Black Sugar Fest
Chapter Two: Sticks 'n Stones
WARNING: This story will have (occasionally) immature sex partners at times though brief and aren't dissected as anything but vague. Not like giggly immature or anything-but UNDERAGE. It will also be…a lot more vulgar in scenes (sometimes) than anything else-I swear. Beware (it rhymes!). And…don't say I didn't warn you, ne? It's in capital and bold print. Please…READ the warning before proceeding, thankies.
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She was crying, whimpering and sniveling on the floor when he came to get her after class. He stared down at her questioningly, not really looking all too angered though his fist was clenched. The classroom was silent and empty, papers strewn across the floor. He'd waited outside the door for his twelve year old friend for nearly fifteen minutes and he had to go to martial arts soon, (the Sunagakure and Konohagakure exchange in fighting styles happening again), and he'd gone into the classroom when he saw that the teacher had left earlier. He stood at the door, staring down at her while she wept.
He saw the tears in her shirt and the skirt, one shoe looked as though it had been either kicked off or taken off then thrown away while her other was still on her tiny foot. Small bruises like fingers and red marks littered her arms. He approached her slowly, and then crouching down so he was level with her and stared at her, not blinking and waiting for her to look up. Sniffling and rubbing the heels of her hands against her eyes, she opened her soaked eyes to stare back at him. "What happened?" he asked blankly, not really saying anything else nor sounding concerned. She shook her head from side to side, her short cut hair bobbing with her head's movements. Her legs were splayed awkwardly beneath her and she moved them slowly, hesitantly before she drew her knees up and rested her head on them. Gaara didn't move for a while and neither did she.
"T-they s-s-said th-that since I-I-I h-hung out with y-you s-so much that I-I wouldn't mind," she said suddenly through the thick silence. Gaara didn't move for a bit before he sat down in front of her with his legs up and open, an arm slung over a knee casually. She was mumbling, "…t-told m-me to s-s-stop hiding u-underneath the j-jacket." His eyes followed hers when they roamed to come to rest in the small trashcan of the classroom that held tatters of her dark blue jacket. He grunted vaguely and waited for the rest of her sentence, he'd long ago learned that if you pressured her too much she would clam up and be unresponsive to many things. She was handful, and unfortunately or fortunately, she was his handful. She let out a choked sob and hiccoughed. "T-th-th-they wanted t-to see…a-and you know!" she shot out, and he listened, paying attention with that infamous poker face. "I-I couldn't let…them…" she trailed off lamely.
"Hn," he replied, staring at her arms, the rip in her school uniform blouse showed her small bra and growing tender areas – shapeless lumps that the boys would often stare at when she didn't wear her jacket. He breathed out through his nose, "They do anything to you?" he asked, allowing her to scoot closer when he saw her shiver from the cold air conditioning she had no protection against anymore. She shook her head, angling it to stare at her bruises, frowning and crying again. He looked at her out of the corner of his eye, before turning to her quickly, his thumb brushing away tears in a rare moment of comfort, "Don't cry. You protected yourself from them and won – no tears then." A wobbly, sappy smile appeared on her face, laughing a little through her tears.
She nodded and tugging on his favorite large black jacket, a small skull sewed in the back's lining. She'd made the design for him but he sewed it on himself. Gulping down more tears, she raised her barrier, "N-no t-t-tears." She repeated, nodding her head and she smiled again. Gaara smirked partially and stood, then reached down with a hand to lift her up.
He shrugged off his jacket and put it around her shoulders, his loose black shirt left. Wrapping it about her tightly, covering her 'battle scars' and the tears in her shirt, the length of the jacket covering the small tear on her skirt's hem. Gripping her elbow, he scooped up her book bag and slung it over his shoulder and he led them out of the empty classroom – Hinata a little more grown up this time. Their footsteps echoed throughout the silent and still school that had long been deserted by many teachers and students. Gaara walked beside Hinata who had taken her book bag back and had it over her shoulders easily. Out of the corner of a black rimmed eye that was from his severe case of insomnia, he looked at a red mark across Hinata's cheek, a slap.
He'd be the comfort today and another day, he'd be her avenger and make them cry for making him see her tears. His head turned to the large window that the school had – it was raining.
Gaara flicked his Zippo lighter open and stared at the flickering flame, dancing like an exotic belly dancer. His shrink or doctor or whatever sat in front of him with his hands clasped together, staring at his patient almost anticipating something. Apparently, on the inside, Gaara was a very interesting person. "It's fairly easy to guess what they wanted with her…" he trailed off, playing with his pen and immaturely launching it with his fingers and into the air. "Was she pretty at that age?" he asked a little too innocently. Gaara thought about it.
"Sometimes," he answered truthfully, relaxed while he lounged on a soft and cushy red chair with paws at the bottom as its legs. His fingers raked over the velvet fabric.
"Sometimes?" he heard his shrink ask back, and Gaara gave a short and curt nod as his answer. "When were these sometimes?" he asked now, his voice full of other questions Gaara knew he was bursting to ask. Their time was almost up. Gaara didn't answer but tipped his head back and closed his eyes, thumb flicking the lid of his lighter continuously and feeling it warm his hand. "Gaara?" Gaara grunted but did nothing else. He had enough of spilling his heart to the quack who thought too much of Hinata's and his own relationship – overrating for what it wasn't. He heard him sigh heavily before the timer went off. "Alright Gaara, next appointment is next Wednesday."
Gaara stood out of the chair and walked out, ignoring the 'good-bye' the doctor said on his way out. The door slammed shut and his long coat trailed behind.
-
The bar was seedy, suspicious and didn't care that a minor had walked into it – the place full of crooked people. Gaara stepped in, listening to the sounds of a bar fight in the back and watching two men toss each other around like rags dolls, their burly arms muscular, thick and hairy as a bear. Grey green eyes slid over to the bartender, a man with a curved moustache and wide eyes, bony in frame and a long nose like a bird's beak. "What will you have tonight? Regular, I suspect?" he inquired lightly, accent tipping in while he wiped the counter down with a rag. Gaara nodded as he slid a fifty dollar bill to the man and waited for his customary beer and whiskey shots. He rolled his head to crack his neck bones easily while he heard the man rummage beneath the counter for his drinks.
Gaara got to thinking about how it had been at Hinata's school, people picking at the shy heiress like hyenas to fresh meat they didn't have to kill. It was to be expected, the high standards that she met academically but never physically or socially. It had been that time her cousin had taken especial care to watch whatever horror show she put on for him because of some mishap between the divided Hyuuga families. It had been a fallout that had taken place…since the Hyuuga family had been established – the division that held the Main Branch were not servants and not given customary tattoos to mark them. He and Neji had never gotten along, always glaring at one another, scowling and waiting for the other to throw the first hit.
He didn't encourage Hinata to try and get along with her cousin – she did that herself and never got anything accomplished – nor did he try to correct Neji of his ways, try to get him to see that it wasn't Hinata's fault specifically. He made it clear to not step near her though, when they finally did throw hits. He'd gotten a black eye, split lip, broken wrist while Neji had his share of scrapes and a broken rib. It had been their first and last fight – the rest of the tie they guardedly watched each other, like two lions circling and facing each other up – summing up which would pounce first and how many hits they could get in on one another. He remembered what started the fight and exactly how it ended…seriously truth to be told…it had been the best fight of his life.
"Here you are, Gaara."
There was a clink of glass against the marble counter and Gaara looked up at the tall mug, frothing with tanned white of the beer. He nodded at the bartender once before gripping the mug and beginning to gulp it down quickly before he placed it back down, staring into the amber liquid while it fizzed.
"You shouldn't drink so much Gaara…" she said while she looked down at the beer bottle in his hand. They were on his rooftop at night, the apartment complex which he was staying at and he didn't want to be in the same room with Temari and Kankurou for too long. He looked at her while he tipped the beer back into his mouth, blatantly ignoring her and she scrunched her nose at him. She never stuttered when they were alone.
"Hn," he grunted once more and he looked out at the moon, watching its pale face over the quiet city of Konohagakure. Hinata should have been home hours ago, but the richest man's – the Prime Minister of Suna – son invited Hinata over for dinner, so they sat there on the rooftop talking the night away and Gaara drinking. Silence engulfed them once more, before Hinata spoke again, her voice soft and pliable. She sounded breakable.
"Gaara?" she asked, her voice a whisper and he cocked his head in her direction. "Have you ever been in love?" she questioned, arms wrapping around her small form in a hug while she drew her knees up to rest her chin on them. Gaara placed the bottle down beside him and turned his head fully to stare at her. His black rimmed raccoon looking eyes stared at her, unaware of the way he looked. He was surprised to say the least – Hinata never asked about love. "Have you?"
Gaara shook his head, coming out of his shocked stupor and waited. "I-I w-well…" she blushed and looked to her side, down at the ground embarrassed by the truth she let slip. "I think I am." She whispered it, then clutched her breast where her heart was assuredly beating faster at the confession she'd said. "H-he's really nice to me you know…he fought Neji-niisan a lot when he bullied me and he stopped too…he's…blonde and loud…" she poked her fingers together in way of an old habit, staring down at her fidgeting fingers. She continued to hum and haw and mumble about this specter that was increasingly irritating to Gaara though he never met him. She was talking about a boy she'd only known for a little while and how he defended her honorably, how sweet he was – and he supposed it made him insecure. Hinata was growing up and seeing into other people – their world wasn't their world anymore. Other people were getting involved and invading ever so slowly and he supposed…he was possessive of their world.
"Does he like you?" he asked, his voice suddenly colder and sharper and Hinata flinched a little but her blush didn't run away. She was too distracted by this Naruto character. She bit her lip and looked down, disappointed.
"No…h-he likes a girl n-named Sakura," her voice was sad and downcast, like a rainy afternoon in the summer while excited children stayed inside away from the rain. Gaara stared at her a while longer and he believed he was watching Hinata grow up without him right there. Their world had suddenly becoming other people's territory…their world was fading.
"Let's go in and eat Hinata, up," he ordered while he tipped the last of the beer into his mouth and wiped the remnants away from his mouth before her held a hand out of help he, as was customary. She didn't notice the outstretched hand and got up on her own, dusting herself off. Gaara retracted his hand quickly and strode from her, not looking back and opening the exit door.
He let the beer bottle fall to the ground and heard it break.
Gaara stared at the whiskey shot and downed it quickly, tipping his head back sharply and placing the glass down again, he nodded at the bartender who nodded back, giving a weak smile. He got up from his stool and strode from the bar; his hands in his pockets with his shoulders slumped forward slightly. He could smell alcohol on himself and he knew no one really cared – he was the fearfully tyrant's son. No one dared to question the man who had the military on his side and Gaara known for his violent outbursts and savage ways was kept a distance from the public. He looked around at the city about him and noticed a young woman in a short skirt, much like a school uniform approaching him. She went to his school, the Science teacher's pet.
"Hey," she called, hand reaching out to stroke the collar of his jacket, "wanna good ride?" she asked vulgarly, tongue licking her lips while she sidled up close to him. "Fifty for a blow and hundred for bareback, what do you say, sweets?" she purred and he looked down at her with his grey green eyes. Her own hazel ones widened suddenly, nearly tripping over herself when she finally recognized the red hair, the tattoo and the eyes. "H-holy shit – I-I-I'm so sorry I didn't…" she fled, heels clicking in the distance while she ran down the street, finally seeing who she was trying to pick up and fleeing from said monster she didn't want to deal with.
Gaara shook his head and continued to walk, taking out his lighter and flicking the top open constantly, a colored photo of his mother emblazed on the front of the lighter – custom made. He stared down at the face of a happily smiling woman who had no idea who she'd gotten involved with when she married the man of her life – his father.
The smell of jasmine and rainforests, deserts and a smile like an angel, purple eyes like a mauve row of expensive violets blinking, playfully curved at the edges while she smiled at him. "C'mon Gaa-chan who loves you?"
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Please drop a review, I got inspiration and I decided to rewrite BSF – and hopefully it will be easier to write. So, I hope you like this version as well. X)
