So. It's been a while, hasn't it?
Heh. Apologies.
I guess having the Christmas holidays just gave me less time to write instead of more.
But… fuck, my fellow men. What a response that last chapter got! I mean… just wow. A lot of your reviews really helped me with what you said and commented on, and I hope you got my replies.
Thank you, bloody lots, for putting in the effort. :DDD
And, for this reason, and for many others, I would like to dedicate this chapter to you guys for being so great.
Especially, all the readers who missed me off AFF (did you get my reply on there?), and especially Kimra, AiKyouGokai, Rasengan22, adochan, sasukesfang, yks and greenbottle. Thank you, lots and lots :DDDD
Now, I think it is about time this chapter got going, so here it is.
Enjoy it, yer bruvs?
- - - - -
The weeks fly by pretty fast, don't they?
It's been, what, like a month since I first met Gaara?
Him and Sasuke are still together; no surprise there.
I'd bunked out on the movie night with Sasuke after then. I'd promised myself I'd give him more time with Gaara, hadn't I? But the week after that, it was hard to refuse, and Sasuke was getting suspicious so you can't blame me for slipping up that time, right?
Yeah, well, the week after… I went… again.
Because you know what?
I still fancy the pants off of him.
Don't tell me I'm an idiot – I already know I am. But is it really my fault that he's being so funny and so nice and so sweet and so fucking pretty?
God, have I ever told you how perfectly delicious his ass is?
…
Never mind. My frustrated libido is kicking in. Don't listen to anything it says. I'll kill it soon, promise.
So it's Friday now and we're in the last class of the week, me and Sasuke and Art with Mr. Hatake. With my best friend, my favourite subject and my favourite teacher, it's my favourite time of the day.
At the moment, we're doing observational paintings, yada yada. Boring shit, I tell you. Mr. Hatake told us to think of it as a metaphor of life; there are things that you just won't like doing, but if you do, you will never, ever regret it. He's a strange one, that Kakashi. At times, he's so damn deep you can't reach his bottom, like when he's so… philosophical like this (it's a shame Neji doesn't take Art). But other times... man, other times…
He's so perverted it's actually cool.
"Right," he clapped his hands twice, immediately achieving twenty pairs of eyes on his body leaning lazily on the dirty paint-stained desk behind him. "We've got fifteen minutes till the bell goes, so let's pack this crap up, shall we?"
"Yer, man!" I yawned and stretched my arms out, hearing my shoulders give a satisfying pop from being still for so long.
Hey… Did I just say 'yer'?
Come to think of it, I've been using 'init, yo', and 'blad' quite a lot lately.
God, it's frightening to think of all the ways Sasuke's influenced me. Talking gangsta lingo is becoming rather a habit for me, isn't it? An annoying one at that. But I just can't seem to stop, really! It's unexpectedly addictive. Try it one day; you'll be as hooked as I am. Go on, I dare you.
"Tidy up, tidy up, tidy up," Mr. Hatake, eyes creased into happy squints, sang as he patrolled around the classroom and passed right by me, his stripy scarf trailing along in the air after him.
I gave him a two-fingered salute, to which he paused in his patrolling to grace me with a rewarding pat on the head, before I gathered my supplies and placed them in their proper, respective places. When I return to my stool, Sasuke's still working on his piece. He enjoys these… sadistic pleasures, I'm sure. Shut up, painting can too be described a sadistic hobby, especially when it's so tediously boring like this.
There's ten minutes left and I'm slouching at my stool, face down into the pillow that I made with my arms. I'm in a pretty good mood right now, but I'm tired and I wanna go home… and I've just remembered that… shit – there's no food in my fridge.
And that fact, just by itself, has brought my happiness level down ten notches.
I breathed out heavily into my forearms, feeling my sleeves soak up all the heat in my breath. Food is my life. Without it, I am nothing but a hungry pile of shit; which doesn't make sense when I think about it because in order to have shit, you must have food. And I have no food. Pfft. Something better cheer me up now or I swear –
"What's up, dumbfuck?" Sasuke spoke besides me, paintbrush still poised readily in his hand as he frowned ever so slightly at the cactus he was painting, pondering over his next carefully placed brushstroke.
Y'know, now I can't help but smile myself silly. I'm smiling so wide and so hard, my mouth made the sleeves of my shirt move up my wrist slightly. Really, I couldn't ask for a better friend than Sasuke. He always knows what to do with me.
I swivelled my head to face him, still lying in my arms. "I'm foodless, Sasuke. Completely foodless."
"That's your own fault."
Ha. Figures. But I'm still grinning my ass off.
"Oh, thanks for cheering me up, Sasuke." Even though I said it rather sarcastically, he had, somehow, in that way of his, cheered me up muchly. I guess it was just the feeling of knowing that I've got a friend who cares about me a whole lot.
And as much as that makes me feel all happy and warm inside, it also reminds me of how much I'm coming to like Sasuke a lot more than I should, and of how there's absolutely no way I'm going to sum up enough courage to risk our close friendship for that slim chance in an 'us'.
And then, of course, there's also Gaara.
Add that to the equation and fuck – what a dilemma I have here, huh?
I've gone out with Sasuke and Gaara a few more times after that first time, and now that I've actually gotten to talk to him, I've realised that, and I hate to say this… Gaara's really nice. Like, proper good and funny. And even though he's a bit on the quiet side of things, it just makes him even more perfect for Sasuke.
And just like that, I've ruined Sasuke's work of cheering me up.
God, I'm pathetic.
These days it's like I can't decide whether I want to be happy or not. One minute I'm as dandy as can be, next I'm drowning in my selfish sorrows, and after that, I'm as horny as a Kakashi that's high on porn and a potent aphrodisiac.
And who says I don't love hormones!
…Please, I beg of you to infer the immense amount of slobbering sarcasm slapped onto that statement.
It seems that my conversation with Sasuke has fizzled out and died, but even I can feel the aura of angst resonating off myself, darkening the mood of the silence. Trust me to ruin everything that is honoured with my presence – even fucking silence.
When there's an uncomfortable period of quiet, when I feel the need to break it, and when I can't find anything to say, my mouth decides to blurt out what's on my mind blended with any utter nonsense. Which was why, at this moment in time, I said, "Gaara's tattoo is proper cool, init?"
What the fuck? I don't even know why I said that.
This time, Sasuke looked away from his cactus to stare at me with a small, almost uneasy, yet concerning frown. I knew he thought it was weird for me to just bring up Gaara like that. Sasuke's not one of those people who parade around the school proclaiming their love for their boyfriend, and for some reason, I'm grateful for that. But he shook his head slightly and returned to concentrate on his artwork.
"Yeah, it's super cool," he mocked, and shoved a thumb up to match, eyes still focusing on the paper in front of him.
Do you know how inferior I feel right now? Heh. I'm such a loser. God, I annoy myself with my self-pity.
I sunk back into my arms with shame breathing down my neck. Where has my brilliant charm gone off to?
I guess Sasuke noticed this and decided to take pity on me because he carried on the conversation with a, "So you ever wanna get one?"
"What, a tattoo?" I asked, voice muffled through my sleeves.
"Mm hmm."
I turned to face him with my head still slouching on my arms, my confidence coming back. "Nah, not really. Knowing me, I'd probably regret it afterwards, y'know?"
There was a short moment where Sasuke painted and I watched him in silence.
Then I spoke. "What about you?"
"Nope," was his short reply.
I watched as he swirled the brush into a pot of murky water before dunking it delicately into a glob of bright red paint.
"Sasuke, I'm afraid cactuses aren't red," I couldn't help but point out.
"I know," he said, as he inched forwards, closer to me.
I lifted my head slightly from my arms. "Then… what are you doing?" He was still advancing on me, shifting his stool so there was just a foot's distance between our faces.
"Let's say I'm giving you a tattoo." He inched painfully slowly closer to my face, barely six inches away.
God, why's he getting so close? As much as I'm trying to control it, my breathing is speeding up and the blood in my heart is pumping faster than usual. The hormones are buzzing; making me feel like all I want right now is to be kissed senseless. And really, that is what I want.
Wait, no! But Gaara!
"But…" I took a moment to try and regain a normal speed of breathing. "But I said I didn't… want one."
"Oh, you'll want one from me."
His breath ghosts over my cheeks and I squeeze my eyes shut because it's all I can do to wait for whatever is about to happen.
Something wet, cold and slightly gooey slaps onto my forehead, and surprisingly, it's icky and yet… rather soothing.
I open my eyes to see Sasuke's expressionless face a few inches away from my own, his right arm bared at eyelevel and his hand out of my sight.
I don't know whether to be relieved or disappointed.
"…Sasuke… What are you doing?"
The stun was still in my system from everything I was anticipating being proved absolutely wrong.
"Oh, nothing," he paused to slide the slick goo around my forehead. "Just giving you a tattoo, as I said, Naruto."
"…Oh…"
What did you want me to say?!
"It's done," he said as he leaned back and settled in the seat of his stool, seemingly admiring his work.
It's, surprisingly, incredibly frustrating to have something on your forehead and not being able to see it. So I rose slowly from my seat, heading over to a mirror that was conveniently placed near a sink in the corner of the room.
…
PAHAHA!
It had taken me a while to decipher the mirrored writing and for a moment, I was silent, shocked, though I shouldn't have been, at Sasuke's crude humour. I didn't know whether to be offended, amused or disgusted. I settled on amused, immensely so, and when I did, I full out laughed, good and proper.
Apparently 'tattooed' on my forehead, in bright, brash, bold red lettering was the word 'WANK.'. Including the full stop, yes.
And on top of this proud word was, in smaller font but still in the same garish paint, was 'Sasuke's'
'Sasuke's WANK.'
Sasuke had labelled me as his WANK.
And if that makes sense the way I think it does, then I am thoroughly proud of myself. That is, if he actually means it.
Really. I've said it before, I'll say it again. I couldn't ask for a better friend than Sasuke. He really knows how to get my spirits up when I'm a brooding bitch.
I made my way back to my stool to find Sasuke finally finishing up his cactus and packing away his supplies.
"Bastard," I smiled at him.
And right now, I'm filled with the brilliant feeling of having Sasuke for my best friend. Sasuke who proper loves me.
I hug him. I hug him hard, because I'm an emotional retard.
"Have I ever told you how much I love you?" I said, with my arms clasped around his neck.
And with a jar of water in one hand and a palette full of paint in the other, he tightens his arms around my chest beneath my armpits, giving that silent, single chuckle of his.
"Who knew dumbfucks were so full of sappy cheese?"
My shoulders shook with a little laugh and I could feel the warmth from him seeping into my chest.
"Pfft, bastard. Just say it. Go on, I know you want to."
But I know, it's really me who wants to hear it.
His shoulders bounced once more whilst he leant closer… so close that his cheek was brushed up against my burning cheek and his lips were hot on my ear.
And oh my god, thoughts of the words on my forehead and the adrenaline from being in the predicament I'm in now are forcing forbidden thoughts into my mind.
Sasuke.
Wank.
Is there anything else that could equal from that?! No, I didn't think so.
It was getting hard to regain a normal rhythm of breathing in, breathing out, and I could already feel the fire in my cheeks, both from the thoughts of Sasuke doing naughty, naughty things and from the closeness of him and his lips, touching me and my hot face.
"Love you, Naru."
Oh god. His wet lips gave me a short, scorching nibble on the top of my ear before he let go of me, moved away and proceeded to pack up.
Shit.
Is it me, or is it really, fucking hot in here?
I still stood there, with my arms limp at my sides, cheeks flushed pink and breathing in slight pants.
It's not right to get this reaction from my best friend, is it?
You're meant to feel like this when your hot crush does this, right?
So what happens when your best friend is your hot crush?
Fuckity fuck, fuck, fuck.
There's too much to think about, and I don't want to think right now.
The shrill ring of the end of school bell sounded throughout the room, and without waiting for Sasuke like I do everyday, I left the art studio, slinging my bag over my shoulder and leaving Sasuke frowning slightly at me by the sink.
- - - - -
The only thing I want to do right now is go home, curl up in bed and die trying to figure out what to do about the dilemma in my hands. Just leaving it to sort itself out won't amount to anything, I'm sure. But I know doing that won't change the fact that my fridge is still utterly empty, and so I made my way to the local supermarket a few streets away from my apartment block, trying my hardest to keep thoughts about Sasuke at the back of my mind.
Right. All I need is a few ten cups of ramen, maybe a bit o' ham, some orange juice and some milk. I'll just go in there, grab what I need and get home, get in bed, and get thinking.
Great plan.
I grabbed myself a basket, strolling down the lengthy aisles of the long-life food section and searching for my trusty brand of ramen. The orange packet says it all.
But putting it in my basket wasn't as easy as I thought.
Someone, some bastard, had made a grab for the same packet of yum-fucking-liscious ramen.
God, I don't have time for this.
I looked up, prepared to say kindly to whichever old lady had chosen to worsen my mood that this packet was rightfully taken, only to see, rather surprisingly, smooth, wrinkle-free, pale skin.
And upon that flawless skin, beneath the slight curls of gloriously red hair, was a small patch of pigmented skin: the symbol for love.
That, coupled with the shocking aquamarine eyes, finally got me to realise that…
This was no old woman.
This was… Gaara…?
Gaara who spurts thoughts of him and Sasuke in my mind? Gaara who is coincidentally in the same supermarket, in the same aisle, at the same time?
Gaara who is fighting over a packet of ramen?!
"Why, hello, Naruto. Fancy bumping into you here," he spoke and I hadn't even realised I'd given him reign over the orange flavoured noodles.
His expression changed from a friendly smirk to an amused and questioning smile.
"Nice tattoo."
…
Shit.
- - - - -
Can you say 'failed cliff-hanger'?
But still… I can't believe it is finally done…
I had trouble thinking of something for the art lesson for the longest time. But yah! Don't you just dig the SasukexCactus thang?
And now, after all of your praise for the previous chapter, I'm really worried about letting you down with this next one. I tried to make it longer to compensate. Reading it over, it almost seems like a different story to me, and I'm not exactly happy with it, and I know it's bad to post it when I'm unsure, but I've been keeping you guys waiting too long already, right?
I hope it's not disappointing.
♥♥ THANK YOU MUCHLY FOR YOUR LOVE!! ♥♥