Summary: Five times Kankuro thought he hid it well. And the one time he knew he didn't. And never had. Sand siblings! Angsty Kankuro!
1.
"Kankuro, are you here?"
The soft spoken words made the slumped over brown haired teen jump with a slight yelp. The content in his flask sloshed around at the sudden jerk, but did not find itself spilling out of their confines.
Kankuro screwed the cap back on the metallic bottle as fast as his clumsy fingers allowed, all the while he turned around and away from the window he stood before. He knew the smell must have been heavy on him, but there was no way to avoid his older sister when she wanted to talk to you. If he could keep his sister on the other side of the room, then she would be none the wiser.
With his head swimming lightly, the oldest of the old Kazekage's sons smiled up at his blonde sister and nodded slightly at her.
"What brings you around these parts, Temari?"
His oldest sibling looked from his hands- which were hidden behind his back as if he were hiding something- to the too large grin on his face and sighed. Then she reciprocated the smile with a small one of her own and waved slightly.
"I just hadn't seen you since I had come back from my mission, bro." She smiled softly, eyes closing slightly. "I wanted to know if you'd like to go out for some pastries... You know... Like old times..."
It saddened her heart to see the fake smile her brother wore sadden and twist into one full of haunting, but could not find it in herself to speak up when he shook his head.
"Nah, Temari... I'm tired... Maybe later."
"Oh... Yeah... Later, totally." She responded lamely then tried her hand at smiling at her hurting brother, only to find that the smile was as fake as his had been. "See you later, Kankuro..."
Turning around slowly, the teenage girl closed her eyes tightly at what had become of her brother.
When the door was finally closed behind his sister, Kankuro breathed out a sigh of relief and opened the flask in his hand once more. "About time..." He muttered to himself, raising the item to his lips to take a large swig of its inner contents.
A pleasured burst of air escaped him without his consent when the liquid settled warmly in his stomach.
2.
It had been a good day. By all accounts, any hard working Shinobi would have considered this day to be peaceful and good. He had not been called into any missions or meetings. There had been no grannies to be helped. All of his puppets were still in perfect condition. Nobody had needed him.
Nobody had needed him.
Now Kankuro sat behind his bed with a large cup of dark brown liquid in his left hand while the right rested over his right knee. His eyes were unfocused even as they stared out into the dark Suna sky.
Nobody had needed him.
Nobody had needed him.
Nobody needed him.
A soft knock at his door jolted the saddened jonin out of his thoughts. Scrambling to get up, he left the cup he had been drinking from on the floor and jumped up. He was standing just in time to see Gaara opening the door to his room.
"Hey, Kankuro." His brother spoke softly, green eyes curious. "How are you?"
Kankuro's head was swimming almost uncomfortably now that his comfort had been left on the floor.
"I'm fine, little bro!" Kankuro's grin was wider than it normally would have been and this caused Gaara to frown marginally. "You need anything?"
But Gaara only shook his head and left the room, allowing the door to click softly behind him once it closed. To be honest, Kankuro was surprised to see that his brother had left as quickly as he had come. Then again, Gaara was always quiet and direct with whatever he wanted or needed.
He most probably didn't need his brother, anyway.
No one ever did.
Without a second thought, Kankuro threw himself back at the floor and latched onto the cup that was once more in his hands. Even though no one needed him... He still needed it. It didn't make him feel like worthless shit. If anything, it made him feel like he was actually worth something... And even though on most days he could deal without it, there were days that were too hard on him. And on those terrible days... Kankuro succumbed to it.
3.
It was a family dinner now. He didn't understand why Temari insisted on making them sit through a whole meal together, they both despised him... And Gaara barely said anything while Temari spoke too much.
The painted male took one look at his siblings, saw they were occupied focusing on their food, and grabbed his cup to walk over to the kitchen. Once he was in there, he grabbed the flask hidden in his pocket and allowed half of its content to flow into the cup he was drinking a simple soda from. And, once he had mixed it with his index finger, he made his way back to the table and sat down.
The silence between all three of them was still there. But at least now he had something to cushion and soften the blows that this very silence landed.
4.
"Why?"
This was his mantra. No matter what age, how mature he should be, or where he found himself, this proved to be Kankuro's one mantra. His safety blanket against all the baddies in the world.
The one question he could always ask, even with his body shuddering with quiet and suppressed sobs. Even though his mind swum and his chest was constricted, he was still able to repeat his mantra over and over again.
Sometimes he made a variation in his mantra and added something else.
"Why me?" Was his second favorite on these terrible nights.
"Why them?" When he was feeling compassionate towards his siblings and feeling bad for them having to get stuck with a piece of shit like him.
And, finally, "Why us?" When he allowed himself to see all the pain he and his siblings had been put through over there years.
Still, that key component always remained. 'Why?' It was safe. Almost as safe as it.
He never saw the worried eyes raking over his shuddering form on nights like these. He never heard the sighs of dismay.
But he did always feel the warm comfort that spread through him when he reached into the trunk in his room and pulled out his favorite brand.
5.
"Kankuro, are you alright?"
The question caught Kankuro off guard. His hand had been reaching for the doorknob, reaching for his safe haven, but stopped once he heard Gaara's voice behind him. He was sober. He couldn't deal with this. Not after that disastrous mission. Not after having been yelled at by the elders of their clan as his own brother sat by and just allowed him to get chewed out.
"I'm fine."
His voice had come out clipped and tense, nothing like what he had wanted it to come out as. But that's how it was. He couldn't take it back. He'd just have to live with it. Besides, Gaara could take a cold shoulder from his older brother. After all, Kankuro had been on the opposite side of that treatment for a hell of a lot longer than his younger brother. He knew how detestably sustainable it was.
"..."
Kankuro turned once to see if Gaara was about to say anything. But when he saw the red head's gaze on the floor, shook his head and entered his room as swiftly as he could.
He needed a drink. And now.
You were wrong.
It had been after a horrible mission once more.
Kankuro had failed to protect their contractor. The woman had died in his arms. Her kid hadn't fared any better.
He had made his way through his village as fast as lightning, eyes burning with unshed tears and chest compressed with self-hate.
He couldn't do anything right!
It had been a simple mission. Escort them to their new home... How the fuck had he failed!? Only a complete fuck-up like him could have failed like he had.
He slammed the door into his house open but didn't flinch or care when it hit the wall violently. He didn't care when he heard Temari's surprised gasp from the kitchen. He didn't care about how she yelled after him as he ascended the stairway.
But he did care when he found Gaara seated on his bed, face serene yet body stiff. He did care when he saw the assortment of bottles seated to Gaara's right. He did care when Gaara's eyes looked up at him with too many emotions.
"Kankuro..."
He fell to his knees before Gaara could say anything.
"There are too many bottles here..." Gaara's voice was soft, calm.
Then Temari spoke up from the doorway, "Oh, little brother... What have you done to yourself?"
The sobs that wrenched themselves from deep within his soul were painful.
He needed those bottles.
He knew he wouldn't get them.
That made his sobs worsen.
So, what do you think of this hastily written little story? Did you like it? Did you hate? Tell me your thoughts. Please review.
P.S. In my defense, I'm pretty tipsy as I write this, so... It may not be amazingly well written. But tomorrow morning I will wake up to correct whatever mistakes I can find.