And so, because my Muse, Ri-chan, passed her ubber hard exams - that I knew she'd nail - I decided she deserved cookies, so I'm writing this new fic for her.
Always SasuSaku of course :P
With some prompts from her, this came along!
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I'm really sorry it's been so long since I last posted anything, real life's been a bitch ever since I started college... and I'm just starting to get my writing buzz back - to Scarlet Ambiguity fans, worry not, it may take a while, but I really want to make the sequel for it!
Since you're all such sweeties and have given me such wonderful support, I'll be nice and tell you the sequel's title - sounds good right?
And the title will be *insert drum roll here* Auburn Resonance!
Please do look forward to it!
In other news, I'll also be re-writing The longest year ever, whose title I'll be changing to Carnelian Butterfly!
Anyway, without further ado, my I present you my newest work !
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A.N. I do not own Naruto or its characters, nor do I own Linkin Park or their songs. This plot, it's plot and everything related to it, was made through my imagination, so please do not plagiarize.
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The sentence that started it all: In which Sakura... goes to the Garden.
Details: (prompts)
AU
High School
Hentai level 5 !
Written while listening to Linkin Park
Anyway...
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Wisteria Blues
Summary: Books were her friends, charcoal & ink her allies, music her escape and photography her outlet. So... what was he?
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Part I - Fallout
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.: ~ ~ :.
She hated people. No. She loathed them.
She'd always preferred having a book to read or something to draw with, than being around people. She'd gotten the label of bookworm, anti-social. It didn't matter.
She couldn't care less.
Wherever she'd been, they'd always found something to throw at her. She was too thin, too short, her forehead too wide, her hair too straight, always something too much or too little or too this or too that.
She hated it. Hated them.
And that's why she kept to herself.
Books were her friends, charcoal and ink her allies, music her escape and photography her outlet.
People on the other hand, were her enemies. Her loathed enemies.
She hated people, just hated them.
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.: ~ i ~ :.
She wondered how she'd gotten herself into this… situation.
This predicament.
This thing.
Issue, state. The terminology didn't matter, it depended on what she felt like calling it at the moment. Because it didn't really have a specific name it could be called.
So… how?
How had she gotten herself into this, whatever it was?
"Let's make a deal…" He'd said that the first time, and she'd told him to fuck off.
He hadn't backed off though. He'd started taunting her, pissing her off, getting on her nerves.
Every day he had a new way to get under her skin, until one day she just snapped.
She yelled at him to leave her the fuck alone. But he didn't seem to be listening, always getting closer. So she punched him in the face, and when he staggered back, blood starting to drip down his nose, she side-kicked him in the ribs.
He fell straight to the floor, flat on his ass, holding his ribs and gasping for air.
The next day he had the left side of his face in a nasty purplish bruise, the area of his cheek under his eye and the side of his nose holding the mark of her hand. He told everyone he took a baseball ball to the face while he walked through the park—came out of nowhere and the jackass didn't even apologize. His ribs—the way he seemed to struggle to breathe once in a while—he didn't mention and no one noticed.
Liar. He was a liar. She hated liars.
But he wasn't trying to get on her nerves, and that was good.
The mirror in front of her reflected the bathroom's light bulb. She ran the black eyeliner pencil over her eyelid, drawing a dark line.
If only he'd taken the hint and stayed away.
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.: ~ ii ~ :.
It was all her mother's fault, really. If the witch could even be called a mother, she was merely the woman who'd given birth to her. Nothing else.
But it was all her fault anyway. It was the hag's fault she hated people, and it was the hag's fault she hated switching cities.
She hated moving around, never having a specific place she could call home. She hated being the new girl. Everyone always stared, gossiped and found something to hold against her. It was the same everywhere.
She'd been born in Tokyo and lived in the world's biggest city until she was 7. Then it'd been 3 years in London, followed by a few months in Paris. They'd moved to Rome after that, and 2 years later, when she was 13, it'd been Seoul. Now, 4 or so years later, it was Los Angeles.
She hated it.
But then, she loved just one of those cities. She loved Seoul.
Yes, the city itself was amazing, but that's not what she loved about it. What she loved were the people—just a few people really. Seoul had been the only city where she'd had friends. And she loved her friends. They were her family. They were her everything.
And now they were gone.
She hated Los Angeles. It was too noisy, the people too meddling and stuck-up.
She wanted to be back in Seoul. She wanted to be back with her family.
"Hey, where do you think you're going?" She ignored the annoyance of a girl and walked past her, settling on the last steps of the stairs.
"Hey! I asked you where you were going." And now she stood over her, red hair and black-rimmed rectangular glasses, hooker shorts and too-tight top.
"What's it to you?" She didn't even bother looking up, just finished tying the laces of her black & red converse.
"Excuse me!" the banshee sounded outraged. She stood up, walking past her. "Mom told me I was in charge." She just walked past the now screeching banshee, sliding her headphones on, Linkin Park blasting in her ears.
The elevator doors opened—because the jackass her mother had married this time around was some high-end aristocrat's son or some shit like that, so he owned a 3 story penthouse.
She entered and turned. The banshee was screeching, her mouth moving angrily. The shade of red covering her wasn't flattering at all. On the contrary.
The doors slid closed.
Ding.
"Opposite from lazy
Far from a punk
Ya'll ought to stop talking
Start trying to catch up motherfucker"
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.: ~ iii ~ :.
"Let's make a bet…" that's what he'd said after the bruises she'd given him had faded and his caramel skin was back to being flawless.
He was a bastard.
A half-breed asian that thought he could get away with everything. His hubris, the over confidence he carried around, pissed her off. Not everyone else though.
Guys tended to either try to be his friend or stay away, and girls tended to fawn over him like bees to honey. She scoffed, he even had a fanclub.
But the jackass didn't take the hint with her, he just kept pushing, and pushing and pushing.
And maybe that's why she was still there, even though she could leave. He… tried to get to her. He cared not in the caring way, but in the way that he wanted to get under her skin. Other than those few people she called family in Seoul, no one ever tried to see her and not just the façade.
The asskicking she'd given him had only made him try to get on her nerves harder.
"Wounds so deep they never show,
They never go away
Like moving pictures in my head,
For years and years they've played"
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.: ~ iv ~ :.
The woman who called herself her mother, ever since she could remember, was a womanizer. Only with guys.
It had always been boyfriend after boyfriend. Husband after husband.
Her father… she knew she had one, she hadn't been born out of nothing, and she wasn't her mothers' perfect copy, so she wasn't a scientific miracle. She had a father.
The thing was, she didn't remember him. At all. She had no memories, no pictures.
Sometimes it saddened her that she knew nothing about her father. But then, maybe it wasn't such a bad thing
You can't miss what you never had.
"I wanna know the truth
Instead of wondering why
I wanna know the answers
No more lies"
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.: ~ v ~ :.
"Can't you see that you're smothering me
Holding too tightly, afraid to lose control?
'Cause everything that you thought I would be
Is falli—"
She felt her headphones sliding away from her ears and wondered who was stupid enough to take away her music.
Slowly the hard-edged icy look settled in her eyes.
"What're you doing here?" Ah! That explained it, it was the bastard.
"What's it to you?" She turned only enough to see him and for him to see her glare.
Her headphones settled on her shoulders.
"Bitchy much." She scoffed.
"Bastard much?" he smirked.
Figured he'd smirk. She swore his overconfidence would get him in trouble one day—the kind that'd get his ass in jail.
She just ignored him. Reaching into her pocket she turned off her iPod and then looked back towards the city.
People said Los Angeles was a beautiful city. No matter how much they tried to convince her, she still didn't like it. There was too much concrete and too little aesthetic detail. There was no beauty in piled up blocks of cements.
Seoul, on the other hand, was beautiful. There was aesthetics. There were piled-up-block-of-cement buildings of course, but, for the most part, there was design and beauty and mixture of tradition and modernity, nature and technology you just couldn't find anywhere in the world.
She missed the gardens inside of buildings, the small shops where she'd eat her favorite foods. The traditional buildings.
A tug to her hair. Her patience was close to zero today.
"Sasuke." The stop or I'm punching you was implicit in her tone of voice.
"What's your real hair color anyway?" she rolled her eyes, glancing at him though the corner of her eyes.
"Wouldn't you like to know." She smirked and he tugged at her ponytail again.
The wind wooshed past them. She huffed in irritation and pushed her bangs out of her eyes—she refused to cut her bangs short again, but sometimes it'd be more useful than the long ones she had now. they fell over her eyes, at the sides reaching just below her jaw.
He chuckled, now tugging at her bangs and she turned to face him.
"I think I do already." Oh! So he was back to talking about her hair color.
"Tch. Ever heard of Visual Kei?" she pushed his hand away from her face. "Leave me alone." With an icy stare, she turned back towards the ugly forest of concrete, leaning forward against the roof railing.
"Think you shouldn't have worn those jeans." She could feel the smugness.
"What's wrong with my jeans jackass?" and she could just feel the shrug.
"Never thought you'd wear something—"
"They're red jeans, get over it." Geez, had he never seen people wear red jeans? They were a lot more stylish than his ugly green shirt, that's for sure.
He huffed. She hid her smirk. Oh, sweet victory.
He went silent for a moment—yeah, keep thinking, you may come up with something that'll have me throw you off the ledge with a justified cause.
No such luck.
He kept silent, but suddenly she could feel his body heat seeping into her, his breath so close to the side of her face, the fingers of his left hand tracing the back of her neck.
"Red jeans huh?" his breath felt warm against her ear.
"K-pop style baby." He went closer, his stomach against her arm. his right index finger traced her cheek.
"I'd've said Hollywood." She scoffed.
"Never." He gave a noncommittal sound and then turned her face towards him. His breath smelled like mint and spice—curry.
"Yeah, no, you're definitely not Hollywood." He smirked and all she wanted was to kick him for it.
But then, she couldn't. Because he kissed her.
.: ~ TBC ~ :.
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Songs used:
When they come for me
Easier to Run
Run away
Numb
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By my standads, this is a little short, but I'm not aiming to make a hugeass story, but since I'm not able to do drabbles that well, I'll just do a short story :P
Anyway...
That's it for now, but I'm still writing!
Please leave me some feedback! I love reviews, they make me really happy and make me want to write faster for you guys! =]
I posted this on Livejournal as well :3
[I'll probably be posting it there first after I write it, so keep your eyes out there - the link to my lj's on my profile]
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Kisses & Hugs to everyone !
-Azure Serenity