love at first sight

theeflowerchild

cinq

She doesn't give him the time of day anymore—it hurts, but he believes it's for the best.

She avoids him at all costs if she can, really, and he's noticed. If he's walking down a hallway, and she notices him, she'll look like she's suddenly gone the wrong way, and turn around immediately. She makes sure to never go to dinner when he does. She'll find any way to get out of giving him a patient file, or delivering information on behalf of Tsunade. She rarely frequents her favorite nurses stations, and the times of her rounds have changed. He never sees her on the train in the morning, and she avoids him at absolutely all costs when she's leaving.

He doesn't blame her; he was rude, and it was uncalled for. He was nasty, and uncouth, after being so kind and friendly to her, and she was anything but cruel in return. He's tossing her around. She probably saw him as a peer, a friend, or even a mentor of some sort—as sick as that makes him feel—and for him to turn his back on her so quickly, and for seemingly no reason, he's sure it hurt. He completely removed her from his radar; or, at least, made it seem like he did.

On top of that, she is a teenage girl; an ill-tempered, wild, intelligent, charming, beautiful—well, he's getting off track, but teenage girls are emotional, and sensitive, and all these circumstances would ultimately add up to her hating him.

He also reminds himself of how intimidating he probably comes off. He's quiet, and full of quips, and rarely smiles. He's tall, and dark, and brooding, and intelligent way beyond his age. He's a force to be reckoned with, and he knows this, so on top of all the other reasons, there is a possibility he simply scared her.

That being said, it hurts. He had stitched up the wound many months ago, only to let her back into his life. Then, he had to go ahead and yank those stitches out as harshly and quickly as he could, and rub some dirt in the wound for added affect. He's in pain, and he's done it all to himself, he can admit, but that doesn't dull it.

It's much harder this time around. Now that he's had a taste of her, of who she is, of the saccharine taste she leaves in his mouth, of how beautiful she is up close, of how her eyes glitter with speckles of gold, of how she throws her head back when she laughs, of how intelligent she is, of how great of a conversationalist she is, of how much she could mean to him, it's much, much harder to remove her from his psyche. He can't get the idea of her to take a hike. He is a cold, barren apocalypse, and she is water, and fresh air, and beautiful, flourishing vegetation. He needs her.

He considers the idea that it's sick, often, the way he feels about her. He's a damn grown man, and she's pushing seventeen as is. She hasn't even graduated high school, hasn't had the same experiences he has, hasn't gone to college, or had her first real job—who knows if she's had a real boyfriend, or a real first kiss, or a real anything. And here he is, some lecherous old man doting on the idea of a little pixie with pretty pink hair and doe eyes, needing her like he needs water, or sleep, or oxygen to breathe. Even if he did have the guts to do something about this infatuation with her, she'd probably think he was disgusting, and turn him away—hell, he'd be lucky if she didn't report him to the cops. So, like he always does, he believes it's for the best.

He's distracted, more so than ever, and he barely ever sees her as is. Whatever happened to, "out of sight, out of mind?" It's a damn lie, he thinks; if she's not around him physically, she is subconsciously. He thinks about her, writes about her, dreams about her.

The dreams are the worst part.

Sure, he can control his thoughts, but the dreams? They're unrelenting, painful, and vexing. He can't control these. Sometimes they're innocent enough: him laughing with her in the dining hall, her talking to him about medicine, him walking her to the train late, late at night. They're what he wishes they could be in the daytime: friends.

Then, there are those dreams. What he very secretly wishes they could be. The thoughts he swallows like bile after a shot, the thoughts that are kept in the deepest places of his mind. The ones where it's hot, and dark, and the only things left are the moon in the sky, and two people in a room. The ones where he sees her, really sees her, barebacked in his white sheets as she calls his name on deaf ears. The ones where her skin is scorching, and her lips are like lava against his. The ones where he feels her tongue on the shell of his ear, and wraps his hands around her tiny waist. The ones where he moves within her like there's nothing else to do in the world—

He shakes his head, pushing the idea further into his subconscious. It's one thing if he unconsciously feels these things; he can't help it, he figures, as sick as it is. It's another thing of he consciously chooses to recall these dreams; which is even fucking sicker.

Naruto has ceased his bothering of him. It's refreshing, but nonetheless odd. Naruto lives to bother Sasuke, and it's certainly not that he isn't interested; whether or not Naruto says anything, he still has that sweet, concerning look on his face that makes Sasuke's stomach twist because he can never be as good of a friend as Naruto. It's just that he chooses to keep his mouth shut for once, for some rare, crazy once.

It irks him.

Naruto slurps his ramen, his blue eyes watching Sasuke carefully, like if he doesn't watch him he'll disappear into his seat, or melt into the floor. Sasuke doesn't like being watched, he doesn't like cerulean eyes carefully peering at everything he does. "What?" he snaps, frowning, eyes set in a fierce glare.

Naruto shrugs, and looks back down at his ramen, as if he wasn't intently gazing at the man across from him for the past five minutes. "I don't know what you're talking about, bastard."

"Don't give me that shit," he sneers. "You've been staring at me since we sat down at lunch—shit, moron, you've been staring at me non-stop for the past week." He puts down his fork, and is suddenly intent on finding out what the man is thinking. "What, suddenly got the hots for me?"

Naruto splutters on his ramen. "What the fuck, bastard? Even if I was gay, you'd be the last person I'd want to look at."

He scoffs. "Then what the fuck are you looking at, idiot?"

He shrugs again, nonchalant. It makes Sasuke feel crazy, like he's seeing things, and his mind has been confused enough lately as is. "Nothing, Sasuke."

He can't remember the last time the moron called him Sasuke, and not bastard, or asshole, or some other pseudo-insult meant as a term of endearment. "Are you sure, Naruto?" He says his name like it's a curse word, spits it like it burns his tongue.

Naruto is suddenly glaring. "Yeah, Sasuke, I'm sure."

He leans back in his chair with the quiet intensity that he's famous for. "Is that so?"

"Yeah," he grunts. "Since apparently you don't want to talk about anything, ever, no, I have absolutely nothing to say to you."

He laughs, but nothing is funny. "What the hell is that supposed to mean?"

The blonde's mouth nearly hits the table, but he fixes his glare right back in place as soon as he catches himself. "Have you been on another planet these past few weeks? Earth to Space Cadet fucking Uchiha, do you copy?" he sneers. "By the way, you missed dinner the other night—but don't worry, Hinata wasn't offended, even though she made you an extra portion, and set you an extra placemat, which was extra cleaning for all of us—"

"Alright, I get it," Sasuke says with a resigned sigh, catching Naruto off guard. "I'm slipped my mind."

Naruto frowns. "I tried calling you."

"And as you've said, I've been out of it lately," he murmurs, haphazardly digging back into his sad excuse of a dinner.

"Is that your excuse?" he asks, raising an eyebrow.

"I don't have an excuse," he says. "I said I was sorry."

"Yeah, well…" he starts with a bellow, but then decides to cut him some slack. Maybe he deserves it, maybe he doesn't. "I guess you'll have to make it up to me."

He smirks. "I guess I will."

"Come over tonight," he says. "What time do you get off? It's Tuesday, so six, right? I'll even drive you back home tonight."

He rolls his eyes. "I can take the train back."

"I'll drive you," he insists, eyes sparkling. It's hope. Naruto wants some semblance of happiness in friend's life, even if it's for a few hours over a home cooked meal, and some company, even if it will really mean nothing to Sasuke. Naruto has and always will be a big mess of good intentions, wild grins, and childlike annoyance, and Sasuke can't say no.

Naruto is everything that Sasuke is not, and sometimes he forgets this. He can't hurt Naruto, because Sasuke is not good enough to hurt Naruto. He sighs, and accepts the invitation. "But don't be late to my office, moron. I'll ditch you so quickly you'll get whiplash."

He grins his infamous grin, and Sasuke feels a little better, if only for a second. "You got it, bastard!"

Naruto lives in the suburbs of Konoha, a half-hour out of the city. It's about a twenty-minute train ride on public transportation, and is everything Konoha boasts of: lush, green forests, beautiful cherry blossom trees, white picket fences, eerie replicas of homes in rows, and everything Konoha City is not.

In the winter, it is still beautiful. All the snow is clean, and white, piled on the grass high. Each house is decorated with pretty lights for the holidays, some with adorable snowmen built by the children, others with inflatable holiday characters if they choose to stand out. All the houses are pretty pastel colors, with columns, and big chimneys. They all have gates, and vast backyards, and rolling driveways. It's a suburban wonderland, and it makes Sasuke sick.

This is where Sasuke grew up, and this is where Sasuke escaped from, but that's what they all do, at some point. Naruto did it once, too, but then he fell in love, and started a family, and ended up right back where he started.

Sasuke swears he will never return, but then again, Sasuke swears a lot of things.

Sometimes, he believes Konoha has a real charm to it. It's a wonderful place to raise kids, very close to a bustling city full of commerce and work, blusters wonderful, magnet schools, and is accessible to most income ranges. It's gorgeous, too, even if all the houses are similar, and everybody looks like they're in competition with one-another. He thinks maybe, one day, when he falls in love, and starts his own family, Sasuke will begin to enjoy this charm—they all do, just like Naruto, and even his brother, Itachi. Sasuke pushes this thought away whenever it surfaces.

Naruto's house is a little different, he thinks, but maybe that's because it's so familiar to him. It's lavender, just what Hinata wanted, and there are colorful Christmas lights hanging loosely from the gutters. There's a big reindeer on the front porch decorated with white lights that clash awfully with the colored ones, but it's appealing in a way he can't quite place. The trim is a rust color—it was the closest thing Hinata would allow to orange—and the windows are large, and bright. They always keep the curtains open. It's a bright, happy home, for a bright, happy family, and Sasuke loves to come here, even if the aftertaste is bitter, and unsettling.

"We're here," Naruto says, even though Sasuke knows. The car churns to a halt, and he steps out onto foreign territory.

With a sigh, he enters the home, and is greeted by gorgeous furniture that Hinata obviously chose, and children's toys strewn across the floor. If Sasuke didn't love Naruto so much, he'd be jealous of the home he's developed for himself, of the stereotypical family life that Sasuke wants so desperately, but can't quite grasp.

"Oh, Sasuke-kun, it's been forever since I've seen you!" Hinata says, coming out of the kitchen in a rush. Her voice is just as sweet and soft as he remembers, and she brings him into a hug he hesitantly complies with—as if he'd turn down honeyed, gentle Hinata.

"It's nice to see you, too," he says, patting her back carefully.

She lets go not a moment later and plasters a soft smile on her face. "You'll be joining us for dinner, I assume?"

He snorts. "As if Naruto didn't call you a second after I left in excitement."

She laughs matronly, and Naruto claps the back of his head. "Hey, shut the fuck up, bastard."

"Naruto-kun!" she chastises, frowning. "Your son is right inside!"

A sheepish grin makes his way to his face, as he scratches the back of his head in embarrassment. "Uh, sorry, Hinata-chan."

She rolls her eyes, and smiles softly. Everything she does seems placid, and affable, always peaceful. She kisses her husband softly on the lips and says, "It's fine," before adding with a slightly harsher tone, "Just don't do it again."

He nods his head dutifully, and follows after her as she stalks off toward the kitchen. Naruto and Hinata make a great pair, Sasuke thinks as he follows suit. They complete each other, in a way, though he'd never say that out loud. They're not a couple, they're a team, and they work together like a well-oiled machine.

Hinata cooks, and Naruto cleans. Hinata does the laundry, and Naruto takes out the trash. Hinata takes the late night shift with the baby, and Naruto takes the early morning. The baby is given attention to by Naruto just as much as Hinata. They share the tasks around the house as equally as they can. It's a union, a partnership. Their love is unbounded, unrelenting, and balanced beyond compare. It's what every marriage should aspire to be, and they've found the perfect tranquility for them.

As Naruto begins to set the table, Hinata continues cooking, just like they always do. They have a routine that works perfectly, and Sasuke feels like he should be envious, but he can't bring himself to. They're too damn happy, and perfect for him to feel anything close to jealousy.

"So, Sasuke-kun, how's the department coming along?" Hinata asks, leaning over a pot of something that smells delicious.

He shrugs, grabbing the glasses from the cabinet to help with the setting. He always helps out, even if he isn't asked; it's something his mother taught him, and even if Sasuke can be a real jackass, he's never ill mannered. "It's going," he says. "And the nurses?" he asks.

"Being head nurse is a lot of work, bastard," Naruto pipes in. "She's always exhausted!"

"But that doesn't mean I don't love it any less." She smiles, and repeats, "It's going. We've got a few new hires that have no clue what they're doing, but do any of us?" she asks, a mocking philosophical air to her voice as she waves her hand.

Sasuke snorts. "I guess not."

"There is one girl, though," she says, and thinks for a moment. She turns the heat off of the foot, pushing it to the back burner. "An intern—Sakura Haruno? Have you see her before? Pink hair, you can't miss it. Very dedicated, and has a real talent. She'll be a great doctor one day."

Sasuke halts in his movements, almost dropping the glass in his hand. He catches himself a moment later, face as stoic as ever. "I can't say I have."

Naruto's brows furrow. "Hey, wait, bastard, isn't that the girl—"

"I'll go get Boruto from the den, if you'd like," he offers, speaking over the loudmouthed blonde who has already said too much. It's a topic he doesn't want to talk about. Avoiding that topic is exactly why he's here, actually, setting some stupid table, for some stupid meal, with his stupid friends, when he could be home, alone, thinking, and eating bad takeout.

"That'd be great, Sasuke-kun, thank you," Hinata says, and smiles softly.

He escapes the kitchen as quickly as possible, heading straight for the den. Naruto's beautiful, young child greets him in his basinet. It's almost scary how much he looks like Naruto, and he almost feels bad for the kid; he hopes that he's as smart as his mother.

He smirks, and picks the child up with ease. He giggles in his arms and Sasuke almost feels his heart twitch. "Long time no see, kiddo." His eyes sparkle like his father's, and Sasuke's smirk widens. "Let's go get some dinner, alright?" He hoists the tyke on his hip, and carries him down the hallway. He giggles, and blows raspberries, and Sasuke often believes he loves the kid as if he were his own.

On his way back down the hallway, enraptured with the cooing baby on his hip, he happens to overhear Hinata say, "you're right, he does seem a little off."

He stops in his tracks, eavesdropping carefully. He knows he shouldn't, but they're talking about him, so doesn't that give him a little bit of a right?

"I'm worried," Naruto admits, and he sounds sadder than Sasuke has ever heard. "He's always a jerk, but he's… distant, you know?"

Hinata doesn't say anything, but Sasuke is sure she's nodding.

"I don't know what to do," he says, and sighs loudly. "The bastard won't talk to me—hell, it's hard enough to get a word out of him about his weird disposition, let alone something about how he's feeling."

Sasuke frowns. He's not sure if it's because this is what Naruto, apparently, talks about when he's not around, or because he really does feel for his friend, and wishes he could say something about what he's feeling.

He could never, though. It could only end badly, crashing like a plane in an open field. He can't afford to throw Naruto under the bus, either. It wouldn't be right.

"I know you care about him, sweetheart," Hinata says, "but Sasuke-kun is a grown man, and he has to take care of himself."

Naruto sighs again and he hears them kiss quickly. "I know, baby, but I can't let him go on like this. He's miserable."

"Now, you don't know that," she says.

"I just know with the asshole, Hinata," he insists. "I always know how he's feeling. I've learned after so many years to read his stupid actions, because he never says a damn word about anything."

It's Hinata that sighs this time, and he hears another kiss. "You're too kind for your own good."

He laughs. "Try to tell the bastard that. He just thinks I'm trying to bust his chops."

She laughs in return. "Well, aren't you?"

"I guess," he admits, and laughs again, but his voice goes serious so quickly that Sasuke almost misses it. "I have to do something."

"I know," she says. "But we can discuss this later, he should be back any moment with Boruto-chan. Last thing you want is to get caught talking about him, he'll kick your butt."

He knows Naruto is frowning. "Hey, I could take him, anytime!"

Sasuke enters with a snort, decidedly pretending he hasn't heard anything. "If you're talking about me, in your dreams, moron."

"Hey, bastard, I could take you any day!" he yells, and suddenly, everything is back to normal, like he didn't just overhear their little conversation, like Naruto isn't totally concerned with Sasuke's wellbeing, and mental health.

The dinner goes like any other dinner with Naruto; it's long, and funny, with a few comments from Hinata here and there. Sasuke helps clean up afterward, and Naruto drives Sasuke home after, just he like said he would.

He starts, just like Sasuke expects him to.

"Listen, bastard," he says over the low hum of the radio. "I know you don't want to talk about anything—"

Sasuke sighs loudly.

"And you don't have to," he adds, quickly. "But I'm always here if you need me."

"And, as I've been saying, nothing is wrong," he says with a frown. "I'm just tired, and overworked."

Naruto shrugs. "Fine."

"Fine," he agrees, and crosses his arms, leaning into the chair.

The rest of the ride back to Sasuke's apartment is completely silent, save for a few curse words from Naruto to a few asshole drivers.

Before Sasuke gets out of the car, Naruto reiterates, "I'm always here for you, man."

"Yeah, yeah," he says, waving him off as he steps out of the car. "I'll see you tomorrow, moron. Try not to do anything too stupid while I'm away."

He grins. "I have Hinata to watch me, don't worry, asshole."

With a long sigh and a smirk, he stalks off toward his empty apartment, and knows he will never, ever lay his burden on Naruto. He can't.

He won't.

edited: 8/17/15

HEY SO my birthday is coming up on Tuesday, so please REVIEW AS MY BIRTHDAY PRESENT! It'll certainly make my week! And thank you SO MUCH for all the ongoing support of the story, I really appreciate it and it really keeps me going!

PLEASE REVIEW ILY ALL

Peace.