Here's the story I was promising…it's a bit mary-sue-ish for my taste, but I just threw it together…

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She never liked seeing people sad. And he was one of the saddest people she had ever met. The other's called him a monster. When she tried to defend him, they began to tease her along with him. She wanted them to stop, because she knew that the more you were called something, the more you believed it. And the more you believe something, the more you make it true, whether you mean to or not.

As much as she defended the boy, she had never actually talked to him, never gone up to him. Today, she decided it was time to let him know he had a friend.

She walked up to the red-haired boy, sitting alone on a bench. "Hello, Gaara. My name is Osaka. Can I sit with you?" He stared up at her, and was silent.

He knew this wasn't a dream; he was never asleep to have dreams. The only other thing he could think of as a logical explanation was that she was trying to play a trick on him, to make him feel even worse. So, he got up and walked away.

Never one to be discouraged, Osaka tried again the next day, for the same result. After a couple more days of this, Gaara decided that maybe she wasn't trying to play a trick on him. So, finally, he looked up at her when she asked, and said, "Sure."

Osaka sat down with him, smiling happily. She didn't expect him to talk anymore, and he didn't. They sat together, neither really looking at each other, for about an hour. Then, she looked at her watch, and said, "I'm sorry Gaara, I have to be getting home now, or my dad'll get mad at me again." He blinked in surprise, at the sadness in her voice...and the fact that he didn't want her to go. As she began walking away, he got suspicious again. What if she had been dared or something, and after only an hour, she was so scared of him that she made up an excuse. But, for some reason, he had a hard time believing that.

When she got home, she ran up the stairs and into her room as fast as she could. She flinched when she saw her mother in the kitchen on the way there. Someone knew she was home. No chance of getting past her father tonight. She sat down on her bed-a twin mattress on the floor-and wished she could have stayed with Gaara just a bit longer. Even if they hadn't talked at all, she had enjoyed it. And anything would be better than being here, alone until her father came home. She heard the door open and the yelling that meant her father was home, and from the words he was shouting, he had been fired again. She stood up and braced herself for the worst. It was like this every day, but not as bad as she knew it was going to be today.

When Osaka came to the bench where Gaara had always been, she was relieved to see him there again. One of the first things Gaara noticed was that she had a new bruise on her cheek. When one of the other kids stopped her before she got to him, he overheard them asking about it. She gave the same answer she gave whenever she was asked something like that, which was often, "Oh, I just tripped."

Before Osaka could say anything, he said, "You didn't really trip, did you?" She was silent for a moment, and then sat down, and began to tell the lesser details of what was going on. But once she started, with him listening quietly, not judging her for anything she was saying, she couldn't stop. Soon he knew the whole story.

"And now, this happens almost every night. But last night it was worse then usual, because he lost his job again."

After some thinking, Gaara asked what she least expected. "Is...Is having a mother who hurts you so much worse then losing her before you knew her? Is having a father who is worse than your mother, and hurts you every day worse then one who ignores you, except to order others to assassinate you?" She didn't have an answer for him, and he didn't need one. He had found someone who wasn't afraid of him, and even came up to him and asked repeatedly just to...be with him. And he had found someone whose parents were as bad as, if not worse, then his. She knew what loneliness was, and didn't want him to have it anymore. Over the weeks, she came every day to sit with him, and they almost never talked, accept when he was asking her what had caused her father to give her a new bruise of cut. And the silence was no longer lonely.

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Ok, go easy on me. You must remember I made this up on the spot from 11pm to 12am…