Itachi,
It seems like I've been laying in the back seat of Mom's crap convertible for a century, but Mom says, "We've been on the road for two hours, Sasuke-chan! We've got one to go! You're going to love Ocean City...". I've taken naps, but they haven't lasted longer than five minutes because Mom has to incessantly talk about everything that we pass: from roadkill, "Oh my god! Sasuke-chan, there's a dead raccoon!" to crap about Dad, "It seems like you got all of your traits from me, not your asshole father." It's a bit odd how she can say mean things but still sound pleasant.
Ever since the divorce, Mom's been on mood swings. I understand that she's mad and all, but listening to her spew about Dad is kind of getting on my nerves.
Mom keeps telling me that we've been to Ocean City before, on a family trip, but I don't remember it at all. "We went when you were about two," she seemed to be searching for the memories inside her mind, "yes," she reassured herself. "two."
"Oh," I mutter. As if I cared.
The car stops for a red light and Mom puts on some lipstick, admiring herself in the closest side-view mirror. "I remember Itachi swallowed a small lump of sand and thought he was going to die, so he peed himself." I smirk, because you're an idiot and Mom sees it too.
The light turns green, the wheels roll again, over the speed limit, way over. Soon enough, I hear the tires skid and Mom mutter, "Shit... coppers," when she spots a police car behind us. Immediately, I bolt upright and strap my seat belt on in record time. Mom's never been a good driver.
Mom got off easy. Surprisingly, we didn't get a ticket. I wasn't paying attention to her and the cop's conversation, but judging by the redness of his neck and the smirk on Mom's face, it had to do with boobs. Our Mom's boobs. A shiver runs down my spine and I try to shake it off.
It's about 7 PM now. I am really tired from being in the car so long. I'm going to try to sleep.
I hope that internship in France is going well. Are the girls hot?
The better brother,
Sasuke
I felt someone shaking my shoulder. After opening my eyes, I found it was my mom. She had a smile on her face and an exciting look in her eyes. "We're here, Sasuke-chan!"
I get out of the car slowly, letting my body adjust to my movement, awaking my muscles. Then, I gazed at the townhouse I was going to live in until whenever. Mom was a writer, a career in which your location isn't important. Since "The Big D" (not dick you perv, divorce, get your mind out of the gutter) back in January, we had been moving all over the place. From the nice neighborhood in Pittsburg from my childhood, then Springfield, IL until Mom wanted to go to the nation's capital. Mom got bored and decided, she wanted a beach. So there we were, Ocean City, MD.
The moving thing, I'm okay with it. It was annoying sometimes, though, because some thing never changed, wherever I went. Things like instant popularity. I know I'm attractive. It has pros and cons, but more cons. Girls seemed to never ever get a clue. How many times do I have to decline marriage proposals before it finally clicks?
But, let's get one thing straight.
I am not, never was, never will be gay.
Don't get the wrong idea. I'm not a homophobe, but I'm not a homosexual. I was just the type to admire the "milkshakes that bring all the boys to the yard" from afar. Relationships weren't my thing. Unless they lasted for fifteen minutes.
Vulgar much? Yes. Very much, thank you.
When Mom and I had finished loading our new home, it was 9 PM. Leave it to my mother to not leave on time. I hadn't eaten anything since lunchtime. Mom must have read my mind. "Go get us some takeout," she handed me some crumpled money, sending me off.
After a ten minute walk, I found myself in a shopping center of sorts. The place looked a little decrepit. Broken glass on the side walk, distant dog barks, shady lighting and the unforgettable aura of creepiness. The feeling that you shouldn't be there, it pounces on your back like a jaguar, quick. I stood taller with my guard up.
Something caught my eye.
A little shop with a lit open sign and lit letters spelling "Vinyl Shop". The "i" and "p" were blinking. I watched those two letters closely. On off on off, a constant struggle. Suddenly, the "i" gave up, shutting off. My eyes narrowed. I almost felt some small sadness. Something came over me and I walked over to the place.
Peering through the window, I saw rows of vinyl in carts organized by artists. Posters of rock bands ranging from Aerosmith to Fall Out Boy strewn on the walls haphazardly. Like they could fall any minute. It kind of reminded me of the sign. The shop seemed totally empty. Intrigued, I walked in. A doorbell chimed.
Fluorescent lights shined down from random places on the ceiling, ready to drop. White tile was under my feet, cracked and gritty. The place was oddly... homey, like the crapiness was inviting. "Anybody here?" I asked.
Nobody answered.
I turned my head to see there was a cash register on top of a glass case that displayed artist memorabilia. A framed picture of Amy Winehouse with "RIP" scribbled on the top edge caught my eye. The glass case was supported by a block of plastic on the floor that was a foot high. I went over to it. There was a bell on the case that I pushed several times, faster each time. One. Two. One. Two. One, two. One, two. One-two. One-two. One-two-one-two-one-two-one-two. But then, I realized nothing was going to happen. There was nobody to answer.
By accident, I looked over the counter. My eyebrows raised sky-high.
It was a girl. Lying on the ground. Her green eyes half-lidded, soft lips (kissable, but that thought got put in a hidden, locked box, quick enough) parted, long, pink (peculiar) hair that waved and curled tightly towards the tips sprawled out around her. Slightly tanned skin that I wanted to touch (buried that thought too). The girl was small, 64 inches at most.
She wasn't conventional pretty, but beautiful anyways.
But then it hit me.
The girl looked dead.
I went into panic mode, frantically trying to know what I should do next. Hastily, I climbed over the counter. Gently, I picked up her wrist and felt for a pulse with my thumb. Nothing. Desperate, I put my ear to her chest. Laying my head down intently, I hoped for a heartbeat. Bu-dum. Bu-dum. Bu-dum. Relief came.
"Hm?"
That was not my voice, too feminine.
"Mister, what are you trying to pull?!" the voice was ticked off. It was the girl.
"Uchiha Sasuke," I introduced myself. But by the look of her expression, she wasn't interested. Soon enough, a small knee made contact with the prized sack, sending me toppling over holding my crotch and groveling in pain.
She stood up and marched to the door, opening it as far as possible. "You may leave, when your ready, Sir." Her nose stuck high in the air. "Don't you dare think of coming back." Obviously, I was not welcome.
Still grimacing from the pain in my man parts, I got up and made my way towards the door. "I wasn't trying to be creepy, Pinky. I was just checking to see if you were alive," I muttered to her, right in front of the girl.
"My eyes were half open, weren't they..." she admitted, letting go of the door handle. "It's a bad habit, I sleep like I'm dead," she giggled. It was cute, I mentally slapped myself.
I smirked. "Scared the shit out of me. I couldn't feel you pulse either."
"You used your thumb, didn't you. The thumb has its own pulse. That's probably why you didn't catch mine." Her lightly sunburned cheeks became a tint redder for a moment, but snapped back to their usual burned color. "I'm sorry," she said, green eyes downcast. "I-..." she tried to form a sentence. "I... I'm not really... um," she pushed a pink strand behind her ear. "I'm not really used to," she paused, looking for the right word. "Well... nice guys."
I opened the door for myself and saw her lips form a small frown, like she was disappointed that I was leaving, so I let go of the handle, letting the door shut and leaned on it. The frown was replaced by a small smile. Butterflies in my stomach came. A sickening, yet wonderful feeling.
"Your a tourist, aren't you?" She seemed to have some sort of excited bounce now that she new I was staying longer.
"You have bad observation skills, Pinky. Just moved." I replied. That came out ruder than it was meant to. I hoped that she wouldn't back off, though.
She blushed a little, embarrassed about asking a question I made seem dumb. "Where'd you come from?" The girl turned her head and looked up at me, like she was interested it what I had to say. Usually girls aren't. They immediately latch onto me and imply dirty things.
"DC, most recently," I looked down at her for a moment. Her eyes were my favorite. Beautiful, green and curious.
"What do you mean, 'most recently'?" She questioned.
"I'm from Pittsburg, originally," I said.
"Like 'Dance Moms'?"
"Like 'Dance Moms'."
It was like she knew that the topic annoyed me. "Any siblings?" she asked, changing the topic, for which I was thankful for.
"One older brother, Itachi." That bastard had yet to answer my email.
"Where's he now?"
"France."
"Cool."
"Hn."
"What about your parents?" she asked. "What do they do?"
"My mom's a writer," I answered. "Mikoto Uchiha, ever heard of her?"
"Yup. Author of Reasons Why You Shouldn't Marry Dickheads. Loved that book."
"The 'Dickhead' in question was my father."
"Oh," she paused awkwardly. "Sorry."
"Don't worry about it," I assured her. "She's working on a sequel."
"Cool."
"Hn."
I looked down. She stopped asking questions, which meant I stopped replying, which meant I should leave.
"I should go," I said, curtly.
"My name is Sakura." I smirked a bit. It was a fitting name, it was nice. Rolled of the tongue easily.
"Sa-ku-ra," I repeated. I liked it. As soon as I stepped outside, I regretted it. But Mom was waiting and I was hungry.
"Sakura. Sakura. Sakura," It seemed like a mantra when I recited it. Her face, her name was ingrained into my brain. It would never forget her. I walked with a bounce in my step and large smirk on my face. "Not conventional pretty, but beautiful anyways."
The rest of the night was forgettable. I eventually got food, brought it home and ate it.
But I dreamt of her.
Hey guys. It's been a while, I missed you. Yes, the title is a FOB reference to the song "The Carpal Tunnel of Love". I think the song describes this story and SASUSAKU perfectly!
Review and tell me what you think!