Sick Little Suicide
Disclaimer:
Sadly I don't own any of the characters, but I'd love to have Gaara sleepin' in my bed. :smiles:
So what about the story, it's a Gaara centric and it's my first attempt ever at a fanfiction story, so don't hate me. All the characters are very OOC, I think. But don't let it scare you, and yeah sorry for the really bad English. I'm working in getting it better. Basically it's Gaara in high school, and me using my sick imagination turning him into a cute little emo boy. Warnings contains; language and a lot of blushing later on in the story. And Shonen Ai!
Soundtrack while writing this; Dog Eared Page, Sick Little Suicide and December Is For Cynics by The Matches. They Rock, so check 'em out!
Chapter 1, X plus Y equals…WHAT?
I'm watching you watch over me and I got the greatest view of all, but you don't know I'm watching you. You never notice, maybe because you are the perfect one.
I admit, you are beautiful. More beautiful than what I'll ever be. I guess I'm going to be the freak forever.
I watch your raven black bangs fall forward and cover your dark eyes, hiding their depths from everyone. The contrast between your pale smooth skin (well at least I think it's smooth) and your dark hair makes me stare. I watch you every day, in my own secret ways, but this day is worst than the others. Maybe it's because I'm in math class, bored as hell, and you're wearing those dark clothes that make you look just slightly gothic, and I dream about lining those dark eyes of yours with kohl. You'd look so good in it.
Looking away today takes effort, but I don't want you to see me gazing over you. As I said before, sometimes I catch you looking at me. Not the way the others look, you watch in almost a wondering way. One time I'm almost sure I saw you smiling, you never smile, just like me. That makes me think, even though you are the perfect one on the outside…maybe, just maybe your breaking on the inside.
I'm breaking too, shattering into a million tiny pieces. It's not the words they call me, not that my siblings hate me, it's not my stupid dads voice echoing in my head over and over again that makes me scream at night, it's not even that I'm alone that stains my cheeks with tears.
What makes me fall down and stops me from rising again, is…
Fuck that, my thoughts are wandering. It's just plain stupid. I guess I should listen instead, at least try to pay a little attention to what's going on, and I definitively must stop looking your way. I'm behaving like one of your fan girls and if I don't watch myself I'll be running up to you screaming for a date. Wouldn't that be fun to see, huh?
And then you'd really hate me… that is if you don't already do…
Everybody hates me, or at least they really dislike me. Ever since I can remember I have been the weird one, the one nobody wanted to sit next to. I never really had any friends, no one to bring home and have sleepovers with. No one to tell secrets with, or play videogames with and fight over stupid things, hanging out just like normal people do. That just proves that I'm everything but normal, I fucking suck at all those things you need to be cool.
Sometimes I look in the mirror and try to understand what's wrong.
Was I born a misfit?
Well, I don't actually look like your normal sixteen year old, or so Temari my sister tells me, the few times she actually speaks to me. She thinks boys with eyeliner should go to hell, so hell here I come. Yeah, I'm one of those freaky emo boys, wearing eyeliner and dark clothes, mostly black. It's such a lovely color, and their goes Temari screaming again, "Black is not a color. It makes you look even paler than what you already are." Isn't she wonderful my sister? She's one of those popular girls in pastel colored miniskirts and tight shirts, and I think the reason she hates me is because I'm everything she's so scared of being. She barely even speaks to me in school, so I avoid her and Kankuro (that's my brother) as much as possible. I don't want my dear siblings getting the same sickness I seem to have.
Kankuro is just ordinary. He has friends, he dates a girl, he doesn't look bad, doesn't look good. He's normal, normal, normal, normal! Hey, that's Temari screaming in my head again. She got this really crazy attack when I came home one day, a couple of years ago with the Kanji for love tattooed on my forehead. She went ballistic on me, and she tried to force me into growing my hair long and have it cover up my forehead. I mean is that bitch crazy or what? I will never ever have a fringe; my hair is freaky enough as it is already. It's really red and I have it in small messy spikes. The great things about small messy spikes, is that they don't take forever to do on the mornings when you got crazy siblings banging on the bathroom doors. O, great I'm rambling again, what I wanted to say was that I like not being like the others, but still I wish for a friend.
No, scratch that, I wish for you. I want to snuggle up close to you, want to feel your arms around me holding me tight and never letting me go...I wish for you to whisper soft things in my ears... I want to drag my fingers through your hair...for you to place tiny, tiny butterfly kisses down my neck…to drown in your eyes…I wish you'd trace the lines of the Kanji on my forehead and tell me that I don't have to love myself anymore. You're their to do it. And I do want you to kiss me, hug me, touch me…
Oh fuck, I'm blushing, I got lost in thoughts again. Why is everyone staring at me like I'm some kind of zebra at a zoo. Did the teacher ask me something? Nervously I look around the classroom, glaring at everyone looking at me; desperately I try to catch up, what did happen?
Finally after a few seconds my eyes lands on you. You just shrug and nod in the direction of the blackboard. My eyes shift and I look at the blackboard seeing the teacher waiting impatiently for me to say or do something. Laughs are starting to spread trough the class and I still don't get. What am I, retarded?
Damn. I'm blushing again a nice shade of red to my beautiful red hair (notice the sarcasm?). I must look like a tomato (a tomato with panda eyes that is) and the stupid things scribbled on the blackboard doesn't tell me a thing. I just wish that you'd stop looking my way. I settle for a "I don't know" and look away from the teacher, trying to ignore certain laughing class mates staring.
Well, that was the smartest answer this far, my teachers voice snaps me back to reality. Why couldn't she just let it go? I'm stupid. I just don't get math, and especially not when she wakes me up in the middle of a daydream about the cutest guy walking this earth. (O my god, did I just think that!)
"Gaara, sweetheart", my teachers voice again. She sounds like she's talking to a five year old retarded, brainless and annoying little brat. In other words her voice is dripping with sarcasm. "Honey, you really do need to catch up your math grades, you're failing really miserably, and I don't want to fail such a sweet boy as yourself." With those words she looks away and continues her monotone rambling about x equals y, or something idiotic like that.
Fuck x and y's, she left me in the nicest shade of darkest red, and I really don't like being called honey or sweetheart in front of the class, actually I don't like being called that at all. The stupid whore, made it sound like we hade some kind of after school relationship. In her dreams only. She gives me the creeps.