It was early the next morning when he began his next piece. One he would show to Sasori.
The Human Stain by Kamelot played as he gathered his supplies. Black paint, gray and silver pencils. He lost himself in his work, spending six hours, the light in the room growing as he worked, but he paid it no mind, completely absorbed by his art.
In the center, a man was on his knees. In his arms lay a boy. The boy's eyes saw nothing, they looked accusatory, shocked, and defiant. The boy, everything about him was white. The man was gray, dark gray. The background, was painted black, streaks of gray and silver visible faintly. The blackness, it emanted from the man. It infected everything but the boy, who was white and pure as snow. Even the blood that had trickled from his mouth, was white, his lank, messy hair as well. The boy's pupil's were white as well, the light reflected in them displaying his emotions.
He signed it small, in silver. Standing, he winced. Sore from being in almost one position for many hours. The other bed was empty. Suggesting it was late in the day. He wandered into the bathroom to wash his hands before he checked his phone to see it was past two in the afternoon.
Hunger gnawed at him, so he changed into plain black jeans and an equally plain black muscle shirt and left for the cafeteria.
His earbuds still within his ears, he didn't pay much attention to the chatter in the large room. Though he did note his roommate and his friend were sitting with a few others.
He was aware of them noticing him. Regardless, he kept his face emotionless and took a seat near the window.
Two chicken sandwiches, green beans, and some sort of rice. He was enjoying his second sandwich when he noticed someone approaching. Fighting the urge to look annoyed, he set his food back down, reluctantly popping out an earbud.
It was his roommate.
"Hey. I'm Shikamaru Nara. If you ever want to, you can hang out with me, Choji, and the others." The boy even smiled at him.
"Sabakau no Gaara. I doubt highly, we have anything at all in common." His tone cold, dismissive.
The other boy said nothing more, standing, studying the red head.
"You and I might not, but my friend Naruto, the blond, he's an art major. I've seen your work. You two have different styles, but I bet the two of you could have interesting conversations. Couldn't hurt you at least," he snorted as he walked away.
Gaara's seafoam green eyes made their way to the blond, he was laughing and joking with a brunette with twin red markings upon his face. He was dressed quite brightly in orange skinny jeans and a neon blue t-shirt.
However, he was drawn towards the lazy one. Shikamaru Nara. Something about him..., made his heart skip, his blood boil, his breath falter. It made no sense. They had said very little to each other. Never even meeting until yesterday, and being properly introduced only moments before. His eyes narrowed as he gazed across the room at the male. He did not like things that were unusual. Illogical.
He tore his gaze away, emotionless, mask in place. He ate and threw away his tray. He returned to their room, laying his pieces upon his bed, studying them, sorting them into those he would consider showing, those he would, and those he would never.
Shikamaru did not return until well after dark.
His work was already put away, he was lying in his bed, a book open, held above his head as he read. A Stephen King novel, Doctor Sleep.
Out of the corner of his eye, Gaara watched as Shikamaru shuffled over to his bed, removing his shoes one by one. He returned his gaze to his book, reading a little more before seeing movement out of the corner of his eye. Shikamaru had slipped off his pants, leaving him only in a pair of black boxers that hung off his tanned legs. Next, came his shirt, blood rushed to his cheeks as he rolled on to his side, his back now to the half-naked Shikamaru.
He thought he heard a chuckle but put it out of his mind as he attempted to focus upon the book. Eventually managing to mostly lose himself in the text.
His thoughts though, could never leave him be. They caught up with him, unable to focus upon the book any longer, he closed it and placed it upon the floor. Why did Shikamaru affect him so? Affect him at all?
They had only met yesterday. He was only a fellow student. Nothing more.
But he had approached him without fear and without obvious dislike. He had approached with friendliness.
Something he had never experienced.
And so, his sleep was broken, memories surfacing as dreams, twisted by his subconcious. He woke in a sweat more than once.