love at first sight

theeflowerchild

quinze

It is springtime when the feelings from the New Year begin to numb, begin to melt away with the icicles and something new begins to bubble and grow like fluffy bushes and colorful flowers. It's not happiness. It's not even contentment; it's apathy. He feels relaxed. There is a deep enough pool of work for his feelings to drown in; he forgets pieces of her in other people's open skulls when he's working late shifts in the behavioral health unit, he writes off her laughter in medical journals, and discards each and every tooth in her smile with every new intake. By March, surrounded by new coworkers and an eternal stream of work, she's nothing but a pretty blur of pink and green, a far off thought of falling in love, and what could have been. Only when he's alone does he have the time to paint a picture of her sparkly eyes and ballerina body.

So Sasuke makes sure he is never alone.

"You seem okay, man," Suigetsu says over a beer one day, "better," he adds, and Sasuke thinks he just might be.

It's late when Sasuke gets off work, it always is, and it's nice being within walking distance of his new job. There aren't many apartment buildings in Oto; it's not a city like Konoha, but not quite a suburb, either. There are so many trees, lush greens, and pretty flowers, and they're surrounded by water he can swim in when it's warm. It gets dark earlier than Konoha, and it's not as warm, but it's pretty, he thinks, maybe even prettier than his home.

It takes him only a few blocks to get to his apartment he shares with Suigetsu. He frowns when he notices that Suigetsu has left their door unlocked, but shakes his head and shrugs his shoulders when he remembers that people don't prowl around Oto like they do Konoha. This city sleeps, especially at 5 am when Sasuke begins his descent into his bed. He undresses himself, eats some fruit, and brushes his teeth before crawling under his blanket with his phone. He shuffles through his messages when he realizes he has a voicemail and rolls his eyes: a telemarketer, he's sure, but it's a Konoha area code, so he listens to it.

And regrets it immediately when his beating heart comes to a halt.

"Sasuke…" a sweet, soft whisper trails off, "I don't know why I'm calling, I just…" there's a laugh, not a jingle but a bitter one, and then a long sigh, '"I can't stop thinking about—I was out of line, but please, please call me back. I don't know what to do anymore," she says, and then there's a loud beep.

Each time Sasuke plays it, he can feel the bile bubbling and building in his stomach, but he can't stop himself. He plays it over and over again, listens carefully to her laughter, listens to her sweet sigh, and the way she stammers. She doesn't even say her name and yet he knows exactly who she is. He thinks maybe their connection is as mutual as he dreams it is. His heart goes from completely stopped to running a race as fast as it can, his hands turn clammy, his forehead beads with sweat and Sasuke is sure he's going to vomit by the tenth listen.

He rushes to his bathroom and stops to look in the mirror. He doesn't look bad. He looks more tired than ever, but he seems like he's put on some much-needed weight, and his cheeks are flushed from something other than a beer, and his lips look fuller. Leaving Konoha has done himself good, save for the abrupt, nasty paleness flooding his features and his shaking, suddenly aching muscles. If he didn't know himself better, he'd say he's actually starting to look something like a real person.

But he is so tethered to her. The second she calls, he feels like he needs to jump on a train and see her immediately. Her voice makes him cold and hot at the same time. He'd been doing so well, but the second she laughs he's right back at her fingertips, and she doesn't even know it, she'll never know it. He can never let her.

When he's on his knees, spent from spilling his dinner into the toilet, hair matted to his forehead and eyes wet, he saves the message and slides his phone across the bathroom floor.

"You're distracted," Orochimaru snaps, with a grimace. "Your analysis is flimsy at best. Your notes are shoddy, and you've misdiagnosed the patient. I don't care what's happening in your personal life, but it's affecting your work."

"Yes, sir," Sasuke responds with a sigh.

Orochimaru tosses the folder at him. "Re-do it. Make sure it's perfect, or you'll be on clinic duty for the next month."

"Yes, sir."

"If you want the behavioral health unit—hell, this hospital, you have to work for it." Orochimaru shakes his head, a sheet of black hair swaying with him. "I took you on because I thought you were promising. Don't fail me."

Sasuke nods, and Orochimaru leaves his office, not without slamming the door and adding, "I expect better work from you."

Sasuke crumples onto his desk, head in his hands and a frown on his face. He looks at his notes and knows immediately where he went wrong. His mentor is right. He'd been doing so much better, and one phone call has ruined all his progress. Ruined his life.

Now he looks out the window, and sees her smile in the sun. He sees her ballerina footsteps in every fallen blossom, and her pretty pink hair in every bursting flower. He hears her laugh in every gust of wind and sees her heart shaped face in every fluffy cloud. What was new, and fresh, is now unmistakably her. He can't bite into his fruit without smelling her hair or listen to music without hearing her jingling voice. Everytime a nurse brings him a file, he wishes it was her.

He's backtracking.

It's been fifteen days since he received her voicemail and he's listened to it every night, in bed, quietly contemplating deleting it before groaning and hitting save like a last breath.

Suigetsu opens his office door without knocking. "Just saw the boss-man, looked pissed."

Sasuke shrugs.

"Anyway, drinks tonight?" he asks.

"No thanks."

He frowns. "What's up with you? Everything okay?"

"Everything is fine," he snaps, voice clipped. "I'm just busy, okay?"

"Alright, alright," he responds, hands raised in defense. He smirks. "Nothing a little drink can't fix—"

"I said no thanks." He sighs. "Maybe tomorrow."

"Yeah, maybe tomorrow," he agrees. "You know… if you're not feeling well, we can, like, talk, or whatever."

Sasuke rolls his eyes. "I'm good."

He laughs. "I might not be the touchy-feeliest, but I mean it!"

"Yeah, yeah." He brushes him off with a waving hand. "Get out of here, I have work to do."

"I'm gonna get you to come out this week," he tells him. "Bet on it."

Sasuke doesn't respond as he tucks into his folder, brushing over incorrect responses with a thick eraser. He doesn't go out that week.

"... please call me back. I don't know what to do anymore."

Sasuke slams his phone shut with a long, loud groan. Well into April, and he still listens to her voicemail. Well into April, and he hasn't called her back. Well into April, and she hasn't called him again, either. Nearly a month later, and he can't move past her.

All he'd have to do is call her back. With one press of his finger, he'd hear her voice. With a dial tone, he could feel cured. Temporarily sated.

He doesn't call her.