I had a habit of romanticizing the stars a few years ago. I felt my feelings about the stars were deep, as if the stars were the only things who understood me. I was emotionally attached to these twinkling gems. In this inner world I created, they were respected, wise entities that provided knowledge to me. I was an unfortunate victim of what I had to call 'life' and I was blessed that they were companions who could lead me through.

I was such a shit head.

Any self-proclaimed 'creative' pre-teen goes through this phase. When they believe there's a singular part of the world that gives us an explanation of who we are or a certain purpose. We bind to them as if they're our cosmic partners, like finding kinship in the ocean or proclaiming peace with the greenery of Nature. During my phase, it was the stars above me. I spent nights and nights staring into the sky from my window, searching through them to obstain those oh-so precious secrets to life.

The cliched questions of self ran through my head, pretending the stars were listening to my thoughts. No matter the silence I received, I would formulate intricate responses from the stars and correspond them through writing. Falsifying a deep revelation through the ink on my paper, when reality was that I had wasted yet another eight hours of sleep. The few peers I spoke with also suffered from delusions of grandeur. I earned praise from my 'personal, touching' writing and they would relay their secret conversations with their wordly muses. I pretended to understand, but I never did, however I don't think they understood mine either. In the end, we were bullshitting each other with our make-believe sense of insight. It was a clusterfuck of thirteen year olds with overzealous imaginations.

The stars were my life pilot. I let them steer me in whatever direction, relying on astrological reports as genuine advice. The first mistake was being allowed to believe that millions of dead balls of gas could tell me I would 'meet my soul mate' or how I shouldn't wear this color because of 'bad luck.' Someone should have snatched that astrological newspaper from my eleven-year old self. Perhaps I would have had not to learn astrology was bullshit the hard way. That's not to say I wouldn't have sought life help through other forms, like numerology or tarot.

I was a baseless teenager looking for guidance, at least until I met Naruto.

o o o

"...green eyes, fucking weird."

My eyes felt too heavy to open, so I reached up and felt around. Rough carpet. Cookie crumbs. Leather sneaker. Thin ankle. And a pinch.

"Ow! The fuck, man?"

My tongue felt too big for my mouth, struggling within the confines of my gums. Another pinch.

"Quit! I was just saying they look green."

"Not." It was a simple reply to his statement, but I still managed to slur it. My tongue dropped back into my mouth like a five pound dumb bell, threatening to slip down my throat. The pink muscle worming its way through my body, burrowing into the crevices of my chest. Feeling the moist heat on my barely beating heart as it stretched into a snake. My heart was a rat, two seconds from becoming my tongue's next meal. At least that's what I felt like would happen if I did not force my tongue out of mouth. I didn't want to die. I didn't want to be known as 'The Boy Who Literally Choked On His Words.'

"Gaara, are you okay?"

I didn't shake my head. I thought my neck would snap if I moved. Another slur. "No."

If it wasn't for the fact that I was duct taped to the floor, I would have jumped when I felt the bottle leave my left hand.

"No more for you."

In my head, I thanked Naruto as he undid the tape and lead me to the bathroom, positioning my rag doll body over the toilet bowl in preparation. If he was five seconds late getting me out of his room, he would have had to explain to his mom why there was a pile of regurgitated cheese fries on her white carpet.

Cough syrup. It was a stupid recommendation from a sophomore for us broke kids who couldn't get weed, but still wanted an 'experience.' A solid hour switching between puke and diarrhea was not an experience I wanted, but Naruto helped me through it. He better have. A lost Roshambo led me to be the guinea pig to see if it was worth it. At the time, the syrup wasn't. The scent of artificial cherries lingered in my mouth for an additional night, surviving the hour of throw up and rigorous brushing and mouthwash. Nowadays, I replay this memory of my first time with cough syrup with a smirk, remembering a hazy concerned Naruto when I almost swirlie'd myself. He grabbed a chunk of my red hair and pulled my head up, only to make me miss the bowl.

I remember his blue eyes, his soft voice, his hand on my back as I dry heaved.

And I break open the seal on my bottle of syrup, after all, the sooner I go to sleep, the sooner I can forget it ever happened.

o o o

My sister likes to bring up past events during breakfast. Trips to other states, things we used to do when our mom was alive. Her favorite was finding a pair of her underwear in my laundry in junior high, discovering I wore it to school once.

I do not have some gross pantie fetish, but I did have a gross astrology obsession that led me to that particular action. You see, in our school's newspaper, they had astrology reports. They were very cheesy, stereotypical horoscope advice stolen from daily horoscope websites on whatever day the newspaper was produced. The advisors liked to make changes to them for school events, like "There will be a major life event that will happen in your life: Konoha's Fall Pep Rally!" I would still paid a buck every week for the newspaper. Jammed between the pages of my textbook, I'd thumb through for the section as the teacher spouted off useless information. Inevitably, I became known as 'that star freak.' At first, I though it was flattering. For a kid whose only prominent feature was red hair, it was nice to have an identity out of that DNA gene. Or at least until that God awful prank.

It began with a simple horoscope tip: Wearing blue underwear will bring you good luck. I wanted good luck, who wouldn't? I checked my drawers when I got home and found out I did not own blue underwear, just neutrals and red. A quick dive into my brother's drawers was the same result, only cartoon characters. A sane person would pause, shrug, and move on. No blue underwear, no go. Obsession has no logic, no sanity. I dared not question my actions as I scoured through my sister's undergarments for something blue. I saw a pair of pale blue briefs under a pile of socks and slipped it on. This would be my good luck charm for school. After all, who was I to question the celestial gods above?

I don't want to relive the entire memory (once was enough), so to cut to the chase, I was pantsed in the middle of the lunch room, exposing the saggy briefs to every single classmate of mine. The echos of laughter did not stop after I threw down my lunch, pulled my pants on, and ran through the cafeteria doors. I took refuge in a handicap stall for the duration of lunch and a period, praying that no one could hear my tears over the groans of the poor plumbing.

A loud knock stalled my turmoil.

"Hey, is someone in there? I gotta peeeee..."

Although it was a kind request, I was paranoid of another prank. It would be easy to unlock the door to be faced with a bucket of water and flour or pushed into the stall into the toilet head first. The risk wasn't worth it.

I replied something about 'use another stall,' but my voice cracked. My throat was raw from crying. I sounded like my sister when she was cramping.

The door jostled for a moment. "Dude, the other stalls are tak-" A pause. "Wait, are you okay? You sound sick. You aren't throwing up, are you?"

I shook my head despite the bathroom door blocking his view. I didn't want to speak. I wasn't even sure if the constant flushes of toilets covered up my embarrassed wails.

The boy on the other side took the silence as permission to come in anyway. I was in the corner of the stall, face buried in my knees, staring at this guy's stained orange sneakers. The shoes took a step back and were replaced by a face. The brightest blue eyes I've ever seen stared back at me. I saw his gaze roam over my black clothes and red swollen eyes. I looked away, readying myself to curse him out if he commented, but instead he asked, "I have a bag of chips. Wanna split 'em?"

My body agreed with an immense growl. My lunch married the cafeteria tiles two periods ago, I didn't even get a sip of milk. The boy smiled and tossed a bag of Lays under the door. It bounced off the wall as he squeezed under the door. He reached for the bag and sat across from me. Blond hair, tan skin, blue eyes, a little chubby in the cheeks. He looked a little familiar, I wasn't sure from where. The smile never left his face as he opened the bag of chips and offered it to me. I hesitated, but went in for a handful.

"What those guys did was messed up."

I stopped, flashbacking immediately to the event that unfolded an hour ago. Blue underwear in front of the entire eighth grade. He was a classmate and he saw the entire scene. Why the hell was he offering me food?

"Oy, take some," he said, shaking the bag around my hand. "I know you didn't eat. Your pizza landed all over my shoes."

Damn. That's why his shoes were stained. He cut me off before I could apologize.

"Don't worry about it. I don't understand why they would do something like that anyway? We're in eighth grade, not fifth. Who even 'pantsed's' anymore? Is that even a funny thing to do?" The blond paused, quietly adding, "Well I guess everyone did laugh, huh?"

I crunched loudly into my chips that he didn't notice I took. I could only sarcastically thank him for the reminder.

He sheepishly smiled, apologizing. "I take it you listened to that one horoscope with blue underwear. But don't worry." He stretched out his legs and pulled up his pants. One green sock and one polka-dotted one. "My horoscope told me that mismatched sock would bring me good test scores today. As if! I still failed a pop quiz and look like a clown."

He did recognize me as the 'star freak' and told me not to feel bad about what happened. It was an immature prank and the more reaction I showed, the more I would get bullied like that. He persuaded me from the school horoscopes, saying that it's 'an abuse of power' letting articles like that be written by students. He had my vote on that.

He told me his name was Naruto. I told him mine was Gaara. We were inseparable from that moment on.

o o o

"Why does your breath reek?"

I close my eyes, used to swaying of my brain. Left and right. Left and right. "I'm sick."

Sasuke raises an eyebrow when I give a weak cough. He shrugs and accepts it. His eyes catch a group of familiars. He mumbles a 'see you later' and blends into the throng of artsy kids, shuffling down the barren hallway.

I watch as he smiles to one of his friends. He never smiles when he's with me, just an occasional smirk. I watch until they turn the corner.

Three large gulps followed by a heavy string of coughs. I'm sick.

o o o

I was taught at a young age not to play with food. It's nourishment, it's important to eat, not lounge around on your plate until it became cold. Naruto always played with his. Not pushing around his peas with his fork, but legitimate play. He introduced me to what he called 'Lunchtime Laughs.' He would spend every lunch period using his food as 'actors' for ridiculous plays he would make. It was the stupidest thing I've ever witness in my thirteen year old life. I would be lying though if I didn't enjoy every minute of it.

Eighth grade turned around for me when I met Naruto. He was the complete opposite of what I though I would want in a friend. He lacked the kindred sense of negativity, resorting to a brutal truth approach to conflict. He was blunt, spoke without thought, whether it was kind or mean, it was refreshing to see. Yet after whatever borderline cruel thing he could have said, he propped a large smile like he hadn't said anything at all. I also thought I would need someone to keep up with my sarcasm or witty humor. His humor was crass, however he was open minded and honest enough to exchange our everyday life, thoughts and beliefs without issues. Unceremoniously, I sat down at our table one day and announced that he would be my best friend.

The blond stopped slurping his soup with surprised eyes. I waited as Naruto finished slurping the wall of noodles dangling from his mouth. He gave me a thumbs up and replied, "Cool."

It was our routine. Lunch together, shooting the breeze, and watch Naruto's newest installment of Lunchtime Laughs. The chicken nuggets and pools of mashed potatoes would often go untouched as we were caught up in the silliness of it all. We would go to class starving, but giggling to ourselves. The blond forgot more than me. Several bites were taken from his meal, even on days when we did not have a play, we'd discussed the details of the next one. I would remind him from time to time to actually eat, but Naruto waved it off, saying it wasn't a big deal. he'd just eat at home.

"Besides, gotta stay fit for the ladies," he'd joked, winking at his crush, Sakura walking by. She only gave a disgusted face before walking away.

The year progressed faster than I was comfortable with, health class constantly reminding us of puberty's onslaught. Naruto sprung up an inch or two, making me look shorter than I already was. He joked that I could become his sidekick, then I kicked him in the side. My height didn't change that year, but my body did, especially my lower body. I knew about sex and babies and the unfortunate topic of 'women's health' thank to the required seminar. I also discovered masturbation. I risked asking Naruto about it, just to discover he had a head start of me.

"Yeah, I yanked it before," he happily admitted. I winced at the word 'yank.' "No, no, I don't mean like, actual pulling. That'd hurt like hell! I mean, I-"

I cut him off before he revealed his dirty details. I asked about the things we learned in health class like growth.

"Growth? Obviously I grew like, five inches!" I corrected his over dramatic answer and clarified what type of growth I meant. "What, that? Sheesh, that's a little weird, don't you think?" I told him it wasn't, that it was normal. "Fine, whatever. Yeah, I guess I grew a bit there..." He shifted in his seat. "I also got some hair. Itches though."

Naruto switched the topic almost immediately, but I got the basic answers.

I was curious about how the other guys in our grades were doing. Were they growing hair too? Did they randomly sprout erections in their sleep? Did... did they touch themselves also? I was happy Naruto told me he did, but I figured it was a fluke. We're outcasts, we always did what other people didn't. I shouldn't assume that the others did the same thing. And the real question I wanted to ask, I didn't think Naruto would give me the answer I wanted to hear. I thought about it all the time, before my hand reached down and after when I cleaned up with a wet napkin. What do they think about when they touch themselves?

I hated changing in gym because of the guys flaunting their new body hair to each other, even tugging the waistband of their underwear to show their pubes. I would hide my face behind a book. It was so embarrassing. What was so fascinating about these tiny, useless hairs? The days that I didn't change were days I hid in the stalls until I heard all of their footsteps leaving the locker room. I sat on the bleachers, filling out homework and observing their bodies. Adam's apples starting to peek from their throat, wide shoulders, legs sprouted. One day, Naruto joined in on their body hair antics. I reached my limit and so did the other boys.

Although Naruto tried to stop them, a few boys approached me and asked, "Are you red down there too?"

They looked at each other, hardly containing their stupid snickers. I heard 'fire crotch' under someone's breath. Their pathetic attempt to shame me. At the time, I was clean because I took clippers to the hair every time they grew. It wasn't their business and promptly told them to 'fuck off.'

I am almost positive I knew that answer wouldn't bold over with them. I wasn't sure if I was ready to deal with the consequences of mouthing off when I was clearly outnumbered. Or maybe I wanted to get beat up. Give me an excuse to not sit in the locker room, face beet red from the stupidity of these boys. Two boys shoved me and held me to the tiled floor as I was pantsed again, taking the underwear with. There was a laugh about my 'wispy whiskers,' but it didn't last long before Naruto's fist met someone's jaw. A seven second scramble ended with the gym teacher pulling Naruto and the guy who pansted me from one another. The other guy got a scratch by his eye. He didn't look at me as the teacher yanked both Naruto and him away. His friends didn't make a second attempt to mess with me, leaving me to pull back on my bottoms. Naruto got detention and the Pansted Guy left school early. He might have gotten an write up, I'm not sure.

When I got home, I locked my bedroom door and replayed the locker room event in my head. I liked it. I liked getting pushed onto the floor and stripped. I liked being beneath the Pantsed Guy and his friends, watching their Adam's apples vibrate as they laughed, strong hands gripping my shoulders and hips. It took me a very long, mentally painful week to fully comprehend the fact, but the fact was, I liked boys.

Things changed that year. Naruto grew taller, hairier, stranger. I grew aware of my uncomfortable interest. I couldn't find the words to talk to Naruto about it. I didn't want to lose the only friend over it. I didn't risk it, but I didn't admit it to myself either. I never thought to myself that I was gay. No. I liked boys. I could like boys and pretend I didn't want to hold their hands and kiss them. I could like boys and pretend I didn't want to touch them. I could like boys and pretend I didn't touch myself to them. Liking boys did not mean I was gay. That was the half-assed lie I tried to live by.

While we changed physically and emotionally, there was one thing that would never change and that would be Naruto's food play. With another two inches to his height, he pretended to be Godzilla and destroy macaroni buildings and break celery buses. I laughed like usual, but I noticed another thing that changed with Naruto.

"Naruto?"

He glanced up from his crumbled chicken tenders. "Yeah?"

"You need to brush more, your teeth are yellow."

He gave me a bright smile, dulled by the pale paste along his gum line. "I'm too sick to brush." He gave me the worst impression of a sick cough I've ever heard.

I shrugged and bit into a chicken tender he hadn't destroyed and flicked the remaining at his head. "Whatever you say, nerd."

o o o

I dropped my bottle into the nearby trash can and stumbled to my next class, coughing on the way. I hate being sick.

o o o

August 17

I had grown attached to traveling thanks to years of family trips. My bag stuffed with fifty cent road maps and tourist brochures as souvenirs. I wasn't a fan of dolphins in glass orbs with the co-existing name of where we visited or cheesy keychains. I found it so common and generic. There was something kitschy about bright pamphlets in terrible font and photos from the 90s, kinda warmed my heart. My sister would chide me as I slip another cave tour paper into my backpack. Some shit about 'those souvenirs are just going to rot in the trash when you get home.'

"And so will our memories, yet here we are, trying to create more of them."

My brother, Kankuro, used to joke about leaving me behind like a 'Joe Dirt' recreation. From the look my sister gave me, I'm sure she was considering it.

As she walked away, I pulled the backpack onto my shoulder. A heavy dip in gravity gave me an ache, but the extra weight was satisfying. I have a sick fantasy of this backpack. It's the catalyst of my endless summer. I imagine my backpack becoming so heavy that it needs a forklift. I can't leave it behind though. Per Temari, 'it's my only memories of this vacation,' I plea. Temari and Kankuro whip out their wallets and waste the last of our money on this forklift, realizing there's nothing left for the gas money. We're trapped. We're on perma-vacation. No starting school next week, no tests and exams, just me and the sand between my toes for infinity.

The reality? Once my bag becomes too heavy for me, Kankuro will just start carrying it. It kills my perma-vacation goal, but there are other ways to achieve it. This entire trip, I spent more time thinking of how to entrap us in the desert than actually enjoying it. Different plans with different results, including a tire patch from my inexperience with knife.

During the last three days, I resigned to the universal response to all of my sabotage. I had to go to school and face everyone, unable to slip under the radar like I wanted. A junior year wasted with awkward tension and insincere gestures. My teenage angst wallowed on the RV couch by the microwave, waiting for my Hot Pockets. Whenever I hear a voice in my ear asking how I was, what I was thinking, I'd take a bite, unable to answer. I would rather burn my tastebuds off from the lava pit dubbed 'pepperoni and cheese' before entertaining my siblings' cheerleading attempts. Why complain or correct them when a cup of ice cold water was more important to soothe my mouth?

I set up to sleep outside on the roof on one of last nights. I had a triple layer of sweater, blanket, and sleeping bag, pretzeling my legs under my blanket for the time being. I dropped my book onto my lap and turned on my flashlight, gazing up into the sky. The stars, my once allies. My once friends. We were acquaintances at this stage of my life. I gave up on them ages ago, only re-introducing myself recently. I learned new facts about them. No poetry, fiction, or essays, just a solid base of beginner's astronomy. It helped correct my delusional thoughts of pubescence, reminding myself that stars are not shamans or gurus. They were balls of plasma held together by gravity, exerting heat and gas, nothing more. They have no philosophical ideologies nor astounding comprehension of the universe. They're merely pawns of the celestial world that are way beyond my reach. To personify them as wise beings is an insult to their creation, yet I did such as a younging. I looked up to them as guides, but what I was doing was pulling them down to our pathetic human level. They spend much of their life dying than alive, so why are we asking them for advice?

This book I nabbed off the sales rack helped me switch perspective from curious stargazer to inquisitive researcher, wanting to analyze and understand the masses floating above me. My eyes bounced from star to star, relaying info I read to myself as a reminder. When I wasn't trying to sabotage the gas tank with sand, I read about stars, meteors, the galaxy. I tried to replace my melancholy with knowledge and it worked... somewhat. When I ran out of the facts in my head, I paused and closed my eyes.

It was the closest thing to silence I've experienced. The hush of air, the shuffle of sand, muffled snores of Kankuro through the cracked window. An everlasting still as I was the only living being in the fifty mile radius of dirt and sand dunes. All good things come to an end though...

o o o

Neji doesn't approach when he sees me in our English class. He looks off and sits on the other side of the room from me, his long brown hair swishing over the desk behind him like a dramatic cape.

There's nothing but whispers as the room begins to fill up, starting the far side. I know they're avoiding me. I hear their desks screeching away from where I sit at the window.

I take a chance to look over at Neji. He's faced forward. I know he knows I'm looking at him, I can see his fingers twitch on the side of his leg. The longer I stare, the more I want to yell and rip locks of hair out of his skull and stab his pencil in his eye, turn those full moon eyes into a blood moon. If there was anyone I needed right now, it was him, yet he's sitting there like I don't exist.

Fuck him.

My fingers fly over my phone's keyboard in the middle of class.

I need a hit.

A couple minutes later, my pocket vibrates.

Are you okay?

I sit up straight when I hear my name and abandon the 'no' sitting in the message.

o o o

I did a lot of dumb shit years ago. There was a time where all Naruto and I did was prank call people in school using numbers our peers would post in each others comments on Myspace. Well, Naruto did most of it while I sat back and laughed at the idiocy. I pushed the limit once when I tried to get him to staple himself, although I was just curious to see if he was easily pressured. Unfortunately, I was more convincing that I thought. His mom banned me from their house for a month while helping remove the staple from his thigh. I also learned to keep an eye out for him. If he didn't grasp the idea of a staple in his leg as bad, I couldn't imagine the things other kids would trick him into doing.

A couple of months ago, we snuck out to an upperclassmen party. It wasn't the first time we done it, but it was the first time we didn't get kicked out. It was the last party of the school year, so I guess they were too busy celebrating graduation to care. With a few steps in the door way, Naruto disappeared into the crowd. I told myself that I didn't care, yet I beelined for the nearest booze to silence the whisper of resentment. We weren't on good terms and I'm not even sure why either of us agreed to do this. We knew we weren't going to hang out together. Naruto had his dealer and stoners to hang with and I had... a red cup of straight vodka to nurse for the rest of the night. I'll be the first to admit that I can't hold liquor. Somewhere between an estimated five and seven shots, I was approached by Sasuke for the first time, the best friend of a guy I'm massively head over heels for. I couldn't tell you about our conversation. I'm sure it was a jumble of slurs, but I must have appealed to him somehow to exchange numbers. Later that night, unceremoniously in my belligerence, I lost my virginity to a stranger. I vaguely recall pulling on my shirt backwards and slightly regretting what I did. I wasn't saving myself, but I would be lying if I wasn't disappointed that it wasn't with my crush. The party itself wasn't the dumb shit I did, it was what came afterward.

Around 7am, Naruto and I found ourselves stumbling home in hungover agony. A groggy walk through a cul-de-sac we only been to once, watching the sun fill up more and more of the sky to our displeasure. I'm sure neither of our mental GPS' were working that morning, so we just kept walking until we found a familiar landmark. Our sneakers dragged across the pavement in silence. Other than the occasional groan, we didn't speak. We had less then twenty words between us from last night to this moment. It was a long departure from us as pubescent kids when he would practically scream in my ear about minuscule things like a new video game or a booger he accidentally picked. Sometimes I had wondered how we got to this point after only three years. Friends, frenemies, and then, whatever you would call this. Like a couple whose love faded years ago, but they still date because it's become their routine? Like that, we moved past screaming matches in public corridors about our problems. It trickled down into the verbal equivalent of knife fights. The goal wasn't to understand each other anymore, it was just about the pain we could cause.

They say insanity is repeating the same act over and over again and hoping for a new result. So, I did what I always felt inclined to do and start a meaningless conversation. Everyone says communication is key, right? That's how you're supposed to fix relationships, right? Who ever came up with that advice never met Naruto Uzumaki.

"...I slept with someone last night."

A quiet statement, enough so that I thought he hadn't heard it. I tried to make out the look on his face, but it looked the same as it did for the past year. Cold, like his former exuberance froze over. He replied just as quietly, kicking a rock in front of his foot.

"...I thought Neji wasn't into sluts."

Naruto unsheathed his knife. Time for mine.

"One time doesn't make me low hanging fruit, like you."

"You spoke so proudly about respecting yourself. Bet you don't even remember his name."

"At least my body isn't a tally board for anonymous conquests."

I lost my breath when my body slammed into the pavement, knee pinning me down. I kept my eye on the stark white fist above me. Green veins popped out of the bony hand, contrasting the angry red lines down his arm. I struggled to catch my breath as he started his turn.

"My parents never left me on the street like a sick dog!"

Straight to my stomach. I held back the vomit that wanted to come out.

"My parents take care of me, they give a fuck about me. Where are yours, huh?! They never looked back in the mirror, oh no, just a mixed mutt that ruined their marriage."

His fist never touched me. It lowered back to Naruto's side as he took his knee off my chest. His final blow, just quiet enough that I had to strain to listen.

"Your mom should have put you down in the womb. It's not like she ever wanted you in the first place..."

I whisper, "That's not true."

My therapist asks, "What are you thinking about?"

"Nothing, I was just thinking about..." I sit up on the couch and cross my legs. "Can we just...?"

I shake my head, trying to keep the memories in my head. "I just... can we just..." I let out a loud sigh and ask, "Forget what I said. Can we just talk about my family? Please?"

"That's alright, Gaara." He straightens up and leans forward. "What do you want to talk about specifically?"

"My mom. My birth mom."

o o o

I wheeze a steady stream of smoke through my mouth, ending with a weak cough.

"You shouldn't be smoking if you're sick," Kiba nags me.

I try not to smile. "I'll smoke if I want. 'Sides, Mr. Football Player probably shouldn't be smoking either."

The brunet boy in the driver's seat shrugs, adjusting his olive cargo jacket. "Yeah, sure, but I'm thinking of quitting."

"Shut the fuck up, why?"

"I..." Kiba runs his hand through the messy brown bush he called a 'hair do.' "I'm thinking of coming out."

I stop halfway through my inhale and cough out what I had in my body. I struggle through wheezes, "Wait, what? Why? I thought you-"

"Yeah, I know what I said months ago, but I can't do this anymore." Kiba sinks low into his seat, propping one knee on the steering wheel. "It was okay before, just acting like football was more important than dating, but I kinda met someone..."

"Kiba Inuzaka, so deep in the closet, he started wrapping Christmas presents for this year LAST year, finally fell for someone?"

He cranks the window down as he answers, "Don't make fun of me, man. Little blond kid from Hysteria, also plays football. Met him two weeks ago actually, but we started texting last week. And I'm just sorta psyched on seeing where this will go. And if works out, I can't do a secret relationship. I wanna be able to treat him like a partner, not some side piece, you get me?"

I watch our hotbox slowly drift out his window, just like what I am going to do for him.

"So, we're through?"

Kiba turns to me with a sheepish grin and glances toward the radio. "I mean, I don't think he'd appreciate me hooking up with some other guy when I'm trying to be serious."

I take a long inhale and hold, contemplating my reply, but it's as simple as:

"Can we still smoke though?"

The brunet rolls his eyes. "No more free dick..."

"...So give me free weed," coughing up the rest of the smoke.

"I got you, Gaara. Really, I appreciate everything up to now." He squeezes the hand on my lap. "Honestly."

Honestly? I feel even sicker than before I smoked.

o o o

"Did you have a good first day?" Temari asks.

Would have preferred eating glass.

"It was whatever." I reply.

"People were nice, right?"

Pity isn't kindness.

"I guess."

"You want something to drink, bro?" Kankuro asks.

I ran out of cold medicine...

"...Okay."