Gaara is a storm. A storm of sand, green, and red.
Gaara is a storm of power, hatred, stillness, kill now ask questions later. He is a storm of control, authority, madness, and grief. He is a storm of childish hurt, childish anger, and childish tears. He is a storm of loneliness, of killer indifference, of watching everyone he's ever known, turn their back.
When Uzumaki Naruto kisses him, he stares. He stares because he does not understand why this blond boy has not—
He shakes his head.
"Gaara?"
Naruto pulls away for a couple of inches, before resting his forehead against Gaara's.
"I am fine, Naruto."
"I—" Naruto smiles weakly at the redhead. He angles his head down, and catches Gaara's mouth again, this time slow and lazy, until Naruto is sure Gaara could pass out from the intensity of it. "Is this okay?"
No, this is not okay, a dark part of Gaara wants to yell. It's not okay for you to go around and make people fall in love with you.
"I am fine," Gaara repeats, with a flicker of his lips turned upward.
No, Gaara does understand. But as he traces the soft lines of Naruto's face, he sees the most sincere blue. He sees that Naruto is like him.
Naruto is a storm.
But where he is a storm of devastation, Naruto is a storm of restoration.
Naruto is a storm of vulnerability, warmth, movement, protect those I cherish at all costs. He is a storm of sunshine, determination, raw animalism, and happiness. He is a storm of smiles, beauty, and infinite possibilities. He is a storm of lovelovelove, of hugs, of basic instinct.
When Gaara looks into Naruto's eyes, he sees a storm. He sees a storm of passion, of sweetness, of I will follow you to the ends of the earth if you so wish it.
He looks into Naruto's eyes and sees something that cancels his storm.
And for the first time, he hears not the roar of destruction, but the breathy moan of his name in a moment of tenderness.