He was strange and different and that was how he liked to be! He liked to get dirty, even when it wasn't necessary. He liked to be affectionate, even if it was just hugging a total stranger. He liked to be loud and fast and happy.
And he loved men… Well… One man in particular.
His lover… Was none of those things; the exact opposite, actually. His lover liked nothing; he merely was. His lover was quiet, even when he spoke. His lover was stoic and bold, a powerful man who knew that.
His lover loved him… Even if the world his lover lived in did not.
He tried to change himself to fit into his lover's world. He would much rather do that than leave him! His lover was practically a world power, but that did not mean that he couldn't be taken down of enough people were against him.
So, he tried to change who he loved to be into something he knew he wasn't. It seemed to work.
He did not jump around anymore, full of excitement and affection. He kept his mouth shut, and his head respectfully bowed. He did not get dirty, even when it was sometimes necessary. He did not speak loudly, if ever. He had no idea how to speak softly, and so speaking became difficult in itself. Touches, private or public, were sparse. Ever so slowly, the aristocratic world that his lover lived in came to accept him, reluctantly nodding their heads and turning steely cold eyes away from him to find fault in another.
It… did not work as he had supposed it would… The world his lover was aversely a part of accepted him… His lover did not.
His softly spoken words and respectful bows were ignored by the man who was his lover. The bed went cold as his lover resigned himself to one of the guest rooms. They spoke barely. They touched barely.
Their love was flickering and dying. And that didn't make sense!
Everything he was doing, this change that he did not want to do was not because he wished to do it, but because he needed to so people would stop punishing his lover for what he did!
It was one night, finally letting his sorrow go in ripping sobs, that an answer came to him of why that was so. It was a feeling that alerted him to his lover's presence, making him raise his head from his curled knees to stare at the redhead standing in the doorway. His blue-green eyes stared coldly at him, arms crossed over a bare pale broad chest; sweat clad legs crossed at the ankles as he leaned against the doorway and just watched him.
The answer was in those coldly staring eyes. In how they asked a thousand questions such as 'who are you?' and 'Do you see what you've become?'.
And that was when he knew, watching his gorgeous dominating lover turn his back on him and walk down the hall, exactly why he was losing what he had fought so hard for.
Who he had been was who his lover wanted. They were pole opposites, and that was what had drawn the redhead to him. His wildness, his freedom and affections… His business minded lover needed him to be who he was, not who his world demanded he be.
He leaped off of the bed, nearly tripping as he ran through the doorway and narrowly avoided crashing into the opposite wall as he jumped and landed heavily on his lover's back, sending them to the floor with a loud thumping sound. He gave a loud, joy-filled laugh as he connected lips with his lover, wrapping his arms around the other's chest.
Instantly, he was forgiven. Hands wandered to his waist and held him before wandering into his pajama bottoms and groped his butt. Fire returned with a vengeance, burning so hot that they never bothered to leave that spot on the floor as they shed clothing and teased each other.
And in that night, he learned a lesson he would never forget. Love meant nothing if it wasn't accepting of who you loved. Even the small things, the things that drive us mad, can be accepted. Changing who you are to be who your lover, or those around you, wish for you to be is a lie you can't make to yourself, and should not have to make. Love is nothing if not knowing everything and changing little or nothing about it. Compromise is necessary, yes…
Yet he is still Lee, who is care free, open minded, affectionate, and energetic.
And his lover is still Gaara, who is of none of those qualities, and loves Lee to be so.
The world his lover was a part of began to mutter and scowl again, but Lee was fine this time. He smiled right at them and gave a loud rebounding hello, saluting them in a silly way as he continued on his way.
They could not tell him who to be, because he was Lee and that was that.
… It helped that Gaara made them look the other way, holding Lee to him as he continued speaking to an associate of his.
Ever so slowly, who he was, was making Gaara who he wanted to be… And that was okay, because Lee was just fine with whatever of his lover's changes.
… I don't know. I was thinking about Japanese customs I read in my Japanese vocabulary book, and this came to mind… Because than I started thinking about how Lee would fit into those and realized that he pretty much wouldn't. Only on a few accounts would he. Then Gaara came to mind with how he didfit each custom.
… And then I put an inspirational lesson into the story… That, I honestly have no idea, but I stand by it. If it inspires anyone, then I am proud to have inspired you.