confessional
the maniac: WhisperingLoudly
the label: confessional
the babble: HIYA! This is my first story *gasp* ever, well, to publish to a website like FANFICTION; which is awesome, because, like, it just is. :D You have no idea how hard it is—if you're not a writer—to begin a story. The whole page is, like, blank! It's so counterproductive. LOL.
So, um, I guess this is where I say…
the police: I don't own Naruto!
OKAY! Now I can add an uber awesome divide line and continue! YES!
Sitting in the (amazing, cool, utterly awesome-sauce) spinning chair of her island counter where she usually ate her breakfast, which, quite frankly, looked like burned pancake but tasted like manufactured cardboard with syrup on top, Sakura Haruno stared out from the gorgeous view she had from her apartment window.
Sometimes she wondered how she even managed to dig up enough money to afford the place. The walls were painted an adorable, good-morning-sunshine yellow in the kitchen, black, white, gray and red mosaic tiles plastered to the wall above the white molding that split threw the middle, all the appliances clean and stainless steel and NEW. A red teapot screamed on the stove, steam forcing its way through the small hole allotted.
Just as the (gorgeous, pretty, cute) rosy-haired girl choked down the last piece of her charcoal pancake—damn timer forgetting to go off (damn her forgetting to set the timer—and rose to skip over toward the screeching teapot, her cell phone roared to life, vibrating closer and closer to the edge of the island that she was just at.
Her pastel green eyes widened in horror, one arm reaching for the teapot, about to remove it from it's heated agony, the other reaching reaching reaching for her brand spanking new cell phone that she received as a birthday present, it seemingly getting farther away from her and closer to teetering to the edge, then back to the middle, then to the edge, then dancing on said edge…
Sakura finalized that her cell phone falling to the hardwood flooring—and DYING!—was much more vital than her tea being absolutely atrocious, since her breakfast wasn't the shining glory of delectable, and she leaped back toward the island.
The following was like slow motion, her outstretching her body like a lioness going in for the pounce as she passed cabinet by cabinet, collided with every, of four, bar-stool spinning chairs, sending them tumbling to the hardwood, loud clattering of metal and plastic meeting artificial bamboo, and her phone! Her dear phone was flipping in midair as it rang, the screen lighted as consequence to someone calling her, the ten digits (seven plus area code) highlighted in yellow, and her damn fingers weren't long enough. They were stupid, stupid, stupid green-manicured stubs, and when she plopped to the floor with a loud, echoing thud, her syrup, which she had left uncapped and—of course—close to the edge, fell onto her head, stick goop blocking her vision, messing her hair, turning cotton-candy pink into…brownish maple…gross.
However, not one bit of that mattered; it did not matter that she was bruised and bloodied because of ramming into her once loved spinning chairs, them falling on top of her legs and ankles, she on top of them in the torso area, it did not matter that Mrs. Butterworth's would have to be paying for her next trip to the hair salon, all that mattered was that her phone landed right into her cupped palms, still vibrating and ringing.
She let out a breath that she had no idea she was holding as she flipped her lengthy (syrup drenched) pink locks over her shoulder, and pressed the green 'TALK' button on her cell phone, simultaneously sticking the screen to her ear.
"Hello?" Sakura answered.
A deep voice on the opposite end of the receiver sounded like he was grinning. "Hello! This is Hatake Kakashi; would this be Uzumaki Naruto?"
The teenager—who was currently draped in sheets, his comforter thrown sidewise across his bum, bright orange fabric touching the carpet of his bedroom, ramen cups thrown underneath the mattress peeking out—snorted a huge snot rocket before yanking the soft, soft, soft pillow once covering his wild, disarrayed golden blond hair, into a wall across from him.
He clicked his tongue to the roof of his mouth a couple of times before moaning. "Is this animal control because I swear that thing growing in my refrigerator is still getting bigger and it growled at me last night…"
"No…?" Kakashi answered warily, his voice obviously cautious.
A beautiful platinum blonde sneered at nothing, her angry attitude skyrocketing further. Whom did this guy think he was, calling her at stupid nine o'clock in the morning, interrupting her vital beauty sleep?
She snapped the elastic of her sleep mask that read 'COME BACK LATER!' in pretty pink and white cursive on her perfect porcelain smooth skin once more, a stress relieving activity that also kept her awake. It was like a BOGO. Buy a slap to the face by elastic, get pain with price, but open eyes and stress relief for free.
Ino's mouth fell open brutishly, her head bobbling in anger. "Okay, then, like, why are you calling me!" Her baby blue eyes were furious.
Neji Hyuuga—yes, the one ranked number three on the World's Hottest List—held up a finger, pausing his uncle from running to fetch the security to stalk this caller by the phone number and personally deal with him, which usually involved the things hidden in the basement.
Everyone knew that if you called the Hyuugas without reason announced within the first forty-five seconds of the call, your life was practically over.
However, lucky for this fellow, Neji was a little more merciful and had just come in from his morning jog around town.
"This is Neji; my uncle said you wanted to speak with me about something?" His pearly eyes were curious, narrowing a fraction of a centimeter.
Kakashi was so tired, yet he sustained a yawn, slapping a hand in his face. All previous energy from his last calls was gone. "Hello, Neji. This is Hatake Kakashi—I'm announcing you've been accepted to be on the next season of Real Life, filmed in Konoha."
Sasuke leaned against the doorframe of his kitchen, bare, toned and leaned chest exposed, as he was only donning his dark boxers, his cell phone pressed against his cheek and shoulder.
His usually unreadable obsidian eyes widened so that from the comfort of the kitchen table, Itachi actually paused in the middle of blowing his coffee cooler, charcoal brown eyes narrowing a twitch in reaction. Whomever his little brother was talking to has enough news to cause an actual show of emotion from Sasuke; he inhaled the smell of dark coffee cocoa bean while he watched his brother with analytical, observant eyes.
The younger of the Uchiha brothers echoed him, "Reality show?"
"Yes," Kakashi nodded, "a reality show. You would be a fantastic addition to the cast already chosen, Uchiha-san."
Sasuke peeled off the doorframe, moving his hand to the telephone, allowing his head to move and shoulder to breathe. He walked over to the coffeepot, pressing a few buttons of preference before pressing start.
He questioned once finished, "Would you mind telling me when I auditioned for this reality show?"
Itachi rose his eyebrows in amusement, a crooked grin painting his already gorgeous features as he screeched out of his seat, placing his coffee mug and saucer—that once contained a delicious banana nut muffin—into the dishwasher. He remembered sending in a tape of when his foolish little brother was…tipsy, a few clipped sections of him talking to himself in the mirror, and a few portions of interviews from his 'fan girls'.
That was a fun time. A very fun time.
Itachi grinned again when Sasuke choked on his spit. "I never sent in a video of me talking to myself in the—….why in the mother fucking hell would I sign off on that?"
He also forged his signature.
Hinata signed her signature on the lighted screen in front of her, pressing the 'OKAY' button afterword. She grinned, "A-Alrighty. Anything else, ma'am?"
The cashier shook her head, unable to continue with the fake protocol smiles, and smiled a genuine smile; the girl was just so honestly sweet that you couldn't be false! "No, nothing else would be needed, Hyuuga-san," she handed her her credit card, the plastic rounded rectangle having paid for the early morning shopping session, then the bags of clothes and shoes.
Normally, she wouldn't be at the mall at such an hour, but she had slept over at one of her friends' houses. Hinata took the shopping bags, generously handing one over to TenTen, and continuing down their path in the mall.
Speaking of, the girl with the chocolate colored hair tied up in tight, traditional styled twin buns groaned when her cell phone jingled again.
"Hinata-chan! This creep-o keeps on calling me—look," TenTen pressed a few buttons on the device, and then shoved it into the meek girl's face. Hinata, almost having to cross her eyes just to get the image to be seen clearly, could only feel an odd sense of knowing toward that number.
She pulled out her own telephone, and compared the numbers. This person had been calling her too!
Hinata gasped, "That's far too strange to be considered a coincidence, TenTen-san. Perhaps we both won a frequent shoppers contest?"
TenTen popped her lips. "I don't even shop that much, though. Here—I'll wait until he calls again."
Seconds later, Hinata's cell phone rang. The porcelain doll yelped in shock, a few people shopping in the children's section eyeing her cautiously, and she scuttled in small circles in apprehension. TenTen gripped her frail shoulders, almond-shaped eyes serious, locked on Hinata's frantic pale purple.
"Get a grip girl! Answer the phone!"
The Hyuuga-heiress wheezed a, "Okay," before flipping the top of her cell phone up.
TenTen was literally pressed against her, trying to hear each and every word.
"H-H-Hello?" Hinata squeaked, her heart beating in her throat. This was so nerve-wracking!
A rumbling chuckle filled the speaker. "You sure take your time in answering the phone, don't you, Hinata-san? Before you ask," Hinata shut her mouth, "this is Hatake Kakashi, this year's host of Real Life. You have been chosen as part of the cast!"
The cell phone was ripped out of Hinata's frozen-in-shock hands, and TenTen screamed, "NO FREAKING WAY, DUDE! Did I get picked too?"
Kakashi sighed, "Who are you?"
"TenTen. I don't have a last name because those are lame and I am cool. Me and Hina entered together."
A couple beats passed, and Mr. Hatake sighed again. "Yes, you have. Tell Hinata, since, apparently, you are close enough to her to have taken her cell phone, that shooting begins in a month—details will be texted to you. You'll met your fellow cast members at that time, so long as you both agree to be on the show this season…"
The girl without last name didn't waste a millisecond, "Hell to the freaking yeah we'll be there!"
Sakura grinned widely, her cute dimples in the middle of her cheek showcased. "Sure! That's awesome! I have to ask Tsunade-sama if I can miss work for that long, but, I'll see you there, Kakashi-san!"
Ramen slurped into his mouth, from who knows where—he thought he was out like a month ago—, and Naruto chuckled, flashing his trademark grin. "Super cool stuff! Dude, be sure to see me there!"
Ino finished applying her lip-gloss, winking at her reflection. "I suppose I could find a way to make it to this 'Cast Introduction' thing, Kakashi, as long as you don't make anymore morning calls. I've lost precious minutes because of you, not-so-kind-sir!"
"I'll see you there," Neji couldn't keep his emotionless mask from falling, a small smile cracking onto his face.
Sasuke sneered, "Fine. I'll be there."
.
X
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Confessional
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Episode One
"Animal-Neon Trees"
.
The backdrop was a pretty, clean, chic urbane setting, deep in the heart of Konoha, cars zooming by only to be stopped by the dreaded stoplight flashing red, taxis swerving throughout traffic in a way that should be deemed illegal, people yelling, "Hey!" and much more obscene comments at said taxi drivers, and sky-scrapers—buildings as tall as a child's dreams of monsters, dinosaurs and giants casting shadows onto especially darkened alleyways. Businessmen and women practically sped in their fancy black shoes, heavy suitcases and briefcases swinging up and down as they ran. Some would agitatedly grumble, throwing a hand up to their sweat-drenched foreheads when the person walking would turn to a stop hand, five fingers outstretched like a toddler telling you how old he was.
Sakura looked at all of this through wide, admiring green eyes from the tinted black windows of the limo—yes, limo—she was in, face plastered to the glass so that she was probably living foggy mist all over it. She could care less, though; she'd never for a second been out of her small town, just far enough from Konoha to need an excessively lengthy limo ride, but not far enough to feel obliged to buy a plane ticket. She wasn't some brat that would get in a plane just to go from state to state, or county to county, when they were right next to each other.
A warm, yet nauseating feeling swarmed over her, and it wasn't carsickness. If it weren't for the cameraman filming her right now—hello, ever hear of personal space?—in the next seat over, trying to blend in to the surroundings of black leather, she would've just tilted her head back, into the sky and screamed. She was nervous. What if these people didn't like her? In all honesty, she wasn't the most liked person in the world, in the town, in the hospital, in high school—hell, she wasn't even cherished in a home setting! Her sister would take the spotlight in academics, her younger brother taking the stage for sports. She was never as good at math as Momoko, and, seeing as she could barely fit a football into her tiny palm, Satoshi practically killed her when they would play tag football.
Safe to say, she was a very, very, very, sad victim to the middle-child syndrome.
Sakura sighed, her cheeks deflating as a balloon popped by a pin, when she felt familiar eyes on her once again. She turned her body away from the mirror, skin ripping off the leather uncomfortably, leaving the most attractive red marks on her thighs, and she spared a furtive glance at the cameraman.
"Hi," she said shyly, grinning lightly.
When the teenager, because really, he looked no older than her sister, who was twenty-one this year, burned a red so bright that he radiated, round, round, round black eyes widening to the size of beach balls—which was a lot to say, since his eyes protruded before—and let his mouth hang open in shock, Sakura cleared her throat, and turned away from him.
He basically undressed her three times with his eyes in a maximum of five seconds. The rosette took another shaky breath; as if things weren't awkward before, her choice of greeting had given him a sense of confidence, and he smiled, teeth so white they glowed.
The kid could have a job with Colgate if he wasn't too busy working so hard on growing his eyebrows.
The cameraman gleamed, "Hello! I am Rock Lee, and who may you be, beautiful sun blossom?"
Sakura stared at him blankly, a tightening feeling arising in her chest. He liked her. "I'm Sakura—"
"What a beautiful name that is for a beautiful girl, if I may say so myself, Sakura-chan! We are almost at the destination so if you do not mind, I must film you for the show saying a few things about expectations!"
The rosette nodded, about to agree, before she fully rethought his statement, remembering seeing the flashing of the telltale red recording light flashing on the professional camera. She raised a light eyebrow, "What have you been doing this whole time, then?"
Lee laughed casually, even though it was far too constrained. "I was just getting extra frames, Sakura-chan."
She stared evenly at him. "For whom?"
His grin fell flat for a mere second, and he blushed. "That is not of importance!"
.X.
The first person to arrive at the destination—a new Starbucks that was conveniently empty for filming purposes—was, not so surprisingly, Neji, his beloved cousin and 'younger sister' Hinata in tow seconds behind him. Their identical milky eyes swept over the coffee shop that had quickly become a filming set, microphones hanging from ceilings, people adjusting lights, and, already flying to their aid, a full make up crew.
Hinata sneezed daintily when a blush brush was pushed into her face, light powder making its way into her nostrils.
Her hands immediately flew up to the captor of the plainly spoken evil makeup utensil, and she grasped the now slightly shaken, makeup technician's wrist.
"I think I'm fine," she insisted, a small smile on her face, "I put on enough this morning. What would your name be?"
The girl, a tall, tanned, skinny girl with hollow purple eyes that resembled those of an owl's, looked completely startled. Did she do something incorrectly? Was following the boss's order of 'fixing' the cast before camera call, well, those cast that arrived before said camera call, a wrong thing to do? Was she too rash? Was she going to get fired?
Hinata seemingly read the young woman's mind, patting her shoulder sympathetically, an understanding giggle passing her lips. "I'm not going o get you fired. I would just like to know the name of the person who will be doing my makeup, is all. It's a…mental thing," she grinned, "I promise you're n-not in any trouble."
The skinny girl smiled brightly, flipping her blush brush back into her little apron. "My name is Reni. You're Hinata-san, right?"
Reni poked a pointer finger to her chin, turning her head to the head, twisting her expression into a strained one. She remembered seeing the face somewhere; maybe the casting room, during that important meeting that she just so happened to sleep through?
(Okay, fine, she did sound paranoid about getting fired earlier, and it makes no sense for her to be so paranoid over the firing if she would just sleep during every meeting, but, excuse her, it was a Sunday, and she just so happened to enjoy partying until the sun was up on Fridays.)
The pale porcelain heiress nodded. "Yes, and that's my cousin, Neji," She turned toward him, only to see a jumbled mess of make up supplies and two upturned make up tech's moaning, trapped by the Hyuuga's strong grasp around their ankles.
"Don't ever even try to put make up on me again," Neji said calmly, though the tone and depth turned the simple piece of advice into a deadly threat." He lifted the two men higher, their heads getting further from the floor. "Are there any questions?" Neji allotted a two-millisecond pause before dropping the two of them, dusting his hands off on his dark colored shorts.
He stared at them with cold eyes. "I'll drop you from the top of the Hokage Mansion next time."
Hinata scratched the side of her face, an embarrassed blush crawling onto her cheeks. She cleared her throat, barely meeting Reni's vibrant purple eyes, "He normally doesn't behave so impulsively."
Reni smiled, "Oh, it's no problem. Guys always react like that the first few days."
A couple beats past, the two girls watching as the men on the floor struggled to get up, an obviously perturbed expression etched onto their faces, scary, straggly breaths and moans exiting their mouths. Then, they say Neji, already seated at a circular booth, eyeing the small menu placed on the table, not a miniscule hint of guilt in his attitude. He almost seemed…relieved?
Hinata sighed, "If you say so, Reni-chan…hey, is there a bathroom—"
The doors of the establishment barged open, slamming the opposite walls, so loudly that the Hyuuga heiress turned on her heeled shoes, a hand almost rushing to her chest to calm her racing pulse. She almost regretting her choice to do so, because her heart only went faster, from seeing the suntanned skin, wild, unruly spiky golden, sun-kissed hair, and, oh, Kami, those blue, piercing eyes so reminiscent to the mid-afternoon ocean, glistening with such youthful spirit.
"Hey, hey, hey, people!" Naruto bellowed, raising a hand in a wave, the other still holding his Tomahawk skateboard. He took long strides in his sandals, tan, blue, and brown plaid pattern shorts ruffling as he walked. The soft cotton of his light blue t-shirt contoured his muscles in a way Hinata never thought possible, and—DAMN! She was staring and he was walking toward her and she was blushing!
(And everyone knows that when Hinata is blushing the consequential step is to always faint and when she faints, oh, dear, there was this one time she didn't get up until an half-hour later, and everyone was so scared for her, but she was fine. There was just too much blood coloring her face, not circulating in her veins, as they were supposed to. Duh.)
The blonde stopped literally right in front of Hinata, who was currently chanting in her mind to breath—in out in out pause in out pause in out in out—and he grinned. "Hi, I'm Naruto," Naruto stuck out a hand to shake.
And Hinata fainted. Right in front of him. Great.
.X.
Ino Yamanaka was one of those girls who had not patience enough to wait for her own luggage to come around on the conveyer belt. She didn't like standing around with normal people, who were probably just on a business trip, or visiting family in Konoha. She was a freaking Yamanaka. Her family is basically royalty in Suna.
So why did she fly in a commercial airplane? Like, what is 'Southwest'? What is that?
Is that like a direction?
She groaned, popping a hip out, placing a hand in the curve of her waist. This will be worth being ridiculously famous.
However, something itched at the back of her mind, and she turned toward the cameraman behind her, a person who looked, honestly, her age—maybe this was some type of summer job? Ew, work…—and had strangely pineapple-like hair, gravity non-effective on his ponytail.
Ino smiled sweetly, "Hi."
"…," He stared at her, smiling and all, obviously expecting a response, and grumbled a quick, "Hello."
"When am I supposed to be at Starbucks for the meeting with the cast? I just, like, feel late, you know? And where in the bloody hell is my luggage?"
Shikamaru felt a wave of disbelief splash over him. Did she not notice that a few crew people had gotten her—atrociously—pink carriers and put them in the limo at least thirty minutes ago? He just thought that she was standing there, staring at the conveyer belt until it exploded. The flight information had even changed.
This girl is stupid. "We were supposed to be there five minutes ago and the crew got your luggage. It's already at the—" he informed dryly, only to be interrupted.
Ino's baby blue eyes widened, and she screeched. "NO WAY, DUDE! We need to jet, then!" She scuttled in her heels (stilettos) toward him, hooking her arm with his by the elbows, not slowing a bit. "Let's go!"
She hated being late.
.X.
Sakura smiled, quite forcibly, when Lee opened the door for her, struggling with keeping the heavy filming equipment intact and in his hand, and acting as a gentleman, holding the doorway.
She nodded her head lightly, "Thank you, Lee-san."
(She hoped and prayed that he would not go on some rant about how beautiful of a cherry blossom she was, how youthful her grin was in the morning sunlight, how amorous her loving would be to the one and true love of her life in the night.)
Rock Lee exclaimed once Sakura was far away from the door for him to back away, the swinging glass swinging closed. "Oh, you're welcome, beautiful cherry blossom, Sakura-chan. You are the shining youth of my life—"
"That's nice," Sakura cut off. Honestly, she wasn't trying to sound bitchy, it was just that she had a whole other hour ride with the guy, and he just would not shut up. Flattery does go a long way, yes, but sometimes, that direction is only down. Like, down into the firing, burning, pits of hell.
The teen with the bowl cut swallowed back another loud compliment, for now was a time to begin filming for the show, and he tried hard to sound professional when he informed, "Sakura-chan, this is when you introduce yourself to the rest of the cast. You're one of the last ones here."
The roseate bobbed her head, layered pink hair moving, and a sudden envelope of fear was cast over her again. Was her outfit too…normal? Jean shorts and a Rolling Stones t-shirt were acceptable to wear right? Would all of Japan think she was a lazy bum because she didn't dress up? A girl with dark, almost blue hair was wearing a dress, no matter how summery, it was still a dress, and the girl next to her was wearing…okay, fine, she was wearing some shorts and a sweatshirt. It's okay then, that she looks okay.
She took cautious steps forward, then smacked herself. This was going to be on TV! She was going to be living with these people for the next few months! Why would she want them to think that she was some shy nut?
…even if she kind of is a nut.
Therefore, she took confident strides toward the full table, a grin in place as she waved. "Hey! I'm Sakura!"
It seemed like a pointless conversation had been interrupted, because all of the talk filling the otherwise empty air exited, and a multitude of "Hey",s "Hi",s and "What's up?",s bombarded her eardrums. Strong arms found her waist in a hug, all she seeing a flash of golden hair before she could prepare herself.
"I'm Naruto! Believe it!"
-confessional-
Naruto leaned back into the comfortable coffee colored sofa, a proud, cocky, charismatic smile spreading on his face from ear to ear.
He looked from left to right, then cleared his throat, staring into the camera without a lick of fear or nerves, not even dishonesty, in his sky blue.
"That Sakura-chick is sexy as fuck."
-confessional-
Sakura sat comfortably at the edge of the booth, right next to TenTen, the girl she saw in the hooded sweatshirt. The people all seemed nice enough, if she could say so herself. Some were more talkative, like Naruto, while others were more of the silent type, like Neji. Hinata was very quiet, shy and reserved, though when spoken to she was nothing but short of conversation that was logical. TenTen was the perfect embodiment of tomboy, talking to Naruto about skateboards and tricks, acting as if that was the most important thing in the world.
She counted the circle over about twice, reaching only five, including herself, and decided that wasn't even close to the normal amount of people on a show. Maybe people were still late. Maybe there were already people at the hotel?
Her thoughts were quickly interrupted when the doors were thrown open again, a blonde girl, that was undeniably attractive, crashed in, applying lip gloss with one hand, the other balancing the hand mirror.
How vain.
The girl's heels clicked on the wooden floors of the coffee shop, and she stopped in front of the table, a look akin to shock in her features. She scanned each face, each outfit, each quality of hair, then scoffed.
These people weren't even TV without cable worthy. Maybe that boy with the sexy-licious eyes could make it on to channel 7, but, please, could he get some personality?
With a huff, she plopped down next to the pink-haired girl that looked like some elf maiden person pulled straight out of some RPG game. Seriously. Look at her hair.
Ino smiled lightly when she felt too many eyes on her, "Hi, I'm Yamanaka Ino. And you all would be?"
They went around counterclockwise, starting with Naruto, and ending with Sakura.
"Is your name really TenTen? Like the numbers?"
The aforementioned brunette tomboy grimaced. "Is your name really Ino, like I'm surprised you even know that ten is a number?"
Ino smiled girlishly. "Honey, please, direct your stupidity toward someone who cares."
Sakura had a feeling that the house bitch was already starting to claim her territory.
.X.
The whole 'cast' was beginning to grow irritated at the last cast member's absence, he (or she) being almost a whole hour and a half late.
Naruto had left to get some coffee for all the tired, dying people five minutes ago. And. He. Still. Wasn't. Back.
There's nobody in the store except for them! Like, how long does it take to buy a couple lattes when the hurdle of a line is nonexistent?
The roseate girl was on the verge of simply passing out in a form of sleep when Shikamaru, one of the cameramen, tapped her on the shoulder, awakening her. "Kakashi and the last cast member are outside the door. Look alive."
That seemed too difficult.
Sakura reluctantly rose from lying on the table, removing her head from the comfortable cage that was her arms. She rubbed the crust out of her eyes, just in time to fully see the two people come through the Starbucks doorway, the first older and with gravity-defying silver hair, black glasses covering his eyes, the second wearing so much black that she couldn't see him in the shadows.
She told herself that was why her eyes never left his form. The smooth, graceful way he walked was just a small hint toward how gorgeous he had to be, the contour of purposely messy hair showing in the shadows.
"Guys, I got the coffee!" Naruto yelled in a singsong voice, stepping with life toward the table.
Sakura was the happiest person in the world until her brain went to work, measuring the speed at which Naruto was going, and how fast the cute-boy was traveling, a non-avoidable collision in the near future.
She almost yelled out a warning to the blonde, but that was before the cute-boy passed by a window, rays of light revealing his face. Dear Kami, his face was carved carefully by angels, artist angels, Kami's favorite artist angels, the most talented. He looked like heaven itself.
Ino let out a dreamy sigh beside her, and Sakura glanced at her, missing the collision completely, but not the sound of a tray falling to the ground, loud curses seconds before thuds and crashes, splashing indicating the (delicious, vital, needed) coffee had spilled.
"What the—Sasuke-teme?" Naruto accused, his voice getting softer, as if he had recognized the final cast member.
Sasuke glared, sloshing coffee off of his pants. "Dobe," he spat out his greeting, and almost the whole table rose a brow.
They knew each other?
a/n: BUMBUMBUUUUUUMMMM! What does this mean to all the other housemates? Find out next chapter of...confessional!
LOL. I'm so lame.
Anyway, please please please review. Critism is accepted. I'm trying to get better here. LOL.
Review=Cookie=Chocolate Chip=Happiness, therefore Review=Happiness and who doesn't want happiness? or Cookies?
~WhisperingLoudly