Chapter Text
She can feel vodka cranberry flavoured bile underneath her tongue and mascara weighing heavily down on her eyelids. It makes her not want to open them, but the cold doesn’t help, nor the fact that it’s eight.am.
Last night wasn’t good enough to justify this hangover and Sakura doesn’t bother to put on the light, just stumbles around in the dark, putting on mismatched socks and buttoning her shirt wrong.
“Turn on the lights. It’s more annoying hearing you crash into the wardrobe.” Ino groans, her messy blonde hair sticking out from under her mountains of duvet. “Freak.”
“I was trying to be considerate.”
She scoffs. “Being considerate would be skipping that lecture. No one goes to their nine a.m.”
Sakura leaves on the lights as she goes. Her music is pulsing in her ears as she uses that as an excuse to ignore Ino’s yells, wondering if she should skip the lecture next week.
It was just a class to fill out her extra credits, something not revolving so strictly around medicine and stem. A filler. So why couldn’t Sakura bring herself to stay in bed for a little longer – like everyone else?
Ino wouldn’t have went. She’s casual and relaxed and coasts through life like she isn’t expecting anything. Her eyebrows rise and lips purse when Sakura declines an offer out - “experience something other than a dissection” - she says, pushing the bottle into her hands or picking out her clothes.
Sakura wonders if she should be firmer, stand her ground – a ground – and push back. But she sort of doesn’t want to. Maybe if Ino wasn’t so beguiling and she so willing. Maybe if Sakura doesn’t want to live the life that Ino references. If that consisted of vodka cranberries and too much eyeliner, then she wants it. With Ino, in her persuasive, cool way.
“Can I have a pen?” The voice startles her out from her head. Sakura remembers that she’s in her philosophy class, staring blankly at her pen with a pom-pom at the end and her spiral notebook. She looks two seats to her right, wondering when someone like him would have snuck in, as if she wouldn’t notice.
The boy speaks again. “Hey, can I have a pen? This guy” he points to the figure beside him, who seems to be resolutely ignoring the exchange “refuses to give me one.”
She acquiesces, passing an ugly biro to him. He’s pretty yet rough around the edges. Horizontal scars and smile lines and bright hair seem to encompass him. While Ino’s blonde is cool-toned and effortless, his seems like the saturation is turned up all the way.
He smiles at her. “I’m Naruto. I think I’ve seen you around once or twice. Near the medicine campus?”
She nods. “That’s my major. I’m Sakura, nice to meet you.”
“You’re loud and the professor is starting soon.” The boy beside him cuts in, looking at her with dark hair and eyes, stark against his pale skin. Sakura opens her mouth then closes it, wondering why he is blaming her when his friend is using his outside voice.
She doesn’t speak for the rest of the lecture.
She must have seen them before, between Kakashi’s terrible jokes and lateness and picking her in a room full of people to answer horridly phrased questions. Descartes was making her hangover addled mind hurt, and the essay on if Plato’s understanding of the soul is more convincing than Aristotle’s didn’t help the matter. But philosophy is thought provoking and subjective, unlike the rights and wrongs in a biology module. The class ends up becoming a reprieve against Tsunade’s harshness.
Sakura remembers where she’d seen the dark-haired one. In this lecture hall, staring at the broad planes of his back and praying that he wouldn’t turn around - stopping herself from arguing with every suggestion he made.
As she makes her way back to her dorm, Sakura realises that Naruto didn’t give back her pen.
“My mom used to say your eyes would turn square if you stared at a screen for too long.” Shikamaru drawls, splayed all over Ino’s bed with Ino on Sakura’s.
Sakura smiles, still tapping away on her keyboard. Fuck Kakashi. “That didn’t stop you I’m guessing.”
“No.” He agrees mildly. “I didn’t believe her.”
Ino laughs. “So, you were skeptical from birth or already viewed your mother in derision for her silly, old-wives tales.”
Sakura ignores their easy banter and carries on with the essay. They went to high school together, some private school where all the kids were either insanely smart or insanely talented at football. She can tell just by the way they express themselves, obscure references and witticisms that she struggles to catch up with. They also went to school with this other guy who she just can’t remember the name of. He keeps to himself mostly, something about sport science and playing football.
Shikamaru however, is around more often than not. His dorm is in the building (which he shares with Chouji who she now remembers) and is distinctly hard to please. Not that Sakura is trying to please him, but she has this intense urge to be liked, by everyone. To be nice enough but not too nice so that she’ll be walked all over. With Ino she has already failed in that regard and it feels like Nara can smell it off her, eyebrows rising whenever she acquiesces to Ino’s demands. Sakura feels like she’s doing something wrong when he shoots her those judgemental stares like he knows something that she doesn’t.
A chips packet hits her upside the head. “For lunch.” Ino smiles, stuffing her things in her bag, textbooks that look like they weigh more than her. “We’re going to the café off the main road, near Ichirakus’.”
“So, a bar?” Sakura corrects drily, watching her stumble over mounds of clothes for all her schoolwork packaged neatly in cute binders. She never assumed to understand her roommate's dichotomy of chaos and obsessiveness.
Ino rolls her eyes, grabbing Sakura so she would look at her. “A bar at eleven. It’s more of a hybrid. You can finish your work there.”
“I’ve got a math paper to do so I won’t distract you.” Shikamaru offers, looking at her like he knows she’ll go along with another one of Ino’s schemes, like she’s pathetic. Sakura gets up, the attention on her too much, tucking her long pink hair under her coat and grabbing her things. The chip packet is lost underneath the desk, where she plans to fish it out for a midnight snack, if she even makes it back for then.
Shikamaru’s shifty eyes are right. I am pathetic the pinkette thinks to herself, not yet glumly, eyes staring dispassionately at her fluorescent screen.
The café, decidedly a hybrid called Coffee and Cocktails is bubbling with students sipping on beers between shots of espresso. The three of them are packed closely together in a booth. Shikamaru’s leg keeps touching Sakura’s thigh. “They’re here.” He says, and all Sakura can do is look at the shitty décor and peeling paint and look at Ino suspiciously.
“You wouldn’t have came if we told you some of Shikamaru’s friends were coming.” The blonde shrugs unabashedly. “You need to meet more people.”
“What if I don’t want to meet more people?” Sakura snaps. Ino’s blue eyes turn to slits.
Shikamaru eyes her, bored. “I didn’t tell you they were coming too. You can’t blame it all on Yamanaka.”
“Well, she’s got a track record.” Shikamaru looks vaguely surprised at the hint of venom in her voice. Surprised I’ve got a backbone? Sakura internally mocks. Her record was nearly perfect at her old shitty high school, marred only by the time she punched a boy so hard she knocked out his lateral incisor. He shoved his hand up her skirt. She was the only one punished.
“Well, they’re already here.” Ino shifts a lock away from her face, primping. It’s odd how self-conscious Ino can be sometimes, so far away from her personality, or what Sakura thinks is her personality. It’s only October and sometimes when she’s depressed after a night out, she feels like a tag-along, like Shikamaru and Ino are just humouring her then laughing behind her back. She’s never had close friends, or any worth keeping in close contact with – apart from birthdays and congratulating each others' milestones. Sakura comes from a shitty town with an odd 20,000 people in the middle of nowhere. Being a girl and trying hard didn’t make people the friendliest. She has a diamond shaped scar in her forehead as proof of that.
Sakura looks up, away from the screen that’s shielding her and pass the terrible falafel that they serve for a buck each.
It’s Naruto and philosophy boy, both red nosed and one perpetually grumpy. Angry. He’s decidedly unimpressed and annoyingly handsome, even more handsome than his pensive side profile that morning. She didn’t notice then, with the room dimly lit and his refusal to acknowledge her presence, but his clothes are well tailored – designer – she could tell from her volunteering. Naruto’s clothes looked as expensive too. They’re both surprised and so is she, though while in Naruto’s face it’s more pleasant, philosophy boy looks unamused.
“Oh! Hey Sakura!” Naruto shouts too loud, making Sakura cringe at the noise. “I didn’t know you were friends with Shika here.”
Shikamaru scowls. “Don’t call me that. Nobody ever calls me that.”
“I do.” Ino says just for fun, or attention, probably the latter. She mouths tell me later to Sakura, likely about how her and Naruto are already on first name basis. Philosophy boy sits gingerly in a seat next to Sakura. She stares at him from the corner of her eye. “What are you called?” She asks, sort of surprising herself. He doesn’t seem surprised, more slightly bemused and mostly annoyed.
“Sasuke Uchiha.” His voice is low and smooth, teeth glinting as he moves his lips and eyes fixed on hers, before snapping them away. Her legs are pressed against his in the too small booth, but this time she doesn’t move them. The name Uchiha sounds familiar to Sakura, but she can’t quite place it. Ino watches the exchange, a huge smile on her face.
“So, Sasuke, huh. You two went Hokage Prep, that’s what, seventh in the country?” Ino leans forward, cleavage on display. She’ll get him Sakura thinks, and she can’t even blame her, or him. He’s gorgeous, she’s gorgeous, and they’d look good together. And Ino rarely tries, men just fall into her lap. Sakura has yet to be approached by a guy who doesn’t smell like cheese.
And they’re from the same world, like most of this school is. The Hashirama Senju Institute is the best in the country, and everyone knows who played who in lacrosse and who to avoid. Sakura has never heard ‘what high school did you go?’ so much, and the look of confusion when she tells them, because they’ve never heard of a state school like hers.
Sasuke almost rolls his eyes, she thinks. “Does it matter?” He deadpans. “And I specifically remember Leaf was tenth place last year, if we’re going to play that game.”
“The game where we all measure sticks to see whose background is more prestigious?” Ino laughs. “You’re right, it’s pretty pathetic, but it’s also a conversation starter.”
“And inane.” Shikamaru adds. “Besides, it doesn’t start conversation for everyone.” He glances at Sakura and they can all tell. Naruto shifts his eyes towards her, and Sakura has never hated Shikamaru more in that moment.
However, Naruto seems to have been blessed with the ability to read a room and doesn’t bite. Sasuke doesn’t even care, already setting up his laptop and taking out his notes.
“Hey, Sakura-chan.” His grin is blinding, and she doesn’t like the way he’s already added that honorific. Ino snorts. She’s barely said more than three words to him, ever. “You doing the philosophy essay? I think I’ll take a stab on that, with you two here.”
“Yep.” She pops her p, for extra emphasis, begging him to leave her alone based on subtext. She doesn’t know why she’s already gained such an aversion to Naruto, but there’s something about the way he’s already so comfortable with her. It’s unfair and unsettling, like he’s never been socially anxious in his life. “I think a defence on Plato using Descartes and some other scholars I can rustle up. Then Aristotle I guess.”
“Substance dualism.” Ino rolls her eyes, placing her highlighters in a perfectly straight line to her right. “Plato was full of shit.”
Shikamaru starts at that, drawn away from messing about on his graphic calculator. “The Republic is arguably the most influential book of all time. You can draw comparisons between it and basically anything Marx has written.”
“It’s more like a script. And freakin’ tedious. I died a little when Kamizuki taught that back in eleventh grade.” Naruto groaned, as though reliving the memory. Sakura sat back and watched like she always did when Ino and Shikamaru were having a debate, over art or film or if Sarutobi should resign based on the fact that he’s eighty-five. Then Shikamaru or Ino ask her opinion and that’s when she speaks and they consider what she says, before finally dissecting everything wrong with it. It still shocks her sometimes, the things they learn in a fee-paying school's curriculum that she’s barely even heard of. Sakura knows she’s way out of her depth, but she isn’t stupid. She fought her way here, tooth and nail, and that’s something they will never understand.
This time its Sasuke who speaks, who shockingly gives off a small smile. “You never listened. Remember that time I had to bail you out when he was grilling you, loser. I don’t know how you passed that class.”
“Work smarter, not harder.” Naruto winks at her, and Sakura’s mouth twitches at the silliness of it all. She looks to her left and sees that Sasuke is already watching her. She looks away first.
Ino’s eyes glint. “What do you think Sakura, taking the class and all. Bonding with Naruto as you discuss classical philosophers.” She’s mocking her now, Sakura knows, and doesn’t care to figure out why, or really respond.
“I think that Plato is full of shit. But to be worth hearing you sort of have to be, isn’t it? Calvinism was derided in the early sixteenth century, but it literally birthed capitalism, which is like…the most important system of thought ever.” Sakura exhaled. She didn’t realise how nervous she would be, but it didn’t matter. She said what she thought, and Ino gave her a genuine smile.
“And capitalism is fucking shit.” Mutters Sasuke, sat back with his headphones on. They didn’t even know he was listening.
Sakura laughs. Loudly. “Says the boy who went to private school.” His ears redden slightly, enough for her to notice. It’s sort of…cute, which isn’t an adjective that Sasuke likely hears very often. His face is stony and intense, but when he didn’t have a frown on, he looks almost angelic. Sakura doesn’t disagree with him, not at all. But she wanted to see if he was the type of guy to squirm, and he is, at least a bit.
A few more disagreements occur. Ino gets a shot in her next coffee and Sakura drinks half of it. They work silently for the next hour. Naruto goes to the bar to get a beer, offering Sakura a drink before she wrinkles her nose. She won’t accept anything from a guy she only knows a day. Shikamaru and Ino go outside to smoke, the pair claiming that it would wake them up, with Ino having eyeliner smeared under her eyes which would have Sakura looking like a raccoon but on Yamanaka is just sexy. She’s probably fatigued from flirting with Sasuke, who is giving nothing back. After Sakura’s comment he quickly went back to his work, no longer the blushing boy.
Sakura peeks over Sasuke’s shoulder, watching him sip on black coffee periodically before scrolling though an international relations module. Political sciences major. The pair are alone and the air is stifling. Awkward. Sakura feels the urge to fill the silence but doesn’t know what to say.
Sasuke catches her staring. “You interested?” His eyebrows are raised and she thinks he’s smirking, but it’s a trick of the light and his eyes look tired.
“What?” Sakura panics, cheeks reddening.
“In the module. Are you interested in Indonesias potential to become a global superpower?” He drones, back to clicking obnoxiously on his MacBook.
“I mean…not particularly.” She decides, playing with the hem of her red jumper, giving her something to focus on.
“That what I thought. You should focus on your work.” Sakura silently fumes, unsure if she should say something or let it slide. Yes, she was looking over his shoulder but that was because she was intrigued in what he studied, not him. Why does he feel the need to chastise her. She doesn’t need Mr Knightly treatment from a guy she doesn’t know!
“I don’t think you should be in the habit of telling people you don’t know what to do.” She says coolly, flicking her pink hair over her shoulder – a trick her mother taught her a long time ago. Sakura gets up before she can hear his retort or check if he is even going to bother responding. Based on the look on his face it seems that women don’t typically tell him off.
She wraps her arm around herself, braving the cold and the eventual second-hand smoking she’ll have to put up with. Anything but Sasuke Uchiha, who is turning out to be a horridly gorgeous jerk. The sort of guy who’d break her heart and he wouldn’t even know.