I had to admit, Sakura was pretty good at improvising– or lying, I should say. Not that it was anything to be proud of, but she saved my ass– no, my face– from seeing a possible 'not-so-awaited' fight and punch with– and from– Naruto... Or so she kept telling me once he left.

"You should be glad that I came up with that excuse and that Naruto was noble enough to not look into a closet with my panties, unlike you. Speaking of, you better not have been sniffing around there or I swear I'll–"

"Kill me?" I offered sarcastically. My good mood had long vanished (I don't even think I was ever in a good mood ever since I was with her), along with the slight humour I found within Sakura's "genius" idea of keeping Naruto out from her closet. (Panties, pfft. There's no way I would laugh out loud now.)

"As if you can do that. And don't worry, I did no such thing."

"I can't trust you." She replied dryly. Good job, Haruno. Way to bring in the trust card. Like that will actually help you in this argument.

"Sakura." I rubbed my temples. I should've taken an Advil earlier. That, and an extra five minutes of sleep. I realized just how much of a nuisance her nagging was.

"Why are you making such a big deal about this? It was you who pushed me in the damned closet. Don't go blaming me for your own doings."

We've been arguing ever since, what? Fifteen minutes ago? Earlier at who knows what hour? Ever since she got us both into a car accident? I honestly don't see the point and reasoning behind that because 'this arguing, this problem– this kind of shit– doesn't have to be taken so seriously'. But of course she didn't agree with that.

"Remind me again who's home this is? Oh, right. It's mine and has my things." She crossed her arms, a permanent scowl on her face, an exact replica of my own expression.

She's changed in four years. For the worst, actually.

"So what? The guy never found me in your small ass closet. Shouldn't you be relieved rather than acting like a fucking brat and getting all mad at me?"

"Excuse me? A brat? Who was the idiot who jumped out of nowhere and got rammed by my car? If you never walked down that road, we never would've had to go through the hassle of keeping you hidden."

"And who was the one who was driving on that road? You. I'm the victim, Sakura, no matter how you twist the story." I snarled. She scoffed.

"I was wrong. It's not the situation that's the hassle. It's you."

"Me? You're the one that's making everything so dramatic. Why couldn't we have just told Naru—" I coughed. It's not best if I revealed that I knew Naruto (Or remind her that I was Sasuke Uchiha: the fucker that left her years ago). Especially when (but I'm only assuming) she didn't even remember me. Or even try to.

"—why couldn't we have just told that person that we had an affair?"

"Do you have a brain? Or do you just not have any empathy in that cold heart of yours?" She sighed in exasperation. She's in the wrong.

"Mister, I don't want to be perceived as some person who have sex with people I only met for one day."

"Sex? Since when was this about— oh my god, Sakura, you're fucking nasty." Why was it that once you entered the adult life, the sexual desires of a human become the misunderstood reasoning behind everything?

"I still have a hangover," she complained. Sucks to be her. "and the sight of your shitty face is making it worse."

"You're just downright rude."

"You're just downright weren't invited." She mocked.

"You need to work on your fucking English." I retorted.

She seethed.

"Get. Out."

I did.

Unedited— Aug. 31 2018