Disclaimer:I'VE GOT TEH POWAH!
Rating: K? Maybe?
Warnings: None, really. Just hints of man-love, and abysmally short chapters.
Spoilers: Haven't heard about Jiraiya's death yet? You have now.
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Formalities, though necessary at times, bored Gaara.
The stiff hand-shakes; the curt, spasm-like nods; the brisk and entirely unnecessary greetings: Gaara did not like them.
It was an unfortunate nuisance that it was necessary for the Kazekage to attend the Chuunin Exams, and even more unfortunate that he had had to travel across a desert to do so.
He did not smell pleasant and nor did Kankurou, so he kept his meeting with the other Kage brief, and left as quickly as he could.
"What did you talk about?" Kankurou asked as they made their way to the hotel that they would be staying in.
Gaara observed the villagers staring at him and giving them a wide berth on the street. He did not blame them: he and Kankurou had not showered in three days.
He answered, "The Chuunin Exams," and cringed when his sweat-dampened hair clung to his head.
Kankurou smiled at the villagers that they walked past, and Gaara tried not to let his discomfort seem too obvious. His chest twinged, and he ignored it.
He didn't like to think about it, but there was the slightest possibility that he felt nervous, though he wasn't completely sure. His heart fluttered sporadically and something inside of his stomach fluttered oddly; he felt quite ill.
He did not like this feeling, and hoped that he never had to experience again.
When they reached the hotel, the clerk smiled at them and said, "Ah, Kazekage-sama! It's a pleasure to have you here!"
Gaara did not return the greeting, and the woman cleared her throat awkwardly.
"I suppose you'll be wanting to get to your rooms, then?" she asked.
Gaara gave her a pointed look, and she hastened to hand him the key to the rooms. He immediately left the lobby, feeling the uncomfortable weight of people's eyes boring into the back of his skull, and quickly found the rooms.
Kankurou meandered after him and let out a low whistle. "Wow."
Unconcerned about their accommodation, Gaara put his things down and stepped into the overly-luxurious bathroom. He bathed quickly, intent on not wasting any more water than he had to, and left the steamy bathroom feeling refreshed.
"You haven't got any meetings tomorrow, so I thought we could- What are you doing?" Kankurou asked curiously, looking up from a pamphlet to give Gaara a surprised look.
Gaara unlatched the room's only window. Cool air blew onto his face, and he took a moment to simply stand there, letting the wind wash over him pleasantly.
"I'm going out," Gaara stated simply. He stood on the window-sill, and added as an after-thought, "I'll be back for dinner."
He jumped, feeling weightless for a few moments, before he landed gracefully on the street below him.
Several passer-bys stared at him. He walked away.
Konoha was large, bright, loud, and generally offensive to the senses. The stones and grass felt odd underfoot, and the sweet, crisp smell of decaying flowers invaded Gaara's nostrils. He didn't know if he liked it or not; it was certainly different, compared to everything that he knew.
Gaara walked aimlessly, having no particular destination in mind, and somehow didn't feel surprised when he slowed to a stop in front of Practice Area Number Forty-Four - or, as he had heard many people foolishly nickname it, the 'Forest of Death'.
He remembered tearing people apart ruthlessly; he remembered their screams, and the addictive scent of blood. He still did not feel guilty, though a sick wave of disgust almost made him turn away.
Suddenly, a loud voice reached his ears, and he stepped behind a tree, shrouding himself in darkness. He didn't fancy the idea of having to talk to someone.
"I must train! If I do not do three thousand kicks with each foot, I will do ten thousand punches with each hand!" someone declared loudly.
Though he felt that the goal was rather stupid, Gaara did not even bother to try to tell them to stop, because he knew that it would do no good.
It seemed that Rock Lee was just as loud and intense as Gaara remembered. Gaara felt as if he was going to vomit.
Gaara watched silently as Lee kicked a tree exactly a thousand times, his breath hitching when the tree fell and Lee leapt aside at the last moment, moving to kick another tree with his other foot.
Again and again, trees threatened to crush Lee and he moved away easily, as if he had been expecting it to happen all along. He counted the whole time, sounding barely out of breath.
As the sun rose higher in the sky, Lee began to stop for drinks at shorter and shorter intervals, and eventually gave up on wiping away the sweat on his forehead, in favour of removing his shirt.
Gaara stared at Lee's naked torso, his eyes wide, and found that he could not tear his gaze from the small dimples in Lee's lower back. He wet his suddenly dry lips with his tongue and watched, caught between fascination and horror, as Lee continued to train.
When Lee finally stopped and laid back on the grass, his shins bleeding and sweat drenching his front, he closed his eyes and tilted his head toward the sky, smiling serenely to himself.
Gaara wondered what he was thinking about that could bring such a peaceful expression to Lee's face. He knew that it could never be him, and slowly managed to force himself to walk away from the small clearing that Lee had created, inwardly cursing his inability to simply turn around and say 'Hello'.
Walking through the village, Gaara thought about Lee's smile. Surely no one could be that carefree and relaxed; surely no one could feel so satisfied with themselves and everything around them.
Gaara didn't know what it felt like to feel so happy with his life that he simply laid back and let himself relax. He wondered how it would feel.
He walked into the hotel and ignored the clerk; he went straight to his room, and was mildly surprised to find Temari sitting at the table, sipping a cup of tea.
"Hey, Gaara," Temari greeted him as he stepped into the room and toed his shoes off. "Anything happen that I should know about?"
Gaara joined her at the table and toyed with the edge of a menu, pretending to read over it. "No," he replied, knowing that she would not care to hear about Rock Lee's apparent talent for felling trees.
Temari hummed and drank another mouthful of her tea. Gaara knew that she had something to say; she always did when she drank tea. He didn't know why she didn't just say it.
Finally, after Temari had finished off her drink and stared at the plain table for a full five minutes, she looked up at him and said, "So... Kankurou told me you were feeling a bit off the other day... Do you want to talk about it?"
Gaara folded the menu into an origami crane and stared at the useless decoration for a few moments, amazed that he had managed to create something so beautiful, before he crushed it in his fist and let his sand tear it to shreds.
Temari raised a brow, and Gaara sighed.
"I feel..." he began haltingly, "I feel... a... a weight. Here." He placed a hand over his heart and swallowed, feeling aggravated and edgy. "It feels... empty..." he continued uncertainly, "like something's missing."
Temari nodded slowly, as if she understood completely.
Gaara averted his gaze from his sister's, for the first time in his life, and said unsurely, "It just... slowly... aches..."
He felt more exposed than he ever had, and found that he did not like the scrutiny in Temari's gaze.
Finally, Temari enquired, "What do you think it might mean?"
"I... I want something," Gaara said hoarsely, his eyes wide; he cursed his voice for breaking at the last moment. "I've... I've never wanted anything before, Temari... I don't..." He was surprised at his own tenacity: he had never said so much about his own feelings before.
"What do you want?" Temari asked, her brows furrowed.
Gaara drew in a deep, shaky breath and tried to think of an answer. He thought of food, water, new clothing, and a new residence, and found that nothing seemed particularly satisfying to him.
With a sigh of frustration, Gaara looked out at Konoha's forests through the window and tried to imagine what he could possibly want.
Something in the forest flashed and several trees fell over. A loud shout followed, and something green streaked into the largest group of buildings in the village.
A sudden, intense ache startled Gaara and he stared down at his chest, where his fingers rested over his heart.
"I want..." Gaara murmured, seeing but not feeling his fingernails tear a small whole in his shirts and scratch at his chest. "I want a..."
Temari patiently sat silently, her eyes roaming the forests. The reds and pinks of the sunset played on her skin, casting abstract shadows across her face.
Gaara swallowed again, though his mouth was dry, and whispered, "I think... I want a friend."
Her mouth falling open slightly, Temari turned around to face him and asked disbelievingly, "A-A friend?"
The concept frightened Gaara, and made his chest ache more painfully. He did not know how to approach someone in such a way that they could look at him and say honestly, 'I would like to be friends with this boy.' Gaara was not someone that anyone liked, nor one that anyone wanted to like, and the thought of being rejected the first time that he ever tried to achieve something was more terrifying to Gaara than the prospect of living alone for the rest of his life.
Gaara would not admit it to Temari, but he envied the ease with which she and Kankurou conversed with people. They found it so easy; it seemed to be an integral part of what made a human being. People found socialising easy, and that was just how things were.
Gaara had never found talking to anyone to be particularly satisfying or simple.
"Gaara..." Temari said softly, her eyes wide and horrified. "A-Are you...?"
Gaara did not know what to say. He turned away from her and his knuckles grazed the small cut on his chest. "It hurts, Temari... It's not- It's n-not fair."
Temari reached across the table, her movements far too jerky to be considered normal, and made to pat his hand. Her hand fell to her side at the last moment, as if she'd realised just what she was doing.
Gaara glared at the neat row of napkins in front of him. No matter how close they became, Temari was still afraid of him.
"...Are you okay?" Temari finally asked.
Gaara stared out at the forest, watching the figure leap through the trees, and felt distinctly out of place. He could not kid himself into thinking that he belonged here, or anywhere else, so he didn't even try to. He would never quite fit in, no matter how hard he tried to.
Who in their right mind would want to be his friend?
"Why does it feel this way?" Gaara asked quietly, clenching his hands into fists at the sharp pain in his chest. "Does it stop?"
Temari opened and closed her mouth several times, frowning deeply. It was obvious that she did not know what to say to him.
They sat in silence as the sun set. Gaara watched the lone green figure race around the forest.
"Come on," Temari said eventually, her joints cracking as she stood up. "It's getting pretty late."
Gaara sat for a few moments more, standing up only when Temari left for her room. With one last glance at the lonely figure in the forest, Gaara wiped at his eyes and was pleased to find that they were dry. He retreated into his room, wondering at the throbbing in his chest.
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