what's happiness, anyway? (october)
—
"Sasuke? Here's the summary of our spendings for the Culture Festival."
Sakura approaches him one afternoon during a study period to hand him a sheet of paper. He takes it and skims over the numbers, barely registering a thing, but once his eyes reach the grand total at the bottom—
"We're way over our budget."
Sakura laughs sheepishly. "Um, yeah, that's what I wanted to talk to you about…"
"Shino was supposed to handle this. Where is he?"
"I don't know. I saw him a while ago. He must have slipped out."
Irritation begins to burn in the pit of Sasuke's stomach. He runs a hand through his hair, wondering how the hell they're going to make up for the deficit. Just for a simple café, they've spent too much on fabric for costumes, food ingredients, and tableware. Sasuke told them they could use stuff from the cafeteria as long as they got to it first since so many other classes are also doing cafés, but apparently, theirs has to be chic and modern and not grungy, Sasuke, you have to think of the wellbeing of our class!
Okay, so what are they going to do, now that they've spent twenty thousand yen that they can't afford?
"This is an issue," Sakura murmurs, clearly troubled. "This is just a progress report—since the festival is next month, who knows how much more is going to be spent by then."
Sasuke tries very hard not to crumple up the sheet of paper in his hands. This is why he didn't want to be class president in the first place.
He's going to kill Naruto.
—
"How's your class coming along for the festival?" Shikamaru asks Naruto and Neji over lunch in the bleachers. (Sasuke irritably eats his sandwich.)
"Good, I think," Neji says with a hint of pride. "I was a little worried about the budgeting, but Hinata is great at managing the money." Their class is doing a play—which Sasuke honestly thought would be harder on their expenses than a café would be, but apparently not—and every time he pops his head in, he sees people painting promotional banners and posters, sowing costumes, making props, and running after school rehearsals. Neji turns to Sasuke and Shikamaru. "How's your café?"
Shikamaru shrugs carelessly. "I don't know. I'm just one of the cashiers, so all I do is collect the money. Easy enough for me."
"I'll tell you how it is," Sasuke says shortly. "Our treasurer is easily provoked into allowing people to spend more than we can afford. Said treasurer is also currently nowhere to be found."
"Shino?" Neji asks. "I saw him in the teacher's lounge earlier. I don't know what he was doing there, though."
"What were you doing in the teacher's lounge?" Naruto mutters suspiciously.
Neji straightens up, offended. "Student council business. I'm sure you know Sasuke goes there often as well."
Naruto sends a questioning glance towards Sasuke, but he's already pulled out his phone and opened Temple Run to relieve his stress and anger.
What is he going to do about their deficit?
He scowls as he runs into a tree.
—
The next morning, Sasuke catches Shino right before gym class. "Can I have a word?"
Seemingly unperturbed, Shino nods, and they enter the locker room together. It's already crowded and smelly from the class before theirs, and they have to reach a secluded spot before they can find some free lockers.
"Sakura showed me our budget summary for the Culture Festival," Sasuke says. "Do you realize our class has already spent twenty thousand yen more than we're allowed to?"
Pushing his glasses up his nose, Shino says, "In total, there are three cafés at the festival this year. Cafés are an overused idea every year, so the question is, how do we make ours stand out compare to the others, and the previous cafés as well? The answer is to do what other cafés have never done before."
…That doesn't change the fact that we've spent way more than we can afford…
"I talked to the teachers about it yesterday after I realized the deficit." Shino turns away to pull off his shirt, changing into his gym clothes. "They said to make up for the money, our class can do a fundraiser."
Sasuke's irritation begins to simmer down. At least Shino isn't as irresponsible as he lets on. "So what's the fundraiser going to be?"
"Hm?" Shino pauses. "I don't know. Aren't you and Sakura going to decide that? I'll handle the finances, like the treasurer is supposed to."
What was that about his irritation simmering down?
This just means all the work is shoved onto Sasuke and Sakura, isn't it? All the president and vice president do is clean up everyone else's messes. Sasuke fists his gym shirt in his hand, determined to not yell at Shino—at least, not in a place where other people can see. It'll ruin his reputation.
Sasuke doesn't exchange another word with him, and after he changes, he slams his locker door shut and stalks off.
"What's got your panties tied in a knot?" Shikamaru asks him when Sasuke brushes past him without a word. "Sasuke?" Sasuke stomps out of the locker room and into the gym, where some people are already stretching.
His eyes sweep the room for the blob of pink, and once he does, he makes his way over to Sakura, who's with Ino and Hinata.
"Shino said our class is going to have to do a fundraiser to make up for the deficit."
"Oh." She steps away from the other girls to speak to him properly. "Not that I mind, but what are we going to do?"
Sasuke rolls his eyes. "That's our job to decide, apparently. The treasurer has no say in the matter."
"…Oh." She crosses her arms, a small frown on her lips. It's a habit of hers, Sasuke's noticed—to frown whenever she's thinking hard. There's a small ripple of frustration too, in the green of her eyes—something else that he recognizes, but doesn't see often. That frustration stays lodged in her expression as she thinks. "I don't know how popular this is in Japan, but we could do a…you know, a…" She struggles to find the word, but can't, so she says it in English—which more or less has Sasuke staring at her blankly. "One of those things where you have a bunch of cookies and cupcakes and stuff, and you sell them."
"Oh, a bake sale?"
She snaps her fingers, and her frustration disappears. "Yes, a bake sale!" She laughs, and Sasuke wonders how she can so easily let go of her anger. "Do you think that's doable?"
Sasuke thinks for a moment. "No one really bakes at home since so many cafés and bakeries do it already, but I think it'd be a fresh idea that would bring people in. Sure, why not?"
Sakura claps her hands together, a grin blooming on her face. "Great! Let Shino know that he's not needed, because this won't cost a single yen. We'll just need an area to set things up, and a few tables and chairs. We'll do everything else."
"We?" Sasuke echoes, not liking the sound of this at all.
"Of course, we. And if not we, then just you, because you're the class president. At the end of the day, you're the one who should be working the hardest." When he frowns, she presses her thumb to his forehead and rubs in firm circles. "Stop that. You're going to get severe wrinkles at the age of twenty."
He swats her hand away, although with no real malice. She does it a lot anyway—he's gotten used to it. "Don't decide my life for me. Maybe I want severe wrinkles at the age of twenty."
Sakura snorts, and then laughs, like she sometimes does. She's one of the few who actually laughs at his humor, even though Naruto has told him on several occasions that he's not funny at all. But Sakura laughs every time. "Weirdo," she tells him fondly.
He has a retort at the tip of his tongue, but at that precise moment, their teacher's whistle echoes throughout the gym, and the class is called to attention.
That afternoon, when class is over, Sasuke checks his phone and finds an unread text message.
I'll run the bake sale idea past the teachers tomorrow. If it's a go, come to my place this weekend—we'll make a bunch of food.
But I don't even know how to bake, Sasuke thinks, and texts back as such.
Don't worry. I'll teach you. Just like the way you teach me new Japanese words.
Sasuke can't help but smile a little, slipping his phone back into his pocket.
—
He's worked with Sakura as class president and vice president for approximately half a year. In Sasuke's opinion, he's spent a ridiculous number of hours with her, planning and running events, cleaning the classroom, and going to meetings together. It's almost the same as being a business managers, in some ways.
But this—this takes the cake.
No matter how much they've had to do, it's never required either of them to go to each other's homes.
Sakura is up and early on a Saturday morning, a white and yellow floral apron tied around her waist when she greets him at her front door. Sasuke is wearing an old t-shirt and jeans, feeling awkward because technically, he's never spent time alone with her outside of school.
Apparently, she doesn't feel that way, because she greets him with a smile. "Good morning, Sasuke! Have you had breakfast yet? If not, I just finished a fresh batch of muffins, if you're interested."
He steps inside her home, taking a look around. He's never been here before. "You've already started?"
"Well, yeah, of course. There's a lot to do today. We have to make enough under the assumption that the entire school population will buy something."
"And what's our school population?"
Sakura blinks. "What, you don't know? It's three thousand."
Sasuke blanches.
They have to make enough for three thousand people?
"There's no way," he says, even as she turns her back and heads to the kitchen. He follows her closely, insistent. "That's impossible."
"You think it's impossible. I think that as long as we work hard today and tomorrow"—today and tomorrow?—"everything will be just fine." She tosses something at him, and he almost doesn't catch it. "I just put in the second batch of muffins, but we still need to make more. I'll teach you."
He holds up the item she threw at him, yellow and white and frilly. "This is an apron."
"Wow, your observation skills are really top notch." Was she this snarky when he first met her?
Sakura's kitchen is modest, large enough to fit the kitchen table and the counter spanning two walls. On one of the counters sit steel bowls of different sizes, whisks, measuring cups, and trays. On another counter is all of the ingredients: flour, eggs, milk, sugar, and various color flavorings.
Sasuke is good at many things, but baking is not one of them. He's not even terribly fond of sweets.
As he watches Sakura, she already has her back turned to him, and is measuring the ingredients as she follows the instructions in a small, worn book of recipes. She glances at him over her shoulder. "C'mon, put that on, unless you want to make a mess out of your clothes."
He glances at the apron in his hands once more, shrugs, and puts it on. Naruto's not here to laugh at him anyway.
He turns his back so Sakura can tie it for him, and after she does, they begin to bake.
—
"Ino's told me a few interesting things about you," she says halfway through the morning. Sasuke's arms are tired from kneading and measuring and carrying, and there is flour on both of their faces.
He raises an eyebrow, mixing one of the two bowls of muffin batter. Sakura's mixing the other, like a pro. (Muffins and cupcakes today, she had said—tomorrow, it's brownies and cookies.) "Like what?"
"Like…" She thinks for a moment. "Like apparently, you have this freakish love for Chemistry. And you've never had a girlfriend before in your life. And apart from tea, the only other thing she's seen you drink is tomato juice."
"I've never had more than ten conversations with Ino in my life," he mutters.
"Yeah, well," Sakura laughs, "you don't exactly blend into the crowd, if you know what I mean. Several girls have their eyes on you."
"Does Ino?"
"I don't think so. If you ask me, she's always had a secret thing for Shikamaru. She doesn't talk about her feelings much."
Shikamaru, huh? That doesn't seem like the case, if Sasuke's last conversation with Shikamaru about it was any indication. Sasuke has always had a small inkling about Ino being interested in him instead, but never dwelled too much on it—after all, it's none of his business, really, if she doesn't harass him about it. In general, Sasuke likes her. She's loud, yes, but then again, so is Naruto. Sasuke is used to it.
"I'm not interesting," Sasuke says, stopping his mixing and handing it to her. "Here, I'm done."
Sakura takes one glance at it, and sighs. "Didn't I tell you? It needs to be completely smooth. Don't leave any clumps of flour in there. Also, consistently mix in one direction." Sasuke takes the bowl back, a small frown on his lips. Baking is difficult. "Also, of course you're interesting."
"I'm really not. The only thing Naruto says about me is that I'm too stiff and all I do is play Temple Run."
She laughs. "Naruto's funny."
Sasuke stops his mixing, and glances at her. She didn't deny what Naruto says.
A heartbeat passes. "Sasuke, we're not going to get anywhere if you don't mix properly."
"It's a big bowl of batter," he says as she takes it from him to mix herself. "For a lot of muffins. I get tired."
"My mom does better than you," he tells him, but not unkindly. "It's almost lunchtime. Are you hungry? Grab a muffin, it'll keep you going."
"I don't like muffins."
"You have a choice between chocolate and blueberry, and the raisin ones are on their way too, if you can muster enough energy to mix your batter."
Sasuke turns around to look at the kitchen table, where several dozen muffins sit, not the least bit appetizing. He doesn't mind that the entire kitchen is swimming in the scent of pastries, but to have them for lunch is a bit…
He feels Sakura's hand of reassurance on his shoulder. "We'll put these in the oven, and then make a proper lunch. Okay?"
He nods, grateful. "Okay."
"And then after lunch, it's cupcake time!"
How is today not over yet?
—
"You've lived here all your life, right? Was this place always like this?"
"This neighborhood? Yeah. Although the shopping district used to be smaller, I think. It's expanded quite a bit these last few years."
"I see." Sakira quietly drinks her miso soup. "Japan is so industrialized. Everything just goes up, up, up."
"You don't like it?"
"It's not that, but…" She stares at the plate of their messily made onigiri sitting between them. After a bit of arguing, they had decided with making half of them tuna, and the other half umeboshi. "It's just really crowded here, I guess. It's sometimes hard to breathe. I might go back to America one day."
Sasuke chews thoughtfully, and swallows. "Who's going to split the student council work with me if you're not here?"
She laughs. "You're not going to find a vice president as great as me."
"Yeah, so don't go."
"Is that a challenge, Uchiha Sasuke?" Her eyes twinkle mischievously, a twinkle that he's only seen in her before. Maybe it's the American charm in her, that touch of extroversion and fearlessness that can't be found in many people around here. Sakura may be a wallflower sometimes, but she's never been afraid to speak her mind or talk to new people. There's just something about her, he supposes.
Sasuke avoids her gaze, unsure of where his thoughts are going. "But then again, I won't be class president next year, so it doesn't matter to me where you go."
"Ouch. That hurts."
Against his wishes, a smile twitches at his lips.
"You know what, Sasuke?" Sakura takes a bite out of her onigiri, and chews thoughtfully. "I like you. Despite what others have told me about you before I actually got to know you, I still like you. Quite a bit, actually—it's a little annoying."
An unprecedented blush dusts Sasuke's cheeks, and he hides his face behind his bowl of miso soup. How can she talk like that and not be embarrassed? "Don't say things like that," he mutters, determined to look anywhere but her.
Yes, I like you too. So what?
"Why? Are you so stiff that you can't admit to being friends with a girl?"
"Friends?"
"Yeah. What, did you think that was a confession?" Sasuke chances a glance at her, and she stares back at him with frightfully honest eyes. "Well, I suppose it could've been. If you wanted it to be."
Her words leave him teetering on something very foreign and scary, so Sasuke opts for the safer choice, and steps back from it. "Are you finished eating yet? Didn't you say we had to make cupcakes now?"
He could've imagined it, but he sees a touch of disappointment in her features. It disappears in a flash though, and she smiles again. "Yes, cupcakes. That means icing! And sprinkles! Isn't that exciting?"
Sasuke doesn't find it exciting at all, but he finds his heart beating very fast anyway.
—
"Oh, what's this? You smell so good!"
"That's because I was forced to make baked goods all day," Sasuke mutters as his mother hugs him upon returning home. "Is dinner ready?"
"It will be soon. The bath is ready, so if you want, you can go in first."
"It's fine. I'll go later tonight."
"This Sakura that you mentioned," his mother hums, fixing his bangs like she's prone to do even though there's nothing wrong with his bangs, "you spent all day with her. Will I be meeting her soon?"
Sasuke chokes. "She's not my girlfriend."
"Really? If she can deal with you for long periods of time, maybe she should be."
His mother laughs when he glares at her, and returns to the kitchen to finish up dinner. As Sasuke pads up the stairs, he catches a glimpse of his father watching the news in the living room.
"What's this I hear? Little Sasuke has a girlfriend?" His meets his brother at the top of the stairs, his eyebrows raised in feigned surprise.
"She's not my girlfriend, moron," Sasuke shoots at him before disappearing into his room.
This is his family, functioning like clockwork. His mother dotes on him and his father rarely speaks to him and his brother makes fun of him, and Sasuke wouldn't have it any other way. A faint smile lingers at his lips as he closes his door behind him and pulls out his phone.
He goes through his short list of friends, and considers who to ask. Naruto? Absolutely not. Shikamaru—he's trustworthy, but probably wouldn't give the best advice.
Neji? Neji. He even lives with a girl their age. He'll know best.
Sasuke presses the number 3 on his number pad for speed dial for Neji. (1 is for Naruto, 2 for Shikamaru—they're in the order Sasuke met them in, to avoid favoritism and ensure organization. In some ways, he's as OCD as Neji is.)
"Sasuke?" Neji picks up, sounding as calm as ever, if not a little inquiring.
Sasuke clears his throat. "How do you tell if a girl likes you?"
There is a long moment of silence. "Well, one indicator, I suppose, would be if she told you she likes you."
"She sort of did. Maybe. I'm not sure what the implications of it were."
"We're talking about Sakura, I presume?"
For the second time in five minutes, Sasuke chokes. "How did you know?"
"Do you mean to say that there's another girl who regularly shows up in your life who might actually be interested in you?"
"Neji, half of the female population is interested in me."
"Yes, but they probably wouldn't be if they got to know you."
"I think Shikamaru's rude tendencies are rubbing off on you…"
"We digress. Sakura?"
"Yeah." With a sigh, Sasuke crosses his room to sit down on his bed, flopping back onto his pillows. "She kind of said something today, and I don't really know what she means by that."
"Well, before that, do you like her?"
A breath. "No."
"…I'll take that as a yes."
"Fine, so I do. Don't you dare breathe a word of this to anyone, you hear me?"
On the other end of the line, Neji sighs. "Yes, I know. So if you like Sakura, then I think you should go for it. If she said something that could be taken either way, she might be hinting at something. And even if she's not, at least you took the chance."
"You're upsettingly logical about this."
"Women are as simple as men, Sasuke. You just have to know how to see them."
"What if it's actually nothing, and I'm over-thinking this? Won't this ruin our friendship?" Not that Sasuke is very good at keeping friendships anyway—most of his friendships consist of people clinging to him like hungry koalas.
"Sasuke, I don't think Sakura is the kind of person to abandon a friendship over something like this. Don't worry. Do what you want to do."
Sasuke is quiet for a moment, pensive. "Okay. Thanks. And remember, not a word of this to anyone."
"Of course. I'll be the first to buy you congratulatory tea when you two get together."
"Yeah, whatever. See you on Monday."
"Bye."
Sasuke drops his phone and it lands on his stomach, bounces off, and falls onto his bed. He had already more or less made a decision before he called Neji, but he wanted some reassurance—something that Neji always gave, because despite everything, Neji is a good friend.
Sakura is…how does he explain it? An enigma. She is a puzzle that he has yet to understand, full of complexities and thoughts and feelings and culture differences that Sasuke can't even begin to fully comprehend at the rate they're going now. He's always wondered what it'd be like to spend endless days with her, to talk to her about every topic possible—and really, when a person begins to think like that, doesn't it mean that he's already fallen?
Does Sakura want to do that with him, too? What does she see in him? What does she think about him?
Just thinking about it makes his heart skip a beat.
He's never liked a girl before. This is interesting.
—
It's cloudy and chilly the next morning, but Sakura's smile is still as bright as the sun. "Good morning!"
"Morning," he replies. When she steps aside to let him into the house but he doesn't move, she raises her eyebrows at him questioningly. He scuffs his shoes against the ground and averts his gaze elsewhere and tells her, as honestly as he can, "I like you too, I guess."
For a brief moment, Sakura just stares at him with wide eyes, green and unguarded and so very pretty. Then they soften and her smile returns. "That's nice to know," she says, and prompts him to come in by opening the door wider.
They start with the cookies today. Cookies of all kinds—oatmeal, chocolate chip, raisin, gingerbread—Sakura has an entire stack of recipes in her kitchen, for all types of baked goods. Once again, Sasuke finds himself working in a room filled with the scent of sweets that he wouldn't eat if he had the choice not to, but perhaps today is more enjoyable than yesterday. After all, even if only minutely, his relationship with Sakura has changed.
Cookies are harder to make than muffins and cupcakes, because it requires actual kneading, instead of just mixing. Sasuke finds himself rolling up his sleeves and irritably brushing his bangs out of his eyes with the back of his hand as he does so, completely engrossed in the task at hand.
"So I was wondering about the prices," Sakura says, kneading her dough like it's nothing. "How much do you think everything should cost?"
"Five hundred yen a cookie," he answers without hesitation. "That should probably make up for the service fee."
"No one's going to buy cookies at five hundred yen each," she says with a stifled laugh. "There is no service fee, Sasuke—remember, we're making up for our deficit? And if this goes well, we can even make this food for our café, too! Then maybe you'll get something out of it."
"Maybe?"
"Yeah. Maybe."
"This is stupid."
"Hasn't Neji been class president for years? I thought you'd know a thing or two about this by now."
Sasuke turns to glare at her, but instead, what comes out of his mouth is this: "You have flour on your cheek."
She tilts her head to look at him too. She stands up straight, her hands leaving her large ball of cookie dough, and points at Sasuke's face. Does he have flour on his face too? A frown meets his lips, distracting him enough to not notice Sakura's finger coming too close until it's too late. Her fingertip brushes the tip of his nose, and she smiles. "You do too."
What is she, five years old?
"Hey, Sasuke…" Sakura rolls on the balls of her feet, her hands now clasped behind her back. "Can I kiss you? I mean…can we kiss?"
The white and yellow of her apron, the pink of her hair, and the green of her eyes make her look like the epitome of spring, even though it's long since been autumn, and everything is swamped in rich reds, oranges, and golds. Sakura is a season all her own and Sasuke doesn't know how she does it—how she can just drift into the room and take the floor.
"I've," he croaks, "never kissed anyone before."
Smooth.
"Plenty of time to learn, right?" Her voice is like a breeze past his ears as she stands on her tiptoes, grabbing hold of his apron to keep herself steady. Literally every limb in Sasuke's body freezes because she is far too close for this to be comfortable—but isn't this how people kiss?—and she looms closer and closer, until he can see the faint freckles dusting the bridge of her nose.
Her warm breath skims his lips, like a whisper, a promise. Sakura wobbles on her tiptoes and her hands have to grasp Sasuke's waist instead—he jerks at the touch because he's embarrassingly ticklish. Her palms press down harder, hard enough for the feeling to go away.
"A kiss is reciprocal," Sakura reminds him breathily after a moment of frozen silence.
"Oh," he replies dumbly. A moment more of her waiting and he closes the distance between them hastily. They bump harshly from the force and the first frantic thought that goes through Sasuke's head is that he is absolutely not made for romance.
The kiss is short, and when they pull apart, Sakura's eyebrows are quirked funnily, as though even she isn't sure what emotion she wants to express. Sasuke is embarrassed, to the point where he doesn't even remember the feeling of her lips against his.
"I'm not good at this," he explains, even though there isn't really a need to.
"No," she murmurs with a slight frown. "You're not." After another breath, she says, "If you're unsure, it might be better with a…gentler approach? Maybe?"
"You could show me," he offers, just to avoid any more awkward mishaps.
"Okay."
Her hands leave his waist and move up until they reach his shoulders. Her arms wrap around his neck, causing her entire body to press up against his. Sasuke freezes, not knowing what to do or where to put his hands. Sakura's mouth hovers over his for a tentative moment, and then her lips touch his—the feeling shoots like a bolt of electricity down his spine, and if he had any control over his limbs before, he absolutely doesn't now. She tastes kind of like the cookies that she was sampling earlier. Sasuke still doesn't like sweets, but maybe they're okay, if they're on Sakura's lips.
"Lots of it," she mutters when they pull away for the second time. She falls back onto her feet, losing the two inches she had before, but her arms remain locked around his neck in a gentle embrace.
"Lots of it?"
"Practice," she clarifies. "You need lots of it."
Sasuke's ears turn red in a deep blush. "I told you I've never kissed anyone before."
"And I told you there's plenty of time to learn." Sakura smiles, devoid of any accusation or disappointment. Sasuke wonders why that is. Don't girls like guys with experience?
So he asks her just that. She blinks, and laughs. "Some girls do, I guess," she says. "It's just about preference. I don't care about experience. I just care about the person. And like I said"—her smile is so warm and accepting that he nearly drowns in it—"I like you a lot. And if it's experience you want, you'll get it with time."
…Sasuke is absolutely never, ever letting Sakura go.
"Can we kiss again?" he asks meekly, and after a giggle, she presses her smiling mouth against his.
—
Several hours later, they have containers upon containers packed full of baked goods. Sasuke and Sakura are lazily sprawled on her couch, watching random reruns of movies on TV.
Judging by the speed at which simple fundraisers like this get approved, the bake sale will most likely take place this week. A thought strikes Sasuke, and he turns to Sakura. "We'll have to advertise, won't we?"
Sakura's eyes are half-lidded and sleepy. "Damn, I forgot about that." She's sitting horizontally on the couch, leaning against the arm, and her legs resting comfortably on Sasuke's lap. Normally, he wouldn't let anyone do that—but she'll be an exception, he supposes. From now on, Sakura will be an exception for many things. "Do you think we can get someone else to do it for us? Who's good at designing?"
He shoots her a look. "Don't ask me. I'm friends with artistically stunted boys."
"I guess I'll ask Ino. She knows a thing or two about Photoshop." The quick and efficient worker she is, she grabs her phone and begins texting immediately.
In the distance, Sasuke hears the front door open, and tenses up. Sakura's family? He hasn't seen them all weekend, and had forgotten they even existed. In a moment of fear, he pushes Sakura's legs off of his lap and becomes incredibly engrossed in what's playing on TV. (It's a beauty infomercial. Figures.)
"Dad! Welcome home!" Sakura glances up from her phone and waves in the direction of the hallway. "You're back early today."
"I finished up work early, so I figured I'd just leave." Sakura's father has the voice of a young man, and when Sasuke turns to greet him with a bow of his head, a young man is exactly who he sees. He has a briefcase in hand and is wearing a neatly tailored suit, but there is no doubt that he is young—and with hair just as pink as Sakura's. "This is…?"
"Oh, that's Sasuke."
"Ah, the unwilling class president." Her father steps into the room and extends a hand—Sasuke hastily gets to his feet to shake it. "Nice to meet you."
"It's nice to meet you too," he replies, and—is that anxiety in his voice? "Thanks for letting me intrude all weekend." Sasuke is usually good with adults and parents, since they like him so much for being so well-mannered, but under the gaze of Sakura's father, he suddenly feels as impudent as Naruto.
"It's no problem." Her father smiles. "This house is big and empty a lot of the time, so feel free to drop by whenever you like. It'll liven this place up a bit."
"I'll keep that in mind." Sasuke forces a smile as her father leaves and pads up the stairs. He plops back down on the couch, releasing a breath that he didn't realize he'd been holding.
Sakura laughs. "He's pretty laid-back. Don't worry." Her legs somehow return to his lap.
"He said this house is empty," Sasuke cautions, wondering if this is a subject he should be broaching. "Your mom…?"
"She's in America," she replies easily, still texting Ino. "My parents are divorced. That's why I'm here in Japan in the first place. You'd figure that half the world is enough distance to put between two people, wouldn't you?"
"Oh. I'm sorry, I didn't know."
"Of course you didn't. I don't talk about it. Do me a favor and don't tell the others, okay?"
Sasuke nods, feeling warm underneath Sakura's trust. "Okay."
So that's why Sakura came to Japan. It explains a lot of things—her wistfulness towards America, her constant comparisons between the two countries and cultures. Sometimes, it's like she's drifting—he can't tell exactly what she's thinking, as though her mind is somewhere else, even though she's physically right beside him.
He wonders if she misses if. He wonders if she wants to go back.
A minute later, she puts down her phone and reaches her hand towards him, fingers wiggling. Unsure of what she wants, Sasuke reaches out until their fingertips touch—she grasps his hand, and their hands fall in between them, resting on the couch.
For the next little while, they continue to sit there, holding hands, watching that beauty infomercial.
—
"Did you know," he says to Neji during lunch the next day, "that spicy food doesn't actually affect how much acne you have? If you do have acne, it's more likely because of stress and lack of sleep."
Naruto snorts at the information, but Neji just blinks at him slowly. "Thanks, Sasuke, but I don't have acne anyway."
"Yeah, I bet it's because Hinata lends you her beauty products," Naruto snickers.
Neji scoffs and doesn't dignify him with a response.
"Naruto," Shikamaru drawls, "I bet half the reason why most of the female population is either interested in Sasuke or Neji is because of their flawless skin."
Perturbed, Sasuke touches his own cheek. He has flawless skin?
"What are you talking about? Girls like me too!" Naruto's retort launches a full scale argument between him and Shikamaru, causing Sasuke to roll his eyes. They're all riled up on a Monday. Of course.
"Neji," he says softly while the other two are distracted. Neji turns to him, indicating that he's listening. "You owe me tea."
Neji raises an eyebrow. "Oh? So it went well?"
"That's one way to put it."
They fist bump, and that is that.
A/N: I am pretty sure most of you (and by that, I mean all of you) were waiting for this chapter, so here it is! Hello from Paris; Europe is absolutely magical. :)
