A/N: This was written a while ago and is my first ever fanfiction, I added it out of affection. WARNING: BOYXBOY!
GaaNaru: That wasn't meant to happen
"Sitting at the swings again? Are you hoping for a repeat performance of last night?" His childish face made me feel secure, like I was safely tucked away inside a cotton cloud, hiding from the suns devilish rays.
"I like it here, that's all." This wasn't a lie. I had always sat there as a kid, hoping, praying some group of kids would notice my presence, ask me to join in their jovial game of Tag or Hide and Seek. Of course, they never did. If ever they happened to glimpse my heavy pale blue eyes upon them, they would sidle away to a darkened corner, where they were sure I could not gaze in rapture at their merry little games. I did not give up hope however, and remained seated. My body wanted to run for the trees, never to return, though my heart told me, if I resided there for long enough someone was sure to come and ask me to play.
I turned my face away coolly, although I could see he was clearly after my attention. His eyes were darting about like May-flies inside his skull, from my hair down to my feet. Fist clenched tightly in his orange jacket pocket, was he holding something? The scars on his face seemed to smile, as if they were pleased to see me. Had it not been for the fact that he himself was grinning like a Cheshire cat, I would have believed that they were in fact his mouths.
"Aww, you're cold Gaara. You should learn to smile more, it will do you good. Maybe then your won't look so angry all the time." And before I could even find the strength to hold up my hand and cease his movement, he had placed his ring finger and his thumb of his left hand over the corners of my mouth and was forcing a smile to spread across my pallid face. A little taken aback, I shook my head briskly to free myself, but only succeeded in catching one of his fingers lightly between my teeth, causing my paper-thin lips to close around his ring finger, bringing my tongue to touch the cuticles of his nail. It tasted salty and slightly sweet. The scent of noodles lingered near his hand that was pressed up against my nostrils as his fingers tainted my mouth, letting out their sweet, sweet aroma.
What probably lasted all of two seconds seemed like eternity to me. Then it all hit me, the seriousness of what I had done, and how badly this could be misinterpreted in his mind. A warm rush of blood filled my pasty white cheeks; I released my grip on his finger and once again turned my face away, this time more out of embarrassment. I didn't wish to see his expression, I wasn't sure if I could handle it. It took the greatest courage to even look at his feet, I don't know why, what was I expecting his feet to do? Do a little dance?
It was some time before I found my voice. When that time came I opened my mouth to speak, hoping my words would be clear, but I'm sad to say that was not how it was. For my voice was horse and gravelly, and ended in a chesty cough, how shameful.
"S-sorry" I spluttered, after nearly choking on my own embarrassment. "That wasn't meant to happen"
I decided to be brave, to look up, face to face with him to see his favourable, grinning mug staring back down at me. To hear him say: It's fine, don't threat about it. I raised my head, neck crippling under the strain on my heavy head, feeling like I had a rock resting on my shoulders. My darkened orbs met with his sky coloured ones, but they were not how I had precipitated them to be, no, quite the opposite. They appeared to be sunken deep inside his head, filled with sorrow and his face forlorn, corners turned down at the frame of his mouth. Not even his scars were smiling anymore. He clenched his fist in his pocket tighter. A single bead of perspiration ran down his forehead and landed on his chest. Reaching up, he grabbed a tuft of his stunning blonde hair and tugged softly, like he thought the pain from that might stop him thinking about what I had just stated.
"You mean none of it was meant to happen, don't you?!" I felt this wasn't a question, but more of a statement, a malicious one at that. "You wish you hadn't met me, a no good delinquent like what I am, you think you're too good for me, is that it Gaara? Is that it?!" I was a little hurt by this accusation, to think that he only saw me as a spoilt brat, and without really thinking I got to my feet. Maybe if my brain had worked before words were spoken, I wouldn't have said what I did.
"Don't be so selfish, Naruto! Your problem is you think everybody hates you, when in fact you have more friends than I have had salted tongue and gizzard dishes, I'm the miscreant here, not you, and you are the one who doesn't deserve me. Maybe you should just piss off!" The second the words had left my maw I felt my heart leap up into my throat and linger like a bad hair day. I felt my head twinge like it was shrinking to the size of a pea. My hands shook like a frail leaf, caught in a gust of bitter autumn wind.
"I'm the selfish one? Look who's talking Egotistic-kun!" He cocked his head to the side looking down on me as I was of low importance. "Piss off you say? Well, maybe I will. Who would want to hang round with a jerk like you? A jerk who promises he will never leave your side, who looks at you like you are the only person in the world who matters, who gives you something to show that you are precious to them, then who says 'that wasn't meant to happen'"
As each syllable of the words 'that wasn't meant to happen' rang in my ears, I felt guilt and rage boil up inside me like a volcano about to erupt, until I could not contain my fury any longer. I pulled back my arm, fist clenched in a ball, the words still ringing in my ears I plunged my arm forward, straight towards that twerp-ish, smirking face of his, with all those ridiculous smiling scars.
My fist made contact with his teeth, the sound of crunching and grinding filled the air it seemed that was the only noise in the world to my ears. He staggered backwards clasping his jaw and making loud grunts of pain. He removed his hand from his mouth, his eyes flashing towards it then blinking rapidly as he saw a hot rose coloured liquid upon his palm. The same liquid was also trickling down his chin, and cascading from the boundary of his mouth like a raging waterfall. It took me a couple of heart beats to realise what I had just done. But the second my gaze fixed upon the terror in his eyes I knew I was in the wrong. A monster! That's what I had become, a monster!
"N-naruto…I'm so very sorry, are you ok?" I stepped forward a little, almost toppling head over heel. It appeared my feet hadn't moved before the rest of my body, they were frozen in disbelief.
"Don't come any closer!" He piped up in a tiny voice, so quietly I could barley hear him. Sliding backwards, trying to escape me. His left hand had returned back to the border of his mouth, cradling it gingerly. His other hand remained in his jacket pocket; it had not budged even when I had punched him. But I carried on sauntering forward; it seemed my feet were now leading me. They wanted to go to him, wanted to take me to him, and wanted me to be with him.
"Stay back! I'm warning you!"
"I'm sorry, really sorry." He had ceased trying to get away, at least that was what I thought, either that or his body was failing him and not allowing him to run and hide from a monster like me. I stopped dead in front of him.
The next bit seemed to come naturally, like it had that night, where I had been sitting, alone on my swing. He had approached me, asked me if I wanted to play Hide and Seek with him. I had reached out and hugged him, I was just so filled with delight, at last it had happened, and someone had come. He was warm and his scent was strong, but not unpleasant, I wanted to stay like that forever, just to be with him would be enough, but to embrace him like that, it was heaven.
For the second time I let my arms reach out for him, dropping them on his shoulders and letting both my arms hang down his back like I had done that night. For a moment he just stood there, paralyzed. Too bewildered of what had just occurred to move. Then, slowly, I felt his grip tighten around my waist, his trembling body pressed close up against mine as we shared each others warmth. He rested his cheek on my shoulder; the sweet lemonade of his boyish tears fell like petals onto my back, like tepid rainfalls in the summer.
That's when I had noticed he had taken his hand from his pocket. On the back of his wrist was a symbol, drawn on in a red permanent marker - not even a little smudged – the Japanese symbol for 'love'. The same as the one I have embedded on my forehead. I had drawn it on him that night, to prove to him he was and important and precious thing to me. To see he hadn't even attempted to wash it off made me feel superb, and clutching him even more firmly to my chest I spoke, my words nearly breaking into song, that ecstatic I was.
"I'm sorry I hit you Naruto, that wasn't meant to happen."