This story is inspired by Bonded by Blood, written by sTaR SNipEr, who is awesome, and Bakemono Ai, by Mistress Pluto, who is smexy. -nods-
The boy lay in his bed, just lay there, completely unwilling to move. It was too hard. Too hard to pretend to be an idiot, too had to plaster that normal grin on his face. If he had to name this feeling, he wouldn't. It felt like he had to cry but couldn't. Someone he thought all I want is someone. Someone here, someone to keep me safe. Someone who doesn't... doesn't judge me. Who understands me. A solitary tear fell from his dead-like eyes. Someone to love me.
He was in Konoha again. In the village of the only one who had ever touched his heart. He searched for the blonde hair and the sympathizing eyes of bright crystal blue, but he couldn't find them. The eyes were clouded, hiding. He'd asked the one he'd hurt, the pink-haired one with green eyes. She was different too now, her eyes were different. She'd said that she hadn't seen her friend the whole day, that she was worried but had no time to find him, but she pointed him to his house. He'd thanked her. She looked suprised for a moment, but then gave him a small smile and a tiny nod. Nothing was the same here anymore. Not even those eyes.
Through the darkness, he almost thought he saw those pale-green eyes. Wishful thinking, he told himself, he could never be here. Through the darkness, he amost thought he heard that voice, calling his name. Wishful thinking, he told himself, he would never come here. Through the darkness, he thought he felt his touch, his sand-softened fingers on his face. Wishful thinking, he told himself, he would never touch you. Through the darkness, he imagined being held in his arms, being loved. But it was only imagining, only wishing. No one could love him, not him, not a monster. Even Sasuke left him, abandoned him. Life was not kind to monsters.
He worried when he didn't respond to his name, or his touch. When he gave like a dead body as he picked him up. He whispered his name softly, but there was nothing. Only when he whispered softly, "Bakemono, Aishiteru" did he finally respond. He lifted his head, looked into his eyes. He stared for a moment, as if wondering if he was a figment of his own imagination, his own wishes. It was moments, precious moments, before he threw his arms around his neck and began babbling about how he was real. He hushed him and whispered two simple words. "Bakemono, aishiteru."
"Bakemono, Aishiteru." He answered. "Gaara, Aishiteru."