𝐀 𝐓𝐎𝐔𝐂𝐇 𝐓𝐎 𝐂𝐔𝐑𝐄 ━━ S. UCHIHA

XIX

※(Y/n)'s POV※

"We need to talk."

"Oh, really. Didn't know that."

I scoff and whip my head to the side. Already throwing sass, I see. "I'm serious."

"I am, too," he replies, picking up a damp rag and heading over to the windows.

"Fine, whatever, you can joke. I don't care," I say with widened eyes and pick up the mop I previously dropped.

He side-eyes me. "Apparently, you do."

A silent growl rumbles in my throat, only loud enough for me to hear. "I wanted to ask why you made up that story."

"What story?"

You're kidding. Playing dumb? Is he serious? "From Saturday?"

He pauses mid-cycle on the window and turns to me. "That's because I wanted to ask you something."

I prop myself up, now intrigued. The Uchiha Sasuke has something to ask me? Well, isn't this a surprise? "You do?"

Instead of staying at the window and respecting my space, he walks over and folds his arms. I may not be that much shorter than him, but I still have to look up just to meet his eyes. "What's wrong with you?"

Well, now I see. Why did I even set my expectations high for him? I expected a serious question that wouldn't make him seem so much like an ass!

"Excuse me?" I stammer, my grip tightening on the mop. "You wanna say that again, asshole?!"

He closes his eyes and shakes his head. "That's not what I meant."

"Oh, then what did you mean?!"

"What I mean is... what was up with you on Saturday?"

I scowl. "There were a lot of things up that Saturday. And today might have the same things, like my fist up your goddamn ass!"

He narrows his eyes at me, clearly not favoring my remark. "You know what, never mind. Can't get anything past a stubborn bitch like you."

I roll up my button-up shirt. During summer, we don't wear our school jackets, but if I was, I'd be rolling that up, too. "What did you call me?"

"Oh, so it's okay for you to get mad at me when I call you something, but not the other way around? Fucking hypocrite." He shakes his head and walks over back to the windows to resume cleaning.

My mouth opens to snap back, but I realize he was right. I can be such a huge hypocrite sometimes, can I? Whatever. Still doesn't make it acceptable to tell me he has something to ask me, and then doesn't ask! I stomp over to him and grab him by his loose tie, yanking him down to my level. "Fine, I'm a hypocritical bitch! But I have the right to know what you were gonna ask me, so spit it out!"

"Alright. Explain what happened Saturday after you took your pill. Explain why you passed out. Explain what the hell kind of fever you got that day. Explain what it has to do with that jammed finger of yours."

I feel my grip loosen on his tie. My body shivers under the fact that he's trying to figure me out.

"And explain that pill you took. It wasn't Advil. Ibuprofen, Tylenol, or any of that. It said 'Emergency' and 'CPS'. What do they mean?"

My whole body runs cold, strands of electricity attack my spine. I feel myself freeze under his intense glare, seeing his eyes as he's putting the puzzle pieces together. I wanted to answer, but my mouth was dry and my throat tightened. I felt cornered, helpless, and most of all...