Last summer
written by exhaustion.
One-shot.
Rated T.
Warning: no romance.
Summary: Last summer she used to tell him that he was the friend she had always dreamed of having. This summer, she was gone. And he vowed to kill her.
He wanted to forget.
The girl laughed. "My hair's such a mess! It's full of sand."
It was. They were walking barefoot on the sand when she tripped. For once, the sand didn't burn under his feet. The sand didn't move. It didn't crawl under his skin, it didn't hurt. It was the way the others felt the sand. Harmless.
"Huh? The sun has set? I have to go home! See you t'morrow, Gaara, at the sandbox!"
She ran away. Away from him.
She left.
She was gone.
Gaara waited. He watched the clouds as they got darker and darker and he just couldn't understand why ... why did the autumn took her away.
The sky cried over her everyday. It shed the tears he couldn't. It missed her.
Pathetic .
Last summer she used to tell him that he was the friend she had always dreamed of having. She had laughed in his place and taught him how to smile. She told him stories about demons and people of her kind. She told him stories about his kind.
She didn't care. He cared.
The wind was whispering words said by her last summer. There was nobody, and he was left alone in the wet sand. Just as he had been before her.
He'd give away all the power the Nine Tailed Demons had together to have her back for one more summer.
He turned to the darkness.
"Look at the sun, Gaara! It's beautiful."
He looked. The color of the sky wasn't blue anymore. It didn't resemble her eyes. It was orange and pink.
"The sun is burying itself into the sand," she had said.
She left.
She was gone.
Rain was dripping over his heart.
Nobody told him what friendship meant. He found out on his own on a summer day. Good and evil played around him as this dead world tried to take it away from him.
Nobody told him this side of the story. The part where he was left alone, lonilier than at the beginning of it all.
He didn't feel anything.
"Do you need help with that castle?" No child has ever spoken to him. They were afraid of him. This girl wasn't.
"I can build it alone," he had said.
"You can't build sand castles out of dry sand! Everybody knows that," the girl told him, and uninvited sat next to him. No child has ever approached him.
"But I can." The sand rose and took the shape of a castle right before their eyes. The girl giggled.
"But you're not doing it! My mama said that there's something in you. That thing made the castle, not you! You can't make castles out of dry sand - nobody can."
She was right, he couldn't.
She left.
She was gone.
Summer came again. The sun didn't appear from the sand like it used to, it had lost his happiness and shine. Gaara didn't hear the bell-like sound of laughter. He heard the malicious chuckle that had invaded his mind.
She wasn't here to help him build sandcastles. He remembered her. The times he watched the sun with her.
He knew she had forgotten him. Hope wasn't something he would risk of having. Children ran away from him. He didn't have her by his side to smile and say that they're just being silly.
If given the chance, he would also run. Run from the beast that took control over him. But it was too late for that now. There was only him and the demon left, hundreds of corpses between them.
He wanted to kill.
"Do you think . . . that in the future we'll still be friends?" Gaara asked her.
She smiled. "Of course we'll be. My mamma says that best friends are made forever. They'll never disappear from your memory."
She left.
She was gone.
He never had been hurt.
Yet, he always heard that if felt ... like he was feeling.
She had hurt him.
He didn't allow her to hurt him! So why did she? Why didn't she stay away like everyone else? Why did ...
Why did she exist? To hurt him?
Pain ... She lives for our pain.
Gaara clutched his head.
He didn't care for the answer. He wanted her to feel the same pain. He wanted her to suffer. We'll kill her.
The next time he'll see her, Kagome will die by his hands. Our hands.
Nobody told him that once her blood stained his hands, the pain wouldn't go away.
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