A true friend would tell a friend, "I'm attracted to you." And that friend would honestly respond with how he or she feels. Then life would go on.(1)
It seemed so easy. After all, it was only four words. Well, one could argue it was really five words, and really… five words was a lot. An "I love you," proclamation or "Will you marry me?" question was less words, three and four, respectively, and how many lifetimes were spent considering, worrying, practicing, and planning the delivery of those words?
So, really, an extra word was reason enough to be preoccupied. Preoccupied might be an understatement.
Maybe, in the end, they weren't even friends, much less 'true' friends. Roommates, yes. Acquaintances, okay. Friends?
His brows knitted as he was rudely disrupted, eyes finally straying from the textbook that stood propped on his abdomen and supported upright by his bent legs. His response was waspish at best, "What the hell do you want? I'm trying to study!"
"Huh. You idiot. Look at your pencil."
Huffing, he brought the culprit into his line of sight. Chewed. Terribly nibbled, to put it nicely. Was that wood showing through the dented yellow paint?
Right. He dropped the writing instrument (habit-formed chew toy, really) onto the white sheets on which he sat, "So?"
"Thinking really hard, I can tell."
Was that an insult? Damn straight, that--Ugh! There was no question about it. They were not friends. Definitely not. The guy pissed the hell out of him.
"Shut up," he had nothing else to say. There was a pause where familiar, though always annoying, silence permeated the room. Usually the second person of this conversation made it a point to not comply with his command. Of course, not him. He was a bastard of little words. In fact, the guy had already turned back to his computer and some chemistry paper that needed to be written.
Even getting in the last words to a conversation just was not enough lately. He should have bitten his tongue, "You're done? Is that why you spent your precious time watching me masticate my pencil?"
Any normal person would have sighed, swiveled in their chair, reassured the other, or defended their action. Maybe even laughed. Of course, not him.
"I considered going down to the dining hall."
Curiosity was sparked. The other male probably hadn't eaten for a straight four hours ever since he started working, unlike someone (okay, okay, he was referring to himself) who had inhaled a bowl of instant noodles in the dorm room just two hours into his 'study' session. Oh, why don't you? was what he mentally asked. What he carefully phrased was, "You should go eat."
"I can wait."
Eyebrows rose as he stared at the back of the other's black t-shirt, it was another minute when realization hit. OH. He got it. "No, let's go eat," he accented his statement by slamming his book shut and swinging his legs over the side of his bed.
There was no movement from his roommate that indicated the other was going to be leaving the room anytime soon. Of course. Cajoling was always necessary. And he discovered through the quarters that the best way was stubborn, insistent verbal prodding.
"Come on, come on. Let's go. I'm hungry. Food is necessary."
Ah. There was document saving in progress. The chair scooted back. His roommate was getting to his feet. Success.
"Naruto!" A noise underlined with disgust. Combined with exasperation. Was that a glare? However, there was defeat and no argument whatsoever.
"What?" He countered with nonchalance and a roll of sky-blue eyes. It was just ketchup he dipped his French-fries in, even if it was on the other's plate. He ran out. Besides, his gift of tomatoes was accepted and consumed, though not without having to listen to a sentence about healthy eating. Honestly, there was nothing wrong with fast food.
His roommate was drinking hot water again. One of his not-so-apparent quirks, he learned. He never saw the guy drink anything but water or tea. It was either piping hot water in the cafeteria or some nuance of green tea in the dorm room. Really an oddball.
He preferred coffee. Strong. Or soda. Gatorade. Anything that laced energy through his blood. One would think he was high strung, but the finger should really be pointed at the other guy. Now, that guy was tense. Uptight. Cold. Very distant.
The guy was just not a likable person. Did he really think this guy was 'attractive'?
Maybe he had pulled one too many all-nighters.
There wasn't even a spark of charm. Sure, his roommate sported a sort-of sexy style. Sort of. Perhaps it depended on how one looked at it. Maybe upside down? How could it be described? Dark? Simple? Typical. Nothing out of the ordinary. So what the hell was it?
The urge to repeatedly hit the table using his head made itself known by forming pressure in his temples.
There was a slide of ceramic against the worn table surface.
Looking up, he beamed, looking fondly at the other, forgetting his frustration, "For me?"
His roommate exuded apathy, even when he was wiping his fork clean with his napkin before handing it to the blond, "Here."
Still grinning radiantly, he used the utensil to attack the dessert, "I knew there was a reason I kept you around!"
He received a scoff as the other turned his attention elsewhere to stare indistinctly at some unknown spot in the cafeteria.
Together, they sat among the noise of the dining hall. Deciding tonight was another comfortable, uneventful dinner, he stood (sat)corrected as a girl slipped before his line of sight across the opposite seat until she sat next to his roommate.
"Sasuke!" she addressed ingratiatingly to said roommate, ignoring his presence even if they lived on the same floor, "You looked like you needed a pick-me-up."
Was that coffee she was leaving by the reticent male? The blond was laughing inside. Really. And it was becoming difficult to keep the amusement under wraps.
But he really ought to repay the guy. No, actually, he really ought to save the girl from a load of hurt. So he took action.
"Hey, thanks! He doesn't drink 'that shit,' but I certainly do!" He took the cup and blew on the dark liquid lightly, taking a cautious sip. Nothing beat caffeine blasts. Cake and coffee. Life's little pleasures.
While the girl looked angry enough to burst an artery, the man's ebony orbs looked like they were pleased for the first time in a long time. Because his facial expression never seemed to change to the general unobserving public (not that he was saying he stared at the guy that much), the girl took the indifference as initiative to speak her mind. Bad idea. He should have warned her.
"Is this pig your friend?" she huffed nastily.
Whoa, whoa. Pig? This was a fork and plate, not a trough. Wilbur, Babe, eat your heart out.
Oh, no. Words left his roommate's lips. God, Buddha, Mahatma Gandhi, save the poor (dumb) soul. Oh, whatever. He'll save her himself. Goodbye, chocolate. It was fun while it lasted.
"OH, SHIT! MY BAD." His arm shot forward.
The beautiful dark brown dessert hit the girl's pristine sweater. Hmm, aim was a bit off. Pandemonium. Just kidding. Was that convincing or what? And that slap stung!
But the vague upward curve of Sasuke's mouth never looked clearer.
(1) Cohen, Harlan. The Naked Roommate. Page 223.
I flipped to a random page for a one-liner to challenge myself to write a drabble. But it turned out more interesting than I thought. My first Naruto fic that looks like it's going to be a chaptered fic. I would really appreciate any feedback. Please review?