Summary: A haiku of undeserving love.
"There's a new family in town," Yashamaru told him. "They're special guests of the Kazekage for the whole week."
And Gaara wasn't allowed near them.
She appeared out of thin air, startled and afraid. Wisps of sand hung in the air and Gaara knew; his sand had brought her here.
He was still a child who didn't understand love. What could he possibly have to offer her? The woman who gave up her dignity and future in the hopes of being loved. A woman who deserved so much more than men who had no desires on her. A woman with unseen strength and an open heart. He was the complete opposite of what she deserved.
And yet here she was, touching him. Like he deserved it.
She had to know he didn't. She had to know he was unworthy. But she held him all the same.
Sometimes he stood there, just staring at it. He saw her in the sand. He saw love.
Sometimes he stood there, just staring at the sand. Sometimes he thought he could see her still, holding him.
It was that image that haunted him the most.
A mother's love. A mother's embrace. He'd only ever felt Shukaku through the sand, but his mother had truly been there all along.
Karura had loved him after all.
Just like her.
Gaara didn't understand women. No matter how much they claimed to understand or like him. But Sakura was an oddity. He got her. All her life she had been one person; the one who loved and gushed over Sasuke. But it wasn't who she really was. It was far from being the sole purpose of her existence. She could be so much more. She had a bigger destiny. She just had to reach out and take it.
Much like he'd taken her hand way back then.
It was thanks to the sandbox (that small island of sand where they'd first met) that he finally understood it all.
So, he would return to the spot where he'd first loved her. Where he first accepted her. And he would just stare at it.
"Gaara?"
"What are you doing out here on your own?"
Thinking.
He didn't look at her, though he so wanted to. "Thinking."
She didn't respond.
Sakura took his hand in hers and tugged gently. "Come on," she said. "It'll be dark soon."
Sometimes he stood there, just staring at his old sandbox, until Sakura brought him back inside.
He used sand for a number of things. When he got tired, it became a chair or sofa for him to sit or rest on. When he was hungry it snuck into the family kitchen and stole food when no-one else was watching. When he was upset it turned itself into a puppy and play fetch with him. When he was lonely it was warm enough to hug.
Sakura smiled at him as she touched her lips to his softly. He blushed and returned her endearment.
"I'll take care of you now."
He didn't need his sand anymore.
He had her.
Hopefully it sounds at least a little like it did in my head.