Pour Down Upon Me
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By Flightangel
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Disclaimer: Gaara does not belong to me
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The rain was harsh, a stinging downpour of grays and slateblues, plummeting down onto my dull crimson locks as I huddle half-heartedly beside a dark, squat adobe. The sky, a darkening canvas full of black clouds opening their mouths with heart-shaking roars, seemed to be gathering against me that chilling morning. Such unusual weather—Suna was a desert-place full of whirring winds full of bitter-tasting sands, not a place of heavy rainfall.
It took all my energy to suppress Shukaku from letting a surge of sand create a makeshift lean-to for me. No matter what weather or inconvenience there was, there was no way I'd let that demon try to take control of me, even in these little situations. His voice was filtered out throw the cold numbing my brain and my persistent blocking of him, barely being able to whisper words of poison and acid, trying to reach out into my mind with his tendrils of power. "Hurry out of the rain," he said in a seemingly caring manner, though barely veiled emotions—kill already, what are you doing, puny human, blood, we need more blood, fool, get out already—touched my conscience and forced me to suppress him further. Dammit.
"N-no," I said through gritted teeth, arms clenching tighter against myself as I tried to curl myself out of the rain, out of Suna, out of this lifeless existence where no one cared and no one ever did care. Even though my brain supplied the answers to my heart's questions—the only way to exist was to kill—I knew it wasn't the whole truth. Nights of sleeplessness allowed me enough pain-staking time to think over and over, the meaning of existence and this puny human whim-of-a-feeling, 'love', and what existence was.
Existence was pointless if you did not brush the world in some way. Existence did not exist unless someone took notice of you. Existence was nothing if your life was taken without meaning.
Even stillborn babies have an existence, their parents suffering from the misfortune.
I, however, had barely an existence at all in the world—the only existence that came from me was killing, where everyone took notice. No one can ignore a death. Thus, the only way to 'exist' according to my definition was to kill. Nothing to do but kill and enjoy the blood, and maybe try to suppress Shukaku along the way, even though I know its totally pointless—nothing can stop that demon, not even me.
I nodded to myself as the rain pounded harder into me, water scouring my bare arms and neck, soaking every inch of my dark black pants and tee, like it was soaking not just onto my body, but also into my soul. I had already decided this long ago.
And yet…if life was to exist, and to exist was to affect, and, for me, to affect was to kill—why did I always feel so empty inside?
There was no answer but the dark mutterings of my twisted thoughts, the growling of the damned demon behind a quickly weakening shield of resistance, the sobs from my memories wracking my brain…
'Love' said a faint voice in my mind.
And I felt the unfamiliar feelings bubble inside of me, threatening to pour out, and, with the whole force of the wave, my mind became silent.
In the quiet, I closed my eyes.
"…yes…"
And the rain poured down upon me.
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Author's Notes: XD Being weird again. Poor Gaara (snuggles him). Don't worry, I'll update 'Breaking the Music' soon, I'm just having a little fun here…