Not really sure what to make of this. I watched a music video earlier and it inspired me to write something. Don't worry if this confuses you, I'll explain at the end. Just go with it.
Here's the link to the music video which inspired me. youtube(dot)com/watch?v=nETMbTsZgrk
Disclaimer: I own nothing.
We'll Be There Soon
There's nothing left here anymore.
Wheat scratches at my arms, legs. It prickles at my fingers, sending sharp jolts of pain through my limbs. The pain almost outmatches the one in my chest. No, not my chest, my lungs. The organ shouldn't be put under so much strain, but I can't stop. My legs won't let me. They won't let me slow my pace for even a second. If I do, I'll loose him. I'll loose that one spark of hope which keeps me going. Keeps me running. Running through life. Running through this field. Just… moving. Must keep moving, for if I stop, I don't know what will become of anything. Everything. I have to keep pushing until the end of time, fighting the storm. The monsoon.
Whenever I loose myself, I think of you. Think of everything we did together, did to each other. I didn't mean anything. I never meant to hurt you. I didn't mean for this to happen. I didn't want you to leave me so alone. I know I have to find you now. I can hear your name, and I don't know how. Why can't we make this darkness feel like light?
The wheat thins out under my feet. It's been flattened by… something. Dark clouds roam the sky. They're moving so fast. When I tilt my head back to watch their speed, they stop. Frozen. Frozen in time. Different shades of gray and black hang motionless in the sky. I don't even notice I've stopped as well until I peer forward again. In the centre of the flattened crops, there's a door. I'm staring at a broken door. Its edges are cracked and the wood is moulding. I step forward, feet crumpling crops even farther into the earth, and reach out. It's not attached to anything. How does it stand?
I palm my hands flat against the door and peer around to its other side. Nothing there, either. The smell of recently blown out candles drift in the air, reminding me of the last time we were together. A party. Someone's party. Was it yours? I can't remember. Memories are disappearing the longer I'm here. I can barely even remember your face. But you're the reason I'm here, I know that much. That much I won't forget. Can't forget. Because otherwise I'll be trapped here. In this wasteland. Forever.
I stare at the rotting wood, then curl my fingers around its metal handle. It's so cold, but I don't let go. I'll see this through, unlike all those other times… I'll see this through. Unlike the times I ignored you, pretended that you didn't exist just because it was more convenient. My status was too high to allow our love to flourish like you so desperately wanted… like I so desperately wanted.
The door begins to open without much force on my half. A mirror. I'm looking at myself… but is this really me? It doesn't move as I do. The reflection just stands there, staring. Staring at me. Even when I lean my face closer and run trailing tips over the reflecting glass, he doesn't move. The red hair, slim body and teal eyes don't move. And I don't look away again until a drop of water runs down my cheek. I rub it away, but it isn't a tear. More drops hit against my body, getting harder. Rain. The roaming gray and black release their contents, but they're still not moving. I tilt my head back, letting the liquid splash against my face, run down my body and absorb into the dirt. Into the crops.
I look back at my reflection. It's moving as I do now. It scrunches its brows and touches the glass. But it's not raining. It's not raining in my reflection. He's dry. As dry as I was a moment ago. What's that flashing light? The monsoon begins again as the clouds speed in the opposite direction. My mind seems to flash as the lightning does. I can see you in my thoughts. I remember your face. It's all coming back to--
Who's this redhead staring at me beyond the glass? What am I doing here? I touch the mirror, but he doesn't move as I do. It can't be a mirror. Who are you? Why are you wet? He's dripping, water runs down his pale face and he tilts his features toward the sky before looking back at me. And there's a flash. A flash of white light on his side of the spectrum and he's gone. Don't go. Don't leave me here alone.
I don't understand. The door fills with water. Waving, sparkling liquid. But it doesn't spill into my dimension, it stays in the door. Waving and rippling as if I'm staring into an aquarium… and he's there. Not the redhead, but some person whose face dances and plays with my memory. I know him. He's the reason I'm here. He floats in the water with his palms flat against the glass which separates us. I put my hands to his for a moment, before retracting my limbs. His blond hair waves around his head, twisting and turning as little air bubbles escape his mouth and float up past where I can see.
He smiles at me and tilts his head ever so slightly. He can see me, just as I can see him. Shouldn't he be drowning? No one can stay under water that long. His lungs should be stretching to their limits, but no pain twists onto his face. His mouth moves. Lips closing and opening as he forms words which I can't hear. The base of his hands squash against the glass harder, and then it happens.
A tanned hand pushes through the glass, through the water. But it's not wet. It's dry, so very dry and warm as it touches my fingers. I lift my arm to hold onto this limb poking out from the door. I know I can trust it, and I follow it as it tugs slowly. It's pulling me toward the water, but I don't do anything to fight back. Why do I feel as if he's the reason I'm here? I should be with him, I just got lost on my way.
I hold my breath as I'm pulled through into the water, but it's not wet. And I know I'm safe because together we'll be running somewhere new. And this time, no one can hold me back from you.
Well.
Perhaps an explanation is due.
To be frank about it, they're dead. Naruto killed himself because they could never be together while alive, and Gaara took his own life to catch up to him. This is them meeting again in, what should I call it? Purgatory? Naruto was waiting for him and Gaara began to forget everything the closer to death his body was becoming.
Each different part as a hidden meaning to me, whether you understand it or put your own definition to it all, well, I guess that's up to you.