Disclaimer: As a teenager I don't think I even remotely have the power to own any of these characters.
Summary: It takes a man to play with your panties before you can compose a piece of music.
XXX
I slammed my fingers down on the keys, creating a loud cacophony that filled the small practice room.
I was never going to get this piece ready in time for the big showcase.
I ran a hand through my short pink hair in frustration before I brought my forehead down on the black and ivory keys, recreating the previous noise. I had writer's block. And music writer's block at that (which is ten times worse).
Before I scream in frustration, let me tell you a little bit about my situation. I go to Konaha's Academy of the Arts, home of some of the greatest artists in the Eastern Hemisphere. You have to be amazingly talented to even get invited to attend this academy, and you have to work to be even greater than that in order to perform or show your work in any of the school's galleries, functions, or showcases.
My name is Sakura Haruno, and I was invited to attend this lovely academy when my overbearing father invited the dean to one of my many recitals. She was impressed by my mastery of the classics and by the quick accuracy of my fingers, even when she gave me a brand new piece of music after the recital that I had never played before. I learned quick, I played quick, and my father was all too eager to send me off on a full scholarship that would guarantee me the future as a professional musician that he never had.
Sighing, I picked my head up off of the keys and stopped the metronome that was still ticking away. I glared at the blank music sheet that was propped up on the stand before me. I could master any piece of music that was set in front of me, but when I was asked to compose my own, I failed. Epically.
I snatched the sheets and my pencil off of the stand, shoving them into my green messenger bag that laid on the floor next to the piano bench before I hoisted it up onto my shoulder. I stood, shoving the bench back with a loud screech on the tile and stalked to the door, flinging it open.
My dramatic exit was cut short by a person that might as well have been a wall.
My bag was on the floor with my sheet music and books flying out of it along with the belongings of the person that I trampled into.
I glared up at the offending person from my position on the floor (even though it was sorta kinda my fault, but I wasn't in the mood to admit it...he ruined my dramatic exit!). I was even more miffed that he wasn't even knocked over (and now I feel like a total lightweight).
He looked down at me through his dark bangs with a scowl and said, "Walk much?"
I stared at him with my jaw dropped as he bent down to pick up his things. I even thought he might offer me a hand up for a second, but no.
"Rude much?" I yelled right back at him. He didn't even glance up at me, picking up a sheet of paper. My blank sheet music. I snatched it out of his hand, earning an annoyed look from him.
"What's your problem?"
"My problem is that I was walking out of a room, minding my own business, and I ran into some jerk that knocked me over, and didn't offer me any help. Didn't even offer me an apology." I reached for my bag, pulling it violently to my lap.
The dark haired guy just rolled his eyes, picking something up. "Notice that you said that you ran into me. Doesn't that mean that I'm the one that should be receiving an apology? And it was more like stalking than walking."
I let out an angry sigh of frustration and ignored him, reaching for my music and other belongings that toppled out of my bag upon collision.
His hand suddenly extended into my vision, holding something in his palm. A button off of my bag that said Music = Life. I looked up at him and he looked back with a plain expression on his face. I stared at his onyx eyes a little longer before I slowly took the button, moving my focus to fastening it back on my bag. That one look made me mellow out a little.
"So, having a little trouble with your song?"
I snapped my attention back up to him to see him looking at me with a raised eyebrow.
"...What are you, a mind reader?"
The corner of his mouth twitched up a little. "Sort of...you stalked out of a practice room, dropped some crumpled, blank music sheets, and apparently you support the Rock the Arts Foundation."
I blinked and looked down, putting the last of my fallen music in my bag without a word.
"So was I right? Is that what's got your panties all in a bunch, or am I just so good that I managed to piss you off by standing in your way?"
I looked back up to him, saying, "Don't think for one second that you had any sort ofaffect on my panties."
He smirked and I blushed. Today was not my day.
Once my blush went down he offered me his hand, which I took, and he hoisted me up. We stood in an awkward silence before I said, "Okay, yeah...you're right."
"About your panties?"
"Would you forget about my freaking panties? You were right about me not being able to write a song!" I crossed my arms. " I have writer's block...music writer's block."
He chuckled. "Yeah, I got that. Try having a painting block."
I blinked. "What?"
He waved something around in his hand. Paintbrushes that he had picked up from the ground. He put them in his black backpack and I noticed for the first time the large portfolio that was propped up against his leg.
"What do you play?" He asked, looking at me out of the corner of his eyes as he zipped his bag shut, causing my heart to beat erratically.
"Um, piano."
He tsked and said, "That's it? That's a little boring coming from someone who has pink hair."
I puffed my cheeks out. "At least mine doesn't look like an emo chicken."
He glared at me and grabbed my hand unexpectedly, dragging me back into the practice room, releasing my hand to close the door. I was surprised when I actually missed the warmth of it.
He propped his portfolio against the wall, setting his bag down with it and came to sit on the piano bench. "Okay, okay. Jokes aside, let me hear you play."
I just stood by the door, staring at him. "What? I don't even know you. You don't even know me. Why would I play for you?"
He rolled his eyes and extended a hand to me. I stared at it, then at him. He sighed.
"You said you didn't know me, so I'm introducing myself. I'm Sasuke."
I took his hand slowly and he shook it firmly. "Sakura."
He patted the bench next to him. I sat down, putting my hands on the keys. I gave him a sideways glance and he just stared at me, waiting. I took a deep breath, and started to play the first song that came to mind, closing my eyes. It felt good, just playing for the heck of it. This was how it always felt when there wasn't something or someone looming over my shoulder.
When I finished, I opened my eyes and looked over to Sasuke. He was still staring at me.
"...Not bad...if I was going to my grandmother's recital."
And here comes the hatred again.
"Excuse me?" I snapped.
He shrugged and said, "Look, I'm going to be honest with you. You definitely have talent—I can see why you were accepted here. But you can't play the music of a bunch of dead white guys and expect to get somewhere. Especially if you're playing in the showcase next weekend."
My mouth opened and closed a few times before I said, "You are the most arrogant asshole that I've ever met! And what makes you think that I'm playing in the showcase?"
He smirked that annoying smirk and said, "I just guessed. But why else would you be freaking out and writing a song?"
I let out an angry noise and stood up, but his hand shot out and grabbed my wrist. "Sit down," He said, before pulling me back onto the bench. "I'd like to help you with your song, and the only way to do that is to be brutally honest with you."
"Why do you want to help me?"
His smirk grew. "Good question. Maybe I just like twisting up your panties."
He narrowly avoided my fist.
XXX
We spent the next hour talking and with me playing a little. He even took out a drawing pad and some colored pencils while we talked, but he wouldn't let me sneak a peek. When I opened my mouth to complain the bell interrupted me.
Sasuke closed his drawing pad and looked at my music sheet. It was completely filled with the notes of my new song. I smiled at it. "You know, I think I owe you a thank you."
He gave me another sideways glance as he stuffed his drawing things into his backpack. "You wrote it, I just gave you a good shove."
"Then I still owe you a thank you."
Sasuke just stared at me intently, making me feel a little nervous. I had just spent the last hour with him and I was just realizing that he was surprisingly cute...
"You just needed to enjoy it...if you're going to play, play for yourself. Not because someone else told you to."
I smiled. "I'll keep that in mind." I picked up my bag and my music, walking over to stand next to Sasuke who already had his things gathered up. He opened the door for me like a gentleman and I smiled before walking through it (in a much better mood this time). He grabbed my hand before I was all the way out the door.
I turned. "Yes?"
He smirked, "About that thank you..."
"Oh, right. Than-" I was cut off by his warm, soft lips pressed against mine. His kiss was sweet and gentle, unlike his persona.
He pulled back too quickly, leaving me standing there, gaping like a fish. His smirk returned and he said, "I'll see you soon." before he walked out of the door. I stood there like that for a good five minutes before I noticed other students walking by and giving me weird looks.
XXX
I was walking to the same practice room the next day, excited to play my newly invented piece. I had never seen Sasuke around much before yesterday, but he was making himself more apparent. He met me at the front of the academy this morning and walked me to every one of my classes. He even sat down with me at lunch. I did get a few glares from some of the girls though (apparently I'm not the only one who's been paying attention to him...).
I opened the door to the practice room, setting my bag down. I sat at the piano bench and went to put my music down on the stand, but saw that something was already there. A small, detailed, beautiful portrait of me playing the piano. It was drawn in colored pencil. I picked it up tentatively, afraid of smearing it's beauty when I noticed some black writing in the corner.
To the girl who wrote my new favorite song and helped me get over my painter's block.
Play for yourself, but don't stop playing my song.
I'm picking you up Friday at eight, so wear something nice.
-Sasuke
I couldn't stop the smile from creeping up my face. I sat the portrait down and grabbed my pencil and my music sheet, writing the title at the top: Play My Song.
XXX
This idea literally JUST popped in my head about an hour or so ago and I kept writing until it was done. I hope you liked it!