Title: Psycotique

Summary: Sasuke tells me he loves me with the lights on. I say I am psychotic. He tells me I am all he thinks about at night. He kisses me. Hard. I kiss him back with no regrets. /AU

Author: CryingInsideOut

Genre: Angst

Rating: T/PG-13

Pairing: sasusaku

Word Count: 1,115

I tell him that I am ugly while I play with his hair as his head was on my lap. His eyes suddenly snap open, narrowing slightly. My hands stop moving and lightly grip onto his raven spikes. It's silent for a few seconds before his eyes slowly close again and his face relaxes. I lick my chapped lips and continue to play with his hair. I didn't expect him to say anything. To my surprise, he tells me that I was being stupid. My hands freeze in mid-comb and begin to tremble. He cups my face and brings me closer to him and kisses me. His kisses melt away my worries. We make love that night and we fall asleep, limbs tangled and hearts warm.

x

It's the next day and he takes me shopping because I need a new semi-formal dress for his parents' promotional party for the Uchiha Corporation. My dresses are not a rich enough quality for their fancy and expensive dinner party. They're serving lobsters and crème brûlée.

I get scared and my knees tremble because this will be the fifth time meeting his parents and also their fifth time of giving me cold disapproving glares. Their glares always remind me that I am not an Uchiha, only a petty Haruno. Sasuke's mother and father pulled me aside one time and told me that Uchihas are fated to marry other rich and successful clans like the Hyuugas and not worthless and unsuccessful clans like mine. I want to tell them that I am on my way to becoming a successful doctor in the future but Sasuke pulls me aside and sneers at his parents. He tells me to ignore them, but their words stay not only etched in my mind, but my heart.

I try on five different dresses and they all require me to stare at myself in the mirror. I want to throw my dirty Converse at the mirror but restrain myself from doing so. Staring back at me is a pale girl with a too large forehead, green doe-like eyes rimmed with kohl and eye bags from when her insomnia gets crazier than usual, and freakishly pink hair. I rub my left eye and the stranger in front of me copies me. I smear my eyeliner and sniffle away my frustrations.

Sasuke calls my name and I exit the dressing room. I pretend like nothing is wrong and twirl in front of him, liking the way the polyester feels as it swishes against my thighs. It's a stunning, short one-shouldered ivory dress. Delicate gold flowers embellish the single shouldered strap as it threads an asymmetrical path across the ruched bust. The dress has a modest knee-length skirt with a two tiered chiffon overlay to add a feminine touch. I love it. Sasuke also loves it as there is a rare ghost of a smile on his aristocratic face.

I sometimes wonder how such a handsome and wonderful god fell in love with a pathetic wingless angel like me and voice out my thoughts. He tells me to shut up and embraces me in a strong hug, kissing me in the nape of my neck. He kisses me in front of all the girls that stare longingly at him. I gladly return the favor, hoping to piss off the girls who glared at me before. He is mine and never yours.

xx

I spend the night over at his place without his parents knowing. His older brother spots me as I am about to silently slip into Sasuke's room. Itachi's lips quirk into a small smirk and waves to me. I wave back, glad that at least one other Uchiha doesn't think of me as a pest only trying to get my hands on the Uchiha fortune.

When my insomnia kicks in at 1 o' clock on the dot, I silently climb out of his bed and sit on the floor checking his phone and his skinny jeans to see if there are any other girls' phone numbers. My paranoia gets the best of me and I laugh quietly like the psychotic girl I am. My laughter wakes him up. He dazedly gets out of bed and sits behind me, pulling me into his lap. He covers my eyes with his hands and leans in to murmur in my ear. He tells me he loves me with the lights off and feels my tears as they drip down my cheeks one by one. It's all so familiar to him as this happens every time I spend the night over at his house or vice versa. I fall asleep in his arms and sleep without dreaming about my depression taking my life away from me and Sasuke.

xxx

Dear Cosmo: Your sex tips suck as does your love advice. It does not make me feel any better when my boyfriend 'supposedly hangs out with his friends but in actuality makes love to another girl.' I hate you and you don't know the half of it.

xxxx

The cute hipster girl at the coffee shop Sasuke and I dine in at thinks of me as nothing more than an annoying little girl. She reminds me of the headless and pro-ana* girls I reblog on Tumblr. I imagine punching her pretty little face with that coy smile of hers. She flirts with Sasuke and I get up to go home. I tell myself that Sasuke will not run after me like they do in the movies. And he doesn't. Instead, he jumps into his sleek white Lexus LFA Spyder and slowly drives next to me as I continue to walk. He doesn't say anything except waits for me to get tired of walking and climb into his passenger seat willingly. The drive home is silent, but comforting and filled with the smell of Sasuke's Bed Head shampoo.

Later that night as I look through our photo album, I tell Sasuke that I imagine the hipster girl replacing me and mentally replacing myself with her in all our photographs. We spend the rest of the night taking Polaroid photos, writing silly captions in his neat handwriting. I take the black Sharpie, preparing to cross out my eyes because I feel depressed all of a sudden. He grabs the marker from my hand and throws it out his bedroom window. I watch as the marker lands in the fountain in his backyard with an inaudible plop. Sasuke tells me he loves me with the lights on. I say I am psychotic. He tells me I am all he thinks about at night. He kisses me. Hard. I kiss him back with no regrets.

* Pro-ana: Refers to the promotion of the eating disorder anorexia nervosa. This group includes those for whom treatment is inadequate, inaccessible or unwated.

Slowly making my comeback with this site.

(;

Yours truly,

Crys