How does one act around a girl they're interested in?

This was a new feeling for Uchiha Sasuke. He was so used to it being the opposite—to never feeling a damn thing for a female, and to just ignore it politely, depending on how clingy the girl was, and move on with his life. He was not accustomed to being the pursuer, and as much as he regrets saying it, he was a bit scared. What the hell was he supposed to do? Ignore her and move on? But what if he didn't want to? And it wasn't like she knew what he felt. It wasn't like she knew his life. And it especially wasn't like she really cared anyway.

She was his friend, and damn it, he'd have to live with that. Even if he didn't want that, even if he wanted her to only be by his side, to only speak to him, to never permit her pearl orbs to give even the tiniest glimpse of attention if it wasn't his. He wouldn't tolerate that. He wanted to avoid that at all costs. But of course no one likes her. She's weird, stubborn, strange, quiet, meek, dull, and plain. In fact, he had been trying to determine what exactly about her got him all fired up both in his pants and in his mind in the first place.

Was it that tiny gap she had between her two front teeth? Her pearly white teeth, might he add. Was it the way her bangs were cut uneven, that just screamed perfection? She was the only girl he knew that had hair cut up in random layers and lengths just like himself. But styles change, so of course that can't be the only determined factor.

Was it the fact that she had good taste in music, or the fact that she was always so gentle around him, so carefree, so innocent? The thought of ravishing her, turning her into his slave of some sort, had taunted his thoughts from time to time, but then other peaceful scenarios ran through his mind; Him and her just lying on the grass during the evening, watching the fireflies float above them ,their tiny tails glowing. Hearing her hum why he tried to play his guitar using his amateur skills, perhaps he'd even grace her, if only to achieve one of her many sweet laughs, his somewhat rotten singing voice, just to see her smile in glee.

He wasn't looking for those relationships that lasted a short while, he wanted to be with someone that wasn't boring, that wasn't needy, that could fend for herself, that knew what she believed in and always stuck with it, that never backed down, that did not ever go out of her way for no one, that didn't care about how she looked, that didn't struggle to copy those false, photoshopped women on magazines. He wanted someone real, passionate, sweet, and kind, someone that could balance out someone as sinister and dull, and blunt and rude as he was.

Someone like her was exactly who he needed by his side, and not to take her then and there, that could wait. Where did these thoughts even come from? He was define as asexual, was even beginning to agree with the rumors, that he had no interest in either gender, in any sexual relations, but here he was, staring at the ceiling, thinking about the one girl he wish he never met, wishing she was lying next to him, laughing, or something of the sort. It felt wrong. It was wrong. To desire someone that doesn't think of you that way, someone that considers you as a friend, and nothing more.

It was a terrible feeling. He wasn't necessarily friend-zoned, but it wasn't like he could announce his pursue for her attention either. He could imagine it; her life at school, knowing all the girls hated her, just because he saw her and no one else.

And it was too early for him to say things like these. It was summer break, a month without school; no teachers pestering you to study, no more annoying classmates acting like the cast of irresponsible adults on reality shows, no more gross lunches, just him waking up at noon every day for a month, showering as soon as he awoke, wearing whatever he felt like it, reading, or listening to music, or walking around his neighborhood, or driving, swimming, anything to keep his mind occupied.

But eventually once he got done those time-consuming actions, he'd crawl back-first back onto his soft yet firm mattress, and stare at his ceiling fan, letting the air smack his pale cheeks, and his thoughts would wander back to her. He hadn't seen her since summer break began. I mean, he could always stop by and visit her, but isn't that what they call 'clingy' and 'stalker-like'? He didn't want to scare her off! The very thought of her not trusting him for popping out of the blue at her palace of a home would've wounded him.

The fact that he had given so much thought into all the things he wanted to say, all the things he had concluded in such a short amount of time, only fueled his anger and irritation even further. Why couldn't she pester him? Why couldn't she just show up, and save him the trouble, save him the regret? He missed her, damn it! And he knew he shouldn't—he knew very goddamn well that with only a few interactions with her, that he was not (yet) entitled into feeling a strange feeling when she wasn't around. But as his toes curled, and as he dug his fists deeper into his grey sweats' pockets, he could only continue to stare as the fan slowed down, the dust off the top of the wooden panels falling around the air in his large room.

He could go for a jog, perhaps. He could get started on some of his summer homework, although he only had two pages left of the entire packet to finish because he had already started most of it when he realized his feelings to distract his thoughts from racing even further to her. But at this point, he was stumped.

"Kami, what the hell did I do to deserve this?"

"My, Sasuke, I didn't see you as the type to feel pity towards yourself."

Rolling his eyes, he sat up. Speak of the weasel, of course it was his eldest brother Itachi, sneaking up on him when he was not wanted. Crossing his arms against his chest, he glared. "There's something called knocking."

"Your door was already cracked open, I saw no need to."

"What the hell do you even want?"

His brother smirked as he shut the door behind him, slowly situating himself at the end of the bed. "I'm here because I'm worried about my dearest, baby brother."

The silence was uncomfortable.

It was evident that this battle was a lost cause, because Itachi knew everything about Sasuke and his reactions and feelings. It was kind of weird—he just knew when Sasuke wasn't himself, when he wasn't the same old silent and easily annoyed youngest brother he was lucky enough to be related to.

Unfortunately, rarely are the feelings mutual.

"I'm fi-"

"I'm here to give you advice. Not because you want it, but because I feel as though you need it. Better yet, why not just permitting me the time of day to allow you into knowing a little tale I haven't told anyone since it occurred?"

Actually, he was kind of curious. Itachi rarely ever begins a story; it's as if he keeps all of his inner thoughts and past deep within a huge vault that was hot-glued with some kind of strong element to prohibit anyone else from knowing the information. Their relationship as brothers was nothing but the usual; however it was as if it had taken a deep turn.

"Go ahead, then."

Itachi smiled, and when he did do so, you barely see a hint of remorse in his russet eyes.

"When I was your age, I met this girl whom I never saw again. She never told me her name, but she was lovely. Words can't express how much I regret not speaking to her more, not being by her side when she had called out for help."

"Unfortunately, she died in a car accident before we had graduated. I spoke to her once or twice, perhaps five times at most while I knew her. She was intelligent and outgoing, she was never rude, not once, and if I really wanted to, I could just check my old yearbook for her name, but it'd be disrespectful of me. If she wanted me to know, she would've told me. You could say I was in love with her. Many people did. I almost began to believe those lies. But they never affected her. She would simply smile and head to class, sitting all the way in the front, doing extra things here and there because she loved school so much. Unlike you," he nudged his younger brother slightly in a teasing manner, before releasing a silent sigh.

He had never heard his older brother deliberately sigh before.

"At any given moment, I went and looked for her. I spoke to her when I could, and so did she. Just like you, I too had girls after me. But once I had the wrinkles on my face completely visible, they stopped. They used to call me old names; generally speaking, they treated me as though I was their Senior, literally." He lightly laughed. "Except her. She loved them. She often used to use her tiny fingers and trace them whenever I was too tired to stop her from doing so. We were mutual companions that spoke to when in placed in the same room occasionally."

He couldn't hold himself back from asking "Why are you telling me this?" This whole thing was too out of character for the eldest Uchiha sibling. He didn't even think Itachi had interest in people in general! He was so accustomed to Itachi being so well-reserved, keeping his piercing, onyx eyes to himself and to not pay any attention to anything surrounding him.

"Because it seems as though you're in the same situation. I'm not that blind, Sasuke. I paid attention at the dinner that evening." He laughed, leaning it and ruffling his brother's already kind of fucked up hair. "It's certainly obvious that you've got your eye on her, do tell."

"It's none of your business." He pushed Itachi's arm off from his shoulder and sighed, tapping his knees as he stared at the ground. "It's really none of your concern; I plan on doing nothing anyway."

"Oh? How come?"

Sighing again more aggressively, he turned and stared at his brother, who had an arched brow and a curious look on his somewhat aged-yet handsome face. "She's…weird. Like, Naruto weird. It's weird."

'His lack of vocabulary could use an adjustment.' Itachi mused. "Go on."

This topic obviously made Sasuke feel uncomfortable. Especially speaking about it out loud with a sibling. Maybe it was his problem, but he didn't think siblings had any right to meddle into such personal things. However, it was obvious his caring brother only wanted to help. And he wasn't going to deny it, he really did need some assistance.

"I'm so used to having to hide from girls. Or ignoring them. Or just giving them a reason to go away. But she hasn't found one bad thing about me, it's as if she's fine with how I act, as if she likes how I am naturally. I don't get her. In fact, I haven't spoken to her since that dinner. She's too innocent for her own good. She's too annoying. But I like her, and I don't know why. I mean I probably do, but I wouldn't be able to explain it."

"Ah,"

"The thing is, I don't want to like her. Because liking someone involves getting hurt in the long run. I have a feel that because I've been such a dick the past few years that karma will bite me in the ass. And I'm not ready for any of that shit, at all. I just want to do well in school, play some sports, go to a good college like you, get a nice job that doesn't involve a lot of stress like you, and die in my sleep when I'm like, thirty-five if I do end up alone. That'd be great."

"Being a journalist is quite difficult," He chipped in. "I get a few gray hairs from just being three yards from my typewriter to write my stories, excuse you."

"Sorry," His brother drily muttered. "I don't want to have anything to do with her. When I met her, I just wanted to go the other way. For some reason, I didn't. And she didn't mind. Usually people either want me around…for this…" He pointed with his fingers at his face, a frown increasing downwards. "And not for you know, this." He momentarily pointed to his chest. "And I guess it's finally getting to people, I still have a few admirers, but I only talk to like, three people now, whom I consider decent human beings. But she's fine with me and I don't get that."

"Sasuke, don't make a mistake and avoid her. While you still know her, seek her out. Speak to her. Because if you don't, you'll regret it. Living with regret is something I don't ever want you to do. Pardon my brutal truth, but it does indeed suck 'ass', as you say."

Sasuke snorted at his older brother's attempt to use slang. "Right."

"I don't have to call her home to fetch her down here, do I?"

"No." If he did, Sasuke would not mind using his own bare hands to claw his brother's heart out.

"Then go. I get what you feel now, but if you clearly like her company, I don't see why you're rejecting the opportunity. If I wasn't so old, I probably would've made the move as well."

Sasuke could only hope that was a joke. Knowing Itachi, it was hard to tell. "Fine. Thanks for…whatever this was. I appreciate it."

"Any time."

"Oh, Itachi?"

"Hm?"

"Thank you for letting me vent. I feel less shitty."

He didn't turn around when he shut the door.

There were many people outside of the Hyuuga compound gardening.

Workers were scattered about, their overalls rolled up to their knees, their toes brown from the dirt, their wooden sandals allowing them to stomp on the ground to plant the new trees, replacing the old, dying ones. Sasuke didn't even notice that the garden was dying the last time he visited. That was how great the home was. Flowers were blooming, green leaves were flying about. The white fences were being repainted, and as he looked around, he noticed one worker that stood out.

Swallowing the lump in his throat, he walked over to her, hands dug in his loose, black jeans. He was thankful he was wearing a regular, white shirt. It was morbidly warm this afternoon. Honestly, he wasn't planning on walking to her place like Itachi had suggested. He was going to take a walk in general. But his feet led him here, in front of the girl of his dreams—literally—as he stared down at the girl wearing dirty overalls, and again, no shoes for support.

"Need help?"

He didn't want to get dirty. He didn't do his own chores, so why even do others' burdens? In this case, she was the exception, undeniably so. He kind of hoped she'd reject it.

But her eyes grew wide in size when she turned to look at him, a smile on her dirt-filled face. She was wearing old, worn out gloves, ironically those instead of wearing shoes because they looked messed up as ever.

"Hello, S-sasuke."

He twitched with her stutter. "Stop that. It's just Sasuke. There's only one 'S'."

She rolled her eyes, the smile never leaving her face. "You know what I meant."

"Where are your shoes? You have no excuse this time, considering the fact that you live here."

"I-"

"And don't you have maids? Why are you doing their work? They don't get paid if you do it all for them."

"Because, I love painting. And helping in general. I helped plant the flowers, because it was time for a change. I always help when the seasons change. I love gardening, and unfortunately, the woman who was supposed to do it was out ill, so I volunteered as her replacement."

'Ouch.' He kinda felt horrible and rude.

"Oh."

"Yeah, I don't mind the work. It gets my mind off of things."

He wanted to ask "What kinds of things?", but he was not a sociable guy. So he just grunted in agreement.

"Grab a brush and help, then," She laughed. "Y-your shadow's making it hard for me to see where I have to paint over."

Grabbing the tiny stool next to hers, he sat there, their shoulders touching, as he dipped the brush into the huge, white bucket. The silence was warm and sweet. Besides the yelling in the background for the workers to pick up the pace to lift the heavy objects that were no longer desired in the front lawn, or the sounds of children from outside the area laughing, it was nice. To be honest, he had no idea how to paint. It was probably a skill he never bothered to ace in.

"Here, let me h-help," She whispered, tongue sticking out (Was that a new habit?) as her fingers latched themselves over his, gaining control of the thin, wooden brush.

"It's not hard, I'm surprised someone like you has trouble with it," She laughed silently, lifting his hand up and down as she continued to dip the brush until it was completely white with the paint. "Just continue with slower strokes and y-you'll do f-fine."

"Hn." Awkwardly, he stared at her hand, that hadn't moved since her instructions. "Aren't you going to let go?" Not that he wanted her to, but she wasn't letting go and it made him feel slightly uncomfortable.

"Show me you can do it and then I will."

"Tch." She was one stubborn girl, if not more stubborn than Sakura. And for some reason, he could deal with that. He could deal with being treated inferior to someone else, if that being was her. She had flaws, and so did he, but hers were shadowed by her smile, her eyes, the blood that was practically engraved into her soft, chubby cheeks. Her bangs were dipped-dyed with the paint; she must've used her hand to wipe sweat off her forehead due to the heat, and that probably was the reason as to why her bangs looked as if she had white-out dumped over her head.

There was paint across her face, dirt as well, but it was only noticeable due to the fact that he was so close to her face. Rather, she was to his, as she paid him all the attention she could to make sure he was going to keep his part into doing the job right.

The look in her determined eyes as she (Without realizing) continued to lick her lips as he repeated the strokes she had shown him moments before was what he caught from the corner of his eye, but he decided to keep his impulsions and words to himself, and tried ever so hard to drain the blood that was pooling lightly across his pale cheekbones.

"You did it!" She smiled, and before he knew it, he had felt warm arms wrap themselves around his torso.

Surely the hug wasn't necessary. He didn't like hugs. Whether from distanced relatives across the globe, or his family that he lived with, or occasionally the greeting most girls give him on the regular, he was not fond of physical contact. He didn't like that he had to feel obligated to return the gesture, nor did he feel it was right for someone to become empty-handed after giving one to him, because although he felt bad, he was not going to give them a hug. Hugs are foreign to him, and have been for him for as long as he could remember.

But this was different. It wasn't because he was handsome, it wasn't because they were separated for years and had just now stitched the empty wounds back together, it was only because he followed her instructions, and for some reason, she deemed it equivalent to a hug. For some reason, she thought that the hug was a welcomed reward for paying attention.

And if this was Sakura, or Ino, or his Mother, or even Kami forbid, Naruto, he'd probably push them away. Solitude was his main focal point, and he didn't think it was right to push himself past his barriers to return one. And everyone understood that. Maybe she didn't, but he didn't mind. Which was strange, it was peculiar that she had some sort of V.I.P pass to get through his difficult obstacles. To reach him.

He never thought it was possible.

It was silent, and it was as if his arms had to do it, had to latch themselves around her. And slowly, they did. Sluggishly, he returned it. He made himself comfortable, placing his chin lightly on her head. And they just sat there, in an embrace. No one was paying them any mind because they were so busy with the work. But neither let go. He didn't want her to. And he hoped that she wouldn't.

He didn't notice the way her eyes widened, feeling the warm return right back to her. She was so used to giving hugs, to her Father, who shunned her away, to her eldest cousin, who thought it was an inappropriate act of girls that should be halted and avoided, to even her little sister, who still had the mentality that hugs were a trap for battle.

But she got one today. And it made her eyes water, because the silence was comforting, the fact that he, of all people, returned the favor, returned the warm she gave away, was just so nice. It didn't matter if he had the worst reputation in the school for being sinister, cruel, or sour, nor did it really matter that she was warm from the heat the sun had graced them that afternoon, because all of those feelings were drowned out by one simple hug.

"A-ano, I'm-"

"Don't. Just, don't move for a while."

It was their first hug.

A/N: Wow, I really loved this chapter. I love writing this story in general. I'm on Spring Break so….if given enough feedback/reviews….I'd probably surprise you with a new chapter this week as well. :p

I was listening to "Path of the Wind" from the Totoro soundtrack when I wrote this. I felt that sweet song fit this chapter. Enjoy and thank you so much for putting up with my shit. ;w;