-World On The Walls-

"…Gaara…?"

The night flew promptly as Temari paid less attention to everything that happened to her. As soon as she got home, she smacked Kankurou for carelessly putting his chord book in her bag, did her assignments completely, and made sure that all of the things that she would need when she would go to school again was placed safely in her bag.

She had cleaned up already after checking Gaara's assignment. The older two siblings managed to buy a few books appropriate for Gaara's school needs and had him homeschooled, with Temari as her Math and English teacher, and Kankurou with History. They didn't bother with extra subjects. As long as their littlest brother knew what he should, besides the rules of survival in the city, they thought that if they ever got the opportunity, Gaara would bring them back up.

Temari didn't mind the sudden cold of the night. She chose to put on a lime green sleeveless top and a pair of white sweats with black strips on the sides. They had a blanket, and she would be sleeping with Gaara, so she didn't exactly need to wear more than what she had, as they didn't have much. She had taken precautions, of course, regarding her illness that might be contagious. She always wore a mask or cover her mouth with a towel, or if the little boy permitted it, as his small but strong arms wouldn't, she would turn her back to Gaara.

That Tuesday night, Gaara had woken up again. He would usually wake up at one or two in the morning, but this time, he woke up at around twelve midnight.

"Dream," He said, his poised hand delicately lifting the red-soaked brush. "I had a dream again."

He would dream about many things, and not all of them he told to Temari or Kankurou. The older brother had a conversation regarding Gaara's insomnia one night, and he said Gaara would talk to him about his dreams of hope and light, or open gates to opportunities. Gaara would tell Temari about his dreams of their past, of a family, of three kids, of anything that were related to the siblings. They weren't all happy, unlike the dreams Gaara would tell Kankurou.

The redhead would paint his dream on the walls, but there was a divine line between his types of dreams. He would paint the kind of happy dreams, the ones that he told Kankurou, on the top side of the walls, and the other dreams below.

That Tuesday night, Gaara was painting near the floor.

"It's about us?" Temari said, rolling over so that her stomach was on the bed. The boy nodded.

Temari watched him stroke fine, professional lines on the hard canvas. "Is it a bad dream?"

"It's bad, if you're me," He said and dipped the brush into the plastic cup of already dark-colored water. "But you're not me, so, it's good."

Temari sighed inwardly. What was, exactly, her little brother? He sometimes spat out bluntly child-like words but he could be such a sage sometimes.

"What's the dream about?"

The redhead's scrutinizing eyes glanced at her for a second. "Can't tell."

"Aww," Temari reached to touch the boy's fluffy red locks, pouting. "Why not?"

"It might not happen."

"Is it really good that you want it to happen?"

The child stayed silent for a while, and so did Temari. He turned, looking at Temari with a completely expressionless face, making her cringe inside. What did I do wrong? They both stood frozen, gazing into each other's eyes, but the atmosphere was neither tense or maddening.

Gaara walked over to his sister. Temari rolled on her back again, her elbows supporting her upper torso. Leaning down, he gave her a hug and one of the best cheek-kisses she could imagine.

"Hey," She muttered, hugging her brother tightly. His head snuggled on the crook of her neck and mumbled something Temari couldn't quite comprehend.

"Gaara?"

"It's because…" Gaara managed, still not letting go of his embrace. "Because Temari's happy in that dream."

Temari still couldn't believe that her kid brother still managed to be so sweet and caring after what happened to them six years ago.

Their mother's death. Their bastard of a father leaving them to almost die.

And how life had exceptions of who it should treat well…

~NIP~

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