summary: AU. SasuSaku. There are those people, in every privileged boarding school, who are incredibly beautiful, deviously manipulative and have unlimited access to everything; everyone wants to be those people. I was their queen. Until now. "Welcome to Loser Club, gorgeous."
the note: life has a tendency of taking over the pilot seat in your brain; also, fyi, it happens to be a bitch.
disclaimer: do not own.
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crazy planet
—TWO: I am not always like this – it is something I became.
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"I am making you an offer you cannot refuse."
Words. Lines and verses, the bones of a poem, sentences and paragraphs, faint outline of a story's face, made up of them – like flesh, organs, blood, antibodies, hardened plans of skin, like tiniest cells of tumor words fill in every little gap. They are hallmarks of our own growth; from the nonsense syllables that we made at the sweet infant age to complex sentences of adulthood. Words identify our social class and level of education, simply saying, even our names and looks are made of words.
Words that used identify me are: Youngest Haruno-girl; Sakura; cool; blonde; gorgeous; confident; rich; smart; badass bitch; Queen; and so much more.
Perhaps this is one of those times when you need to turn on your heels and run like hell, and if you have time kick the guy where it hurts just in case he'll be faster than you but when he said that simple Godfather rip-off sentence I felt air leave my lungs as if I was kicked in the stomach – because maybe, just tiny little maybe, the sort that feels like it lives on life support and is supposed to give out any moment now, he can give me what I want.
What do I want?
I don't know…something. Just, not this. Not a life when everything is so damn hard and you want to cry every time you let yourself remember who you used to be, and whoever you are now, it's not you. After his ominous line we stayed silent for a while, I was at loss of words and border-lining insanity while he, I supposed, was waiting for me to make my next move. Like in fucking chess.
So what is this – his game? Could be. Do I care enough to find out? Definitely maybe. Is there a hope, in the bottom of my soul, that this mysterious man-boy will be my salvation? Yes. Definite yes. Will I act on it? No.
His shoes are weird. I noticed this because I lowered my gaze, no, not in embracement, but in a rather pathetic attempt to appear coy. His shoes are old, not just in term of fashion but the black leather is worn and rugged, and it seems the soles were fixed too many times for one lifetime, however, they are perfectly tailored, obviously special ordered, and clean. Surprisingly, there is not a spot of dirt of them, of course, they would not be glass-like shiny but somehow they seem proper. Old but proper and reliable, like a good riding horse that is given to children to learn – they sort they remember for the rest of their lives. "I do suppose that was an awful way to catch attention," it's a bare whisper and somehow when man-boy moved, ever so slightly, and it appeared as if it was his shoes that spoke.
"What do you want?"
"As if you don't know, Sakura." He outstretched his hand, palm inviting my only anchor in the sea of madness and schemes.
"What – the USB?" My fingers clinch the metal device, on the smooth champagne coloured surface of which Haruno S. was engraved in neat letters, and carefully I bent down, eyes still entwined with his, to slip it into my boot. I felt chills and goosebumbs crossed my skin then cold USB touched it. "Dream on, buddy." I spared a quick glance at the clock. Shit, too much time before the early birds will start waking up. "Why should I give you, a complete stranger, the device that can potentially save my life?"
"I understand you want revenge." No, duh. "Revenge on those who shamed you. Sakura, I can help you achieve that."
His sly smirk mirrored mine, "Now we are talking."
I really must have been mentally handicapped at the moment to follow him. Yet, I do still.
xxx
It never took take much effort, from my part, to look gorgeous; usually I settled with brushing my teeth and washing my face, still I turned heads on my way. I could see it in his eyes, which flicker every now and then, he studies my face thoroughly, inch after inch, – from the perfectly straight ski slope-nose and sharp, high cheekbones, to strong, narrow jaw and full lips – as if it's a precious art masterpiece and not once I saw a glimmer of emotions cross his features; his calculative gaze is laced with unwanted curiosity and cold logic instead of familiar admiration to which I am used. "You don't look the way I expected you too," the nameless man-boy said finally.
His eyes flickered from my eyes to sharp collarbones and back again; this gave me the opportunity to slip my hand in my coat-pocket, a moment later my fingers grasped the ring of my dorm keys. Not the best weapon but it's the only one I've got. "So my reputation precedes me. Wonderful," For most people I'm the crazy girl with crazy hair and behavior to match, "Shame can't say the same about you, Scarface. I have never heard of you,"
"Just as intended, Sakura,"
"So we are on first name basis, huh? Fine then, I'm Sakura, as you carefully pointed out, and your name is..?"
"None of your business."
"All right then Mr. None of your business." A sharp inhale followed by a bold but cliché line, "Who are you? I may have fallen off the radar but I am still Haruno Sakura, the biggest and the badest bitch around. I know everybody who is somebody."
An odd emotion escaped from the corners of his mouth – not a smile, not a frown – and he took a step closer. Reluctantly, I stepped back, but instead of cornering me he made a hand gesture that could be translated as walk with me. It's funny that the first thing I notice about males is their personality, how they talk and behave, completely missing their facial features, only when I take liking of them I start to analyze how compatible their physique is with mine. This behavior is so abnormally different and contrasts sharply with my attitude towards women, whom I am quick to judge, often by shallow and narcissistic standards to which I am used: their hair, eyes, skin, clothes, status and the ever popular self-answering question: Is she prettier than me? …nah, she isn't. When I did as I was asked – I took a step forward, then another, and I walked right near the strange man-boy and sunlight hit the left side of my face, blinding me for a moment – only then, he answered: "I am sure you are, Sakura, the devil himself beneath that pretty face but there is a faulty in your logic. I am nobody and I come from nowhere. You don't know me, but I know you, yes, the real you,"
He paused and it is when I started to notice the little things. How beautiful were the early strikes of sunlight on the cool stone of the hall; how my kneecaps rebelled and wanted to shake from cold; that it was idiotic to leave the dorm in nearing-winter without any tights; that I felt a shot of lightning pass through me as I anticipate his next words.
His eyes are dark and cruel, just like his voice. I think his face is familiar somehow but I can't still put my finger on it, "The real you is nothing more than an ambitious model with the world at her feet. Not the shy, broke girl from the Loser Dorm."
"While true, your speech was useless. So answer, before I will scream my lungs out, who are you?"
"Not a person who wishes to harm you—"
"Too vague," I piped in.
"—but will if necessary." He finished with a smooth tone. "To shed a little light on my persona you can know the basics. I am a senior here. And I am a man who desperately needs something in your possession." Desperate? He certainly doesn't look like it. "Or rather an ounce of information that your own weapon of mass destruction harbors. So I propose an alliance, I will help you regain your crown and in return you will…well, we can discuss how exactly will you help me later. So do you agree?"
I have to admit, he's good, no wonder I agreed without a second thought.
xxx
I love walking but what I hate is not knowing where I am going. So in the moments of the early dawning day, when the darkness is still present, I follow man-boy as he strides in unknown, to me, direction.
I think we are going west, but then again, I was never good at Geography. But it must be the West Wing because it's the least visited place on the campus; the portraits of previous Headmaster glare at us ever so sternly and some windows are seal shut – this feels like a tomb, a grave, a place where I will be most likely buried. Hey, I had my chance to run away, instead I agreed to this shaky alliance, might as well see why exactly did curiosity kill the cat.
Finally, inappropriately amused by that thought, I looked up from my path, a ray of sunlight hit my eye directly and I squinted; in the wake of the insignificant theft two of us stood: one an angelically beautiful creature, all legs and smiles, hidden in the shadows, the other one a tempting devil coloured in black and brown but surrounded by the oriole of purely white light above his crowned with dark hair head. An undeniable contrast.
At last, we stopped, man-boy opened a door and entered, expecting me to follow. I was right, this is the West wing. The abandoned wing. The snogging wing. The shagging wing. Well, you got the picture. I think I got it too.
"Listen, you, even if me just made a deal I will not—" I did not finish, because suddenly it came to my knowledge that we are not alone.
Man-boy is seriously tall, very, very tall, and he's big, like a proper boxer built, no wonder I did not see the table crowed with kids my age in the middle of the dark room, a light bulb hanging above their heads. How very conspirator-ish.
A big-boned, blue-eyed blonde girl turned her head to look at me; I think I know her from somewhere. She could be on the swim-team judging from her broad shoulders but I am more interested in horse-riding classes than any other sport as it is one of those where a girl looks extremely sexy in a skin-tight trousers.
Her dark eyes flicked to an equally blond guy near her and she said, loud enough for me to hear, "Look what the cat dragged in."
Instantly the whole table's eyes were on me. None of the Konohagukare dorm students were particularly unattractive, nor they were extremely beautiful – most of them were normal. And that was unsettling. I liked my company to be as easy on the eyes as I myself am, and wonderfully naughty in the ways we are superior to everyone else.
Clearly such traits were not appreciated in this group.
I suppressed a groan, which would have been my first sign of weakness – I have found my personal Hell on Earth. But then, with the corner of my eye I noticed another creature that appeared to be female: red hair, dark eyes, freckled skin, wicked smirk and attitude which would make Headmaster Tsuande pee in her pants – Karin. THE famous Karin.
I am fucked.
"Oh no…" escaped my lips before I could think.
"Oh yes," man-boy said uncharacteristically enthusiastically as he switched on the lights around the table and the room seemed to come alive, "Fantastic isn't this? Welcome, Haruno Sakura, to South-West part of the Academy, the part that was given to Konoha's own DISCO, which stands for Deductive Investigation of Social Crimes Organization, but commonly known as The Loser Club."
Kill me. Now.
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the ending note: :( didn't update for a long while.
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