AN: My first fic ever. Be gentle. Lyrics by Phil Collins, Brother Bear. Naruto, don't own them, don't want to. I just like playing with them... pretty Kankuro.
No Way Out
I can't look at him anymore. I know he notices.
Everywhere I turn, I hurt someone
But there's nothing I can say
to change the things I've done
I'd do anything within my power
I'd give everything I've got
But the path I seek is hidden
from me now.
We've been at home for a week; at the beginning it was easy to avoid him. I'm resting, I'd say. Hiding in my room, feeling like a failure.
The puppet master looks down at his hands, still shaking. He hasn't been able to touch his puppets, rebuild them.
I should have been able to save him, I should have been able to get him back, before… before they did what they do.
He slams his hand against the wall, hard pounds. One, two, three, until his fingers are numb from the pain, his knuckles purple and bruised.
It doesn't matter that he's ok now. It doesn't. I should have… IshouldhaveIshouldhave
Brother, I let you down
You trusted me, believed in me
and I let you down
Of all the things I hid from you
I cannot hide the shame
And I pray someone, something will
come, to take away the pain.
I'm sorry, I'm sorry… Gaara. What if the Uzumaki kid didn't make it? What if… what if?
He grabs his head with bleeding hands, the same burning feeling that he craves everyday. And then the tears come down, the half done paint blurring in a face distorted by pain.
Cry baby, cry baby. Temari could have done it. She's so strong. I couldn't… I c-couldn't. God. Stop it. Stop crying. That's all you do, cry. That doesn't solve anything. That didn't save Gaara. Stop. Fuck. You fucking failure.
Fists against his eyes, rubbing hard, smearing the paint even more.
There's no way out of this dark place
No hope, no future
I know I can't be free
But I can't see another way
I can't face another day
Harsh sobs wreck his body; this is the only time of the day when he allows them to break free, even if he feels them choking him all the time. Like a blunt stone in his throat. But now, the whole wing of the palace is deserted, everybody working. Then he cannot hold them back.
Curled up in a corner of his room, he doesn't notice the soft steps coming up the stairs, stopping at his door. He is blind to the figure sliding into his room.
It's only when he opens his eyes that he notices the pair of sandals next to his head. He brings his battered hand to touch it.
Another vision. Another one… come to mock me? Come to make fun of the stupid clown?
And then. His hands rest in the sandal, the very solid sandal. And he closes his eyes, face burning. The surprise and the shame pin him to the floor. Not able to look up.
- "G-Gaara…"