Well. Howdy. And welcome to my first yaoi-based fic. What else can I say? Um….it's AU, your stereotypical high school fic (oh noes, not another!). Oh yeah, this was inspired by a friend's story, Hana-aoi, so go check out her stuff….she's listed on my favs….so. yeah. Happy reading.
Disclaimer: …..Come on people. Think. How can one rude, ignorant, idiotic, vulgar female American possibly own a Japanese manga, created by a male Japanese artist, much less make money off it by writing crappy fanfiction? So sue me for all I'm worth, but all you'll get out of it is a stack of college pamphlets, a lava lamp, and a shitload of dust. Unless, of course, you really want that lava lamp.
Five Stages: Denial Part I
"GAARA! GAARA! GOD DAMN YOU, GET YOUR ASS DOWN HERE THIS INSTANT! YOU ARE GOING TO BE LATE! OI! ARE YOU LISTENING?!"
A pale red-headed youth groaned and rolled over within his warm nest of blankets. You know, some people woke up to birds singing or….oh, he didn't know, maybe a cuddly little animal nudging your face lovingly, sun streaming in between the curtains.
He got to wake up to the deafening hysterics of his older sister.
……….he would prefer the singing birds. At least the birds weren't as loud. And they were probably more considerate too. He didn't know if he would rather like being woken up by a fuzzy little animal. He had never been much of a pet person. Ah well, his loss.
"GAARA!!!! DON'T MAKE ME COME UP THERE!"
He groaned again, and, with much regret, untangled himself from the burrow of bedclothes he had created for himself. After maneuvering around the sea of junk that covered his floor (or at least trying to, it was, after all, a very small room, and nearly impossible to navigate it without obtaining some form of injury or other), Gaara stumbled out into the dim hall, almost colliding with his older brother, Kankuro. The older boy grunted at him and continued along.
Temari, Gaara's older sister, had been up for hours and was puttering around the kitchen, giving Kankuro a glass of juice and handing Gaara a plate of buttered toast as he came in. Catching the disgusted look he gave the food, she pushed him towards the rickety old table, glaring.
"Don't think you're getting out of eating today, buddy. I'm not letting you leave until you clean everything off this plate." With an extra push, she got him seated and went back to the counter, throwing frustrated looks over her shoulder.
Gaara sighed and picked at one of the pieces of toast tiredly. He'd gotten, what, one, maybe two hours of sleep last night? He was, in short, exhausted and eating was not big on his to-do list at the moment.
Stealing a furtive look at his sister's turned back; he tipped the toast onto Kankuro's plate, said person only rolling his eyes and sighing, giving Gaara an exasperated look. The red-head shrugged and got up, placing his dish in the grimy sink and leaving silently.
He dodged the creaking floorboards down the hallway again, closing the door to his room. Temari had been right; he was going to be late for school if he didn't hurry.
Gaara Sabaku, at sixteen years, five feet six inches, and one-hundred and three pounds, was not what you would call a people person. He was not a jock, a prep, or a nerd. He was, however, a goth. Though he really didn't classify himself as one. Too stereotypical.
But with his pale skin, slight figure, and brilliantly red hair, he certainly fit the picture. Gaara dressed the part too, with baggy, black zip-up sweatshirts covering torn fish net shirts, and wide legged pants adorned with clanking chains and enormous pockets, secured to his narrow waist with a metal-studded belt. He didn't really dress to make a statement, but rather because it was, after all, expected of him. Anything other this would probably give the school's population a heart attack. Gaara grinned thinly. After all, he did hate to disappoint.
Locating one of his better mesh shirts, and a clean sweatshirt, Gaara began to dig into his small bureau in search of pants, pulling out a pair he was particularly fond of, with straps of cloth instead of chains, and absolutely huge side pockets which he found extremely useful. Dressing quickly, Gaara entered the dingy bathroom he shared with his two siblings.
Brushing his teeth with one hand, and trying half-heartedly to get his hair in some sort of order with the other, Gaara examined his reflection carefully. The skin around his left eye was a mottled blue-purple color, the beginnings of a spectacular black eye.
"Shit," he muttered, giving up on his hair and spitting out the toothpaste. It was going to be hard to hide this mark. He rummaged through the single drawer before coming across the thick black eyeliner pencil.
Wincing as he traced his hurt eye, Gaara managed to apply a thick enough layer to hide the bruising decently enough. Repeating the process on his right eye, he stood back a bit to admire the effect.
The dark eyeliner made his eyes seem sunken, bringing out the vivid jade of his irises, as well as clashing magnificently with his pale skin and blood-red hair. Gaara smirked. He was a bit vain of his complexion and did like the effect the make-up had on his image. Not that he would ever admit it, of course.
Gaara slung a generic book bag over his shoulder and left, pausing to collect a bag lunch from Temari, along with her instructions to eat everything she had packed. He and Kankuro sprinted to the bus stop, being late as it was.
"Oi! Gaara! Wait up!"
Gaara paused on the steps to the front entrance of his school, turning back to see who had called out to him.
Sasori and Deidara, the latter supporting an almost maniacal grin on his face, converged upon our poor protagonist, who was currently groaning inwardly and attempting to find a discreet way to disappear.
"Look's like the fag's still coming here, eh, Sasori?" The blond chuckled, while his golden-haired friend nodded.
"It certainly seems that way," Deidara took another step forward. Gaara resolutely came to the decision that it was best just to stay and fight his way out.
"So what makes you think you come and walk in like you own the place, you fucking queer?" Deidara's smirk grew wider, if that were possible. Gaara growled deeply in his throat, but restrained himself from spitting out a vile comeback.
Hands darted out to grab the front of his sweatshirt in a strong grip, jerking forward. Gaara tripped, losing his balance, and found himself five inches away from Deidara's leering face.
"You think you can just stand there and ignore me? Fucking pansy, you really are a girl, aren't yo-"
Unfortunately, Deidara's snarls were cut off by the powerful collision of Gaara's fist swinging into the side of his face with surprising celerity. The blonde released his grip and stumbled sideways, trying unsuccessfully to smother a yelp of surprise and pain.
The red head glared coldly at him, straightening and flexing his wrist. The shit was really going to hit the fan now, but Deidara's hands on his jacket had brought back some old twinges, that awful feeling…..but he couldn't, not right now, not here……..
. Sasori stepped forward, his features stony., while the blonde sputtered angrily, righting himself
"Sabuku, you fucking bastard! You even dare-"
"Is there a ….problem here?" A cold and low voice cut through the blonde's rants, and Gaara let out a soft breath of relief.
A tall, muscular brunette ascended the steps, fixing the two standing in front of him in an absolutely petrifying stare .Sasori stopped, glancing momentarily at Deidara before turning around.
"Can we help you, Hyuuga?" the golden-locked boy spoke for the first time.
The Hyuuga scoffed. "Yeah. You can get the fuck away from my friend. Now."
Sasori raised a lone eyebrow, but said nothing else and walked away, Deidara reluctantly stalking after him. He sneered at the brunette in passing.
"He's more than just your little friend, Hyuuga, I don't see why you bother hiding it. And you better watch his back, 'cause you never know when he might have an unfortunate….accident, after that trick he pulled."
"Jerk off, Deidara," came the unemotional response.
He leered at them both before continuing to follow his own friend. Gaara watched him go, before grinning apologetically. "Sorry to get you messed up in that one, mate."
"Not a problem. What were they getting on your case about this time?"
He waved a nonchalant hand. "Oh, you know. The usual."
The Hyuuga frowned, reaching one hand up to run through his long (and well kept) hair. "You do realize this is because you hang out with me."
Unlike Gaara, Neji Hyuuga was actually gay, and very open about, to the extent of which the entire school knew, administrators included. However, he didn't have to put up with the shit that the other open kids had to, because, simply, he was dangerous. At six foot five, Neji towered over most guys, and a body to match. He was a fifth-degree black belt in his family's own personal ancient form of martial arts, and knew dozens of other styles. Quiet and cold, the Hyuuga was definitely not one to be crossed. But when he befriended the small antisocial boy named "Gaara", many assumed that the red-head was also homosexual, and that the two's relationship expanded far past the boundaries of a platonic friendship. And seeing as Gaara was not as intimidating as Neji, several of the school idiots had unanimously declared him their target, making Gaara the recipient of many cruel pranks and insults.
However, their relationship was not even remotely romantic, Gaara knew for a fact the Neji was infatuated with a smart but insanely energetic blond who he had met in one of his many advanced placement courses.
"So, uh, you want to get going?" Neji jerked his thumb towards the door. Gaara nodded, adjusting his book bag on his shoulder. Together they trekked to Neji's locker, which they unofficially shared, each depositing at least half of the contents of their respective bags. Gaara hefted his enormous chemistry text up, not even wasting the energy to try and wedge it in with his other junk. "I'll see you later, then."
Neji nodded, and began to turn back, before reaching out and grabbing Gaara's wrist. The red-head started at the contact, stopping in his tracks.
"Gaara?"
He looked at his friend quizzically. "Yeah?"
"Just….be careful, all right?"
Gaara smiled grimly and nodded, turning to go once more, this time without any resistance. He shook his head slightly as he rounded the nearest corner. He appreciated Neji's concern, but sometimes it got tiring. The brunette seemed to often forget who he was talking to. He was forgetting what Gaara was like when they first met.
After barely being able to keep his eyes open through his first two classes, Gaara trudged through Statistics and then U.S. History, a subject he usually enjoyed. He forced himself to wake up as he entered his English 11 classroom, nodding to the teacher who was already seated at her desk.
"Mr. Sabaku."
"Ma'am."
He went to his assigned seat, which was thankfully at the back of the classroom, and sat, waiting for class to begin. Other students trickled in, most ignoring him, a few shooting him curious looks. Gaara didn't care. He was used to it.
The teacher, a pretty, young woman with a slight British accent and a passion for Dickens, stood now at the front of the room, writing notes on the white board. Gaara groaned silently and pulled out his notebook. English was normally his favorite subject, except when they went over grammar. You would think that after have this kind of stuff drilled into them since the third grade, they would get it. But no.
Gaara drifted in and out of focus throughout the class, taking down notes when he needed them and zoning out whenever he could. Eternity passed twice before the bell rang, soon covered by the sounds of scraping chairs, rustling papers, and enthusiastic conversation. The red-head stuffed his notebook back into his bag and joined the throng of students in the hallway, working his way around a large group of freshmen whom had had the brilliant idea of stopping in the middle of the narrow, crowded hallway to talk with friends.
After some careful maneuvering, Gaara separated himself from the endless flow and tide of people and quietly entered the chemistry lab, half of the class already assembled. The teacher, a man named Hatake, was absentmindedly twirling a pencil with his fingers, leaning back in a chair.
Five minutes past the ring of the bell signaling the start of class, Hatake got up and stalked to the front.
"Alright, today we're using the entirety of this double period to do a lab. Also! I'm going to be assigning you permanent lab partners-"
This was met with a chorus of groans and loud protests, all swiftly silenced by a sharp wave of the prematurely grey man's hand.
"Oh, shut up, it's not that bad. I've let you all work with friends for the past couple weeks. So stop complaining."
Gaara smirked. Friends? Yeah, right. He had spent the last several labs working alone.
"So, forward and onward, shall we? When I call out your name, go sit at the directed lab. Inuzuka! Over there, with Yamanaka."
Gaara amused himself counting ceiling tiles until he heard his name called.
"Sabaku! In the corner, over there, with Uchiha!"
Gaara got up and dragged his bag over to the assigned station, watching his newly delegated lab partner came closer with a growing feeling of dread. Of all the insufferable people in this class he could have been paired up with, Hatake just had to choose Uchiha.
Sasuke Uchiha was, without a single doubt, the best-looking guy in school. Even Gaara, for all his asexuality, acknowledged this. With perfectly tousled pitch-black hair, distinctly Asian features, white skin, and high cheek bones on an elegantly crafted face that set off deep ebony eyes surrounded by dusky lashes, Sasuke had soon become every high school girl's love interest, and probably a few of the guys as well. Only one slight setback had kept him from becoming the most popular and liked guy in town.
Sasuke Uchiha was also the most distant and cold person to ever set foot on this earth. He had no known friends and almost never talked during school hours.
Gaara was pretty sure he could have given Uchiha a run for his money before Neji had pounded some humility and control into him when the two had met. Friendship had mellowed his once hard and frigid persona, even though the majority of the student population still saw him as an antisocial freak.
Sasuke place his books on the slate rock counter, regarding Gaara with an impassive gaze. Gaara stared back, refusing to be the coward.
………thirty seconds….
………two minutes…..
……...three and a half minutes…..okay….this was getting old….
……...five minutes…..
Sasuke sighed and lowered his eyes, choosing to instead ruffle through his text book, apparently engrossed with a detailed diagram of a cathode ray projector. Gaara smirked triumphantly, turning to the lab directions.
"You…you're in my Latin class, right?" A silky, soft voice cut through Gaara's concentration, making him twitch in surprise. He looked up, eyebrows rising ever so slightly. Did Uchiha….just….ask him a question?
"Hmm? Oh, um…." Gaara frowned slightly, mentally going over the faces of his eighth period Latin 4 class. It would be hard to forget a face like the Uchiha's……Oh, right. He vaguely remembered noticing the boy on the first day of school a month ago as he walked into class, a little taken back that he was not the first person there, as he usually was.
"Yeah. That old geezer Sarutobi, right?"
"Yeah, I thought so," Sasuke nodded and went back to his perusal of the text.
Wait a second… "Wait, why aren't you in an AP class?" the words escaped his lips before he could help himself. God, why am I even bothering to talk with this guy?
Sasuke looked up again and a ghost of a smirk passed over his face. "Because, as it were, you need to participate actively to be in a high-level language class. Even if it is a dead one."
That was true. Gaara hadn't even heard Sasuke speak once before this. But why the hell is he talking to me, of all people?
The rest of the period passed in relative silence, broken only to voice observations or answers to equations. Gaara found working with the Uchiha fairly easy. He was intelligent and quick, and was able to match Gaara's fast pace with ease.
When the bell sounded, signaling the end of the first half of the double period, Hatake announced that everyone could take a break, if they so wished it. Most of the class filtered out to chat with friends in the hallway, leaving Gaara and Sasuke alone at their lab station, the teacher flipping through a magazine at his own desk.
Sasuke glanced at his red-haired partner. "You don't want to take a break?"
Gaara smirked. "Yeah, sure. I'll just go over across the hall to meet with my little group of hyperactive friends, like I do everyday. Get real."
"Well, just checking. I would hate to deprive you of any socializing you may be able to get in, between what I'm sure is a busy schedule, you being such a well known social butterfly and all," Sasuke's eyes glittered, smirking slightly.
Gaara rolled his eyes, though somewhat surprised by the Uchiha's teasing. "Thanks ever so much for your obviously heartfelt concern."
"Hey, with eyes like yours, all my concern is yours, as long as it scores me some eye contact."
The red head twitched at that. The hell? Was the bastard trying to flirt with him? If he was, well, that had to be one of the worst pick-up lines Gaara had ever heard.
"…dude. That was just lame."
Sasuke grinned and winked. "Lame, but true. Has anyone ever told you what beautiful eyes you have?"
"People don't usually come close enough to see the whites of my eyes, fortunately. Those who do usually have more sinister intentions," Gaara deadpanned. ….Just what was this guy trying to accomplish? And what happened to the Iceman reputation that he had dragged around for so many years?
"Their loss, my gain, then. You know, this may sound random, but you're not as nearly as sour as everyone makes you out to be." Pushing his papers aside, Sasuke leaned forward on his elbows, eyes shiny brightly. Instinctively, Gaara took a light step backwards, slightly alarmed. His partner smirked slightly at his reaction, and settled back onto his stool, not adding anything else.
And that's all she wrote. For now, anyway. This was just the first part of the first step.
This probably wasn't the best place to end the chapter, in fact, it's a horrible place. My apologies. So till next time, then, whenever that might be (I'm not that good with updating, but please bear with me.) Any comments are more than appreciated, so please leave your thoughts. Thank you, and happy holidays!