. They're the only things I can read while I'm at work, so you tooootally gotta fill up my inbox, yo.