grimmjowkurosakidrake Answer:
Look at me answering fics prompts months after, I’m the worst I know! XD
This fic is a songfic inspired by A*Teens’ A perfect match! I know the ask was about Sasuke’s emo phase and you were expecting a little bit more Fall out boy than Dir en Grey but deal with me, my emo phase was my visual kei phase so I don’t know much about western emo music. Also, both Sasuke and Sakura are Japanese xD!
Well, without further ado, the fic:}
Perfect Match
Your family says that it’s just a phase, the fact that you like to wear dark colors on your clothes and you listen to angry music because that is what boys your age do and there’s nothing to worry about.
They don’t like to talk about the anger and the sadness you feel. You’re twenty and already in collage. You don’t think this is a phase anymore, now you’re just angry.
They don’t like to talk about how you’re a lot more sensitive than your brother and how you’re not all that much interested in becoming a lawyer just like him.
You are the second son of a rich family that never had to struggle for anything, you have absolutely nothing to be sad or angry about, or at least, that’s what they think.
But even with all the money they have you still had to sell your TV and your music system just to buy tickets for a “The Gazette” concert back in 2009 and even thought they can totally afford for suits you don’t want and private tutors you don’t need, you still had to sell your car and work for four months just to travel to Seoul and get tickets for the “Metallica” and “Baby metal” concert hosted there this year.
It was a great experience, it made you happy beyond belief, but that happiness you experienced, those feelings that for once weren’t depressing and anxiety-infusing, weren’t enough for your family.
Maybe that’s why you’re angry.
You’re angry when you arrive at your street on the buss, alone, because no one would come and see you at the airport and you’re definitely angry when your find Sakura, your childhood neighbor, dancing to fucking Reol’s “Give me a break” on her brand new music system that her mom bought her last month just so she could go and spend the money she makes on the Maid Caffe she works part-time on her mindless clothes and accessories.
She looks cute, you have to admit, with her too short, hot pink shorts and her Harajuku style black crop top with a Kabuki mask printed on it. She’s wearing the pink pearl collar you saw her buy a few days after your trip and you just know that the eyes of those stupid cat earrings she’s wearing are actually real diamonds.
It angers you how she can spend her money on making herself look how she wants to look so easily when you can’t even buy a pair of ripped, black jeans with all the money your father makes.
So, you lash at her “Could you shut up with that shit, please?” You ask her from across your own lawn, “I don’t want to listen to your garbage today.” She glares at you, her green eyes accentuated by her cat eye makeup, and then she turns up the music.
She’s a fierce girl Haruno Sakura.
———————————–
You find yourself obliged to talk to her again when your parents invite hers to a late dinner on your house.
They force you to take her to your room and warn you with a tight lipped “behave yourself or else…” that makes you wonder what else could they take away from you now that you don’t even have a car.
She makes herself comfortable on your bed as you turn on your computer and My Chemical Romance’s Teenagers starts rolling through the music list. She makes an annoyed face at your choice in music but doesn’t say anything.
It’s your room, your rules, after all. And she’s smart enough to acknowledge this universal rule.
She’s wearing nicer clothes today. An all-black assemble consisting of a lite crop top only covering her small breasts paired with a big black bomber jacket and loose black, dress pants with a cute bow on top. Even when you couldn’t care less about clothes and fashion you think she looks insanely good tonight and you can’t take your eyes off her.
“You like my outfit?” She asks with a smirk when she notices your intense gaze on her.
“Yeah…” You answer, sitting by her legs on your bed.
“It’s by Yohji Yamamoto’s summer collection!” Beams Sakura, “You would think that with this level of minimalism it would be from a European designer you know?”
Whatever she says it sounds like a question, and even when you don’t know of what she’s talking about you mumble a small “Sure” as you come closer to her.
She smiles, “but no, it’s one of our own!” Giggles Sakura with clear excitement in her voice “We really do have to start appreciating our own artists more.”
“That sure is interesting,” You answer, so near her face that you can feel her warm breath against yours.
You really want to kiss her.
She’s beautiful, awful taste on music and all, she’s always happy and cute, more than anything. Happy like you never are, always optimistic and irreverent like her music and her clothes so kissing her red-looking lips that never stop smiling it’s all you can think about.
She kisses you first, the sweet taste of her lips on your own and the feeling of her petite arms around your neck making you feel like never before.
“I didn’t know you were interested in art,” she comments as she ends the kiss.
“I’m not,” you smirk, “But South Park says you can get a girl by faking interest in her and they’re not wrong.”
Sakura doesn’t hit you or screams, she just pushes you away, takes off her jacket and takes a copy of The Mist from your bookshelf to read in silence. You are able to see the expanse of her pristine, beautiful back and the beautiful Sakura tree branch tattoo that adorns her right arm and collarbone the whole night until she eventually leaves with her parents.
But you’re not allowed to touch and that is punishment enough.
———————————–
You invite her to see a horror movie a few days later and she accepts, Sakura seems to hate the movie the whole time but the way she blushes when you put your arm around her shoulders makes you think she may be enjoying herself anyway.
You don’t understand until she invites you to an art gallery for a friend of hers whose work is being accepted that you finally understand the appeal of doing things you hate just for the person you like.
Her friends are boring and snobbish, but she’s wearing a form fitting red dress with her back bare and she allows you to rest your hand there the whole night.
You’re allowed to kiss her anywhere and everyone just knows that she’s yours and you’re hers by principle of her the closeness you share.
When you discover that you both want to go to a 2000s bands tribute after the party and she shows you the blue leather skirt she’s going to change into, you discover that maybe you’re not all that different.
———————————–
Her clothes are always styled to look the way she likes them. Be it cute or sexy or that delicious combination of both that you like so much on her. With her short, pink skirts and her long, boyfriend t-shirts.
Her family is a very progressive one and they don’t mind how much skin she shows off or the art she has on her skin.
Everything is pristine on her, even her few tattoos, because she planed and wanted those changes on her.
But the holes on your pants are messy and not at all how you want them to look. You had to cut them yourself after all and you’re shit with anything that has to do with clothes, you don’t know about fabric and you always end up cutting where you should not.
This all ends when you start dating Sakura.
This time you’re in her room, listening to freaking Grease’s You’re the one that I want (and not saying anything because her room her rules, after all), as she carefully cuts holes on your jeans.
She looks happy to do so, because she loves clothes and spicing them up, she even buys a few skull patches to sew on the pockets and those small details make you happy just like the concerts and music make you happy.
You kiss her deeply when you go to your own house by night and she winks at you from across her window as Marina and the Diamonds’ Bubblegum bitch blasts through her music system.
As your parents who always thought of her as the nice girl from across your lawn frown at the lyrics of the singer crying “I’m gonna be your bubblegum bitch!”, you can’t help but think that she’s a perfect match for you.
