❝as bright as the sun, you're my vitamin D
let's run into another dimension, you make me feel like I'm on drugs❞
Sasuke and Naruto couldn't be more different. From the way they dressed, down to every fiber of their personalities and interests. But f...
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✩
Seriously..
The raven haired male sighs as he enters the unlocked and slightly ajar front door to his shared apartment. When he'd first seen the listing for the room he now occupied on Facebook for half the price of what most people were charging; he knew he'd be in for a rough time, but he really didn't have much choice. Having grown up with his parents in the country side, he desperately wished he could expand his horizons and go to college in the city, and that was exactly what he was going to do.
Though he didn't exactly picture his college years being spent beside a retired athlete who lived off disability and was also a bit of an alcoholic.
"Hidan?" He calls out, furrowing his brows at the returned silence.
Closing the door behind him quietly, Sasuke rids himself of his heavy laptop bag, setting it carefully atop the wrap-around counter of their small kitchen. He pitches his set of keys towards the small, practically empty fishbowl set atop an accent table, sucking his teeth when he misses. For a few seconds, he stares at the fishbowl. Hidan's set is still there.
Sasuke bites his lip, a bit anxious.
As much as the older man annoys the crap out of him, he can't help but feel worried something bad has happened. Though, knowing Hidan for as long as they've lived together; the man was always okay. There were times he'd disappear for weeks without so much as a word only to come back with new war stories, perfectly in one piece.
The thought pisses Sasuke off. Sure, his name isn't on the lease, so therefore he can't really complain about the lease-owner's habits or behaviors—but to leave with the front door open.
The raven haired male sighs once again, his obsidian eyes glancing over at the roughed up sketchbook peaking out from underneath the laptop in his messenger bag. The blonde's words from earlier incept his mind, the memory of his big beaming grin causing his heart to skip a few beats.
"I'd love to see your work sometime, if you wouldn't mind me seeing it."
Sasuke's fingers tap at his bottom lip, unsure of what made the blonde so hopelessly appealing to him. Before Naruto, he was certain and quite proud that he'd never had anything as silly and useless as a crush. In high-school, all his peers ever seemed to talk about was who had started dating, or having sex, who was gay, who wasn't, who'd kissed before, who hadn't—and all their stupid, meaningless crushes. He'd never been interested in any of it.
Now he'd often found himself going into the cafe and staying longer more frequently, stealing quick peaks at the blonde as he worked and conversed with customers and coworkers. He'd seen the man get consumables thrown at him, obscenities hollered, harassed, and insulted—but he'd never seen him without the brightest smile on his face. Most of the people he'd met since living in the city were complete and total assholes; always rude and always angry.
Naruto was different; he knew that much by the way he couldn't seem to get him out of his head lately. What is happening..? The Uchiha thought to himself with a dreadful feeling rising in his chest, throwing a hand up to his head as if he were possibly hallucinating from a fever.
Years of antisocial disinterest bulldozed in one go by the charming alt boy who works at his favorite cafe.
"See my work, huh.. ?"
Hastily, the male rips out his sketchbook, flipping through its battered pages for one piece of art work that wasn't a random, shitty sketch of something amazing, or overly intricate interpretation of something completely stupid. Finding nothing suitable, he groans, letting the object fall to his feet with a thud as he covers his face with his hands. Normally he didn't care what people thought of his art, but now he's sure it was only because nobody ever really asked to see it.
Not that he ever mentioned his affinity for art.
The thought of Naruto being even slightly disappointed by the images and colors sprawled across the pages of his sketchbook, makes him want to disappear. He takes a mechanical pencil out from his bag, picks up the sketchbook.
