Thanks to my beautiful unicorn princess for editing this she's fabulous like glitter~

Here's the rewrite to Rocket Queen. Perhaps y'all remember it? I don't wanna go too into it, but it's nothing - absolutely nothing - like the original. Whatevs, enjoy!

Rocket
Queen

The way she arches her back is breathtaking.

Not that he registers the thought; he's drunk and the buzzing in his ears overpowers the gasps and pants that escape her lips. He doesn't pay attention to the hard mattress when she rolls them over, his hands running down her body, her head thrown back and hips rocking against him with a desperate need.

He doesn't remember her name, but he digs his nails into her hips and fucks her hard enough to make the headboard bang against the wall.

In the morning, he's gone before she wakes up.

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The lights are uncomfortable. Almost as disturbing as the way the loud bass makes his Adam's apple feel like it's doing flips in the hollow of his throat. The music is repetitive and tasteless and the women throwing themselves at every man they see is beyond degrading. He swivels his bar stool until he's leaning against the edge of the table, his drink in hand as he watches the dancing crowd.

The air smells like sweat and vomit and sex.

Sasuke dislikes clubs, but the alcohol calls his name every time.

"Hey stranger," is bitten into the sensitive spot just under his ear and Sasuke shivers without meaning to.

He turns to the side and catches green eyes and pouty lips. Suddenly, he remembers her and the way she molded herself against him, how she bit his throat and clawed his back, pulling his hair when he hit a sensitive spot. Sasuke looks her up and down, bringing his rum and coke to his lips.

She smiles, all promises never to be met. He likes that about her.

Sasuke buys her a drink and they leave soon after.

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She hides her face in the crook of his neck, his skin absorbing her scream of relief. His arms slide around her as he drives into her, finding his own release.

She melts against him—breathing erratic, body spasming—as she continues to ride the waves down from her high. He grins all boyish and drunk, hiding it behind her stringy, pink hair and shifting around so she can use the back seat of his car as a makeshift bed. He looks out, running the back of his hand across his forehead to wipe the sweat away. The beach is empty and quiet; the waves crashing against the shore make him remember how cold it is.

Sasuke turns to her, watching as her breathing slows. He leans his head against the seat and slouches, closing his eyes with a sighing.

"Sakura," she slurs, more from alcohol than sleep.

He freezes.

"My name's Sakura."

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Sasuke zips his jeans and runs a hand through his hair. He's walking to the door as he slips his jacket on, pausing when he hears her stir.

"Bye," she breathes.

"Sasuke."

"Bye, Sasuke."

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He watches her from across the bar. She hasn't seen him.

She's drinking shots like water, sucking on a lemon like candy. It's shot after shot after shot, laughing with her friends and throwing her head back. She sits on one of the stools, her chin on her palm and her eyes fluttering as if trying to concentrate on one thing or trying to remind herself that there shouldn't be two of everything.

Sasuke's noticed she's here every weekend, but he can't account for the rest of the week. Ino only drags him out to be her wingman on Saturdays and Sundays. For all he knows, she's here every day.

She manipulates the alcohol like she is.

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His assumption is proved right when he comes to the bar on a Wednesday night with Naruto.

She's drunk, eyeliner smeared and eyes glossy.

Sakura smiles at him and he gives her a short nod.

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She moves with the flashing lights, running her hands up and down her body before throwing them up in the air and swinging her hips to the tempo of the song, short pink hair discolored and flying from side to side. She's in the heart of the crowd, laughing as she dances with her friends—she's drunk out of her mind and something more.

Ecstasy is bliss.

Sasuke sips his drink and looks away.

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The door reverberates as it swings back from crashing against the wall. Sasuke kicks it closed, one hand gripping Sakura's ass as he stumbles into her apartment. Her legs are wrapped around his waist. She tastes like alcohol and all the bad decisions she's made, but Sasuke washes it down with lust.

He doesn't know a single thing about Sakura, but she's become a washed-out imitation of the girl he first hooked up with.

It's been almost three months and she's frailer, eyes bruised with lack of sleep, her skin pale.

She's lost somewhere, this girl he doesn't know, and as he fucks her against the wall, he can't help but feel sorry for her and the wrong turn she's made. She arches her back and he counts the bones that make her ribcage.

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"I was supposed to be a doctor."

Her voice is a croak, eyes glossed with regret. She taps her forefinger against a cigarette, sniffling and shifting on the bed. She's as naked as a jaybird, hair a tangled mess and makeup smeared. Sasuke lies next to her, an arm behind his head and the other thrown across his stomach, eyes closed.

"I'd be in my third year. Can you imagine? Third year. Just one more and I'd be close to this stupid dream of mine. And yet I dropped it like nothing and settled for this."

Sasuke opens his eyes, looking at her. "For what?"

"Haunting nightclubs and bars. Drinking. Saying yes to all these new things—bad things—accepting it and going along with it." She laughs, sarcastic and angry. "I was supposed to be a doctor."

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After sex, she tells him about all she learned from the classes she's taken.

Her eyes gleam a beautiful green, even with the smeared makeup and the purple circles around them. She throws her head back and laughs at the jokes her psychology teacher made and shakes her head when she recalls how hard one subject in her biology class was.

She says words Sasuke can't even spell without a problem, flinging her hand in the air in a matter that shows she knows what she's talking about, eyes closed and a lazy smile on her lips.

Sometimes, he can still smell the alcohol on her breath, and her words slur together. But she knows what she's talking about and she has a confidence that's unbreakable. He likes to watch her while she does this—talks about something she has such a passion for, yet she abandoned without a second thought. She shows such a need and want to go back but not knowing how.

She was supposed to be a doctor.

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"If you're going to leave every time we go to the club, at least leave me taxi money so I can get my ass home!"

Sasuke rolls his eyes as he walks into his apartment and throws himself onto the couch. A bra falls over his face, but he is far too used to it to even care. Groaning, because his head hurts and he hasn't slept a single hour since the night before, he sinks into the couch, smelling like sweat and sex and second-hand bitterness.

Ino walks into their living room, holding a bowl of cereal and chewing at a spoonful. Her blond hair is in a messy bun and her face is bare of any makeup. But her eyebrow is raised and her blue eyes study him clinically before she snorts and shakes her head.

"Oh my God. This is so great."

"Shut up."

"Is it a bad romance?"

Sasuke scoffs, flinging the bra at her. "Would you stop using your Gaga references?"

"It's a bad romance."

"You annoy me."

Ino's eyes grow wide before she gasps, taking the time to place her bowl onto the messy coffee table so she can properly hide behind her hand, the other one pointing an accusing finger at him. "It's that girl isn't it?!"

"No. What? No."

"This is so great."

"Go away."

"We're going back, and you're going to leave me cab fare this time."

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He stumbles, trying to keep her upright, brow knitted together and teeth gritted. Sasuke makes his way toward the entrance of the nightclub, his hand tight around Sakura's arm. He looks over his shoulder, watching as Ino stares with her arms up in a universal what-even gesture before waving him off, taking someone by the hand and going off to the dance floor.

The music still echoes in his ears a block away from the club.

"She's pr'tty."

"Who?"

"Blondie."

"Ino?"

"Asdfg."

Sasuke pulls her close so half of her body weight leans against him as they walk.

"S'she.. your girlfr'nd?"

He wrinkled his nose. "No. My roommate."

"She's pr'tty."

"So you said."

He raises his hand for a cab, helping Sakura into the vehicle and murmuring her address to the driver. She falls asleep during the ride, shifting and squirming and moaning. Sasuke stares out the window the entire ride, his hand firmly on her lap to keep her from moving too much.

Getting her up the stairs isn't easy. Sasuke loses his patience and throws her over his shoulder, hurrying up to her floor and to her door. He drops her onto the bed and stares as she falls asleep without any trouble. He runs a hand down the length of his face, sighing before proceeding to take her shoes and jacket off and unbuckle her jeans.

He sits at the edge of her bed for a long, long time.

And when she wakes up, hours into the night, much more sober and confused as to how she got home, he turns and stares at her right in the eye.

"You're too good for this," he says, standing up. "You're clever… You're too good for this to eat you."

He turns around and leaves without a second glance.

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She's fingering her glass of rum, eyes downcast and lower lip between her teeth. She hasn't touched the contents, the glass still filled to the brim. She's resting her chin on her other hand, short hair spiked at the ends and a sheer top complimenting her petite frame.

She's alone and weary and he watches her from across the bar, sipping his drink and playing pool with his friends.

Sasuke's leaning against the pool table, stick held at the ready, when she turns around and notices him. There's an unlit cigarette between his teeth, his half-empty glass of rum at his side; his eyes leave the balls in front of him and lock with hers.

A current crackles through the gap between them—electrifying and burning and straining. She purses her lips and ducks her head, throwing crumpled bills onto the bar table and prowling out of the bar.

His eyes stay glued to her until she's out the door and when he turns to his side as he feels movement, he catches Ino staring at him with an all-knowing look. But Sasuke scoffs and turns back to his game, making the break.

He misses.

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The sun is up high in the sky and the heat is unbearable.

Sasuke takes his damp shirt off and wipes his forehead with the back of his hand. Crouching in front of the bucket filled with water and soap and foam, he dips his hand in and grabs the cloth filled with soapy water. Cleaning and fixing his car has always brought him a good deal of relaxation and with the heat driving him insane, he really does think he needs this.

He pauses, walking back to grab the hose; he takes a deep breath and looks around.

It's been two weeks. He isn't counting. He's just stating. Sasuke shakes his head, grabs the hose, and washes his car clean.

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A month and a half later, he's sitting on the couch in his and Ino's apartment, slouched until his knees hit the coffee table and the edge of the couch digs into his tailbone. There's a box of doughnuts resting on his stomach. He's eating them religiously, his eyes glued to the screen as the two brothers confront Death.

He takes a bite of the sugar-doughnut, ignoring the fact that he doesn't really like sweet things. Next to him, Ino is shoving bite-size chocolate chip cookies down her throat, ogling the men on the screen.

Sasuke rolls his eyes and takes a deep breath, shifting to sit up and making sure his doughnuts won't fall.

"Okay, nope. We're done."

Ino pauses the show.

Sasuke turns to face her, his doughnut halfway in his mouth. "Wha—?"

Ino sits the plate of cookies on the coffee table and stands up, unbraiding her hair and ruffling the blonde locks.

"I'm done with you angsting." She sighs, taking her shirt off and walking to her room. "We're going to go look for this girl."

"What? No. What?"

Ino turns around, stomping back to him and poking his nose menacingly. "Uchiha Sasuke, I have known you for years now and you are totally in love with this girl. We're going to find her and you are going to kiss her and be happy. So help me, Glitter God, I will make you my punching bag! Now get dressed!"

"But I'm fine."

"To hell with that," she screeches from her room. "You just exhaled The Sigh!"

"What?"

"The Sigh!"

"I don't think I want to know."

"ARE YOU GETTING DRESSED?!"

Sasuke sighs and gets off the couch, running a hand through his hair and walking to his room. He doesn't see any reason for this. He's perfectly fine. Sakura was just a girl he knew. Only not, because he doesn't know enough about her except that her body fit amazingly against his and the way she moaned his name drove him wild and—

He sighs again and finds something to wear.

He doesn't allow himself to think; not when Ino barges into his room, dressed adequately for a bar and sits on the edge of his bed as he begrudgingly changes. He doesn't think as they cab their way to the bar Sakura frequents. He doesn't talk as Ino snatches his wrist and drags him inside, prowling over to the people Sakura is friends with. She asks if Sakura's been around or when she's planning to arrive.

But no one knows a single thing about her. They haven't heard from the girl who was supposed to be a doctor in weeks.

Sasuke and Ino go everywhere they can think of, but Sakura's nowhere to be found.

In the end, they sit inside a McDick's with Ino half-entertaining a caramel frappe and Sasuke staring out the window.

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He doesn't think about this girl named Sakura after that day.

Days turn into weeks and weeks turn into months and the seasons change. There is a faint pang somewhere in the back of his head that feels like regret and disappointment, but Sasuke never pays attention to it for long, allowing something—anything—else to grab his attention.

It's December and it's cold.

He walks down the streets with Ino by his side. She's talking animatedly about her new toy, gushing and complaining and twirling around. Sometimes, he comments—a tease or a question—mostly to make her angry. She shoves him to the side and growls menacingly. He smirks.

That's just how he and Ino are.

"Remember," she says after she shoves him for calling her toy an idiot, "you said you'd get me my boots for Christmas."

"Whatever."

He's looking inside shops, an eyebrow raised. He misses the way Ino freezes for a second, turning to look at him with a whip of her head before turning back, snatching his wrist and pulling him close.

Sasuke is about to demand what exactly her issue is when pink catches his eye. He tries not to do a double take—he's tired of giving pink a double take—but he does it anyway. And he sees her, this girl named Sakura with the dream of being a doctor. She has a heart-shaped face and green eyes. Her hair is pink and messily cut. She's wearing a dark parka with fur lining the hood and layers of scarves and cardigans and skirts and ripped tights.

She stares at him, hiding behind her messy forelocks, but her eyes lock with his and he feels the current he felt the last day he saw her at the bar all those months ago. She doesn't say anything to him, but she holds his eyes the entire time he's in her view. Once they pass each other, she looks down at the books she's holding against her chest and keeps walking.

Sasuke is stumped. He blinks and swallows, brow furrowed and lips parted.

He's yanked and then shoved and Sasuke blinks and stares at Ino. She's looking at him imploringly, pointing a finger at Sakura's back and stomping a foot. He doesn't move for a long while. Not until Ino bares her teeth at him in a sneer and shoves him again.

"Go, you asshole. That's your girl. Go get her!"

And he does.

His steps are hesitant at first but then he walks with confidence, strides wide until he catches up to her, their arms bumping. Her attention turns to him. Her eyes glow in ways they didn't when they first met and Sasuke's feelings for this girl double in an instant.

"Hey," he says.

"Hi," she whispers, smiling.

Sasuke looks over his shoulder at Ino, half-grinning as she gives him two thumbs-up. He turns back to this girl he can't forget. She's looking ahead, lips pulled into a pleased smile and pink dusting her cheeks. She looks at him from the corner of her eyes, and hands him her books.

He looks down, reads the medical titles, and smirks.