A few months had passed since he and Shikamaru had begun dating. Gaara was reluctant to tell much of anything about himself, instead spending most of his time drawing and simply sitting near Shikamaru. Shikamaru, not wanting to pressure Gaara into anything he wasn't ready for, did not mind, much anyway. Sometimes, to fill the silence, he would tell the red-head about his own life. What it had been like growing up thought to be a "genius".

Gaara listened intently of course, never missing a word, but still disinclined to share his own story.

Instead of talking, Gaara drew, sometimes it was Shikamaru, other times it was that boy from before. Torn clothes, half there, half dissipated. Light gray and black.
It was not that he didn't want to be honest with him, it was that he was not sure where to begin. He guessed, he could start with his early childhood, as Shikamaru had done. Even then he was still unsure of exactly when, of what to include, of what to leave out.

Even as he began his next drawing, "Sick of it" by Skillet playing loudly, he was thinking. The picture depicted thus.
Black on one half, white and little shading on the other. One showed the messy haired boy as a child, knees drawn to chest, surrounded by blackness. The other half showed the same boy as a teen, barely there, surrounded by whiteness, and few others were reaching out to him but he seemed confused, startled, and unsure.

Shikamaru was laying on his own bed as Gaara was sprawled on his stomach, drawing as usual. Shikamaru glanced over at him, more often than he would admit. Of course, Gaara was absorbed in his drawing and thoughts, oblivious. The dark-haired male was deep in thoughts of his own. Remembering, calculating, hypothesizing.

After signing his latest drawing, Gaara rolled on to his back, gazing up at the ceiling silently. He thought he had made a decision, an important one at that. He was finally ready to tell Shikamaru a piece of his past. A piece of himself. Once told, it would be something that could never be taken back. And that..., that terrifed him immensely. He, for the moment, was paralyzed by his own fears. He wanted to tell him, but at the same time, he was afraid of what that would mean for them, for him.

And so, when Shikamaru sat upon the bed, next to him, gazing at him with that familar concern in his gray eyes, Gaara all but jumped, his mask sliding back in place, hiding what Shikamaru had known had been there moments before. He didn't let his annoyance about that show, whatever was bothering him, whyever he did that, Gaara would tell him when he was ready to. So far, he hadn't told Shikamaru anything, but he would be patient, he liked him afterall. More than that, if he was honest. But it would never work if Gaara never let him in. He knew it would take time, how much, was unknown, but he had to tell him eventually.

"Save You" by Simple Plan was playing when Gaara had been jolted from his thoughts by Shikamaru. He saw it, fleeting as it was, the annoyance in Shikamaru's eyes as his mask slid back into place. He actually felt sad that he was the cause of his boyfriend's annoyance. He didn't want to be, he wanted to change, to stop being as he was.
And so, in effort of this, he sat up. Hesitantly, hand shaking he reached out to gently cup Shikamaru's cheek in the pale palm of his hand. The look on Shikamaru's face was of surprise but he said nothing, evidently, waiting on Gaara's next action.

Carefully, taking a slightly shuddering breath, and dropping his hand, which Shikamaru clasped in his own, Gaara began the story of how and when he began to wear his mask. It wasn't a long tale, but by the time he was done, Shikamaru was gripping his hand harder and looking at him in a way Gaara hadn't seen in many years. And so, he averted his eyes, gazing instead at their clasped hands.

"That is a heavy burden to bear. And I'm sorry you had to for so long, especially alone." Shikamaru finally said, having been deeply in thought.

Gaara stayed silent, knowing Shikamaru would likely say more.
"That being said, I want you to know, you don't have to pretend with me. If you show me the real you, I won't turn away."

At that statement, Shikamaru gently titled Gaara's face up tp his own, gazing into his eyes. Gaara was the first to look away, afraid to believe but desperately wanting to and knowing, knowing deep down within himself, that Shikamaru wasn't lying.
And so, slowly, giving him plenty of time to push him away, Shikamaru pulled Gaara to him in a tight, comforting hug. The red-head was stiff at first but gradually relaxed, inhaling Shikamaru's scent and enjoying the warmth and closeness, something he never dreamed he would experience or even enjoy. As scared as he was, he was also excited. Shikamaru knew of his mask, and wanted only to help him. It was more than he had dared to dream and really expect. And so, child-like, Gaara gripped Shikamaru's shirt in his fists tightly and burrowed into his chest, content but still afriad that Shikamaru would leave him. Shikamaru chuckled softly but hugged him all the same, amused and glad that Gaara was finally beginning to warm to him. This was the closest they'd been yet. For the longest amount of time too. A soft sigh escaped his parted lips as he gazed down at the pale-skinned male in his arms.

"I... I am going to have a nap... Would... Would you like to join me?" Gaara asked, the blush heating his cheeks and the stutter of his words made Shikamaru grin but he told him if it was what he wanted, he would. Naps were fantastic things, afterall.
And so a still blushing Gaara cleared his bed of his art and supplies and laid on the side closer to the wall, his back now to his boyfriend. A slightly smirk on his face, Shikamaru laid beside him, turning on his side and draping an arm around the skinny red-head, pulling him just slightly closer. At first, Gaara was slightly tense, but that faded as he let sleep overtake him.