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How to Survive Middle School
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Summary: Middle School AU."I think I'm dreaming. I hope I'm dreaming. God, please let me be in a padded room, committing selfcest and hugging myself." It all started because his aunt wanted a pitcher of sugar. Male!OC. Slash.
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General Warning/Note: So, this story is sort of a test. You know, testing if I can complete a light hearted story, testing if I could write a male main character, if I could write not straight relationships, and if I could write a Naruto story.
Also, this story is character geared, there will be a plot, but I'm going to focus on character interaction, friendship and character studies. So, if there will be a plot, it'll be in the foreground and have something to do with character development more than action.
Since this is Male!OC story, and I will never pair Haru-chan up with any of the Naruto female characters, you can betcha there'll be slash. In fact, I might make it a slash harem of sorts. Of sorts, as in hinted harem and not the usual fluffy manga harems with so much 'action' you can't see the character development.
Last warning is: this is a slice of life, friendship, middle school AU. The build up to the actual action in the plot will be slow. We might not reach actual action until chapter nine or so. There will be dark themes – and there will be realistic things that children – particularly the teenagers – have to deal with.
14.11.2014. Oh, wow. This! This is super old! Granted, only a few months, but I've completely forgotten about it! Anyways, I don't need to test myself – I've discovered I'm capable of writing slash. As for light hearted…nope, I'm still dark and complex. Personally, I don't know if you readers would prefer a Male!OC or Naruto, but I can't think of Naruto causing the events Haruki can. So, yeah. It's still light M/M, but this will mostly be friendship-slash-fanservice, m'kay?
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Disclaimer: Naruto, Gaara, and CO belong to Kimimoto. The plot, and all OCs, belong to me. I hope this will tide you over for the rest of the fic.
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Rule one, don't make cookies at 1 AM
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No.
Please. No. Nonono.
"Bast—"
Under bed. Hide. 'Kaa-san will be the…the necessary distraction.
Disgusting. You are disgusting, Chiaki, absolutely disgusting. Ungrateful.
. . .
Haruki stared at the marble surface of the dining table. He was thinking. He'd been doing a lot of that – staring and thinking. Not really doing much else and just holing himself in his aunt's apartment, reading and reading and –
"Ha-ru-ki!"
…thinking. And playing chores boy. Not that Haruki minded; anything to keep him from thinking about what he wanted to think about (and thought about in bed every day) was welcome.
His aunt was just a bit…annoyed about his sudden hermit occupation. And his aunt tended to be aggressive about it, weather using her fists or manipulative words.
Manipulation ran in the family.
Stifling a sigh and standing up, he stretched his arms to the sky once he reached the kitchen's doorway.
"Yeah, obaa-san?"
His aunt turned her bright blue eyes on him, " 'baa-chan. Don't be so stiff, my dear Haru-chan."
Haruki didn't bother gratifying her with a glare, which got him a flash of concern in his aunt's eyes before it disappeared. "Fine," and just to make her feel a bit more relaxed, he added softly, "obaa-san."
His aunt brandished her spatula. Haruki raised his hands in a surrendering motion.
"Yeah, well," her lips stretched into a quick, evil smirk before she turned her back on him, "I'm baking."
He stared uneasily at her back. "Wonderful."
"Cookies."
Haruki's eyes flashed in happiness. "Honestly wonderful."
"I know," his aunt smugly replied, "but I don't have sugar."
His expression turned blank.
Oh.
Oh.
Conniving dog.
"I don't think I want to eat cookies," he declared, turning on his heels. A hand clamped over his shoulder, and he didn't bother thinking about how his aunt was over there how did she get here this fast.
She was a martial artist who really liked dragging him around the park for laps every morning, in which he'd promptly stare like an idiot at the ground or a tree every time she stopped to talk to someone.
Really, why would an adult woman like her want to speak with green, spandex wearing kids every day? Why would she freaking have to turn to him every time anyone remotely near his age passed by and waved hello? Didn't she get he'd most likely be already staring at a squirrel like an air head or if, god forbid, someone stopped to speak to them he'd gain sudden speed and go ahead to finish their daily laps?
"Haru-chan~," his aunt cooed in his ears, "You'll help your darling aunt and get me some sugar…from outside the house."
Haruki's shoulders slumped slightly. "Ayako-baa-chan, it's…past mid-night or something? And we're in the middle of a neighborhood that's in the middle of nowhere. Are you going to make me ride the bus at this time, at my age, alone?"
Ayako stepped back, eyed him with this really scary expression on, like she was eyeing a piece of meat and wondering what recipe it should be used on. "Well," she answered cheerfully, swiveling on her heels to face the kitchen table, "I'm sure the neighbors have sugar."
Haruki's eyes narrowed at her back. "I'm sorry; come again?"
"If you want cookies, get your butt in gear, walk out of the door, and ask our dear neighbors for sugar."
"And if I don't want cookies?"
She scoffed. "Who doesn't?" Good point.
"I really don't want cookies," he asserted. His aunt turned towards him, brandished her spatula, and declared that she wanted cookies.
So.
So, here he was, facing the door, holding an empty pitcher in one hand, about to go out of his new house (not home, never home) without his aunt chattering about something in front of him.
He was going out for the first time. Past midnight. Alone. For sugar.
Okay, he was definitely in some kind of cheap horror movie. You know, the one where the rebellious kid dies first, and everybody is too busy laughing and saying 'serves you right, ungrateful child' to really be horrified about child rights and human rights and stuff.
Haruki fit into the 'rebellious kid' title good. Well, to his aunt, yeah, his mom on the other hand…? Well, she wasn't here right now, so he couldn't be rebellious to her. And Haruki really, really didn't want to die.
Wait, scratch that, he might have wanted, once a short while ago. Now, though, he was too scared. He didn't want to face them, their disgust and disappointment.
Then again, wasn't there some kind of rule about younger kids in the horror movies? Like, under sixteen kids get possessed, sixteen year olds survive, and seventeen year olds die quietly and painlessly, or in some kind of heart tugging way.
Pays to be a child sometimes.
Oh, wait. Heart tugging…is dangerous. People get their hearts tugged when kids are attacked my lawn mowers…
"Haruki~," his aunt crooned from the kitchen, "don't go to the neighbors on our left."
"Why not?" he asked half-heartedly.
"Well," stumble, bang, crash, curse, "I heard the owner's in the yakuza…taxi won't even come here because of him. Seriously, one day I'll have to visit him and," here she paused, most likely to peek out the door at him to narrow her eyes suggestively, "make him disappear."
Most likely, she wanted to say something else. But since he was thirteen, she lowered down her dialogue to PG.
And since his parents weren't here, she lowered it down to G.
"Fine," he replied, "I'll stick to the house on our right."
"Good boy!"
Stepping out of the house, Haruki remembered one, giant, detail.
His neighborhood consisted of two types of houses: two floor, wide, low ceiling ones, like his aunt's, and four floor, swimming pool in the backyard, trimmed gardens and glaring security houses.
And, quite dramatically, his aunt's house was the last before the house on their right started the long chain of expensive houses.
Haruki stifled a sigh ("Don't sigh!" his aunt yelled, "You're gonna age faster that way.") and ran his fingers through his hair, starting from his bangs, untangling some knots. He frowned; he probably looked pretty messy. It was past midnight, though, so maybe their neighbor would excuse his wrinkled shirt and messy hair.
He hesitated for a few seconds outside the door; should he go back and get a hat? Change into something more presentable?
Haruki quickly squashed that thought; he didn't want his invisible audience to scoff at his hesitance – the kid just went out the house and he's already going back in! they'd say. Or maybe something along the lines of 'insecure little boy'. And he didn't want his aunt to notice his insecurity and then take it that he actually cared about meeting people and set him up into more scenes like this.
So, he opted on combing his hair with his right hand and walking down to his neighbor's. Frankly, he was glad he didn't have to go to the other neighbor's house; there were a couple of cars parked outside and he could clearly see a tall, giant man wearing a black coat walk in. The man's head tilted to him before he entered and he nodded at Haruki. Sort of. Maybe he was just sneezing.
But. Wow. Some sort of shark-boy mutation entered his neighbor's house. Should he call the police?
…Nah. Haruki didn't want a confrontation with adult humans this early in the morning. His neighbor was one, the police, on the other hand, just weren't the type of people Haruki could talk to right now without staring at the floor and going mute.
So maybe Haruki had a problem. He had a legit reason for it.
Really.
He paused on the borders of the front yard to the house.
Was he really going to do this? No, no, no, he really wanted to go back to his house. This was too embarrassing – it was one AM for God's sake! He didn't…h-he'd be humiliated, the person opening the door would be cranky and eye him with distaste and – and.
And.
He really didn't want that.
So, with dying will, Haruki turned around to go back to his aunt's house. And made out an unnerving shape in the darkness beyond the house's window.
Haruki's eyebrows twitched. Was that a binocular?
…really, Ayako-baa-chan?
Never mind, Haruki thought, I don't want to know. He opened the –
No. Wait. He didn't open the door, because the door was locked.
Haruki felt like swearing.
"Haru-chan?" came his aunt's voice, sweet like expired honey, "have you brought the sugar?"
He stayed silent.
"That was really fast…so, did they give you the sugar happily or did they flip you off with the sugar?"
Swallowing down the urge to break the door down (which he was sure he could do, after seeing his aunt do it a bunch of times whenever she got pissed off with someone she'd visit and was sleeping) he said, "I didn't bring sugar."
"Then," and the reply sounded final, "get it. What did you think standing around twiddling your thumbs would do? Summon the fairy god mother? If you don't bring the sugar, forget the cookies, you won't get to see your bed."
Haruki swallowed, put his weight on his right leg, lifting the heel of his left foot and rolled his foot across the floor, from heel to balls to the tips of his toes.
"Please?" He tried.
"No."
Haruki trudged back to the neighbor's house. His stomach was sinking, he was pretty sure it might have already fallen to the ground halfway to the large house. He looked up at the vast, rich looking beige colored house. There weren't any lights on – at least, none of the lights near the windows were open.
And then Haruki remembered what he'd gone through and decided that some rich guy's glares really wouldn't do much to Haruki's life.
Unless the rich person was a kid his age who went to his school, but that was just too ironic. Fate wasn't that much of a dog.
Haruki knocked on the door once, paused, and then knocked three times after each other loudly.
When no one came (or cursed, or yelled, or threw a flower vase through the window at him) he resorted to something that would gurantee his neighbor's ire and a screaming fest.
He rang the bell.
RIIIIIIIIIIIIII—
The door opened, and a pale face looked out the door. Haruki almost flinched at the boy's expression; reminded him too much of certain events with his aggressive (but nice) mother. Now, Haruki didn't almost flinch at anything – it definitely wasn't the dark circles around the boy's eyes, nor was it the sappy tattoo on his forehead, or the shock of crimson hair, it was the emotions enveloping his burning green eyes.
He looked ready to kill.
"I will kill you," the boy said blankly, his lip quirked downwards at the side.
Haruki stared at him as if he was insane. Which he was, if the knife in his hand screamed anything.
"What? Why? What'd I do?"
The boy wasn't impressed. He didn't even bother dignifying his questions – something Haruka's little sister would have been dumbfounded at, what with her curious, inquisitive nature – and just leapt at Haruki.
Haruki side stepped.
The boy swiveled on his heels and his eyes burned even more – kill, kill, kill –
Haruki knew how the desire to kill felt. His eyes flashed; but he had a good reason and this fucktard was going to kill him for ringing the bell?
He wasn't aware he was about to punch the guy until his fist was held by a large hand. "Gaara," the man that just appeared said softly, "what's wrong here?"
The boy – Gaara – stopped in his homicidal storm, but he didn't stop staring at Haruki. After a few seconds of silence, Haruki tugged his hand free from the man's grip and stared back at the boy. "Something wrong with my face?"
Gaara's eyes glinted. He held on to the stare competition, before murmuring, "I was trying to sleep."
The man's eyes lit up with understanding and…sympathy? Did the kid have insomnia? If so, Haruki felt his stomach go empty; then he really did hurt the poor guy. Not physically, and he didn't mean to do it, but still, Haruki felt guilty.
Until he remembered the guy had tried to kill him.
Haruki's eye twitched.
"Look," he started, "I'm sorry I disturbed your attempt at sleep. Really sorry, since you seem like you're tired. But I come in peace (at that they stared at him) and waving a knife at your neighbor and threatening him is illegal. So, give me a pitcher of sugar, I won't sue you, and we will never see each other again. Deal?"
They both stared at him. The man seemed bemused, while the kid was blank except for a small flicker of bewilderment in his eyes.
"You came here for sugar?" The man asked.
"At one AM?" A drowsy, disbelieving male voice asked from beyond the door way. Gaara didn't look away – he probably already knew they were there, from his unaffected expression – while the guy started, turning around and saying, "Temari. Kankuro. Go back to sleep."
Both of them grumbled, Haruki caught words of their incoherent, sleep affected complains: "…woke us…ringing…opera…worse…a fire truck…" and "…sugar…put that pitcher somewhere else…".
Haruki let his lip quirk upwards. Sleepy people were always amusing.
"So, uh," he told the red haired boy, "that pitcher of sugar?"
Gaara looked like he'd rather jump him with the knife.
Haruki sighed. He ran his hand through his air, and almost held out his hand to Gaara, if he hadn't remembered that he held a knife and was about to kill him three minutes ago. Then he caught the glint of metal in the corner of his eye and realized that the man had taken the knife from Gaara. And Haruki hadn't even noticed.
So, with all that comforting information, he held out his hand and let his lips spread into a genuine, half smile. "It's nice to meet you. My name's Chiaki Haruki. What's yours?" he said, even though he'd already nabbed the name during the man's conversation with him. He just didn't want to seem any weirder than he already was. I mean, really, a thirteen year old boy, at one AM, with an empty pitcher, knocking at your door for sugar? That's just asking for a police call.
Gaara stared at him. There, Haruki caught triumphantly, there. A small flash of confusion.
There was a thick, tangible silence, almost as if every living being had caught their breath. Haruki glance sideways and found the two kid's inside the house gaping at him, and the man staring in bewilderment at him. "Idi-" the boy choked once his sister's elbow found his gut.
And then, Gaara's eyes turned dark. "None of your business," he growled softly, "don't dare come back here again."
Gaara turned on his heel and walked inside, his fellow house mates jumping out of his way with "sorry"s, and Haruki didn't even feel confused.
He knew what was wrong with the psycho kid. So when the man introduced himself as Baki and apologized, when he told him to wait for a second as he brought the sugar to fill the pitcher, Haruki told him not to bother.
Baki looked befuddled, and a bit annoyed.
Haruki promised him he'd take him up on the sugar offer, though, and then turned and walked back to his home with a strange curiosity burning in his chest. He was interested, but he was also –
He wanted to help.
So when his aunt let him back in with a sheepish grin, he didn't say anything. Just raised an eyebrow at her, like 'seriously, aunt, seriously?", and let her cower in guilt.
How could he do anything but befriend his killer neighbor when his eyes reminded Haruki of his own?
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"Ayako-baa-chan," Haruki smiled at her, "I get that you pretended to really want to bake cookies for me so you could con me into meeting a homicidal maniac, but why did you try to cook when you didn't know how to use a stove?"
Her cheeks were dashed with red when she rubbed the back of her neck. "Yeah…uh, well, I kinda felt bad for you…so I thought I'd try, and…"
"And?" he asked with the patience of a saint, raising an eyebrow at her, "and you put a soda in the oven?"
She eyed the destroyed oven and muttered a curse that wasn't G rated, nor PG, and he doubted it was as close to PG-13 as it was to MA. "Yeah, well, the stupid cook book could've said something about an ingredient named baking soda, instead of instructing me to add baking soda."
"So you baked a soda," Haruki said.
Ayako nodded.
Haruki shook his head sadly, and looked up for her for a brief second. That brief second though, almost gave her a heart attack. Mainly because Haruki was grinning at her with a really amused, really sincere teeth filled smile. Partly because she worried about the potential suitors stalking him for it.
Dang, that smile was something. And if she knew all it took for him to smile was throwing him out the house, threatening him into meeting some 'normal' (homicidal) humans, and blowing up their only oven, she'd have done that two weeks ago, when he came into her house with that distant, numb expression on.
So, while Haruki watched with mild concern, Ayako yelled that she would definitely protect his maidenhood – "What maidenhood?" he asked blandly – and keep him hashtag single forever.
"Ayako-baa-chan," he said gently, steering her by the shoulders to a couch, "you need a break from Tumblr."
Ayako sneered at him. "Never."
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A/N: I've put up a temporary poll up for the characters you most want Haruki to interact with, female and male.
Please drop a review. This is the type of story I won't update unless I see there's some reader feedback, since the Naruto fandom doesn't appreciate School AUs that feature OCs, and since most OCs are fem!OCs, I can assume they hate Male!OCs even more.
Cookies,
I've noticed I can write 'despair' with the letters in hopeless desire. So:
^^ yes, parataku darling! ding-ding, that's a danganronpa reference! if you don't know what that is, you're really missing out on something amazing. Just don't watch the danganronpa anime. It's horrible, in my non-humble opinion, unless you want it as a side dish...after you play the game. Then, it's somewhat average.