Summary: In a strict home with high expectations, is it a wonder Sasuke falls for Gaara? One sided SasuGaa fantasy! Orange/Lime. Fluffy and angsty.
Genre: Romance (unabashed) and angst.
Rating: T or M (I don't know which one classifies the word %#$ing ^_^)
Disclaimer: I don't own Naruto. I really don't. No, seriously, I don't own it.
Authors Notes: I started writing this when I needed something to do. It was originally intended to be NaruSasu, but then I decided to branch out.
Also, to anyone reading 'The Outcasts' I am so so so so so so so Sorry I haven't updated since March! :-( I deserve to be shot! I've just lost my motivation for it. That's not to say it wont end, cos it will, I've just been swamped with school (and I've just had my first exams ever) and these plot bunnies keep showing up out of the blue! I'll hopefully have ch. five up by next week.
On with something completely unrelated:
Fantasy never hurt this bad,
His fingers shook as he cut himself for the first time. Ita was a bad thing to do and Sasuke knew it. There would be marks he would have to cover up and things he would have to explain.
But he couldn't stop. His skin, his body, himself; deserved this. He deserved it for being the failure that he was. He couldn't even get ninety. Eighty fucking nine. He was useless; hideous.
He didn't deserve his name. Uchiha should be tagged on to successful, intelligent prodigies like his brother and not to stupid, useless idiots like Sasuke.
Sasuke who couldn't even get a stupid, fucking high mark which Itachi could have gotten with ease. Itachi could get everything. He knew everything. He was good at everything.
Graduated youngest and top of his class at fourteen. A stunning athlete in the fields of at least three different martial arts. Itachi could do everything and Sasuke was struggling to keep his head above water.
WHY THE FUCK AM I SO USELESS?!! tears were falling from his eyes as he grit his teeth and cut deeper with every cut. With every minute of his internal abuse.
He heard the razor clatter to the tiled floor, which he proceeded to hit. He felt numb as he sobbed quietly to himself, the blood slowly forming a ditinguished puddle at his side.
For a few moments he relished in the fact that he couldn't feel pain.
Then it washed over him like a cold shower. His arm throbbed with heat and pain. This was caused by the inflammation reflex. His body was sending extra blood to the sight of trauma to help fight infection. Pain was a side effect of the chemical release of histamine. Heat was due to the increase in blood flow.
His fist started throbbing with pain, less intense than the pain in his arm. He would have a bruise there tomorrow, a few minute fractures and most likely, a bruised bone.
He buried his face in his hands and wept. He curled up tighter.
Wy wasn't he good enough? Why did he have to disappoint his parents in everything he couldn't accomplish outstandingly?
He'd seen the look on their faces when his report had been received. Not a ninety or higher in sight. No outstanding accomplishments that deserved the Uchiha's effort. If he wasn't a hundred percent, he was nothing.
And he tried so goddamned hard to be like Itachi. He'd even joined the martial arts club down the road. It was run by a perverted man with a creepy habit of reading porn. He was one of the only three members of the club: Gaara (apathy couldn't be described any better) and Shikamaru (lazy much?)
They all usually sat around while Sasuke trained. He felt stupid being the only one doing work, while they all sat around and did nothing. He'd always been self conscious and training in a singlet and pants had never made him feel more exposed and embarssed.
Especially the way Gaara looked at him sometimes. Usually his washed out green eyes, surrounded by a thick circle of black eyeliner, topped with a love tattoo on his forehead, were void of all emotion except boredom. However, sometimes when Sasuke caught him watching, there was something more than apathy to be seen.
It scared and excited the Uchiha to no ends.
It excited him because Gaara was so much different than him and the people he usually knew. It scared him because he shouldn't want that kind of attention from another man. Because he was an Uchiha and Uchiha's had to be perfect.
Even though he failed in every single other aspect of his pathetic useless life, he had to succeed in this one. Just so he wasn't a complete failure.
***
Sasuke lay on the floor of Kakashi's dojo. He was covered in sweat and breathing heavily. He had just finished a particularly gruelling training session in a skivvy and pants. He was boiled and tired.
He rolled on to his side and closed his eyes. Just a few minutes.
A few hours later, Sasuke jolted awake, looking around himself. There was black and that was about it.
He frantically searched for anyone or anything else aside from the bed he was sitting on.
Wait, bed? Sasuke felt around him. Yep, it was a bed. How did I get here? he thought.
As if in response to his question, the door opened, filling the dark room with an orange light before it disappeared and the room light was turned on.
Sasuke squinted, a little unused to the light, and saw Gaara, standing in front of him with a plate of food; clad in a red shirt and brown pants. Sasuke blushed and averted his gaze to the bed.
"Ah...wh-where am I?" he asked rather stupidly. He berated himself internally. Top of his english class (though not by much, loser!) and the best he could come up with was where am I? LOSER!
Gaara shifted over to the bed and placed the sandwiches on the bedside table. Sasuke turned his gaze away from his right to the wall.
"You're at my house," Gaara replied in his dead monotone. Sasuke nodded, swallowing the lump in his throat.
"It's nice," he replied softly...fearfully. In truth, Gaara's room excited Sasuke. Wall to wall black. There was a drum kit in the corner, a stereo system in the other next to a tv on the drawers. There was a window, but it was covered with black paint.
An electric guitar and bass were near the drum kit.
Judging by the Cradle of Filth and Mastadon posters on the wall, Gaara was a metal fan.
So much of an exciting difference to classical and pop; r and b and hip hop that he was used to hearing about.
Gaara laughed. It sounded hollow.
"If your eyes pop out of your head, I'm not picking them up," Gaara's voice had a hint of amusement in it.
Sasuke blushed furiously. How could anyone not notice the staring? He couldn't have been any more obvious! He internally breated himself yet again. His fingers twisted in the black sheets.
"S-sorry," he mumbled an apology.
"Don't be sorry," Gaara murmured, pale hand coming to rest on Sasuke cheek, lifting his face so Sasuke faced him. Sasuke's face felt like it was on fire where Gaara's hand was touching it.
Perfect time to lose your composure, dickhead.
"I gathered you probably don't listen to much good music," Gaara's green eyes filled with amusement. Sasuke nodded, swallowing thickly.
"Do you want to hear some?" Gaara asked, eyes glued to Sasuke's. And Sasuke couldn't tear his away either.
He nodded mutely and Gaara let go of his face. The red head stood up and went to the cd player to put something on.
Sasuke stared at the sheets, face unabashedly red. Why did Gaara make the butterflies in his stomach fly wildly out of control? Why did Sasuke like the feeling?
Something that started with a loud drumming, followed by distorted guitars and a screaming man. It almost made Sasuke gasp. It was so different and so exciting.
It excited him just a little less than Gaara himself; the type of music that the red head liked.
"You like it?" Gaara asked, once again seating himself beside the black haired boy. Sasuke nodded, blush deepening.
"...I would ask if you have a fever if I thought that was the problem," Gaara's voice filled with some kind of amusement. Sasuke tensed. "Obviously," Gaara cupped Sasuke's chin in his hand, "I'm the problem." Gaara's warm breath washed over Sasuke's face as the red head inched closer.
"I couldn't..." Gaara whispered softly. Sasuke's eyes half closed, breaths becoming more shallow as Gaara's lips inched closer to his own. The red head, however, seemed to keep his composure entirely. "...wake up..." Sasuke's brow creased.
Gaara started shaking him.
What?
His thoughts swam in his head as he was shook violently awake.
He groaned and shook his head, willing the dream to stay. How he wished it weren't a dream!
He opened his eyes and searched his surroundings. He was still in the dojo. He looked up to see who had shook him. Gaara was crouching beside him, arms folded; a noticable frown on his face.
"I thought you were dead," he spoke monotonously. Sasuke shook his head and sat up, noticing two things. His muscles were all tense and painful and the sun was long gone beneath the horizon.
"What's the time?" Sasuke asked, words rather slurred. Gaara shrugged.
"Seven, eight...I don't know," he replied. Sasuke's eyes widened visibly and he stood up rather quickly. He ran to the other side of the room, where the door and his bags were and threw on a jumper.
"Why didn't you wake me sooner? Mum and dad are going to kill me...worse," Sasuke picked up his bags, "Itachi will kill me!" He quickly ran out the dojo doors and past the window.
He didn't notice the sad, green eyes watching him run away.
"I liked watching you sleep."
Gaara stood and walked home. It was going to be a long night.
Fin
Hope you liked it...I liked the twist in the end ^_^
Please review...even if it's the grammar! seriously, i did the spelling part of the speling and grammar..honest!