Normally people work their way up from fluff's to smutty lemons. I seem to be doing the opposite. But, i thought it would be nice to go away from the smut for a while...don't blame me, they took away my medication --
I don't understand this. Everything was rational. He hurt me. No-one hurts me. Anyone who even tries should die at my hands. I don't deserve to be hurt. I'm the one who deserves to hurt everyone else for causing me pain. So why can't I kill him?
Earlier, I was so close to accomplishing that until that bastard showed up. Even though I left, the damn idiot doesn't seem to realise I can come back to the hospital. There are no interruptions. No nuisances. No-one around. So, why can't I kill him?
He smashed me into the ground and humiliated me. I don't deserve to be treated that way. I've already bore enough of it in the past. That's why I honed my skills, so no-one would ever hurt me again. But, he did. He deserves to be crushed into oblivion for what he did to me. Yet….I'm just realising now, he was able to hit me. He, was able, to touch me. Even though I have been hurt in many ways, physical suffering was actually impossible for myself, let alone anyone else, to accomplish. I can barely remember the sensation of being touched by someone else. I felt his grip against my arms. His fist against my face. I believed my sand was all powerful but, the sheer velocity behind his kick; that felt like true power.
What do I feel like when I'm touched? Do I feel like the grains crystal that run along the desert floor, even without my armour? What does it feel like to touch someone else? Would his skin feel like the elastic backing of a leaf or the bark of a tree. I need to know. I need to know what true power feels like.
His face, it feels like bread. Is this what another person feels like? It's smooth yet had tiny ridges all over like the surface of white slice. His hair feels like grass between my fingers. It's somehow sharp as a sword yet would never have a chance at penetrating paper, let alone skin. What are these sensations I feel in my fingertips?
END POV
As Gaara pushed the tip of his fingers deeper into the epidermis of Lee's face, the green ninja began to stir. Even his eye lids ached as he tried to raise them. The second Gaara noticed them flutter he turned on his heel to leave before he could be caught. That is, if he hadn't already been caught. Physically, he could have easily slipped through those loose fingers but the moment they touched Gaara's wrist, the red head froze.
"Wait…please" Lee croaked. It was incredibly painful just to hold his arm out like that. Hell, it was bloody painful to even breadth. But, by the gods of heaven, Rock Lee wasn't going to let that stop him until he said what needed to be said. "Thank you, for….an amazing fight" Gaara felt a light amount of pressure curl around his wrist. He turned his head to see Lee straining his neck in an attempt to sit up.
However, Lee's body couldn't handle it. He barely had the energy to wiggle his big toe, so forget anything else. As his bowl cut hair fell back into a lump on his pillow, Lee felt something slip beneath his back. Even being touched was painful but, whatever it was, it was lifting him up to sit and face Gaara. So, no complaints. Lee smiled as best as he could when he saw Gaara was supporting him. One hand had rested near the base of his spine while the other sat lazily on his arm wrappings.
"I mean it" he whispered hoarsely. "That was truly….an amazing battle. Thank you"
What is this? Why am I helping him? He should be dead by now. His body parts scattered and splattered all around this room. His blood should be satisfying Shikaku. My arms, are touching him. Yet, he doesn't seem frightened. Anyone who's ever known me had always been terrified at the sight of me. I recognise fear. It's mundane to me now. His face though, I don't understand what his face means.
Lee would be dammed if he couldn't muster the strength to do this. He forced any energy he could find into his arm and brought the shaking digits up towards Gaara's face. His thumb and index clumsily touched the Sand Ninja's chin and formed what felt like his mightiest grip to him despite his inability to even squash a fly at that moment. Gaara never flinched or pulled away. Whether from the shock of having another person physically reach out to him or that Lee seemed to be pulling him closer.
"Thank you, Gaara-kun"
His lips were beaten, internally torn like the rest of his body and were dry as desert sand. However, none of that registered to Gaara when they touch his lips.
What is this? This is a kiss but, I've only witnessed this before a few times. Is it supposed to be making my heart pound or is Shikaku trying to punish me for not killing him. Why is it warm? I…I don't understand.
A brief moment. That was all that Lee could manage. Just a single, split-second moment. But, it was done. He had managed to thank Gaara for the most intense fight of his life. He was able to prove himself to everyone who had ever doubted him. Naruto, Neji, Tenten, Sakura and Sasuke, everyone. Everyone was able to see what a splendid ninja he worked his life to the brim to become. It was all thanks to him. That unbelievable power created a greater adrenalin rush than the first time he performed the Hidden Lotus. He may have lost, he may be in great pain and the realisation that he couldn't move some of limbs that well slightly worried him but, it didn't matter. "Thank you" A red blur was all he could see before his eyes shut him away into dark slumber once more. Gaara felt shaky as Lee's lips parted from his to collapse against his shoulder. Social isolation prevented Gaara from truly understanding Lee's intentions or his actions at least. Intimacy was something that lived in another realm from him. How could he possibly understand feelings of affection? There was a sensation he was familiar with though. A small, tiny memory he had conjured up at a young age to help bare through his loneliness. Inside his childhood eyes, he had pictured a figure. It had no face, no features, no clothes; it was just a colourless shape. It had held him. This fragile piece of imagination made him feel something for himself. Self-pity maybe? Regardless, the sensation it created in his chest was exact to the feeling in his sternum at that moment.
Before leaving the room, Gaara had returned Lee to the position the nurses had left him in. Shikaku was screaming internally at the disobedient red head but Gaara would be able to release him in his upcoming match. He just wondered it that warm sensation would still be there when didn't sleep tonight.
Pretty short story, I know. I normally make much longer one's but I felt like a quickie just to work through some writer's block. Plus, I wanted to experiment with Gaara's POV a little. Think I did okay?