Concrete Rose Boulevard
Chapter One: "Fill My Empty Room with Sun"
Hinata/Gaara
A Naruto Fan fiction
Hinata/Gaara
AU (Alternate Universe)
Date:02/05/07
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Wiping the perspiration of her forehead, Hinata took a step back to admire her work. It was done! She had finally finished! She smiled to herself and bent down to the ground to gather her supplies and return them to her background. As she got up, she was met by a cool breeze, forcing her to zip her navy blue hoodie up just a little more.
It was mid December now, and it would be wise to have a winter coat but Hinata just didn't have the cash for one. Although she had managed to scrap up some change to buy Hanabi some new shoes and a new jacket, there simply wasn't enough left to do so for herself.
Looking up at the night sky she watched her breathe fade away in the cold winter night air. "…Hmmm…wonder what my old man is up to at this hour?" Hearing a melody of police sirens, a bottle cracking against the pavement and the pitiful crying of a wino over spilled liquor, Hinata decided to head home, singing a song under her breathe.
The buildings in the neighbor hood loomed big and their shadows cast down threatening. The bright neon signs of the nearby liquor stores seemed inviting, almost friendly. Cars spilled out everywhere, although most of them were junk ones. A few young people hanged out under a street light, huddled together. Nevertheless, loneliness hung in the air like fog.
Around the corner Hinata knew that when she got there she would pass by the girls that owned that corner: women with skirts that ended too short, makeup that overpowered their faces and a mean swagger in their walks. She would always walk faster when she got over there. Once she had made the mistake of taking her time passing through and to her horror ad been mistaken for …a lady that walked the streets.
Although she usually walked past with her eyes on the ground, she once slipped up and let her eyes linger to long while passing and found girls much younger than her. And to her dismay saw them searching the streets with a glint of anticipation in their eyes and something else too. They were girls who looked like Hanabi, her younger sister. They should be concerned with boys, math homework and MTV…or something like that.
Tiny Baptist churches sprouted out in between liquor stores, apartment buildings and various "mom and pop" shops. A park was nearby too, with a tore-up swing set and playground equipment. At the end of the block she spotted a blue Mustang and without a second to spare she crossed the street. That vehicle belonged to the neighborhood drug dealer. Hinata crossed the street because she unusually ran into his "lackeys", boys she had grown up with. They were caught up with the idea of "fast money and fast cars" and of course "Fast women".
Flipping open her cell phone Hinata saw that it was 11:55pm. Her father must have passed out by now and Hanabi should be at home by now. A tiny house of a faded yellow was home to Hinata, her father and her sister. At one time in her life it was yellow, a bright, cherry yellow. Actually it was a "canary yellow", that's what her mom told her, and as a little girl she giggled. She always pictured a little yellow bird in this dirty neighborhood, somehow coming home and seeing her house was always comfort to any bad day. But many years had passed since then, her mother had passed away and like they say the sun always goes down and night comes to stay.
Nearly tripping, upon the gate Hinata was sure to kick away the beer bottle that would have sealed her fate. Looking down at her feet she jumped back, disgusted. She had found a few used condoms lying there and, she had almost stepped on them and the liquid trickling out of them. To no one in particular she cursed living in a house where the street light in front was broken. She lifted her feet, one foot at a time, inspecting her blue and white Chucks.
Finding nothing (as far as she could see in the dimming light of her cell phone) she slipped in her house finding her father passed out on the tattered loveseat. The television was on but that black and white static screen was visible and that eerie buzzing noise filled the air. Hinata leaned against the wall looking at her father and she was hit by defeat. He was only 37 but he looked like he was reaching 45. His long beautiful hair that once shined was gathered into a messy tangle at the back of her neck. She noticed that several grey hairs spotted his hair line. The lines around his eyes were more pronounced. The wrinkles she would see whenever he laughed or when he frowned were visible and they cast severe lines on his forehead.
Slumping back against the wall, she felt at a loss. She always did when it came to her father. How much longer would he drink himself to death? Walking into their homely kitchen Hinata preceded in putting away the broccoli casserole, she had made for tonight's dinner. Next she set to cleaning up the cans of beer--a couple of them were upright. But one had fallen on its side spilling out beer, leaving Hinata will a sticky mess dripping from the counter to the floor. Hinata sighed and grabbed a sponge and wiped it up. Then she threw the cans in a bag under the sink. At least her father's habit kept the local recycling center in business and a little extra cash around. She found a comforter and threw it on her father, throwing him one last look she headed up stairs.
Two bed rooms, a bathroom and a tiny towel closet were awaiting Hinata as she climbed the stairs. She tiptoed to a door and peeked in. Her 13 year old sister Hanabi laid asleep on her bed the moonlight pouring in around her pillow making her appear as a sleeping angel. Hinata smiled as she quietly closed the door. When their father was like this Hanabi would stay over at a friend's house. Hinata had personally taught her how to climb in and out of the window on the second floor to get into her room as to not disturb their father.
Stepping back into the hallway Hinata squinted at the light and pulled at a string. By pulling it down she was rewarded by the arrival of stairs. Hinata had her own room…
Okay, so it wasn't her room, it was the attic. But it was her room! As spacious as it was all it held was five pieces of furniture. There was Hinata's bed; a large chest that sat in front of her bed was passed down from Hinata's grandmother. There was also an old, dingy white dresser that had been in the attic for some time and lastly, a desk and a wooden chair. The attic was a hiding spot for something precious that had belonged to her mother: her paintings.
When she was alive, Hinata's mother had been talented with paint and a bush as well a pencil. Hinata hid them in the giant chest in front of her bed. She had been sure to save them. The vast space inside the chest held the many easels and sketch books that had belonged to her mother. Once she had discovered her father in a drunken rage burning a handful of her mother's creations and attempted to save them only to earn a black eye for her efforts. And that had been when she was a child, since then she had felt it was her duty to keep them safe.
Kicking off her favorite Converse shoes and slipping into her pajamas, Hinata laid back on her bed. She had been blessed with her mother's figure: tall, slim and "just the right size of boobs". (At least that's what the boys said) She had always been pale with long blue-black hair. Her mother's hair from what she remembered was a midnight blue color while her father's hair was a raven black. Hinata's was a mixture while Hanabi's was just like their father.
Her eyes were what stood up the both, they were a pearly white, and she had too inherited these from her mother. Hanabi had the sharp, black narrowing eyes from their father. But Hinata was attracting more attention then she wanted. Good and Bad. If she wasn't deemed a freak she was suddenly showered with friendly advances of the opposite sex.
Closing her eyes, she drifted off to sleep under the stars dreaming of something sunny and bright, something that would fade from her conscious so when she woke up the next morning she wouldn't remember….
The Following Night
What was this? Was this was joke? He dug his hands into his black hoodie to ward off the brisk cold air. The spray cans, Sharpies and other materials in his backpack weighted down on one of his shoulders, since his backpack only had one strap. He growled, so aggravated so he could barely stand it.
"I don't want to go. But if I die young fill my empty room with the sun…"
He whispered, noticing the elegant scrawl of word complete with a person face hidden,
Hands clasped together holding, bright yellow rays slipping through the fingers.
Now he was curious and mildly upset. Just who was the artist?
Moving closer, he noticed something, this masterpiece was unfinished.
There was a great emphasis on the hands and the object threatening to bust out but the person itself was incomplete…Or was that on purpose?
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Hey Ho, Hello! New Story here…As you can guess, the above person is Gaara. I don't know, but I have to stick with that pairing, Hinata/Gaara….Review as always. But I do need a little help…I hate this title… The Rose from Concrete ideal is so clique, you know? (No offense to Tupac, he had the original idea, at least I think he did) So review, give me some suggestions! Also check out my other story-"A Thing Called Loneliness", if you're into Hin/Gaa! New Chapter Up!