Pretty Boy Haven Chapter Four, a naruto fanfic

(f)(o)(u)(r)

All the total dicks
All the stuck up chicks
So superficial, so immature.

STANDARD DISCLAIMER APPLIED.

Dedicated to Mary & Ukeire-chan. x3
Also known as & Ukeire respectively.

Must I provide a reason? They're that great.

"S—She's gone!"

"W—What?! Oh my god—this, this is…"

Hysteric voices and restrained cries leveled throughout everyone's ears.

"No, no, no, no, no, NO…THIS CAN'T BE HAPPENING!"

Breakdowns echoed throughout the household.

Confusion. Anxiety. Horror.

"A ransom letter."

Panic-stricken faces dabbed with dried up tearstains.

The loud silence rang painfully.

Terror. Hysteria. Dread.

Chaos.

"I'll do it."

Three words. Three syllables. Seven letters. One apostrophe. One period.

All faces angled at the one out of two identical faces.

"No."

His mirror turned and answered.

"I have to."

One morning later.

One phone call, "We have her. Come alone with noisestaticbuzz––in cash."

Palms sweated.

"Or else."

The toneless ringing of a hanged-up phone, "Hello? Hello?!" and nosignalnosignalnosignal. No one dared to find out what else meant.

Fear. Hope. Agitation.

It was time.

Deep breaths were held back.

Sob. Sob. Running footsteps. "D—Daddy!"

Relief. Concern. Excitement.

And—bittersweet freedom.

"W—Where's father?"

While one child was reunited, the other was left behind.

"He…He's not coming back."

Sorrow. Regret. Heartbreak.

"Why…?"

Confused. Manipulated. Infuriated.

"I'm sorry—"

"It's not fair."

He mourned.

Fists clenched, blood spilled.

No reply.

"It's all your fault…"

Teeth gritted, white pearls grinded.

He wept.

"This wouldn't have happened if he didn't take your place."

No reply.

He cried.

"You should've been the one…"

He pained.

"Not him."

No reply.

"I hate you. You…"

A bond broken in two.

ANGER. ANGER. ANGER.

"…Murderer."

T a l e s O f B i o t c h e r y

You really got to feel bad for Franklin the turtle. I mean, sure, he's kind of cool and a bit of a gangster. HELLO, He can count by twos and tie his shoes. That's more than half the percentage of what humanity can do.

But really, I feel bad for him, every bits of his flaws get expose in each and every single episode for the world to see. After that, he's got to learn his morals and correct said morals through the help of his friends, teachers, family and his conscious.

Poor guy.

And when I think about what Franklin has to go through each and everyday; then compare it to my own, it makes me feel so much better because I don't have a crappy theme song,

(Hey it's Sakura!
Coming over to play,
Growing a little,
Everyday.
Here she comes with all her friends.
They've got stories,
Got time to spend with you.
Hey it's Sakura!
Coming to your house.
Hey it's Sakura!
Coming to my house.
Hey it's Sakura!)

Coming to my house, my ass.

If reality had a backspace key, I'll probably abuse it.

I swear to the whatchamacallit sisterhood of secrecy to all the things that are good and holy; I, Sakura Haruno solemnly swear that I suck, life sucks, everybody sucks, Homo sucks because he has nicer skin than me, the Ramen Pervert On Crack sucks because he makes me cook ramen everyday, the Transvestite sucks because my hair is fugly compared to his, ERSGA sucks because he's more of a girl than I can ever be, nobody cares about the Zoophile because he seems to be in a state of depression for whatever unknown reason relating to Akamaru, the Sexist Pig sucks because he called me a "troublesome female specimen on a pms-ing faze" and the guy I dare not speak his eyebrow-less name for I shalt be murdered in my sleep sucks to the suck, suck of suckage suck of capital SUCK of McSuck times 96495345049129 of suckity suck, suck and more suck.

It sucks.

& Scene 01.

I am dead.

My brain is dead.

My arms are dead.

My legs are dead.

I'm dead.

Dead, dead, DEAD, DEAD—

My soul was practically flowing out of my mouth as I floated across the campus halls. My back hunched, dark bags hung below my dull viridian eyes. My hair was in disarray as it was raised into a messy bun by a lime-green scrunchie. I held onto my binder in one hand while I gripped a girly pink clutches bag in the other.

Why? WHY DO THINGS HAVE TO END THIS WAY?

Who could've known fan girls could trash a place in a matter of milliseconds? I for one certainly DID NOT. While I was happily galloping off to cloud nine, the mansion was getting trashed and I admit, I did "jumped in glee" when the thought of said pretty men were getting "the whole indoor adventure" package, I did not realize the results would be dire.

You could not imagine the look of my face when I discovered that I had to clean the place up!

ADSAKJDGHGF.

Though the fact that the guys' condition weren't any better than mines do make me feel a lot better about myself.

Why yes, I am a leech who feeds off others' misfortunes. Deal with it.

Of course, they asked, "Are you sure your hands accidentally 'slipped'?"

Me, "Yep! I swear if I'm lying, my dad would get hit by lightning four times—no, ten—BIJILLION TIMES! Along with getting trampled over by a constipated rapping duck while having his private parts getting turned on by a rock named George, and then getting arrested by the mole people who wants him to become their sacrifice for Batman's bat mobile AND AFTER, IT'LL BE HAHA! YOU JUST GOT PUNK'D BY ASHTON KUTCHER! WOOHOO! OOGA! OOGA! BAH! BAH! WHEE! WHEE! HONK! HONK!"

"…"

I didn't get a lot of sleep.

"Ahh. U—Umm, p—please let me pass…"

I adjusted my fugly glasses and searched for the timid voice.

A girl with fragile exteriors, in fashionable baggy capris, complimented by her expensive-looking bucket bag stood out among the crowd of leering men. Her baby-blue cardigan brought out the colour of her midnight-blue hair and pale, blushing visage.

"Aww! Come on! Tell me, are you single?"

In mere seconds, her cheeks flushed into one hundred and fifty-two shades of apple red.

"Do you have a map?"

Light orbs blinked. "E—Eh?"

"Because I just got lost in your eyes."

I snorted.

A smirk flickered onto my lips upon the girl's reaction. "E—Eh? Umm…sir, I—I don't have a map in m—my eyes."

"Hinata-chan! Don't be picky! I wasn't!"

He did not just go there.

I watched as the girl's mouth trembled.

I'm not a hero.

Nor am I a heroine.

I'm stubborn, I'm selfish, I gossip, I lie, I cheat, I freak, I shoplifted once—twice, I hurt, I hit, I punch, I kick.

I'm the perfect definition of imperfection.

I can't save the world and probably wouldn't due to trivial excuses. I'm a coward, I get jealous, I believe in parasitism as long as I gain and I can be conceited when I want to be so honestly…

I have no idea why I did what I just did.

With a fake plastered smile, I stepped forward, "Hinata-chan! We're late for class. Let's go!" And without making eye contact with her, I hooked my arm onto hers and dragged her out of there.

A "Hey!" resounded behind us, but neither her… nor me dared look back.

The whole duration of me wonderfully slipping on an out-of-nowhere indoor pinecone, creating a snowball effect as I rammed into the concrete wall probably ruined it.

I leaned my head back into my arms.

The sunlight fleets directly onto my irises. Wincing, I gently shut them as the voice of nature makes its debut.

And if I didn't shift to the right, I could've became a crow's personal dump bucket.

Splat.

It's tearin' up my heart when I'm—

I have no frickin' idea why crow doody is pulling an NSync.

They suck.

& Scene 02.

Status: Biostatistics class ended, (decades ago);

Goal: Advanced Calculus.

Method: Shortcut alley in between Business section and Science building.

Time of Operation: Tuesday. September 2, 2008. 1500 hours, 13 minutes, 52 seconds.

I discovered a conspiracy. (And I was a hell of a late for class.)

What exactly does a mentally unstable pinknette do when she discovers one said homo-in-denial and or slash roommate, smacking lips with someone that did not contain ramen, perverted homos on crack and or slash roommates with a crimson-haired, four-eyed Godzilla instead?

Yeah, I recognize her.

No, I don't have any grudges/vendettas against her.

Hey. She just oh-so-happened to have stepped on my toe in the hallways; once or twice… thrice.

Four,

Five,

Six,

Seven, Eight—

NINE times during a short two-day interval.

And it hurt (Especially when one weighs over 200 pounds.)

But who's COUNTING?

Crimson hair tossed back. "Mhmmfh. S—Sa…su…ke."

I think I'm getting heartburn…

I whipped my head around. My throat developing a rare sense of dryness as I tried to walk away, away from there...far, FAR away... and immediately tripped over something massive.

I almost tipped over but somehow magically regained my balance. For once.

The "something massive" moved.

Damp, floppy black hair.

Fake dopey smile.

Canvas and brush in hand.

"ERSG—Sai?! What are you doing?"

His orbs drifted pass my face, onto the direction of the Kung Fu Pandas, before finally offering me a swift glance.

A wicked smile, "Observing as nature takes it course" Before focusing back onto his canvas as his brush stroked up and down.

I cringed and scurried away.

"…"

My legs broke into a run.

"CRAP!" Late, late, late, late—

(Half-lidded charcoal abyss opened as rose-coloured pink flipped through his line of vision, before it fluttered away.)

My eyes clenched even tighter at the memory as my arms wound around my ears and head, trying to block out the oncoming chatter.

"Sakura!" I thought I heard.

I lifted my head.

Sudden silence.

In it goes, out it went.

I shook my head before I got up.

I swung my legs over the ledge to sit upright.

& Scene 03.

Early Wednesday morning.

Silence was dominant.

All were tucked in bed, still.

The exceptions being those in between whimpers that glided across from me.

Sure, no one's perfect. Everybody makes mistakes. Everybody has those days. Everybody gets that way—OH MY GOD, I'M QUOTING A 16 YEAR OLD DISNEY POPSTAR WHO HAS A HIPPOPOTAMUS STUFFED DOWN HER SPINE.

I glared.

"Okay. I'm obligated to ask what's wrong now after you've been bawling for two hours, 37 minutes and 22 seconds, causing, per say my head to pull a World War III. So, what's wrong?"

Kiba's whimper died down, head still glued into his arms as his huddle position became more reclusive.

No answer.

No reply.

No, nothing.

Can I just give him some space?

Yeah, I can right?

Emotional Zoophiles need those, yes?

Smiling to myself, I quickly got up—and stopped.

His whimpers grew once more.

I raked through my hair, untangling the unhealthy knots as I did so.

"Please, do tell me your problems, kind sir?" My sarcasm didn't get to him.

What happened to less talk, more action?

Because, he finally talked…

A lot.

—He kissed a cat?

(HAH.)

I gazed downwards upon my surroundings, little ant people bunched and wiggled below me.

Huh, no wonder God chose to be on top. IT FEELS GREAT.

I AM SUPERIOR.

HELL YEAH.

I laughed out loud, foolishly, nervously, and awkwardly.

…I'm dying inside.

& Scene 04.

I stared.

And stared.

And stared.

I honestly question my staring capabilities.

A young blonde clad in a skimpy halter-top, knee-length plaid skirt and cute ballet flats stood outside our dorm's door.

Baby-azure eyes implored into mines, a thin strip of lip-glossed lips fitted into place.

"You are?" She inquired.

"Pippi Longstocking." I gave.

"…"

Her pouted lips curved into a smile.

"And you?" I finally questioned.

"Kim Possible."

Oh, she's good. I like her.

—Until she shredded her halter-top (which was scientifically, to the naked eye impossible since there was nothing to hide) but apparently a lacy corset was set into place.

My jaw dropped.

Please don't tell me I'm going to get raped by a girl.

That lasted for a few seconds, and she decided to straighten said clothing article a little.

I just got flashed.

"Do you know where Shikamaru is?"

A finger pointed up.

Information understood, she bounced up the stairs.

I blinked.

A moment of silence,

"Que…?"

Until I broke it.

"Ino! What the hell are you doing?!" A bellow echoed upstairs, traveling into the living room.

"Showing you how Temari doesn't even compare, compared to me."

"Put on some clothes!"

"Stop resisting, Shika-kun and go with the flow…"

"Oh my god, don't touch—"

Squeak. Squeak.

THUMP.

CRASH!

Squeak. Squeak.

Quiet.

The calm before the storm.

I felt…violated.

I screamed into my arms.

In a third person's point of view, I might look a tad…insane, just a tad though.

It sucks to the penguinth power, I swear.

& Scene 05.

I browsed down the aisle of a local Wal-Mart, looking, searching, hunting, because someone used up all of my conditioner.

Blind bastard.

Hah, alliteration.

An hour ago; I was, "Hey Neji! You used up all my conditioner!"

He/She was, "No. I didn't"

But clearly, CLEARLY, his hair smelled strawberry-honey fragrant clean.

Blind Bumble Bee Bastard.

Hah, I'm too good at this.

I really lack the required attention span to function efficiently, because my train thoughts distracted me, thus landing me, making me push some guy over, into a pile of clearance socks.

You would realize you've sunk into a whole new level of low, especially when you pushed a guy into a pile of ugly, clearance socks at Wal-Mart. Seriously.

I helped him got up.

I think I've just lost half my soul.

"G—Gaara." My eyes crinkled as a creepy laughter erupted through my lips.

"S—Sorry there, didn't see you there, haha…haaa." My voice died down as I gulped.

His sea-foam eyes remained passive as his hands clutched onto a pair of Dora The Explorer socks.

"I—I see you got some socks there…you like… Dora?"

"…"

"I—I mean, you don't have to answer me, really, when you don't want to. I see I'm interrupting you sock shopping. Should I go? I should go, right? Right. Okay, see you next fall—"

"She understands me."

"W—What?"

"She understands me…Dora"

"I—I see." He has a thing for illegal immigrants eh?

"Umm...I like Boots?"

"I hate Boots." Gaara deadpanned.

Dear Spongebob, please bless this pink-haired, impure, soon-to-be-dead soul.

My eyes couldn't help but glance at the socks in his hand.

"Hey, wait. There's a string of loose seam on the bottom." Housewife mode activated.

I picked at it but it didn't seem to budge. Unconsciously, I took the pair of socks off his hands and lifted it into my own. I picked at it before it finally, finally flew off onto the tiled floor.

"There! Now, we don't have to worry about you tripping over that hazardous seam eh? Haha…"

Lame realization fell on me like a ton of bricks.

I dared sneak a look at his face.

Expressionless, black t-shirt, ripped jeans glory.

Dying, my dead body.

A once in a lifetime, not really smile curled onto his lips. I stood there, frozen from head to toe. I watched dumbfounded as he turned around completely and walked off to the cash register.

His red hair disappeared out of view after a swivel passed the bra racks.

Did...DID HE JUST SMILE?

I regained the sense of touch and immediately took the most appropriate action. I lifted both of my hands and placed them on my cheeks, an oval-shaped circle upon my mouth. After all the positions were in place...escaped an inaudible scream.

OH GOD. I'M GOING TO DIE.

I've been traumatized deeply, and it's only been a week.

I'm going into complete denial though. Perhaps I'll forget them, like how the trauma patients are, block them out and eventually turn into a crazy.

I stood up, brushed off some dirt from my bum and stretched my arms. Irresistible yawns consumed me.

I paced closer to the ledge.

"Sakura-chan. Sakura-chan! Sakura-chan! SAKURA-CHAN!"

Ugh, so noisy.

Rustling. Patting footsteps. Burst of an opened door behind me.

"Sakura-chan! Please DON'T JUMP!"

I slowly turned around. Confusion basked on top of me.

I. Did. WHAT. NOW?

I raised an eyebrow.

"Ahh—huh?" My most intelligible answer.

"Stay where you are Sakura-chan! I'll save you!"

Naruto.

Screaming.

Yelling.

Pointing accusingly.

Sasuke, Neji, Gaara, Shikamaru, and Sai…their eyes glued onto me alone.

Bloody Spongebob, did I commit a sin?

Ugh, MIGRAINE.

"P—Please! I promise I won't ask you to cook me ramen anymore! Hey…I'll cook my own ramen! You'll like that wouldn't you? Yeah. YEAH! So, please, please, please don't jump Sakura-chan!"

"Sakura. Come down." Sasuke. My urge to give him the middle finger never ceased.

Gaara took a step forward before Naruto's voice halted him. "Gaara! Don't scare her like she already is!"

"I'd say she should jump, what a view."

"Sai, go lay in a ditch!"

"Only if you join me, Naruto."

"What a troublesome pair..."

"Go get laid Shikamaru. You need one."

"You guys bring shame to the 21st century, you've realized that right?"

"Shut up, Tran-sy."

"What did you call me?"

"T-R-A-N-HYPTHEN—"

I scratched my head.

"OH MY GOD! SAKURA-CHAN! DON'T JUMP!" Naruto screamed.

I yawned.

"Pleeeeease Sakura-chan! Come down!" Naruto whined.

I shook my left leg, swishing the numbness away.

"Ahhhhhh! Ahh! Stop it! Okay! Okay! I promise Sakura-chan! I'll stop taking pictures of you in your sleep!"

My eyes widen, as did the others.

The blonde was oblivious, typical Naruto behaviour.

"I swear to Santa Claus and Rudolph and all those Nickelodeon gods and goddesses it's true! So I beg you, don't jump!"

Ohhh, they thought I was going to jump.

I looked around, skimming through the empty roof on top of our dorm. Pile of bird poop here and there, otherwise peaceful...except for the newly added collection of Happy Tree Friends.

Chya. Yeah right. As if.

Like I said, I hate life; but that doesn't mean I won't live it.

I'll endure until the very end.

"I'm not—"

"OKAY! I GIVE! I GIVE! You don't have to do chores anymore Sakura-chan!"

"Naruto." Neji warned.

"You're one of us right? Family! We're family. Family doesn't order anyone around! We're frickin' family! Ohana yes? And an Ohana doesn't leave anyone behind! Deal? DEAL! So pleeeeeease…" Blobby tears streamed down his face. "…Come down!!"

I inwardly smirked. Must as well, right? He was so desperate; he even quoted Lilo from Lilo & Stitch.

I shrugged. "Okay." I chirped happily and hopped off the ledge, strutted pass them, down the roof stairs, back into our dorm.

The men gaped on.

"..."

"That…" Naruto began.

"…Was fast." Naruto ended.

"Troublesome…she wasn't even going to jump."

"You guy just got own." Sai commented nonchalantly, smile still in place.

The silent three remained…silent.

I hummed joyfully, a sense of accomplishment flooded through me. I enjoy sorting my thoughts in high places. It's a habit. Can't help it. You'll never know when one day, Kim Possible will need a new assistant to back her up on a helicopter luau.

I grinned.

Oh well, at least I got something out of it.

DOO! DO! DEE! Extra Stor-ee!
Deux.

As all went off to hunt down a supposedly suicidal Sakura, the real suicidal Kiba felt ignored.

"Tch. I'll show them."

He raised his left foot and stepped onto the dorm's patio. His other foot followed, robotically.

"Akamaru…" A hushed whisper, tear droplets smudged his vision.

And he fell.

No screams.

No nothing.

Pure void.

In a matter of milliseconds, he landed on something familiarly soft. More precisely, his lips landed on something familiarly soft…and familiarly fluffy? No, more like familiarly furry.

He opened his tear-stained eyes.

A wave of deja vu rushed through him.

He was kissing the cat! (Again.)

A soft growl breathed behind him.

He craned his neck to look behind his shoulder, wiping the disgusting taste of fish off his lips. Kiba's eyes widened immensely, jaws dropping in mortification x2.

There was Akamaru, pissed off until the end of time.

Kiba looked back down to the same feline. They were in quite a suggestive position once more. Kiba's hands were planted on both sides of the cat's face, his whole body hovering over it like last time.

The cat winked at him, suggestively.

"Aw, hell."

Authors Note:

Because when one wants to start a play, one must lay out the props. I had to rewrite this chapter so many times. And yeah, the beginning isn't a reference to Sakura. No, I don't really like Karin. But you know? Love ain't easy, and I laugh.

& Review please. (:

! Kat.

P.S. Don't forget to check out my new story; Metropolis and my latest oneshot; the best things in life come in pairs!