Subclinical Manifestation

6

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dis·trac·tion

a thing that prevents someone from giving full attention to something else

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Keyboards never looked this interesting until now. Her eyes traced the letters before her, ignoring the blaring screen screaming for her attention. A hand absently brushing against the keys, feeling their textures. She repeatedly circled the 'S' with a finger.

Blinking, her finger stopped on one angle of the square. She sighed.

She knew she would be like this. With no one around, Hinata couldn't maintain her concentration long enough for a one sit read. There was no diligent someone persistently writing notes in front of her. There was no light kicking on her leg when she was laughing over a frivolous distraction when she should have been studying. There was no intimidating stares in front of her. There was no navy colored mug on the table. So many things weren't present in order for her to concentrate.

There was no Sasuke.

First, it was only lunch time. It had started as a one day thing, she'd take that. Errands, could happen. Then two consecutive days. Minor thesis appointment, that was inevitable. Then suddenly a whole week had passed and she had to go home with public transportations! She wasn't complaining, really. It was just strange on Sasuke's behalf. And—definitely—inconvenient on her behalf.

The second Monday of this semester, everything had turned back to normal, surprisingly. She was happy and had put aside her uneasiness. Then he did the thing and left her there to stare his disappearing back behind his door. He didn't even turn off his laptop, didn't even wash his mug, didn't even take his notebook, he just didn't say anything or do anything to appease her or clarify anything that need to be clarified, if there was any that is. She did everything for him. He didn't thank her on the morning after.

The next days to come he'd disappear until God knows when. She never got the chance to see his face at night. Without him, she could only suffer until midnight and went to bed obediently to the desperate command at the back of her mind. And on every morning, she never got the chance to confront him because now he never ate breakfast and inside the car she'd lose all her courage and remain silent. Another week passed.

Now reaching the third week, her uneasiness only worsened. Mid-semester exams were just around the corner and she couldn't fill her brain with anything ever since the start of the semester. And not just because she couldn't concentrate on the family medicine planning and everything, but for the past weeks—actually, even months—her mind kept drifting to analyze what she did wrong or why he did all those things.

Why he stared at her longer than he had ever done. Why he stared at her when she was only eating a meal. Why his eyes followed her when she approached him in the library. Why he turned away when she caught him staring. She'd been thinking she was only over sensitive and theorize things over nothing. Until he'd tried to kiss her. Until he'd touched—brushed—her (earlobe).

And what worse was the fact he chose to be a coward and didn't face her on the matter. It certainly was what she initially had wanted.. But avoiding her? He certainly carried out the matter rather excessively. Did he think she didn't know he was avoiding her? What did he take her for? An imbecile?

She'd been thinking about the reason behind the changes she'd found, or she thought she'd found. But it couldn't be what she thought it was, couldn't it? Nonetheless, they needed to talk things out. They were friends after all! Friends talk things out, right?