hey guys! i finally wrote this sequel, in sasuke's part of view, to my other story, "little black dress," due to popular demand! i will also be starting a chaptered fic based on both of these two short stories, so please look out for it. i hope you enjoy this!

just like my other story, this is inspired by renoa's/idontliveinatent's "SasuHina Snapchat AU" post which i wish i could link here. the link for the art is on my AO3, however! i'm on AO3 by the same username!

Theatrics—that was all that it was. The fancy dinner parties, the galas, it was all a preposterous waste of his time, frivolous affairs that he failed to see the value of when it came to furthering business endeavors and aiding in the success of his family, as well as his own. He never could see what benefits they held for anyone, let alone himself.

And yet, it was expected of him to attend the ridiculous events, to play the part of a perfect son, a corporate business man to be, a man who would fall in line to dance his father's mundane, perfectly choreographed dance, and join his elder brother in the family business.

Sasuke had an undeniable natural talent, an affinity for the world in which he was born into, the life that he was carefully bred to lead. The Uchiha family was world famous, a family of old money, esteemed for the generations of ingenuity in their inventions and innovations for technologies of nearly every kind. Their creations were unparalleled, highly sought after for not only the brand name, but the quality that established the brand that was the Uchiha name.

Sasuke cared little for the social interactions, wearing a false mask for the sake of those around him, and for the sake of business. He was indifferent and formal, wanting only to proceed forward with the tasks at hand, and not to lie through his teeth and keep up false pretenses of kindness and friendliness for a successful business deal. That was not the kind of man that Uchiha Sasuke was, and that was not the kind of man he would ever be. He was blunt and curt, forward and to the point, lacking in a flair for the dramatics that many businessmen seemed to possess in their fraudulent personas and faux politeness and corruption.

He was a man of the law with brief military experience with great knowledge spanning over the sciences and technology, falling into the steps of his predecessors, and a law-abiding citizen. He was a busy man with no time to waste entertaining guests at parties his own father chose to host, let alone parties he was dragged along to attend.

An embittered scowl curled upon his lips in his growing disdain just at the thought of the mere existence of such events that were so exaggerated in their false grandeur and extravagance that served no true purpose other than to entertain the rich, and he could not help but to speculate on how much of the money pooled in as donations for fundraising events truly went toward the causes they were meant to benefit. It was a flawed life and system, one polluted in deeply rooted corruption—there was poison in the veins of already affluent men whose wallets were fattened in their avarice and their sickening, gluttonous desire for more than what they already had, for more than what they needed.

The expression that branded itself to his face soured even further as his eyes narrowed and eyebrows lifted in combination of his slowly burning anger, setting fire to the charcoal of his gaze, before sizzling and cooling to fade into his chilling apathy as he remembered the sight of the undoubtedly expensive gala invitation sitting upon the marbled-glass countertop of his family's kitchen.

It had come in a sleek, square, black box. Upon opening it, the inner-top lid was painted and glittering in gold, while the invitation sat upon a white, satin cushion below. The invitation itself was made of thick, cream colored cardstock, and the words of the invitation were printed in bold, black lettering, and the date—tonight—was written in a larger script. A golden, satin ribbon wrapped around the cardstock and was tied into a bow, and beneath it was a layer of white floral lace. Pressed into the center of the bow was an arrangement of stones that Sasuke couldn't help but to wonder whether or not they were genuine; a large, white stone was the centerpiece, while smaller white stones branched out from the center, not dissimilar to the wild brambles of bushes.

The entire ensemble of the invitation was a waste of money, especially in the modern era where there was the convenience of digital invitations, or even a phone call.

The vexatious way in which people of this lifestyle insisted on living was something he wanted no part of when simplicity was best and proved to be the most effective time and time again. Nothing about the people who tried to worm their way into the good graces of his family impressed him; the manner in which people conducted their business, so long-windedly and lacking in succinctness, failed to impress him; the invitation that decorated his kitchen counter, that was nothing more than wasted pennies out of a rich man's pocket, was no better than a piece of lint that he would pull from his pockets to toss into the wind.

It was half past three in the afternoon, and Sasuke was still lying in bed—not having just woken up, of course—as he silently and indignantly mulled over his thoughts. His parents had long since accepted the invitation, which had been in their possession for a week longer than he had even been aware of it. It had appeared suddenly in the kitchen just that morning, abandoned surely by the wraith of a poor butler of the family who sent the invitation, and of course with its appearance came the command that he join the rest of his family in attending, to which he begrudgingly agreed. There would have been no argument or debate, regardless if he had refused.

He was an Uchiha—he, unfortunately, had a social and familial obligation to attend, whether he liked it or not.

With his headphones resting around his neck, the faint sound of his music playing just barely reaching his ears, he stared absentmindedly at his phone. Annoyance still bubbled within him, trickling through his veins the way thick, molten lava traveled along a flat, mountainous path, consuming anything in its path, setting fire to everything in sight, leaving only the charred remains of what had once been there behind, but his expression at least faded to a calmer indifference.

Sasuke was always one to be able to prepare himself and present himself accordingly quickly, which was why he could afford to lie back against his pillow with such leisure, not even feigning any motion to indicate he would be leaving to get ready for the evening gala. Putting on a suit was simple, and showering before then would take no time; he was not in a rush.

While he was not in a rush, however, it left him with quite a bit of time to spare, and staring mindlessly at his phone screen was only entertaining him for so much for so long. Just as he was about to set it aside as a long, exasperated sigh pushed past his lips, his eyes caught the fleeting appearance of a Snapchat notification, only barely catching the name that had come with it to identify the sender: Hinata.

An eyebrow arched in his piqued interest and curiosity as he wondered what she wanted out of the blue. They were not close friends, perhaps even less than acquaintances for as little as they spoke to one another, but their families had been involved in business with one another for generations. He knew that he had a lot of commonalities with Hinata, but he never was one to be interested in making friends and bonding.

He pulled down the upper window of his phone to expose the notifications, and a thumb clicked on the Snapchat notification. In a brief moment of surprise, Sasuke's eyes widened at the sight of a clearly distressed Hinata taking a photo of herself in a, admittedly, sleek, stunning black dress that did well to accentuate her features and highlight the curves of her figure, all without exposing anything scandalous, except perhaps an inch of her midriff covered by only a thin layer of sheer, floral, black lace.

"Sakura-chan! The zipper is stuck! Send help :(" was what the caption of the Snap read, and he set his phone face down on his bed beside him as he sighed out again, perhaps a little more dramatically than before. It was meant for Sakura, but had been sent to him, and he wondered if Hinata knew. After a few seconds, with yet another exasperated sigh, he picked the phone back up again and unlocked it, reopening the app. Reversing the camera, Sasuke took a photo of himself with his left hand raised in a "thumbs up" gesture, writing, "Wrong person. But a little black dress, huh?" as his caption. Before sending it, he switched the ink to blue and wrote, "U should buy it. I like it."

He had thought nothing of it—sending this Snap back, that is. He was supposed to compliment the dress, right? It was a nice dress, and Hinata had chosen well, and it did look nice on her. He wasn't lying, and was only giving his opinion, but there was no meaning behind what he had said and sent. Sasuke only hoped Hinata wouldn't think much of it either. Surely, Sakura would have said the same thing if she had been the recipient of the message that was meant for her to begin with.

There had been an innocence to his words, with no underlying meaning or ulterior motives, but he found himself wishing that he had stopped and stared for just a second longer instead of rapidly clicking out of the message to set his phone down.

"Shit."

It was but a single word, and yet there was so much lingering behind it, such as his sudden regret in sending a response at all. He should have ignored it. Normally, he would have ignored something like that.

He lied comfortably in his bed, transfixed and lost in his thoughts, for a little while longer before finally checking the time: 4:17 P.M. Knowing that his parents would want to depart and arrive early, he figured that now would be a good time to begin getting himself ready.

He was beginning to silently hope, now, that he would run into a certain Hyūga heiress at the gala, which she and her family surely would have been invited to (what other occasion would she have been trying on a dress for?).

There was no doubt that upon seeing her little black dress in person, he wouldn't be able to help but to stop and stare.