The best tasting noodles
Warning: Drama, yaoi, swearing, yadda yadda
Summary: I didn't fall in love with him right away. But you're damn right I was attracted to him, enough to have stalked him since middle school. [NaruSasu]
A/N: In light of how things are going in my life, I began writing a tumblr post. Yes yes, I'm addicted to this horribly wonderful thing called tumblr. But in recent events, I deleted it and made a new one. My url is still cclemonyeah for tumblr, so follow follow :3 and ask me a lot of questions okay? Sankyou~ Also, do me a favor and follow kazikezawa too. He's amazing, has lots of deliciousyaoi for you to look at, and he's got the most incredible sense of humor. Derp.
Chapter One: Insomniac
Finals week. It's nearly 4 AM, and I'm exhausted, but I made cheese noodles anyways. To be honest, I wasn't really hungry, but I wanted to taste something. I wanted to taste... nostalgia.
Making it was absolutely terrifying. Thing about it. An illegal noodle cooker in a UC dorm with a sprinkler system which had nearly gone off during the beginning of the school year (okay, okay I'm exaggerating, just the alarm went off) wasn't the best idea by any means. Combine that with the fact that our sprinkler system runs on an indirect water system, aka the water has been sitting there for goodness knows how long, perhaps 30 years or so, and is by all means a disgusting rusty brown and teeming with bacteria (I mean, think about it. You have a sprinkler system with water sitting in one place, combined with the warmth of a UC dorm all year long. What do you think is going to happen?), and I'm risking a lot. But at the moment, the fucks have flown out the window, and so has the inevitable smell of shin ramen. Naturally, I'm an idiot and I've forgotten to prepare the materials beforehand. Before the noodles can start to burn, I'm panicking, racing to open the cheese wrappers and throw them into the pot, and adding salami as I go along.
I've added three slices of cheese, half a packet of shin ramen flavoring, four slices of salami, nearly two bottles of water, and a pack of noodles. I separate out the two, and on temptation, I add another slice to cheese to my bowl. It melts against the noodles and as it does, I'm spooning the noodles into my mouth. Pure joy. I love cheese. I love cheese almost as much as I love foxes, and considering I'm wearing a fox pajama, , it's saying quite a lot. Naturally, I burn my tongue.
I wait a little until the ramen has cooled down sufficiently for me to take a bite.
Unf. Heaven. I'm floating in cloud nine until I realize that it isn't just the ramen that makes me happy. It's the memories. It's the memory of our first kiss, stolen in a playful moment. It's the memory of the first time we made out in my winter cabin, tongues entwined in a heated game as a little something called passion inevitably draws us together and makes it the most amazing kiss I've ever had. The need, the want, the unrestrained feelings, even lo-no. I'll get to that later. But the fact is, everything that you've ever done for me, every single moment, as clichéd as this sounds, resonates in my head, and I'm floating in pure euphoria. Nothing could possibly break this moment until I look at the time and realize it's 4 AM and I have about four labs to make up before 8 AM. Well, that, and we're no longer us.
It's just me.
My name is irrelevant. The only thing you need to know is that I'm head over heels for a guy. A guy who I've admired for the longest time. My sempai.
Okay. Don't laugh at me. I know this sounds like another one of those 'ermahgerd sempaiiiii I love you' and don't diss me for using a Japanese term. I'm Asian, and so is he. Well, one of us is for the most part.
But honestly, I've been deeply infatuated with him for the longest time. I never actually spoke to him because he was a grade above me, and I was shy as fuck. In fact, I was kind of chubby as a kid, but that's totally irrelevant. But, when I think about the first moment I saw him, I realized how attracted I was to him, to his everything. He looked really cool, with his eyes full of untainted emotion, hair unmoving despite the sweat and sun. Somehow, in those ugly grey PE uniforms and dark, mesh shorts, I almost fell in love. It was never love, though. After all, how can you love someone you've never even spoke to him.
With all middle school crushes, I grew up. He graduated from middle school and went into one of the most prestigious high schools in the country. Meanwhile, I was in middle school, awkwardly growing up and learning the boundaries of friendship. I was a naïve little fuck and things happened.
But this isn't a fanatical novel about my life. This isn't a story of sparkling vampires, buff werewolves, sexually deviant gods and attractive as fuck men dancing around me with the names of Mike. This isn't a story of how a uke gets a seme to rape him (oh goodness no, I'm way over that cliché). This isn't a fanatical story in which I develop a harem, or how sempai notices his kohai.
Actually, funny that I mention sempai noticing me, because he was actually my sempai, being a year older and now…
Well, ahem.
It's a story about him.
It's a story about the idea I liked, the appearance that attracted me, the style that made me believe, and finally, the personality that won me over.
It's a story of how two boys' lives intertwined, and how they fell in, dear god I should say this most trite of all things, love.
A/N: Now, do tell me, is this Naruto, or is this Sasuke's point of view. Mwahahhahaha.
Please leave a review and I will be oh so hippyhoppyhappy.