Today is the worst.
Actually, let me amend that. Today was pretty normal until about 1 o'clock, when my godfather called the school. I know, right? I'm in the 9th grade, and no cell phone. Living with that humiliation is bad enough, but he goes and draws attention to it by calling the frigging school, and having them announce over the speakers, "Uzumaki Naruto, there's a call for you from home, in the principal's office." Yeah. Three times.
So I get there, right? Shame aside, I'm thinking This is it. The lousy peeping lush has finally staggered in front of a Mack truck, or passed out in a bar, or –God forbid- died. This would have made the embarrassment bearable at least, but no. I get to the phone, and there's my godfather's gruff and tipsy voice telling me that the lock on the house door is busted. "I'll be home later," he says after this. Line goes dead.
That was it. No, 'Go to such and such's house,' or 'Call that person for help,' or 'I called the repairman. It'll be fixed by the time you get home.' Just 'I'll be home later.' Drunk fag.
From there the day was downhill. Got back to class to find we had a ton of homework up on the board. Copying that crap down made me late for the bus, so I got home an hour later than I usually do. Not that it mattered, locked out as I was. And here I sit, on my stoop, melting in the heat of late afternoon. My godfather should win a Guardian of the Year award.
Starving. Had a single cup of instant noodles for breakfast. Then I remembered I have my laptop and internet USB, and I feel like I'm saved.
Or not. Laptop's got five minutes of life left on it. Looking at my homepage, which happens to be Deviant Art, I figure I might as well leave a journal. It would feel good to vent a little.
Nothing to do once the screen goes dark but try and see if any of my homework can be done without a computer. By now I'm dizzy from hunger, hot, miserable, and in need of the bathroom. I seriously hope my godfather gets sucked into Hell. There was absolutely no one I could call for help, and my equally drink-loving godmother wouldn't be home from her shift at the hospital till after midnight.
By the time I see someone coming up my street, I've been sitting on my ass for four hours. It's dark by this time, so all I can see of the person is the bike they're on. It's white. Then the person passes under a street lamp and I see a dark blue tee and some black jeans. Not till the person is almost on top of me do I see who it is.
Uchiha Sasuke. Jock. Cool. Smart. Gorgeous. Straight. Fuck.
Despite my surprise at seeing him, I manage to form reasonably coherent sentences. "You don't live here."
He stops his bike in front of my house with a nonchalant little skid of one Converse. "No shit. You do." He's looking down at me with the smirk that drives girls wild.
I try hard not to be driven wild, and fail. "And?"
"And," Sasuke drawled as he kicked the stand down. "I got your distress call."
"Your dA journal. You in need of assistance, or what?" The smirk again.
I actually have to huddle in on myself a bit to keep from visibly shivering. I'm left blinking up at him like an idiot before I remember that I mentioned my circumstances in my little rant. "Oh. Yeah."
He gives a nod that's hard for me to interpret. Could be smug, could be satisfied, really don't care at this point. Sasuke is at my house, rescuing me. Talk about fap fodder. I watch him sling his messenger bag off his shoulder and extract some kind of power drill.
I guess you can tell I have it pretty bad for Sasuke. Always have, ever since transferring to this school two years ago. I'm just one of many, though. The entire female populace of our school practically comes whenever he walks by. He doesn't give them the time of day. It's not like he ogles the guys, either. He's aware of his sex appeal without giving the rest of us mortals an inkling as to his preferences. And thus does he rule the school.
It occurs to me to wonder just what has possessed Sasuke to help me out, of all people. Not like I'm all that popular. He hasn't spoken to me extensively during this year, or the previous one. Not at all, actually. The few words we exchanged just now is the extent of our communication, so why is he helping me? How does he even know who I am?
"How do you know where I live?" I ask.
"You're listed in the school's records."
"You accessed my files? Why?"
"Your situation seemed kind of urgent," he grunted.
The sound of the drill is loud and abrasive on the otherwise silent street. Sasuke's really working that thing, gripping it hard with one hand, while pressing against it with the heel of the other. The bit jumps and skids on the metal jamb before it finds purchase. The muscles of Sasuke's forearm and bicep really stand out. His back muscles are also clearly outlined through his sweat-dampened shirt. God. Is it any wonder I've been wet-dreaming about him? I mean, he's got the hottest body in our grade.
There's a loud, protracted screech of metal, and then the knob comes off in his hand. He does something with the hole he made in the jamb, poking around in there for a few minutes. Then he pushes my door inward with a little flourish. "There ya go."
"Thanks," I say.
"Sure." A pause. "You live here alone?"
Does he want to murder me or something? "Godparents."
"Oh. They cool?"
"I guess. Um…you thirsty?"
I lead the way to the kitchen, relieved to see that it's not too messy. "Beer, and more beer," I announce, leaning into the fridge. Then I spot a small yellow pitcher. "Unless you drink ginger milk?" I look back at Sasuke.
He's taking a seat at the table. "What's that?"
I'm already taking the pitcher out and finding two glasses. "This stuff my godmother drinks day in and day out. When she's not boozing it up, anyway." He takes the glass I pour for him. His fingertips brush the back of my hand so that I jump a little and spill some of the ginger milk. He's gracious about it, brushing aside my stammering apologies, but I know my face is red.
Sasuke sips cautiously once I'm seated across from him. "It's good."
Watching him down the glass in three swallows, a lightbulb suddenly goes off in my mind. "You have me on watch."
"Pardon?" He's looking at my wide-eyed surprise with one raised black brow.
"On dA. Yo have me on watch or you wouldn't have seen that journal I posted."
"Oh. Yeah, I do."
"Dude…wh…I mean…why?" I'm literally numb just thinking about Sasuke seeing my crap and reading the nonsense I post.
He shrugs. "Because I like your work?"
"What's your username?"
"Dark Avenger seven twentry-three."
I recognize the name. On dA it looks like DaRkAvEnGeR723. And now I nearly choke on my own swallow of ginger milk. I sit there coughing for a good five minutes before I'm able to speak. "You're the one who faves all my art submissions and comments on all my journals."
A guilty smile.
Needless to say, I'm shocked. Completely. "How come you never said anything at school?"
Sasuke twists his mouth in an expression I take to mean 'I don't know.' "You're not that approachable at school. You're usually surrounded by your friends, and they seem to think I'm a snob."
Kiba, Neji, and Gaara do rag on Sasuke a lot, mostly vituperative and envious comments. It embarrasses me to think he might have heard some of that. "You thought I felt the same way?"
A shrug this time. "Maybe."
Without thinking, I say, "Didn't realize you thought of me at all."
As soon as the words are out of my mouth, I feel like slitting my wrists in shame. Honestly, could I sound more pathetic?
Sasuke leans forward on the table and toys with his glass. "Yeah, well. I like your work. You write very well."
An uncomfortable silence follows. We're both looking at where he's slowly turning his glass on its base. I wonder if I should offer him more ginger milk, or maybe try and say something to get him talking again, when Sasuke clears his throat and licks his lips.
"There was this one journal you posted last year…titled 'My Soul in Shreds.' Remember?"
I have to think. I post a lot of junk on dA. A hazy memory comes to me. "About dreams or something?"
"Yeah. You also mentioned this person at school that you were crushing on."
And just like that, the journal in question comes back to me in a flash. Not only had I mentioned Sasuke by name, but I'd gone on to detail his attributes in an endless proliferation of adjectives. I remember the entry as being predominantly dark and angsty, like most of my entries are, but that one section on Sasuke had been an exception of glowing praise. I remember ending the entry with a question on whether or not it would be wise to pursue the dream of talking to Sasuke.
I cover my face with a hand and groan. "Oh my God."
"I think there was one comment to that entry," Sasuke said quietly. Pointedly.
There had been. By DaRkAvEnGeR723, actually. It had said…
My heart skips several beats at the memory. I lift my head slowly from my hand to find him staring at me with a serious expression.
The comment had said 'Go for it.'
The awareness of my crush, now exposed and acknowledged, sort of sits between us on the table, waiting to be verbally addressed. I'm sure my face is every color of the rainbow now, but Sasuke just sits there, staring at me until I feel like shitting myself with nerves.
Then I blurt, "I wish you hadn't seen that."
His face fell.
After, while he's getting up from the table, and making his excuses to leave, and talking about how he should get home, and blah de blah blah, I realize I've missed something. All during his speech on how his brother might worry, and while he's putting his bag back over one shoulder, and putting the power drill inside, I search for something to say, to express my apologies for obviously offending him. And then it hits me that maybe, just maybe, Sasuke is okay with my feelings. Maybe more than okay. I manage to stop him as he's walking out my front door with a hoarse plea. "Wait."
He looks back at me. Doesn't say anything.
I'll freely admit that this is where my courage, such as it is, fails me. I stand there, without the slightest clue of what to say. I'm still standing there with my mouth open when Sasuke comes back inside. Still clueless when he closes my door behind him. And still speechless when he leans in and presses his lips to mine in a brief, fiery kiss that feels like a brand.
My breath stops altogether. I pull back, a little afraid, and he lets me. Then he tugs me forward again by the front my T-shirt, and I nearly fall against him in trying to meet him halfway.
Tongue. Like, holy shit. Serious tongue.
There aren't any words to describe it. He's hot and hard all over, and I feel weak and trembly all over, and the way he cups my face and neck with his strong hands makes me shiver. He pulls me closer, or I walk into him, I don't know, but we bump into the house door. He's really holding me tightly, and my heart is a wild, pagan drum of exultation in my ears.
I finally pull away in embarrassment when it dawns on me that I have a painful erection. Sasuke pulls me back in, kisses me hard, then pulls me in for another when I break the kiss a third time. I'm breathless, nearly cross-eyed, barely able to stand, but I plant my hands on his solid chest and use it to steady myself as I put some distance between us. Sasuke grabs my elbows. "What?" he pants.
He pulls me back in, this time threading a hand through my hair to keep me in place. I willingly sink into the overpowering attraction of his mouth, too off-balance from experiencing my first kiss to resist anymore.
By the time we stop and he jogs easily down the front steps, I'm practically unconscious. I have no idea how long we kissed, or even when it stopped, precisely. I do remember Sasuke grabbing my hand and scribbling something on my palm as I tried to get my brain working again. I lift my hand to wave as he stands on the pedals of his bike, speeding away, then glance at my palm. There were some digits, followed by two words: Call me.
I close my door, turn, lean on it, and slide to the floor. I blink idiotically at the foyer, before my face splits in a mindless grin. My first kiss. And Uchiha Sasuke...isn't straight.
Not a good day, no. A great day.