AN: I want to make it clear that this fanfic is purely for fun. I don't even really ship this pairing. I hardly believe it's possible. The only real reason I'm writing it is because I think I can make a good nanshoku fanfic, even though the pairing is laughable because they hate each other; out of 347 pages of M-rated Naruto fanfiction, how many of the yaoi fics are actually well-written? It is more than irritating to find a fic that you think sounds very interesting, only to click into its contents and find that the author can't spell or correctly construct a sentence. With that, enjoy this fanfic, as I hope you always do. Thank you.
Pairing: Gaara/Sasuke
Warnings: AU, self-mutilation/cutting, angst, yaoi (and you know what that includes, it's not necessary to list it), strong language
Irregularity
Chapter One – Play Dead
Was there really a point in geometry? Who used it anyway? Maybe architects or something similar to that profession. The point was that a certain red-head had no interest in any profession of that sort. He was an outcast that enjoyed very few things save heavy metal and punk rock, drawing, manga, and Japanese food. His siblings thought him odd, but didn't totally shun him, unlike practically everyone at school. The only thing that seemed to prevent homicides at his hands was the lack of human contact. If no one talked to him but Kankuro and Temari, there would be no problems with the voice – it wouldn't tell him to kill and it wouldn't tell him to cut away at his own flesh. Another thing that only his brother and sister knew about.
Letting his eyes roam around the classroom and break him from his reverie, the teal orbs settled on a certain other anti-social classmate of his. He seemed to be concentrating very hard on his worksheet. He looked at his own blank one and noted that it was something about triangles and the distance formula. He anticipated that Temari would coax him into doing it later. Leaving the boring piece of paper to continue sitting on his desk, he let his gaze travel again to Sasuke. It seemed as though the black-haired boy could feel the eyes on him because he looked away from his paper and directly at Gaara. So he possessed enough sense to know when someone was staring. Gaara continued to stare at Sasuke, even as inky eyes met levelly with teal. He wasn't about to look away and blush, pretending like he hadn't been staring; he wasn't one of those simpering fools for girls that followed the boy around like dogs. He had too much supposed dignity. After a few seconds, the raven-haired boy lost the staring contest and scribbled something on his worksheet. Probably the answer to a problem. But Gaara continued to stare for some time after Sasuke had forfeited. Again, he seemed to take notice of the eyes on him and looked at Gaara again. This time he raised an eyebrow and mouthed the word 'what'. The red-haired boy slowly looked away from the black-haired boy as if to say he did not wish to discuss what was going on in his mind. Really he didn't. He had a feeling the voice was about to resurface. He raised his hand and asked solemnly, "May I use the restroom?" before receiving a curt nod in the affirmative and exiting the classroom. As he left the room, he felt onyx eyes burning into the back of his figure and he smirked. So, another person was going to take temporary interest. Then they would reject him as soon as they realized his mental instability. And speaking of mental instability…
Hello Gaara…do I detect emotion somewhere within you? Perhaps it is one called…angst? Bitterness? You are feeling…
He clutched the sides of his head and mumbled, "Shut up…" How could a word that no one even spoke trigger the voice? The damned voice. And it had been so long since he had pressed the cold steel against the soft flesh of his inner forearm. He thought he had been doing pretty well, too. Aw well. Time to bleed again.
Entering the bathroom, he locked himself inside one of the cramped stalls and took the dulling box cutter out from his back pocket. Pushing back one of his black sleeves and clicking the blade upwards of its plastic guard, he gritted his teeth and hissed in pain as he dragged the razor over his arm. He watched in detached fascination as the red liquid welled up an slid in a warm stream down the side of his arm. Pain was the only thing he wanted to feel. He rejected emotion and relationships and people. Sliding the box cutter across his arm a couple more times, black spots appeared in his vision. He knew he would be dizzy, but, most likely, he wouldn't pass out, and he was sure he wouldn't die. He wasn't losing enough blood. Sighing, he pocketed the knife again and moved out of the stall.
"So…you cut yourself, huh? Are you sadistic, crazy, or just a loser?"
Gaara hadn't heard anyone come into the bathroom and the new voice startled him. Not the mention the condescending way in which it spoke. Ignoring the question for the moment, he hissed and groaned a little as he ran his arm under icy water from the sink and wiped the blood off of his arm with a paper towel. Pushing his sleeve back down, he shuffled past Sasuke, whispering, "None of those things. I'm something you wouldn't understand."
