Chapter Text
your name is y/n. you have nice hair but it’s not THAT nice. if you complimented some girl’s hair in line at starbucks then she would compliment your hair too but nobody would go out of their way to say your hair is nice. but it’s kind of nice.
you stand in line at starbucks one day and you sneeze. the guy in front of you turns around and looks at you very flatly. you notice several things at once.
firstly, his hair is really good but completely baffling. it’s like some emo cut from 2004 but hot. he’s just really hot, all over. his bone structure is like a blow to the gut and his eyes are intense and dark. he looks like he could be in a boy band except for that he has the bitchiest expression you’ve ever seen. also it seems he is talking to you.
“your hair’s ugly,” he says. it takes you a second to register that a complete stranger would say this to you apropos of nothing. the woman behind you in line gasps a little, also taken aback.
“what the fuck,” you say.
“it looks like shit,” he says.
“um? fuck you,” you reply, getting a little angry. who the hell is this dude. you just want a latte.
he looks you up and down in a blatantly judgmental way, except you have the feeling that he’s a little amused, which makes you a little excited because he’s hot but also very angry because he’s a complete douche bag.
“you’re a huge asshole, huh,” he says. he’s smirking.
“is anybody else hearing this dude?” you say. the woman behind you faintly says yeah what the fuck. you glance back at her and she nods in solidarity.
“you seem like a dick. do you want to go out sometime.”
the man says this completely deadpan. he pulls an apple out of his pocket and bites it, which is weird. it gets weirder when you realize that it’s not an apple. it’s a tomato. you’re not really comprehending what’s going on because this dude is such a fucking bizarre weirdo with zero social skills whatsoever, and you reply on baffled autopilot. “sure?”
you realize he’s given you his phone. mechanically you input your phone number and name. the man takes it back, inspects it, and looks back at you. “your name doesn’t really fit you.’
“i– what?”
“nothing, i dunno. your parents couldn’t come up with anything good, probably. whatever.”
the man turns around like nothing happens and leaves you with just the view of the back of his head. he seems to be content to eat his raw tomato and ignore you. the barista calls him up. you are so fucking confused.
“did you give him your number?” the woman behind you asks.
“i think so?” you say. “yeah, god. i did. why did i do that.”
“he’s really hot,” she says in consolation.
“i think i hate him?” you say.
the man, who has finished ordering his drink, somehow flips you the bird in a charming way. he takes his coffee– just black coffee, what is wrong with this guy– and leaves as you approach the barista.
“what was that guy’s name?” you demand.
“uh– sasuke?” says the barista. “can i– uh– did you want a drink, or?”
you order your latte and leave. you look down at your phone. you have a text.
hi y/n. i was just kidding about ur hair. it’s gorgeous. ur dumb af for giving some rando ur number tho. when are u free