Gaara had never felt someone else's skin touch his before. He had touched others, though few, but he never knew what it was like to have someone touch him. That is, until the Chunin Exams.
It wasn't skin on skin, it was skin on armor, but he felt a knuckle. It was a blow with such force that Gaara clung to it. It felt almost apologetic. He slid across the ground and he fought to retain it all. As he stood, he felt his head throb, but it was dulled by the lingering memory of that single knuckle across his cheek. That first touch was all he knew.
He would never forget Rock Lee. Or forgive him. He felt stained. No one touched him willingly. The way Lee looked at him: it was not with malice or death in his eyes, it was the way one would look at a friend. When he was standing and looking into those eyes, he saw fear. As his defenses crumbled, so did his security. Such a thing cannot happen again.
It did eventually, but it was a different person, with different eyes. Eyes of hatred, eyes of darkness. The blow was not forgiving, and it nearly drove out the memory of his first touch. He could not let it leave. It plagued his mind with things that could be, things that were sweeter than this.
But there were no sweeter things. In fact, there was just the smell of copper. It felt as though his shoulder was on fire. That touched burned a hole through what was left of those knuckles, leaving only remnants and bitter ashes.
The next touch erased it all. Forehead to forehead, it felt as though his own mind was knocked out of his head and replaced with a new framework to build on. Touch does not stain you. Touch was not only apologetic through Lee or bitter through Sasuke. Touch was understanding through Naruto, touch was worry through the arms of his siblings. But the force from his first touch was lost, and so was the sweet aftertaste.
It would be some time before he was touched again, and the feeling shook his very core.
As they sat beneath the shade of the trees, a bruise across the line of his jaw, inflicted by the tail of Kimimaro, attracted the eyes of his comrade.
"You're hurt," Lee murmured, lifting a hand to run his thumb across the purple wound.
Gaara stared with wide eyes. He was being touched willingly. It was not to inflict injury, it was not rushed, but it was compassionate and gentle. He could feel the grooves of the rough pad of his thumb. He leaned into it, his eyes starting to close.
Suddenly, the euphoria was gone. He removed his face from reach abruptly. "I'm fine," he grunted. He sounded harsher than he wanted to be.
Lee looked down. "I'm sorry; I did not mean to insult you, I just-"
"People don't touch me."
Lee looked back to him.
"Not like that. It's always with fear, or anger."
"I'm very sorry, Gaara-san."
Gaara's face began to wrinkle with anger. "You should hate me. You say you hold no grudge, but you should."
"I do not hate you, Gaara-san. Why do you think I should?"
Gaara was quiet for a time. "Hate is all I know."
Lee felt his heart twist in agony for the boy sitting next to him. Slowly, Lee took one of Gaara's hands into his own.
"Then allow me to teach you something different."
So this was a drabble that will probably continue in the future. Not sure when, but it will.
This was randomly inspired by a gif I saw on tumblr. Gaara was getting punched by Sasuke in their Chunin Exam fight and as it was happening, he saw a flashback of Lee punching him at the same time.
And so this was born.
Constructive criticism is welcome at anytime. :)