I do not own gaara or any other naruto character here-however i do own the girl and her story.
Gaara sat on the park bench and looked at the stars. He looked at them alone. Just like he did every Friday at midnight. He did it to remind him of someone. He used to do this with her every week. He would sneak out of his bedroom window, climb down the tree next to it, and walk to the park where she would be waiting for him every week. She'd hear his footsteps, turn, and smile. It was the most beautiful smile he had ever seen, and knew he ever would see. It lit up his heart like nothing else, even the first time he saw it. And so he would go to meet her every week. And she was always there waiting for him. Until she wasn't.
He first moved there a year ago. He made no friends for over a month, and enemies of all his teachers in half that. He didn't do his work, in school or out, and was failing everything. He was sent to a therapist, who helped nothing. He just hadn't wanted to move. He was happy where he had been-despite the fact he hadn't had any friends there either.
One night he got into a fight with his older sister and brother. They yelled about his lack of discipline and the amount of his apathy. Boarding schools, they said, was all that was left for him. He ignored their yells and went to his room. He would run away. That is what he would do. He packed a tooth brush, some clothes, his stash of pockey, and his DSL and games. He opened the window, climbed out and down the tree next to it, and walked off directionless.
His feet brought him to a park bench. That was the first time he saw her. In his mind he had prayed it wouldn't be his last.
She was beautiful. Blonde pigtails rippled down to her waist, tied up with crimson beads. Her body was full, but delicate in an odd way. She seemed sad and fluid in every slight breath and movement. Her skin was pale and perfect. She was clothed in a manner similar to his own, except she had femm-perfected her look. Tight, black band tee, knee-high striped socks, red plaid skirt, and combat boots. This was her, and it was all beautiful. But what caught his heart most in that first moment, was her mouth. It was in a sad smile, and melodic, dulcet breath came from it. He was dumbstruck.
She asked him in a comforting, and understanding tone if he had had a rough night. He closed his eyes briefly and breathed deeply. She asked if it was really that bad and patted the open seat next to her.
He only nodded and sat down, not pointing out that his bad night had nothing to do with his reaction, rather, it was her voice, and mouth, and everything that did it. And so they talked.
Talking for hours, they sat. They played his DS games for a while, then talked some more. The sun began to rise. Still they talked. About everything. About nothing. They never talked about their homes or families, though. An unspoken taboo had been placed there. He had not seen her at the school; she said she didn't go. He had not seen her at the town's church he was forced to go to; she said she didn't worship. He had not seen her around the town; she said she mostly stayed home.
He was about to comment about her social life being seemingly almost as devoid as his own, when his watch beeped. He looked. 7:00 AM. Had it been a school night last night he would have just woken up for school, or at least just gotten out of bed. But it was Saturday. No school.
He turned it off. He said something about needing to get home. She said something like, wasn't he running away, with a knowing smile. He looked away and pretended not to care when he said that he might reconsider if she would be here next week. The smile that followed was one plain but beautiful smile he saw out of the corner of his eye. If he had been looking he would have seen the real joy in her eyes. She said she comes there every week. He nodded trying to be nonchalant and said that in that case, if he decided to stay, he'd see her then.
And so he walked off the way he came.
When he got home, his siblings were on the couch, looking worried. His sister looked as if she'd been crying. They sat across from a concerned police officer. He looked at them kindly. The three looked up in alarm when they heard the door shut, the alarm quickly turned to surprise when they saw who it was.
His sister stood up and ran to him, embracing him. She said she was sorry, and she didn't know how stressed he was, and other things, trying to get forgiveness she thought she needed. His brother stood back with a look on his face saying that he didn't know whether to hit him or kiss him. The police officer looked on with a smile, saying how he had said that runaways usually return home. He escorted himself out, and the family watched with oddly placed smiles on their face after the man with even more odd white hair.
Gaara did better in school. He still had no friends, and his teachers still did not like him. But he was doing much, much better. His siblings didn't understand it. His teachers didn't seem to really care. His peers didn't notice. His therapist smiled knowingly and said that sometimes teens just need a walk-away moment to clear their heads.
Only Gaara knew that she was the reason he was doing better-because he didn't want to have to leave-because he didn't want to go to boarding school-because he didn't want to lose her.
They met every week. He knew everything about her. Her likes, her dislikes, her favorites, the words she couldn't say…he could even recite her birthday, and her eye color and how it changed.
Blue, the deepest blue. When she laughs they turn bright, almost silver. When they talk about sad things they turn dark, and remind him of the ocean.
Meeting every week was wonderful. He went through his whole week just waiting for midnight. No one knew about her, as he didn't talk about her to his siblings. He didn't have any friends to tell about her. He didn't say much to his therapist, who his meetings with were becoming much more infrequent. He wouldn't dream about telling his teachers. Why would he?
He told all about them though, to her….and they met every week.
And then the last week-the last night he saw her-something amazing happened.
They were sitting on the bench as usual. They were talking as usual. Then something not usual happened. She stopped mid sentence. She looked into the bushes across the path in front of them. He asked her if something was wrong. She looked at him. He looked at her. His eyes held confusion for five seconds, which dissipated into realization, then surprise, then passion. In her eyes there was passion. It smoldered between them in that moment.
And they leaned forward.
And they kissed.
And it was perfect.
It was small, but wonderful. It was not a sloppy kiss, with lots of tongue. It was not a movie kiss, all ways sappy. But it was perfect. It was young, fresh, and their first. It was soft, pure, and miraculous.
And then it ended. Too soon, but not a moment too soon. It ended as perfectly as it began. She curled up to him and he held her, his arms encircling her, her nuzzled into his chest. And they sat there until the sun rose. And she drifted into sleep. And as she did she whispered something he knew was for him only. Forever. And she slept.
And the next week came and went quickly, but not quick enough for Gaara's tastes. He wanted to see her again. To hold her. To kiss her. To tell her everything he felt for her.
And he snuck out at the same time as usual. And he climbed out his window. And he climbed down the tree next to it. And he walked to the same place…but she wasn't there.
And so he was worried. And so he called for her, called her name. But she didn't answer. He decided all he could do was wait. And so he did. He sat on the bench.
And he waited.
And he waited.
And the sun rose.
And it fell.
And still he waited, for that was all he could think to do. When the sun rose a second time, marking Sunday, he stood up again. And he ran. He ran to the police station.
He ran through the door, and straight past the secretary's desk, and straight past the security guard, who had obviously had the night shift and had just fallen asleep standing up. And so Gaara kept running. He ran through the room filled with cops at their desks, staring at him cautiously. A flash went through his mind.
Hatake, that was his name. The cop at his house, that was who he was looking for. So he ran to the desk with the name tag, but he wasn't there. The boy looked around the room, he had a frantic look on his face. A nice looking man with the name tag Umino on his uniform looked at him worriedly and pointed to a doorway. The break room.
Gaara dashed inside and ran straight to Mr. Hatake. He blubbered about her. He ranted about her missing. He started crying. Mr. Hatake just nodded at him and, placing a hand on his shoulder, led him to an office completely empty. He gestured to a chair in front of it, shut the door, and sat behind it.
And so Gaara talked.
He told him everything. Of every meeting. Mr. Hatake smiled in spite of himself and the situation when he realized why the boy had returned home. And again when Gaara spoke of the kiss. His smile dissapered completely when Gaara said what had happened Friday night. Mr. Hatake realized why the boy's siblings had thought he had run away again, when he was not there Saturday morning. But he hadn't run away, he had just been waiting.
Gaara told the police man everything he could about the girl. What she looked like, what she liked and disliked, where she might be if she had run away. And so Mr. Hatake did his best, as any good cop would do, with what he had.
It was three full weeks later when Gaara got results. He hadn't gone to school. He was bedraggled and seemed very out of sorts. It also seemed he hadn't slept. Which he hadn't except for a couple of times crouching over his desk, mumbling about her and drifting fitfully into a half-sleep state.
Gaara's siblings led Mr. Hatake up the stairs to his room. Mr. Hatake had explained the situation in full as soon as he dropped gaara off at home before going to search up more information. He had told them to be understanding. To let him take off for a while. And to try to calm him as much as possible. They tried. They couldn't help much.
When they got to the room, it was a completely different boy, he looked aged and gone from happiness. Lost in his own mind, which Mr. Hatake new could be a dangerous and scary place.
Mr. Hatake told him that he knew exactly what had happened to the girl, and that Gaara should sit down for this. Gaara sat on the edge of his bed and gestured to his desk chair for Mr. Hatake.
And so Mr. Hatake began.
He had, after much searching, raiding through old files, and questioning of towns people, finally found out where the girl lived. And so he went to the house. When he got there, he knocked on the door. No one answered, so he had assumed that no one was home. So he waited. It seemed either, everyone in the house had left on extended business, or was not returning. So he got a warrant for seach.
The warrant hadn't taken much to get. The mother of the house hold had run off leaving a questionable and most likely abusive father with custody of the child. The father had gotten into tiffs with the odd liquor store owner and bank atm. He was well known at every bar in town and liquor store as well. A man like that, to suddenly go missing, well there is no big hurry to find him. But if his young and seemingly sweet daughter suddenly goes missing as well, that is definitely cause for a warrant.
And so Mr. Hatake kicked down the door with the help of his partner Mr. Umino. They walked in, guns up, and were greeted by a disgusting smell and sight. The floor and living room was littered with old pizza boxes, some with pizza still in them, old Chinese take-out cartons, same story there, and tons of beer bottles. A later count by a crime scene analyzer showed it to be over 130 empty beer bottles, over 20 at least half-full, and at least 23 spilled all over.
Mr. Hatake went into one room, Mr. Umino went into another. Mr. Hatake soon heard Mr. Umino crying frantically for him to come in there. Mr. Hatake went and nearly lost all composure and screamed at what he saw.
The girl. Dead. Beaten to death, bloody, bruised, and broken. Across from her lied her father. A gun was in his hand. His head was on the wall…three feet away from him. Forensics were called in immediately.
The cause of death was very simple, she had come home late, he-drunk-beat her, he killed her in rage, realized what he did, and then shot himself. They determined them both to be dead about four weeks ago. That meant that the last day Gaara saw her, was also the last day she was alive.
And that was that. She was dead. Gaara had cried at first. The therapist as usual could and did not help him. His siblings stood back, and let him let it out through the tears, as that was all they could do. Mr. Hatake and Mr. Umino checked in regularly. And soon Gaara stopped crying, because, that was not what she would have wanted him to do.
He got his life back on track. He tried to make friends. And he tried to make his teachers hate him a little less. Mr. Umino and Mr. Hatake were over for dinner almost every week, adopted family members.
About a year later, at Gaara's, his brother's, and Mr. Umino's urging, Mr. Hatake asked Gaara's sister on a date. They are still together today, and happily married, with the third baby on the way.
Gaara's brother started dating a girl a couple months into their relationship, they worked out for a while and then turned into a regular on-off couple, never dating anyone in between. Every one keeps telling him to just tell her he loves her already. He will eventually.
Mr. Umino settled down with a nice woman from the task force. They have their second birth on the way, it will turn out to be two beautiful baby twins…they don't know that yet.
And Gaara? Gaara is moderately happy. He still goes to that park bench and stares at the stars every Friday at midnight. He graduated high school and is now a junior in college. A girl with the surname Hyuga asked him out earlier that day…he will say yes, but tell her about his past about an hour into their date. She merely decides that she will be the one to help heal him, and says so. He will propose to her on that very bench a year later...on a Friday. They will have two kids, and live happily together into old age, and will still return to that bench once a month on the Friday closest to their anniversary and leave flowers for the girl.
I hope you enjoyed! Please R&R!
Special Thanks to my beta: IsleofSolitude-You're totally awesome!