love at first sight
theeflowerchild
trois
He decides to avoid her like she's the plague. It only helps a little, but it's better than nothing.
He figures out what time she goes to dinner, and what rooms Tsunade sends her to on a daily basis. He finds out what days she has off, what days she works in pediatrics, what days she works in the oncology unit, and what days she works in diagnostics. When she knocks on the door to drop off files, he does not answer, forcing her to leave them in his mailbox. He figures out what nurse's stations she frequents most, which patients she loves, which hallways she flutters down most—and he avoids them.
It works, for the most part. Sometimes she'll catch him off guard in a flurry of pink, but he'll be able to gather himself and go on with his day, like it never happened. By November, her pace slows in his mind and his thoughts are not as clouded as they have been. It isn't by much, but it's enough that it's noticeable, and he's pleased. If he keeps this up, one day, maybe she'll be gone.
He forgets that Konoha is a small city, and that he has ran into her before.
He decides to take the subway to work one day. The harsh winters of Konoha are early and unforgiving; the snow starts in November, but the wind cuts you by September. He would be better off sparing the two-fifty for a ticket than sparing a few toes to hypothermia.
He takes the seat in the corner, because it is empty and it is his favorite. It's early, seven AM, and people are scarce. Those that are there are bundled up religiously, drowning in layers of sweaters and scarves and parkas. He loosens his own scarf in the heat of the train, basking in the warmth against his flush cheeks.
She steps on at the next stop.
She doesn't see him at first, and a part of him prays that her pretty green eyes won't twitch to their left. Her cheeks are rosier than her hair and her lips are one shade away from baby blue. She is swimming in her big black pea coat, and, he prides himself on his perfect guess, loose, pretty pink dress. It's the first time he's really seen her outside of her scrubs.
When she finally does see him, her lips twitch up in a smile. He knows the way he's been treating her, and almost can't believe she still treats him with such kindness. "Uchiha-senpai," she says as she approaches him. "Hello."
He nods her way and barely makes eye contact; he thanks his lucky stars for the cold weather to excuse the tiny blush building on his cheeks. "Good morning, Sakura."
"Off to work?" she asks, taking up the seat beside him.
He can't get himself out of this one, he thinks—and his hard work had paid off so well. He could already feel himself running backwards at the sound of her pretty voice and the sight of her pretty smile. "Yes. School?" he asks.
"Sadly." She pushes a lock of hair behind her ear, exposing the nape of her neck. Her collarbones protrude slightly, delectably. He slaps the word out of his mind. "And then off to a lecture with Tsunade-sama."
"She's a slave driver," he says with a sigh.
"She really is, Uchiha-senpai," she agrees with a small smile.
"You... can call me Sasuke," he tells her. The words slip out of his mouth before he can catch himself, his last name too formal, his first too intimate.
"Sasuke," she says, so unknowing. Her voice sends a shiver up his spine.
He silently damns himself for allowing the breach of the formality, like it's just another piece of her to have of him—as if she even knows, or can understand what she does to him. A melancholy sort of relief comes over him when the lights blink "Academy Street" over their heads. "This is your stop, isn't it?" he asks.
"Oh, right, yes," she confirms and grabs her backpack off the floor. It's nearly overflowing and he easily believes she's overwhelmed. "It was nice seeing you, Sasuke."
He feels his pulse quicken when she says his name, again, so affectionately; he can almost feel her words against his eardrums, tickling him. "Yeah, you too."
She steps off the train and he considers taking the train home tonight, but not for her. He hears there's a storm coming and decides it's for the best.
A conversation with her is all it takes for him to fall behind in his work.
"Uh, Sasuke?" Naruto asks, waving a hand desperately in his friend's face. He discards his ramen for a moment out of concern for him. "Hello, anybody in there?"
He looks up, like he's been awoken from a dream, with blank eyes. "What?" he hisses, blankness easily fashioning into a fierce glare.
"Man, I know you don't talk much, but you're really in your own head today," he comments, slurping on his ramen. "Is everything okay?"
"Yeah. Why wouldn't it be?" Sasuke responds harshly, focusing on the folder in front of him once again. He doesn't really remember drifting off, but he believes it. Ever since he saw her on the train that morning, he confirmed his suspicion about his reversion back to… what could he even call it? A crush?
No, it's love.
"I don't know, you're quiet," Naruto says. "Quieter than usual."
He shrugs. "Like you said, I don't talk much."
He rolls his big blue eyes. "Whatever, Sasuke. What I was trying to ask you before you drifted off into Neverland—hey, don't glare at me like that, you know it's true—was did you ever get that MRI?"
"What MRI?" he asks.
Naruto musters the dullest look he can. "Sasuke, we were just talking about a patient."
"Oh, right," he says. "Satoshi, right."
"Yeah, Satoshi," he repeats. "Did you ever get the MRI?"
"No, sorry." He shakes his head, making a mental note to schedule the guy with an appointment. "I'll get on that, sorry."
Naruto frowns. "Come on, Sasuke, this really isn't like you."
He sighs, resigned. "Yeah, I know." He clucks his tongue and decides to admit, "I've just been sort of distracted lately, and…" he trails off, eyes suddenly looking somewhere that certainly isn't Naruto.
He raises a wild blonde eyebrow in response, confused and unamused. "Uh, Sasuke?"
She's there, waving, with a pretty little smile on her face.
Naruto immediately turns around, trying to follow his friend's line of sight. "What are you looking at?" he asks.
Sasuke can't even begin to comprehend how Naruto can miss her, this beautiful girl, this little thing that's captured his attention, but he thanks whoever is watching over him that he does. "Nothing, sorry, I just saw something. I have to go," he suddenly says, standing up with files in hand. He sees Sakura's face drop slightly at his sudden movements and he feels bad, but he can't help but be relieved when she finally sits down at a table and all he can see is her back.
"You're still on break for like, twenty more minutes," he responds, squinting his eyes at him, sizing him up.
"I have to get that MRI, remember?" he says. It's an excuse, he can't stay. "I'll call you with the results."
"Alright," Naruto says, but he's sure Sasuke is out of earshot. "What a weirdo…" he mutters, turning around once again. He looks over the crowd in the cafeteria, and then to the snow piling outside the window and can't figure out what his best friend was so distracted by…
But he will, and Sasuke can count on that.
Over his four-years of working, Sasuke has climbed the neurological totem pole at Konoha Medical Center. His family and friends always expected great things from him—he graduated a year early from high school, Valedictorian, then finished his bachelors and masters in four years, and his doctorate in another two—but his promotion to head of psychology was unbelievable, especially at such a young age of twenty-eight.
So why did he feel so stupid, tired, and old?
With a sigh, he takes a moment to regard a photo set on his desk. Sasuke is far from what you could consider a sentimental man, but he loves his friends openly and dearly in his own way, and family is one of the most important things to him. In fact, Sasuke even wants a family of his own one-day.
Despite this, Sasuke has never really dated, but he also argues that, to be fair, he has never really had the time. Sasuke has had goals most of his life, and these goals involved extensive years of schooling and dedication. Having a girlfriend was never really at the forefront of his mind, but now that he has completed those goals, family happens to be the next thing on his list.
Before his current predicament, he had begun seeking out women. There was a fiery nurse in pediatrics with blonde hair as long as her legs that talked about him a little too often, and the head of oncology, a few years his senior, had always had an eye for him; a busty woman with sand-colored hair and a sultry smile. In fact, women are not scarce in Sasuke's life; he's handsome enough, and successful with a decent pay and a nice apartment. He's a catch, as many would say, and Sasuke knows this.
His goal is not out of reach. He just needs to settle down with a woman he loves and go from there.
He thinks of Sakura, often, and fondly when he thinks of this goal. She's seventeen-years-old, he knows, and yet his mind has no qualms with fashioning her into a companion, a wife, a mother—
He stops himself there. "God fucking damn it," he curses, looking away from the photo of his family. "What the fuck is wrong with me?"
"Um, I'm sorry to interrupt," the voice plaguing him says, breaking him from his reverie; he curses himself for leaving the door open. "Is everything okay, Sasuke?" she asks.
His heart thumps wildly in his chest when she says his name. "Yes, everything's fine," he reassures her, sitting up straight in his chair. He folds his hands on his desk and lets his gaze make contact with her cheeks more than her eyes. "Did you need something, Sakura?"
"Uh." Her mouth is gaping slightly like a fish; she certainly caught his outburst. Why did he leave his door open, again? She looks incredibly cute, he thinks, but pushes the idea from his mind. "Tsunade-shishou wanted me to give you this." She steps into his office and hands him a thick file. "She says she wants you to look at this patient. He presented with what she believed was a tumor after a seizure at work, but she thinks it might be psychological due to stress factors…"
He grabs it from her hands, grazing his pinky against her own. He can feel the static at their touch; he wonders if she notices, wonders if she feels the way he does, in any way, but then remembers that she's just a child. She's just a child. "Tell her I'll take a look at it." He places the folder before him. "Thank you."
"Yeah, no problem," she responds with a smile. He loves her smile, wants to be the cause of her smile, but he knows that will never happen. She goes to make her leave, but quickly turns back around. He pretends like he doesn't notice. "Sasuke?" she asks.
He looks up. "Was that all?" he asks.
"Uh, yes, but, I was just wondering," she says, staring at her feet. "Do you always take the subway?"
"Not always," he says. "During the winter, mostly."
"Well, I get off at ten," she explains. "If you want to take it together—you don't have to, obviously, I get it if you don't want to be seen with some intern or something—"
He interrupts her with, "Sure," despite himself. A tiny smile surfaces on his face and it feels organic and foreign all the same. He knows this is a bad idea, knows this is wrong, but he can't help himself and considers the idea that indulging every once in a while isn't so bad. She's like a cheat during a diet, a drink after a long day at work.
"Alright, good!" she says. "I really don't like walking alone to the subway, anyway. I'll meet you at the nurses station at ten, then?"
"Yeah, sure," he responds.
"Great," she says and she's off, off to do whatever Tsunade tells her to for the next few hours. He knows he shouldn't have said yes, and considers running after her and telling her that something has come up, but he remembers she said that she doesn't like walking alone and he doesn't mind being the reason she feels safe for a little while.
He's deliberately a little late to the nurses' station, even though he's actually done at nine. In most cases, he would've gone home; he doesn't sleep much and tries to get all the rest he can, but he can't bring himself to simply leave her hanging.
When she sees him, she lights up like a firework. His heart races when she smiles—when she laughs, when she says his name, when he hears her voice, when he sees her pretty hair, her pretty eyes. "Hey!" she says.
"Sakura." He swings his briefcase over his shoulder, nods, and begins walking.
She follows behind him and chatters quietly about Tsunade, and her never-ending workload. Her backpack makes her look like she's going to tip over, and her coat makes her look even tinier than she really is. He loves that she's short, loves that the top of her head doesn't even reach his chin.
He wonders, not for the first time, if she has any idea what she does to him.
"Do you like your job?" she asks suddenly, and seems genuinely curious.
"Yes," he says. "I do."
"Is this what you've always wanted to do?" she asks.
"I've always wanted to help people," he says, almost off-handedly.
She laughs light-heartedly. "I would never think that."
He raises an eyebrow. "Why?"
Her cheeks turn a light shade of pink and she's the cutest thing in the world to him. "Well, I dunno, I mean, uh—"
He tells her, "There's a lot you don't know about me."
"I'm sure," she says.
"Is this what you really want to do?" he asks her. He looks at her carefully, watches how her eyes sparkle beneath the stars. The moon casts a shadow on her pale skin, and he can see her freckles. The night does her justice.
"Would I be enduring Tsunade-shishou if it wasn't?" she jokes.
He almost doesn't believe the chuckle that escapes his lips. Most people often see Sasuke as apathetic—he really just lives by an old-fashioned sense of modesty his mother drilled into his head, and, though he'd never admit it, he's a little shy, but it's often seen as blatant stoicism and disregard. "I guess not."
She laughs along with him, and then says, "Thanks for walking with me."
"It's no problem at all." Thankfully, the snow has stopped, but his eyes are still sensitive to the glittering piles on the street. "I guess I take advantage of the ability to feel safe at any time, anywhere."
She shrugs. "Konoha is safe enough, but the subway is a little…" She searches for the word. "Shady."
He shrugs, picturing dirty tile walls and stained concrete floors. At least the trains are clean enough.
When they get on the train, it's, once again, empty. They settle in the corner of Sasuke's volition, and she chatters away. Normally, he'd find it annoying, but it's endearing with her—he's not quite sure whether the talking itself is, or the fact that she's annoying. Her voice is sweet and melodic, not unlike her laugh, and she has a way with words. She fills the silences he can't, she complete hims.
"Well, this is my stop," she says as the train slows down. She places her hand on his wrist and this is the first time they have touched. "Same time, same place tomorrow?"
In a daze, he says, "Yes." Her skin is soft, and warm, and her hands are very tiny. She feels like fire.
"Goodnight, Sasuke." She releases his wrist and, with a wave, she is off the train. He can't help, but check to see if there's a burn.
He doesn't mind having waited an extra hour for her because he does not sleep that night, anyway.
EDITED: 8/17/15
Something to keep in mind: there are a lot of questions about Sakura, but you're learning alongside Sasuke everything about her. She's supposed to be enigmatic, so there are gonna be some holes right now. You don't know anything about her family, her friends, etc... Keep that in mind. :)
Happy Holidays, wanted to update this at least TWICE in one year, lol.
Thanks for reading, I'll try to update it at least once more before I get back to school, which is the 18th, but I have to finish up two other stories I posted: "cheater, cheater, pumpkin eater" and "sniffing paints" which you guys should totally check out and review!
Thanks so much for reading and keeping up with my stuff, even though I take ridiculous hiatuses I don't intend to.
PLEASE REVIEW, LEAVE CRITICISM, JUST "YES GOOD", OR "EWW," OR WHATEVER YOUR HEARTS DESIRE. THEY KEEP ME GOING AND WRITING AND BREATHING AND IT'S NICE BREATHING. THANK YOU ALL!
Peace.