love at first sight
theeflowerchild
sept
He continues to board the train.
He reasons it's the cold weather, even though it isn't something he isn't used to after years of living in the city. He reasons it's the quiet, but the streets at six AM aren't exactly hustling and bustling. He reasons it's his tired legs, but Sasuke has suffered through far worse physical exhaustion in his life. He reasons it's anything but Sakura.
He lives for the saccharine batting of her long eyelashes, and the gentle nod she sends his way as nothing more than a courtesy. He's nothing less than aware of her intentions, but that doesn't mean he won't take advantage of the moment for a little bit of his own enjoyment. Sasuke isn't overwhelmed with happiness much these days if it doesn't involve pink hair and eyes the color of broken beer bottles.
He half blames the universe. There has to be something out there trying to make his life an absolute living hell, because he's certainly not doing it to himself. Sasuke doesn't seek trouble. Sasuke avoids conflict like he's avoided commitment most of his life. Sasuke does not enjoy living in turmoil, and having his thoughts constantly afflicted and consistently bombarded by a tiny, teenage pinkette bent on, apparently, ruining his life isn't something he looks forward to.
But he does look forward to Sakura.
She steps on the train in her pretty, floral dresses, and waves at him like she'd wave at an acquaintance she'd met a handful of times, despite their last, seemingly awkward conversation, and her sincere apology. His heart begs for more, but his mind states that this is enough, and he can relish these tiny encounters, and milk them for far more than they're worth. Their eye contact lingers for no more than seconds that feel like hours, and then he stares at his feet, and she looks out the window at the concrete walls of the underground.
It's been like this for weeks now, and pushing late November has turned into a cold, dark December. He's really not sure why he continues to take the train; he loves walking to work when the air is biting, but the wind is calm. He loves seeing the scarce leaves on the bare trees, and the dead flowers sinking into wet, winter beds of dirt.
That's a lie; he knows why he continues to do so, even when the same boy greets her each morning, and he can safely assume her intentions. The handsome one, the tall one; the one with the chocolate brown hair, and the light eyes that any young girl could easily fall for. He can assume in the young man what she probably sees in him, and he can't ignore their interactions like a car wreck.
He tells himself he's watching out for her, he's making sure she's safe. He consistently tells himself that you can't trust these young men, especially with a tiny, pretty girl like Sakura. The thought crosses his mind that he can't trust himself, either, but he pushes it far aside and entertains the idea of her well-being that's so crucial to him. He wants her to be safe, so he watches as the boy makes her laugh, and she blushes pretty blushes in return that he desperately wishes were for him.
He takes brief moments to admire her short, strawberry blonde hair that is far more strawberry, and barely any blonde. He extols her callow, grassy eyes, painted with pretty eye shadows, and framed by dark eyelashes. He marvels at her round face, and her button nose, and the freckles that he'd never have noticed if she had never gotten close to him in the past. He breathes her in like the cigarettes he so desperately craves, but she is far worse than any kind of nicotine.
He sees Neji twirl a lock of her precious, rose hair in between his fingers, and wonders how soft it is before he is overwhelmed with contempt for the boy. Her hair is not his to touch as much as it isn't Sasuke's, but it is not Sasuke's place to say anything on the matter, so he focuses intently on the book in his lap while he'd much rather rip the boy to shreds.
Like clockwork, Neji is off the train within a matter of minutes, and Sakura is left alone with her big backpack, a startling blush, and her heavy parka, looking like a porcelain doll. A collectible.
Before she gets off at her stop for school, she gives Sasuke one more nod, and a smile that is nothing less than winning in his eyes. He would love to know what she looks like under her large jackets, and giant scrubs, in her simple, floral dresses that reach to her knees. He'd love to see her bony arms, and tiny legs; her collarbones, and the crook of her neck, but he'll have to wait for that.
And Sasuke is not sure how much longer he can wait.
On the way to his mother's house, Sasuke ponders the idea that, perhaps, Sakura has done more than simply take a toll on his emotional state. Perhaps, maybe, she has taken a toll on his social life, too.
Not that Sasuke has ever really had that much of a particularly flourishing social life, of course, but Sasuke has friends, and family that he holds close to his heart, and when Sasuke really thinks about it, he can't recall the last time he took the trek out to his mother's ranch to pay her a visit. "Just last week" has turned into "since Halloween," and that startles him.
Normally, being away from his mother this long would have caused him grave upset. Sasuke needs family like he needs oxygen, not that he'd ever admit it, but he can't even remember the last time that he thought about his mother. All he can remember is missed phone calls, and broken promises of dinners he missed on claims of paperwork that were really spent at home, alone, dwelling on thoughts he'd rather not recall. He remembers lying, too, of course.
If he's being perfectly honest with himself, he's not even sure what possessed him to get on the train today. He worked an all night shift, like every Wednesday night, and isn't due back to the hospital until Friday morning, seven AM sharp. He, simply on a whim, decided to catch the next train into the Konoha suburbs to pay his mother a surprise visit. He's not sure if he had planned a trip he actually would have gone through with it.
Sasuke's life recently has consisted of whims, and good intentions, and this is no exception.
When he steps off the train and hails a cab, he remembers his older brother that he has not seen in just as many months, his best friend's forgotten dinners, and a dozen forgotten phone calls shared amongst his loved ones. Sasuke tries to remember what he was doing during these moments, and the only thing he can come up with is nights spent alone in his room, maybe drunk, maybe tired, maybe feeling nothing at all, but all consumed in thoughts of Sakura. Sasuke has never been in love before, but he never thought it could be this miserable.
"Thirty-Two Maple Court," he tells the driver.
He remembers this drive vividly. He remembers the old gas station across from the terminal. He remembers the ancient park he used frequent. He remembers his brother picking him up late from the train station in his teen years after wild nights in the city with his buddies. He remembers his father dropping him off early in the morning to head off to classes before setting off toward work at the police station. He remembers sneaking out late at night with Naruto to go to parties in the city, or Naruto picking him up the night before his wedding.
He remembers the hurt in Naruto's eyes when he forgets plans. He remembers the crack in his mother's voice when she hasn't heard from him in weeks. He remembers the sharpness in his brother's tone when he tells him how worried they all are.
He slips the driver a few dollars when he pulls up to the house, and is confronted with memories of his childhood. It's the same blue his mother picked out when he was younger, and the once-beige fence holds rotting pegs in its wake. His mother still never parks where his father used to on the driveway, and she still leaves the curtains wide open for anybody to peak in. The door is painfully white, with a golden knob his mother keeps shiny. It's everything he hated growing up, and he loves it just as much now at twenty-eight as he did when he was eight, or eighteen.
He knocks softly, and hears the lilt of his mother's voice. "Coming!" she calls, and he knows it will be more than a minute before she really does.
He is proven correct when more than a minute later she swings the door open. She is everything he remembers: long, silky black hair that she still dyes, even in her older age. She is tall, and thin, with narrow, dark eyes, and crow's feet that are charming more than unseemly. Her thin lips are painted in her favorite cherry lipstick, but everything else is bare, like it's always been. She's all sharp angles, with a tight jaw, a long, thin nose, and high cheekbones. Everybody tells Sasuke he looks like his mother, and Sasuke always thinks that is the highest of compliments, because his mother is a stunning woman, and age has only done her justice.
She lights up like a lamp when she recognizes him, and she's holding him before he can say a word. "Sasuke," she whispers, holding him against her as tightly as she can. He pulls her close, and rests his head on her shoulders. "What a pleasant surprise."
"It's nice to see you, Mom," he responds, and pulls her against him tighter. He doesn't even realize how much he missed the smell of jasmine until it flutters to him from his mother.
She pulls away, and he's greeted with her matronly, loving smile. He can read his mother like a book, but it's easy when she wears her heart on her sleeve, and her emotions on her face like masks. Her smile immediately fades to a frown as she looks him over, and he can only imagine why. "Dear, you look exhausted."
He can barely be upset at her reaction. "I am."
She clucks her tongue. "Well, come in, before you collapse on the porch."
He follows at her heels like a puppy, and is greeted by crisp, white walls, and honey-colored wood floors. Nothing ever changes here, he thinks; the pictures on the walls don't move, or fade, and the same leather couches are still situated in front of the brick fireplace. The rug he used to fight his brother on still runs the length of the hallway, and the mirror his mother always warned him to be careful around still hangs proudly in the foyer. He pauses for a moment when he sees his father's hat hanging noble on the wall, and then moves forward toward the kitchen.
He often believes that his mother's need for contiguity, and sameness is a problem, but this is his mother, and mothers don't have problems. Mothers love, and cherish, and hold their babies when they have problems. Sasuke doesn't believe that his mother would even allow herself to fix such a problem, anyway, so he never brings it up.
"Tea?" she asks. He nods his head. "I have your favorite."
"Thanks, mom," he says, and he knows she keeps it around because it was his father's favorite, too.
"Just get the milk out, sweetheart," she tells him, and fixes the kettle on the stovetop. She grabs two large mugs from the cabinet, and Sasuke notes that those are the same, too.
She pours a little big of sugar in her own, and nothing in Sasuke's, because she knows he hates sweet things. When the kettle rings, she pours the hot water over the tea bags, and pours a little bit of milk in Sasuke's, just like he prefers. She brings the cups to the old kitchen table and purses her lips. "Sit, dear, please," she says when she notices him standing up against the counter, legs crossed, watching her every movement.
He watches her for a moment longer, because that's what Sasuke does; he is a background character, and she is a story waiting to be read by his all knowing eyes. Though Mikoto wishes her son had joined the police force, not unlike his father, and just like his brother, she knows that he's better off watching people, like he always has. "Sure," he says, and finally takes a seat across from her. He smells the smoking black tea before him, and pushes it aside to cool. "How are you, Mom?"
"Same as always," she says, and takes a sip of her tea. Sasuke often wonders how she does so without burning her tongue. "And you? You look exhausted."
"You already said that," he claims with a tiny smirk.
"Was your surprise visit simply to sass me?" she asks with a raised eyebrow. "Or would you like to have a conversation with your mother?"
He rolls his eyes. "Sorry."
"It's fine," she says, and she's smiling again. She changes her mood so quickly he feels whiplash, and it's endearing, and confusing at the same time. "I take it you've been very busy."
"You can say that," he responds, shrugging his shoulders, nearly too cryptic.
She sighs. "And I'm assuming you don't want to talk about it."
"Not particularly," he quips.
"Why have a job you don't love?" she asks, brows furrowed.
"I never said I didn't love it," he responds, and there's a small smile on his lips.
It's her turn to roll your eyes. "You're just like your father."
"Thank you," he says, and his smile widens a fraction. Sasuke doesn't smile often, but he can't help but offer his few to his mother. "How's work?" he asks.
She shrugs her shoulders. "The same, of course." She takes another long sip of her tea. "I've always enjoyed working at the police station."
"I know." He chuckles softly. "Is Itachi working you to the bone?"
She ignores the question, and frowns. "When's the last time you've spoken to Itachi?"
"Not sure," he says. "Maybe a month ago?"
"He says he hasn't heard from you since October," she claims, and rises. "Biscuits?"
"Sure," he says, and then adds, "Maybe it has been since October."
He watches his mother flutter to the cabinets like a ballerina on the tips of her toes; she is graceful, and dainty, and it's moments like these when Sasuke realizes how refined his mother truly is. People often claim Sasuke elegant, but in comparison to his mother, he feels like a savage. "Is lemon alright?"
He sighs. "Lemon is fine."
"Sighing is rude, you know," she explains, and brings the box of cookies over to the table. She crosses her legs as she sits, and frowns. "When's the last time you got a full night's sleep?"
"I'm not sure," he says, and grabs a cookie from the box. It's overwhelmingly citrusy, but it's not sweet, so he takes a bite. "I work a lot."
"You always work a lot," she explains. "But you seem more tired now."
"I've been working more hours," he lies.
"Of course," she says, like she knows he's fibbing, which she probably does. "You know, I can tell when something is bothering you."
"Aa." He nibbles on the cookie that's far too tart, and questions if he has any tastes at all. He wonders if his mother has some saltines…
"And you can tell me when something is bothering you," she says.
"Nothing is bothering me," he claims.
"I don't believe you," she counters, and she's giving him a stern look, like when he'd miss curfew, or wouldn't eat his vegetables. "Now, I can't force you to tell me anything, but…" she trails off, and he's confronted with déjà-vu from too many incidents with Naruto recently that he can't even recall a specific one.
He frowns. "Nothing is bothering me," he repeats.
"And I don't believe you," she says. "But I won't push the subject."
He looks at her carefully, and then says, "Thank you."
She looks him over, and smiles. "I'm glad you visited."
"Me too," he says. He finally takes a sip of his tea that isn't too hot anymore, and it's perfect. "I'm sorry I didn't call."
"It's fine," she says, and he's not sure if she's lying, but he doesn't push it. "But you know who you should call—"
"Itachi," he finishes for her, and clucks his tongue. "I'll get on that."
"He says you've been ignoring his phone calls," she tells him, and raises an eyebrow in concern.
"I haven't been ignoring him," he explains. "Just busy."
"Well, call him," she insists. "Make some time."
"Yeah, yeah," he says, and waves her off with a hand, leaning back in his chair. He doesn't even realize the tension surrounding them until it's gone, and he breathes easier.
She shoots him a glare. "Sasuke."
He rolls his eyes. "Tonight, I'll call him tonight."
"Thank you Sasuke," she says, like she always does when she gets her way. "Now, tell me about the hospital…"
And he does, about entirely too long shifts that she's entirely too concerned about, and running an entire department. He tells her about Naruto, and Hinata, and their beautiful baby, and she, of course, makes a comment about when he's finally going to get married that he chooses to ignore. He tells her about Tsunade, and a possible promotion that he's looking forward to. He doesn't tell her about Sakura, doesn't think about Sakura, and by the time she's hugging him goodbye, and he's on the train back home, he truly begins to realize what he's been missing out on with her in his life—or, perhaps, without her in his life.
He's not sure what he's feeling, really, but he never is. He does know that Sakura having Sakura on his mind this often is not a blessing, but a curse, and he's almost positive that there's nothing he can do about it.
Sasuke loves his brother, of course; adores him, even. They've always had a temperamental relationship, but he's always looked up to him, too. His brother was an aspiration in many ways, which is one of the many reasons Sasuke did not become a cop, just like everybody in his family.
Itachi is maybe the only person he remembers that supported him throughout his schooling without question. When Sasuke decided he did not want to be a cop, Itachi did not query his decision, and, instead, made sure nobody else did. Itachi has been Sasuke's support system when nobody else could, and Sasuke has never been more thankful for a person in his life, save for Naruto.
So, he doesn't understand why he's so nervous, then, sitting with his fingers over the numbers he needs to dial. He knows his brother's number by heart. He knows his brother will not question him like his mother did. He knows that he should probably call him after many nervous messages, and attempts at conversations he chose to ignore for beer bottles, and an empty bed.
He's not sure if it's embarrassment, or shame, but with a final, defeated sigh, he makes to put his phone back on the receiver. He's startled when it begins to ring in his hand.
For a moment, he considers his luck that, perhaps, it's his brother, and they're as connected as he thinks they are, but the number surprises him. He answers with a raised eyebrow. "Hello?"
"Hey, Sasuke!" the voice says. "Long time, no speak!"
"Suigetsu, hey," he says. Sasuke's not sure what possesses him to actually answer, because as of very recently, Sasuke has been impossible to get in touch with, and out of all people, he does not believe that he chooses to speak to his old roommate. "How are you?"
"Great, man, just great!" he says with his sharp, raspy voice that annoys Sasuke more than he'd like to admit. He often questions how he was able to room with him for two out of his four years in college. "How's Konoha holding up?"
"It's still here," Sasuke says, and Suigetsu laughs. "Is there a reason you're calling?"
"I can't just call one of my best friends for a conversation?" he questions, but Sasuke knows that Suigetsu doesn't just call unless he needs something.
So Sasuke doesn't respond.
Suigetsu laughs. "Well, actually, there is something. I was looking into coming into town soon! I miss everyone!"
Sasuke smirks. "Is that so?"
"Yeah, man. Oto is great, but I do miss my buds," he says, and Sasuke can automatically sense the authenticity in his voice. "Are you gonna be around next weekend?"
Sasuke thinks for a moment, and his first thought is to lie. He's not sure he's up for seeing his friend, or anyone any time soon, for that matter, but then he remembers the feeling of seeing his mother, and the idea of pushing Sakura out of his thoughts for even only a moment, and says, "Yeah, I'll be around. You can stay here, if you want."
"Whoa, really?" he says, sounding surprised, and Sasuke makes a noise of acknowledgement. "Damn, man, you'll be saving me a few bucks. I can't thank you enough."
"It's no problem," Sasuke insists, because it really isn't. There's certainly enough room for another person to stay here; Sasuke's apartment is large, and honestly meant for two, but Sasuke hasn't found his second yet, so he doesn't mind sparing a couch to his old roommate. "When are you coming in?"
"Friday night, maybe?" he says. "Can you get me from the train?"
"Yeah," he says. "Or I'll send Naruto."
Suigetsu laughs, and says, "Thanks, man. We're getting you out of that damn apartment!"
He scoffs. "Yeah, we'll see."
"Well, I have to get going, a nurse is calling for me." Sasuke hears a nurse in the background shrieking. "But I'll call you before I come in, okay?"
"Yeah, sounds good, man," he says. "Take care."
"You too," he says, along with a string of curse words, before he hangs up, and Sasuke is left alone.
He doesn't call his brother that night, but tells himself he'll do it, soon, like he's been saying about a lot of things, lately.
He falls asleep alone in his big bed that he once loved for the room, but now hates for the vacancy. He falls asleep to thoughts of loneliness more than thoughts of her, tonight.
Wooh! Another chapter down! I'll be updating this regularly, but not really once a week. Fuhgeddaboudit! will be updated once a week, though, so that's exciting and you guys should totally go read it, and review that, too! It's a Mafia!AU and idk about you guys, but I'm all for hot mafia stuff.
I posted my tumblr on my bio, so please follow me, and I follow back! It may take some time because I don't check my tumblr EVERY day, but I check most days! Shoot me a message, talk to me, I've already met some totally awesome people from this website!
REVIEW PLEASE! Your reviews keep me going, and I appreciate each and every one! I try to respond to almost everyone, too, and if I don't, I want you to know how thankful I am for all your kind words and support! I love this story, and there are many more chapters to come, but keep the support going! Thank you! Thank you! THANK YOU! REVIEEEEEW.
Peace.