A/N: Well this also turned out fucking long. Not that sorry 'bout it. Although I do realize that I'm ~8 chapters in and FUCK ALL has "happened" so far, but fuck me I promise it'll get there I swear. Enjoy the ride.
On another note, this is now my longest story on this website. It has more views than most of the fics I posted a decade ago, and it's heading toward being the most faved and alerted. I'm oddly proud of that. Mostly because this is the first story of this length I've ever stuck with with any sort of commitment (dare I say FERVOR). It's already been six months since I created the word document for the expository chapter (yes, I checked) and yet I'm still invested in the story and work on it pretty consistently. Considering my general laziness that's fuckin' saying something.
That said, I want to thank the ~40 something of you who have read/reviewed/faved/subscribed. Your interest and encouragement mean everything to me. I hope this fic is as enjoyable to read as it is for me to write.
Now let's get into it.
~Morbid Original~
To Sakura's dismay her friends had chosen a table conspicuously situated near the middle of the main room, right in the heart of the raucous rabble. Though it was true they had a fantastic view of the stage and easy access to the bar, she could also clearly see the front door (and all who entered through it) from almost any spot in the large, crescent-shaped booth. At first she chose the only seat that put her back to the door, but after a few minutes of jerking her head around every time the bell chimed the arrival of another patron she switched to a space that faced it directly, deciding that obsessively staring was better than whiplash.
"You look like shit," Ino said as she slid onto the seat beside her, brandishing a martini glass.
"Thanks," Sakura replied blandly. "Did you ask?"
"Yes, forehead, I asked," the blonde said with an exasperated sigh. "Neither of them invited Naruto. Choji and Neji are probably coming, but it's not like they ever hang out with him. You're in the clear."
Sakura took a steadying breath, struggling to draw some reassurance from her words. It was true that Naruto wasn't particularly close with any of the aforementioned persons, but they were all friends. Even without an explicit invitation he could've gotten wind of their plans, and what with his recent emergence on Konoha's music scene, why would he pass up an opportunity to further his celebrity?
Before she could voice any of these paranoid concerns Kiba and Tenten reappeared, the former balancing a tray of shots in one hand.
"This oughta cover our karaoke admission," he boasted, setting the tray before them. There were indeed eight shots in total, meaning Ino hadn't conveyed Sakura's intent to abstain for the night – and something told her she hadn't just conveniently forgotten.
"Um, actually –"
"You're a little late," Ino interjected, cutting her objection short. "I'm already on drink one," she said with a tilt of her cosmo toward the dog expert.
"Are you really gonna turn down a free shot?" he teased.
"Are you trying to get me drunk?" she quipped, the ironic innocence of her tone successfully making him blush. Although it wasn't her style, Sakura had to admire Ino's way of handling hookups. She never seemed to get bogged down in the seriousness of it all, the potential dangers of playing with someone's heart. Somehow she always managed to make it seem…fun. Though, granted, she had yet to fuck her friend and teammate who at least formerly harbored intense feelings for her...
"I'll drink fucking all of them if it means we can get this night started," Tenten said impatiently, shoving Kiba into the booth before her so she could sit. "I need the hair of the dog and fast."
"I like the way you think," Kiba laughed, sliding a shot her way and claiming his own. Despite her previous protests, Ino helped herself to one as well and placed another in front of Sakura.
"Ino, I'm not drinking tonight," she hissed, nudging the glass away. "I told you."
"Oh, come off it, you crazed harlot," Ino retorted, making no effort to keep their conversation private. "You came out tonight, you're staying, and you're gonna do it right. It's a mixed shot – not straight alcohol. Even you should be able to keep it in your pants."
Instantly Sakura felt the color drain from her face as Ino alluded to her secret, but the others didn't seem to read into it, taking it as another of her crude jokes. Her friend's tactless tongue could mean real trouble for her, she fretted, especially as the night wore on. She began to regret trusting her with what little information she had.
"But seriously," Tenten said, drawing Sakura's death-glare away from Ino. "Are you really gonna get up there and sing without a little liquid courage?"
The weapons specialist posed a very good point. There was no reason to stay at the bar if she wasn't planning to sing; she might as well have gone home. And if the odds of a certain someone showing up were really as low as her friends had suggested, what did she have to lose?
Sighing, she shifted her gaze from the shot, to Ino, to Kiba. "It's a mixed shot?"
He nodded. "Kamikaze. Goes down real easy."
Her uneasy eyes returned to the glass, teeming right to the rim with murky white liquid. What harm could it do? It was one drink – a mixed one – and really, there was nothing she could do drunk or otherwise that could be half as abominably dumb as what she'd already done. That mistake she'd made dead sober – if it was a mistake – and there was no chance of repeating it in her present company. She could either sit there and stare at the door all night, worrying herself to death, or she could let go just a little and enjoy herself.
"Fine," she acquiesced, pulling the shot back toward her.
"That's the spirit," Kiba grinned. Then, raising his own glass, "Kanpai!"
"Kanpai!" they echoed, and downed the saccharine substance in one.
Maybe it was the alcohol, but as time wore on Sakura started to feel a little calmer. As their posse steadily expanded so subsided her anxiety, and in its place came a contagious merriment imparted by her companions. Choji joined them shortly after their inaugural shot and for all his bulk seemed to be a bit of a lightweight, quickly surpassing the others in intoxication and becoming a source of entertainment. Neji, and soon after Lee (who everyone agreed should refrain from drinking, lest he literally bring down the house), trickled in by Ino's third cosmo, by which time everyone had reached what one could call karaoke-level tipsy. By this point an hour had passed, with no sign or mention of their orange-clad comrade. It seemed Ino's assurances that he wouldn't show had been accurate, Sakura pondered. After all, the window for "fashionably late" had closed long ago.
On the arrival of the rest of Team 12 more shots were ordered, and propelled by the night's air of levity Sakura downed two without hesitation.
"Easy, Tiger," Kiba taunted, cheeks flushed nearly as dark as his face paint. And then he said something that sent her short-lived tranquility right out the window. "We don't want a repeat of last night."
Sakura choked on her water and nearly dropped the glass at the same time. "What?" she sputtered, rendered abruptly sober by panic.
"Ino might have told us what happened," Tenten said, snickering behind the screwdriver she brought to her mouth.
Hands coiled into fists, Sakura turned to Ino, who seemed to be extremely absorbed in the song book she perused, but before she could actually kill her Choji spoke up and unknowingly saved his teammate's life.
"I just can't believe it," he chortled, the contents of his highball threatening to spill with each vibration of his laugh. "Sakura getting so hammered she had to be taken home!"
"Like you've never been there before," Kiba teased, administering him an elbow to the rib that only made him laugh harder. "Don't worry. It happens to the best of us," he said to Sakura, who had frozen somewhere in between relief and fury, leaving her expression utterly unreadable.
"I just wish I'd seen it," Tenten added, staring at her hazily as if trying to project the image onto her. "Ino said you almost puked all over the patio!"
"Did she now," Sakura said flatly, her gaze practically burning a hole in the blonde's temple as the latter stared harder at the karaoke book, still pretending not to listen.
Frankly she should be relieved, Sakura told herself. Ino hadn't actually revealed her secret to the others. But surely she could've come up with a cover story that didn't frame her as a drunken idiot, for fuck's sake.
"Hey, let's go choose a song," she said suddenly, ripping the book from Ino's hands and dragging her to her feet. Only when they had safely reached the far end of the bar did Sakura release her, turning to her an expectant look. "Really?" was all she said, biting back her anger.
Ino, sporting the shifty mien of a kid who'd just sent a shuriken through the kitchen window, eventually broke under her gaze and groaned loudly.
"Oh come on, Sakura, what was I supposed to say? They were wondering why I was asking about Naruto, so I told them you were embarrassed to see him after you got super obliterated last night and Sasuke had to walk you home. Would you rather them know what really happened?"
"No, but there's gotta be a middle ground, Ino," Sakura sighed, raking her hands through her hair. "Now I look like a fucking dumbass!"
"Ugh, who cares? Everyone gets trashed beyond repair from time to time – I've done it."
"No shit."
"Really you should be thanking me," Ino said, apparently too wasted to register Sakura's slight. "I gave you a built-in cover-up in case anyone saw you leave with Sasuke."
Sakura rolled her eyes, once again fighting the urge to confess if only to show her friend how off-base she was. "Awesome. Thanks, Ino. You're a doll."
Ino squinted as if trying to gauge her level of sarcasm and, upon registering its overwhelming presence, frowned. "Honestly I don't know why you don't just tell them," she said, leaning against the bar.
"Are you kidding me."
"No, seriously. It would be so much easier to just be straight up and open about it instead of making it into this huge deal –"
"It is a big deal," Sakura said firmly, earning her an acquiescent eye roll.
"I mean yeah, sorta, but not in the way you're making it. You've been a fucking mess ever since it happened, and I just think it'd be easier if you didn't treat it like this earth-shattering tragedy. I mean, shit happens, and you just gotta like," she gestured frantically as she searched for the right words, finally settling on, "let it go."
Sakura could only blink.
"I mean really," Ino went on, "you act like it's some huge catastrophe that you impromptu porked your teammate, but look at you." Her eyes ran over Sakura's figure and face. "Nobody dresses like that and wears that much freaking makeup if they're not trying to get laid. Admit it: you liked it and you were hoping to see him tonight."
As shitty as Ino's insights tended to be, Sakura wondered if Drunk Ino was some sort of psychic. Had her licentious side actually hijacked her subconscious and sexed up her appearance? Made her stay out despite the risks, let her drink? Moreover was some sort of nascent nymphomania spurring her to see him – or as Ino had instructed, do it again? She shook her head of the baffling thoughts. Even if Ino's words rang hauntingly true, she still lacked too much information to speak conclusively. Right?
"I – look, I already said I don't totally know how I feel about it," Sakura stammered, lowering her voice despite their distance from the table. "I don't know what it meant or even how to handle it, and until I do I can't. Tell. Anybody." Another egregious eye roll told her Ino was about to contradict her, so she quickly cut her off, speaking a bit too loudly in her haste. "And just for the record, I had to wear this much makeup because I'm covered in fucking hickeys!"
As Ino succumbed to a fit of laughter, Sakura realized the bartender had come up behind her just in time to hear this classless admission. With her luck lately she was hardly even surprised.
"Can I get you two anything?" he asked gingerly, his smile waffling between polite and derisive.
"Yeah, a fucking ball-gag for this dirty bitch and a Long Island for me," Ino said, holding onto the bar for support as she cackled. "Jesus, if you wanna keep being all secretive you have got to learn to keep your filthy mouth shut, Super Tramp – and maybe your legs too."
"Ino I swear to God if you don't cut back on all the innuendo and name-calling –"
"Oh my God, Sakura, chill out! Who cares!"
Before Sakura could even get enraged that Ino had cut her off again – or belittled her feelings, again – or publically called her a whore, again – she paused, took a deep breath; and for the first time she considered her friend's favorite mantra with some intrigue.
"You're right," she said finally, shrugging. "Who cares?" Then she turned to the bartender, placing the song book between them. "I'll also take a Long Island," she said. "And I wanna do a song."
As she mounted the stage, crossed under the burning lights, saw the spotty shapes of strangers through their fluorescent glare, there was a split second when her heart jumped. Throat closed. Palms grew wet as her mouth went dry. Everything seemed to freeze, but it was she that had paralyzed, ensnared by the unperceivable stares of her audience. Their shadowy silhouettes slowly coming into focus; their unseen eyes focused on her. Her mind went instantly blank.
But this lasted only a moment. Then the music came on, and from the first distorted sounds of feedback her fright had vanished. All she felt was the hammering drums, the abrasive onslaught of guitar, and above all the pervading energy of the song itself. That of rebellion. Of revolution through aggressive indifference. That of not giving a single fuck.
As she walked up to the mike and uttered the first line, the words rang truer than anything she'd ever said. Whether it was the words actually producing the sentiment or merely echoing it she didn't know or care. All she knew was she meant what she said: she didn't "give a damn" about anything – and it felt amazing. She didn't care that her hair fell in her face as she jerked her head to the beat, nor that her voice sounded harsh, scratchy even, singing in the low range. She didn't care that there were dozens of people watching her, mocking her, fetishizing her, extolling her – whatever they were doing. Nothing mattered except the feeling – the ecstasy of truly letting go.
When the song ended this sensation remained, amplified by the roar of applause that erupted, the excited shouts of her name that somehow surmounted the carousing ruckus. Possessed by a hitherto unknown confidence she walked to the edge of the stage and bowed, evoking another wave of cheers and whoops. But these outside stimuli merely complemented her true source of elation: the all-encompassing sense of power, of invincibility, that existed within her, dependant on nothing else.
There was really something to be said for not giving a shit, she thought, grinning to herself as she surveyed the riotous mob. Why hadn't she heeded Ino's advice earlier? But as her gaze returned to their crowded table she remembered promptly why letting go didn't work for her; why she held the reigns so tight and always strictly monitored her comportment. If she didn't she did stupid shit, like sleep with her teammate. Like go out despite the odds of running into said teammate within their shared group of friends; like imbibe alcohol despite needing her wits about her to gracefully evade such a situation, were it to arise.
As she stared into the darkened space beyond the stage, she glimpsed a pop of orange within the crowd. At first she thought the lights had just made her see spots, marred her vision with their vibrant array, but no matter how hard she blinked the color remained. As her eyes adjusted fully her heart sank. To the side of the booth where her friends still stood in ovation was Naruto, staring back at her, applauding along with the rest of them. There was even something of a smile, however inferior to his usual foolish grin, on his face as he cheered, but as their eyes met it faltered. Eclipsing his other features, something flashed across his gaze that Sakura had seen before. A question embodied in a single look.
"…Sakura-chan…Is this really happening?"
Like that her short-lived nonchalance had gone along with the whole of her conscious thought. Operating only on reflex she hopped off the stage, dashed to the booth, where amidst her friends' accolades she snatched up her coat and purse then bolted for the door. She must have stammered some weak excuse about going to smoke a cigarette, for she heard Kiba call after her, "You can smoke inside, you know!" But by the time her brain caught up to reality, processed his words and the events that had just transpired, she was already outside, panting nebulous clouds of breath into the frozen air.
She sought refuge in the alleyway beside the bar, pressed her back close to the wall to minimize her visibility. Not that anyone would come after her, she realized. No one but Ino knew the gravity of her predicament, and she was probably far too folded to do damage control at that point. Everyone else in their blissful ignorance probably thought she had actually gone to smoke a cigarette, despite her odd behavior, and would shortly rejoin them.
Well, almost everyone. There was of course one other person who knew she had reason to flee – the only one who knew the entire truth of the situation – and he was sure not to come after her. He who always did what she wanted, who always put her feelings before his own. He whom she'd betrayed. No matter how many times he'd done it before he certainly would not come chasing after her that night, if ever again.
Tossing her coat and bag to the ground she slid down the wall to crouch, head buried in her hands. She was such a fucking idiot. The very disaster she'd planned so carefully to avoid she'd single-handedly brought into being, executing her role as inexcusable dumbass flawlessly. Every step of the way she'd ignored her better judgment and actively made things worse until finally she'd found herself sprinting for an exit in front of her friends, the entire bar – and him. The fight or flight response, she thought scornfully. Well, she'd flown. She'd literally run away from her problems like a goddamn lunatic – like a child – and when she didn't return everyone would know something was up. Naruto would know what a mess she was. And it was all her fault.
Retrieving her purse, she pulled out the half-empty pack of cigarettes and fished around for her lighter. Missing. Great. Or had it been in her jacket? she pondered, digging through the pockets and coming up empty again. It must've fallen out when she'd thrown down her coat – or more likely when she'd rampaged through the bar like a maniac, and since there was no way in hell she was going back inside she found herself at a loss.
Swearing loudly she returned her head to her hands, bracing for what could only be the most shameful cry of her life, when she heard someone speak.
"Need some help?"
Snapping her head toward the mouth of the alleyway she saw the last person she ever expected to encounter that night, in that place.
"Sasuke."
Carved out of the streetlamps' glow was the unmistakable silhouette of the Uchiha, hand characteristically perched on hip. As the initial shock wore off Sakura realized just how bad things must have looked at that moment, but then again Sasuke did always get to witness her at her worst. He'd seen her cry or get her ass kicked countless times since childhood – and more often than not played the instigating role in these scenarios. As she cowered, scantily clad and near tears in an alleyway behind a dive bar, it only made sense that he would appear.
To her own surprise Sakura chuckled, finally in a place to appreciate this little cosmic joke (a place she hesitated to call "rock bottom"). There was something oddly comforting about their time-told routine, and as he stared at the disgraceful scene she for once felt grateful for his indecipherable deadpan. While the rest of her friends were certain to tear into her for her humiliating display, with Sasuke at least she could never be sure he was judging her. Sure, she usually assumed he was, but at that moment the ambiguity was calming enough.
Maybe he wouldn't see her cry that night after all, she thought, and she stood, taking a few steps toward him.
"Hey," she managed to say, holding up the cigarette. "I don't suppose you have a light?"
His answer came as but a slight raise of his eyebrows. He drew a breath, formed the seal before his mouth; waited for her to catch on and bring the cigarette to her lips before uttering, "Katon…" With a puff he sent a small flame to ignite the tip.
She took a luxurious drag and leaned against the wall again as the pleasant dizzying sensation began to fill her. "Thanks," she said, watching the smoke curl away into the blackened sky. Finally her racing pulse began to ebb.
"Rough night?" Sasuke asked, stepping further into the shadows to stand before her.
A masochistic scoff escaped her throat as she nodded. "Rough series of nights, actually," she replied, turning the cigarette between her fingers, gazing at the cherry. She had to stop thinking about the patio at Rock Bar, the ember's light on his face…
"Ah," Sasuke said, distinctively monosyllabic – at first. But when he continued, Sakura realized something was off. "I was wondering why you left the show so early."
When it hit her she had to stop herself from gaping like a moron. The night's anxieties had so distracted her that she hadn't noticed anything strange about her present exchange, when in fact every single aspect of it bordered on surreal. Sasuke was having a conversation with her. Sasuke was asking after her well-being. Sasuke was acting friendly toward her, and she hadn't even thought about punching him. And perhaps most shockingly of all: Sasuke had come to the karaoke bar.
"…Uh, pardon my surprise, but…are you here to do karaoke?" she asked.
Up went the eyebrows again. Maybe that was his way of laughing. "Something like that," he said, what Sakura could've sworn to be a smirk suggesting he found the idea just as ridiculous.
"Well the others are inside if you're wondering. At a big-ass table in the middle, you can't miss it…"
Then, just as she thought things couldn't get more bizarre, Sasuke did something she'd never seen him do before, stunning her silent once again. His eyes left hers to wander the pavement, hand swept compulsively through his hair; his mouth opened slightly as if to speak but nothing came out. Could he possibly be…uncomfortable?
"Actually," he said, forcing his gaze back to hers, "I was looking for you."
Before Sakura could answer (or contemplate the likelihood of a genjutsu hallucination lasting two full days) she heard a familiar call.
"Hey, Ugly!" She jerked her head toward the street where sure enough Sai stood beaming at her, with Shikamaru and Shino in his wake. "Guess we found the right place."
Instantly Sakura felt her panic return, but it wasn't her teammate's habitual insult that made her heart race, jaw drop and eyes widen. It wasn't anger that made her shake, her breath quicken, brow break out in sweat. It was something completely separate, and much more dire.
"Fuck. Me," she cursed under her breath, scooping up her things from the ground. "I have to go – sorry –" she managed to a befuddled Sasuke as she sped out of the alley, offering some pathetic goodbye to the others as well. As she rushed home her mind raced for a solution – an excuse – a temporary out – anything – but came up empty. She could think of no way around the inevitable. Her time limit for forming a game-plan had just diminished significantly.
For if Sai was back in the village, that meant he'd completed his reconnaissance mission, led by none other than Kakashi. And if Kakashi had returned, he was sure to arrange a training session as soon as possible.