Eh, Eh, Nothing Else I Can Say
As it turns out, it was not Sasuke Uchiha who I ran into. It was his much nicer-god-i-love-to-screw-with-my-twerp-of-a-younger-brother, brother.
The forces that be seem to have smiled upon me today, because let me tell you, had they not, breaking-and-entering charges would have been filed.
The very, very scary looking men told Uchiha Itachi that I broke into the house to steal and I, of course, corrected them by informing said Uchiha that I was only there to reclaim what's mine, my beautiful Prada bag. He was very sympathetic to my situation, he said that his ex-girlfriend had been a Prada fanatic, and had gotten herself in a similar predicament. (To be perfectly honest I wanted to heart a little bit more about his girlfriend stuus, and perhaps hear him spin a delightful tale about her Prada-induced struggle, hell maybe I'm his type.) He was, however, very curious as to how it ended up in his little brother's room, his engaged little brother's room. So he dismissed the secret-service-like guards and led me to their enormous kitchen to explain.
"Something to eat?" he asked, holding out a perfectly red apple. I accepted, really for the sheer purpose to examine it. Itachi had a curious expression on as he watched me stare at the apple in awe. It was immaculate. I, in all my twenty years of existence on this earth, had never seen an apple in such perfect condition.
"We have special apple pickers; they travel all around the world to find us the perfect apples—only the best for an Uchiha."
"Really?" I said in amazement, this is pretty darn fancy, someday I too, shall have these glorious 'special apple pickers' it will be a thing of wondrous proportions! I will have them travel to Italy, France, and...The Philippians, (do they have apples in the Philippians? I shall have to Google that later. Or Bing it…nah, I'm no hipster.) all in search of my perfect app—
I let out my very best 'hmph,' and crossed my arms ready to retaliate. I began to prepare myself for a hissy fit, or, at the very least, a pouty face.
"So," he said with a bemused grin. "How did this whole thing happen?"
Oh. I looked away from him. I was suddenly embarrassed, and a little ashamed to have to tell what appeared to be a nice and caring man about my drunken encounter with his younger soon-to-be-married younger brother. I happen to like him, both in personality and his, um, aesthetic appeal, and I wasn't thrilled to have him disappointed in me so early in what could possibly be a flirtationship of epic proportions!
"Well, it started like this. . ." And I told him, another true story about Uchiha Sasuke and me. It was mildly painful to tell him about Sasuke picking me up, watching as his face slowly fall, and finally to a frown when I told him about the morning after. I was, however, happy to see him crack a smile and shake his head when I described the momentous size of Sasuke's golden bathroom. Then I was ecstatic to see him laugh when I told him how I called Sasuke "Jerk-face." I had to stop at that point and watch him cup his mouth and shake in hysterics.
"And what did Sasuke say to that?" He asked when he finally regained composure.
"Nothing, what could he say?" I asked smiling.
"I suppose," he said with the wispy grin that he usually has on his face. "Now continue."
So then I told him about realizing just who Sasuke was, and that my purse was gone. He laughed again when I told him about Ino, and Naruto, and our plan.
"And that's where you found me."
Itachi nodded and smiled, looking down at the counter.
"You are ridiculous, so are your friends."
I shot him a faux glare and bared my teeth at him. Once again he gave me what I named The Smile. I was shattered when he turned serious again.
"I'm sorry that my brother was so rude to you, but he is engaged. I'm hoping that you can keep this to yourself…and of course, I'll get you your purse." He added the last bit with a sideways smirk.
I quickly nodded and told him of course. He stood up and motioned for me to follow him.
The journey to Sasuke's room was a long and difficult one. I was scared that I hadn't brought enough water. Seriously. That is not a hyperbole; unlike the time I compared the line to dump my tray in the school cafeteria to Vietnam. (But I do have bad flash backs sometimes, clutching your tray close to your body, praying that no one gets food on you, holding on to your silverware for dear life, lest you should have to dumpster dive later. But, I digress.)
During the long trek I made small talk with Itachi, you know, stuff about the weather, his favorite color, marital status, if he's a cat or dog person.
"My marital status?"
I stop to think about my next words. I must approach it with the utmost care and grace, also, something to divert the attention from the extreme tingly warmth I feel on my face, of which I can only assume is the super powers I wished for back in seventh grade, or that I am blushing.
"Yeah, you know,'cuz your younger brother is getting married…I just thought, that maybe you were too."
"No, I'm not married." He says with humor. "Don't you read tabloids?"
I eye him questioningly. I still have no idea if he's single or not, and I don't really know what the heck tabloids have to do with anything. Either way, I feel as though I have used up my personal question quota, so I let it go.
"I don't read trash." I say in mock offence. Although I have read the 50 Shades Trilogy, which is trashy fiction, does that count?
He smiled then in an exaggerated fashion presented me a ridiculously proportioned door.
"Sasuke is a fan of the theatrical, though he would never admit it." Itachi said bemused. He then reached into his pocket and produced a key and unlocked the door.
Together we entered the dark room, and if feels vaguely like the beginning of a horror movie.
"Ta-Dah." He whispers in a sing-song voice, then flicks on the light.
Ironically, using theatrical to describe this room is an understatement. The room is familiar, kind of. It looks different under the synthetic lights, but, familiar. I feel myself shiver reflexively. The emotions that I had felt days ago come rushing back. He had been so sweet in the bar, charming even. Enough so that I had come home with him, and let me tell you I don't usually do that kind of thing: I'm no floozy! Well, unless you think that time I let Kiba Inuzuka feel me up under the bleachers in tenth grade was floozish. I digress.
The room is vacant and much too large to suit its purpose. The walls are an off white color, similar to the outer shell of a white egg with a glossy gold around the trim. The rest of the room is like that, sterile, mass produced, unnatural, egg white color with gold accents. Some might say it's glorious, I say it's tacky and superficial.
The focal point of the room is the large king size bed, it rests under a translucent canopy of gold colored fabric with large fringes on the end. There's a fire place adjacent to the bed, and a flat screen TV hanging on the wall opposite the bed, and a white, velvety looking chairs and a couch sit around the TV. In the center is a circular steel coffee table.
Jeez is this room a stereotype. I'm just waiting for Alfred to appear and open up the entrance to the Bat Cave.
"See what I mean? Theatrical." Itachi's voice lifts musically on theatrical. "I assure you none of the other rooms are so overstated. The Uchiha pride themselves on their taste."
I nod, god I hope not. I scan the room for my purse at the entrances of the room.
"You know you can go in, right" Itachi says with a bit of humor in his voice.
I scrunch my face and look at him.
"Of course I know that. I'm just surveying the area first! A great explorer knows what their getting into."
"There are no booby traps in here, Indian Jones."
Hm. That's what thinks. Obviously he has yet to see the toilet, that thing was intended to flush tattletales. Screw sleeping with the fishes, you'll be living it up with alligators, playing "Where's my Water?"
I glance behind to make sure Sasuke doesn't sneak up on me. For some reason I feel like he would me one hell of a ninja. Seeing that the coast is clear I gingerly step farther into the room. Other than the strange living room setup and the bed, the only other furniture in the room is the bedside table and a desk. There are two other doors in the room; one I know is the bathroom, the other, I can only assume is the closet.
The purse isn't in plain sight, but the lack of furniture means that this shouldn't be too long of a search.
"Will you search the night stand and the desk? I'll look under the bed and behind that ominous door."
"You are exceptionally…brave. I think?"
"I am exceptional period." I don't know how I feel about that inflection.
Itachi chuckles at this, closes the door, and we begin to scope out the room.
I don't know what those nightstand drawers are like but underneath the bed there is nothing but vicious dust bunnies. Perhaps if one bits me I'll get a plot bunny? I do want to get back to writing my memoir.
I crawl out from under the bed and glance at Itachi.
He looks at me from the nightstand.
"Same." I sashay, and yes I mean sashay, over to what I have dubbed: "The closet door" and I open it.
It's Narina, (I've waited my entire life to say that!) in the closet. It looks like it's nearly the size of the room, and filled to the brim with clothes. Men's and women's. For a brief moment I wonder if Sasuke is a cross dresser then see that these fashion-not's can belong to non-other than Karin Oro. I walk forward slightly, and the slides, almost, shut, there is still a crack in the door.
As if on cue my Prada bag comes into view. Oh, god, it's beautiful. Deep burgundy, bold, beautiful, full of light and life, oh how it matched that champagne dress!
"What are you doing in here Itachi?" I hear Sasuke say from the room, whoa, wait. Sasuke? I didn't hear him come in. I peek the crack and see that he is staring at Itachi, looking quite pissed if I do say so myself. I assume that he doesn't know what I'm there, or I'm fairly sure that Sasuke would be having a level five temper tantrum.
"Just looking for something that doesn't belong to you."
"Cut the mystic shit Itachi."
Here I am, yet again, trapped in the closet. All I can say is eh, eh.
(A/N): So, I have no idea where this story is going. I promise it doesn't take me this long to type 2,00 words, but, what can I say? College takes a lot of time. I'm not sure where to go with this. Any suggestions? I hate the stereotypical love triangle, so that's not an option. Maybe I'll turn this into a Itasaku? I have no idea. But I think I might change POV's next chapter, any thoughts?