うちは サスケ | sasuke uchiha (![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
bondsoflove) wrote in ![[community profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/community.png)
sirenspull2013-02-06 02:55 am
bondsoflove) wrote in sirenspull2013-02-06 02:55 am
Entry tags:
o1o, video
[Filtered from Warsman.]
When I lived in Konoha, Valentine's Day consisted of every girl I knew bombarding me with crappy homemade chocolate that tasted more like wax. Boys were supposed to reciprocate with something of equal or greater value a month later, on White Day. I never did, though--for one thing, I'd have been broke, and for another I never returned the interest.
[If you look closely, his face has a little more color than usual, and he's avoiding looking directly into the camera. His voice is low, too, a little secretive--and on closer inspection, it becomes clear that he is hiding out in a supply closet. A posh one, though; even the closets at the Uzushio are high end.]
This is stupid. [Grumbled. He runs a hand through his hair, exhaling nervously; he looks back at the camera and actually makes visual contact this time, resigned. Unhappy. Embarrassed.
But still resigned. He really doesn't have much choice, here.]
I've never done this before. [And he wouldn't be doing it at all, but he has this strange, squirming feeling somewhere in his stomach that Warsman would absolutely love it--that's enough for him to push past his hang-ups.] I don't want to make it seem like I'm trying to be the woman or anything, but--should I make him chocolate anyway?
[Augh. The words coming out of his mouth make him want to pull out his own hair.] I don't even know if he likes chocolate.
When I lived in Konoha, Valentine's Day consisted of every girl I knew bombarding me with crappy homemade chocolate that tasted more like wax. Boys were supposed to reciprocate with something of equal or greater value a month later, on White Day. I never did, though--for one thing, I'd have been broke, and for another I never returned the interest.
[If you look closely, his face has a little more color than usual, and he's avoiding looking directly into the camera. His voice is low, too, a little secretive--and on closer inspection, it becomes clear that he is hiding out in a supply closet. A posh one, though; even the closets at the Uzushio are high end.]
This is stupid. [Grumbled. He runs a hand through his hair, exhaling nervously; he looks back at the camera and actually makes visual contact this time, resigned. Unhappy. Embarrassed.
But still resigned. He really doesn't have much choice, here.]
I've never done this before. [And he wouldn't be doing it at all, but he has this strange, squirming feeling somewhere in his stomach that Warsman would absolutely love it--that's enough for him to push past his hang-ups.] I don't want to make it seem like I'm trying to be the woman or anything, but--should I make him chocolate anyway?
[Augh. The words coming out of his mouth make him want to pull out his own hair.] I don't even know if he likes chocolate.
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Sasuke isn't so good with words. He's tried at least a dozen times to speak, to say something about them, about him, what it means; to put words to the emotions that were constantly threatening to pull him underwater. More often than not, he's ended up touching instead--taking Warsman's hand and tracing kanji on his palm, or running his fingertips across the surface of the mask.
But words stop in his throat and when they do manage to come out, they're clumsy and unwieldy or sharp and toxic, and he can't seem to find a middle ground.]
I wouldn't be able to come up with anything.