Okay, so I hope you all enjoyed the last chapter. The winner of the contest is...
Fraulein Märchen Freunde...
And my fiancé, Pikey, who is just too good of an OC to pass up.
As a thanks, you will be in this chapter(and prolly a few more), as well as have a one-shot just pour vous.
So, Märchen, my dear, pm me with your request, desired rating, whatnot. Oh, and I'm not going to use your real name (pretty sure it was on your yt link), just because I don't feel that's practical in a community that is largely based on anonymity and creativity.
One quick word, otherwise. I have noticed that my writing style has slowly (I lie) been changing as this goes on. I'm just getting comfortable with something not of the KakaSaku persuasion.
I do not own Naruto or any trademarked organizations contained herein. But I have a kickass lizard.
**************
Dusk was falling, filling Gaara's room with pinky orange hues. The beige and maroon walls began to look like Warhol turned into a personal decorator. It did nothing to improve his mood, only serving to remind him of the pink haired girl he hadn't spoken to in five months.
"Crazy bitch." Those words continually echoed through his head when he looked at her. In the few days that had followed, he had felt his chest constricting, squeezing the life from him. He had tapped her shoulder a few times, written her margin notes, to no avail. During their joint classes, she found other places to sit. If that wasn't an option, she simply ignored him altogether.
At first, he had tried to ask her why she had skipped P.E. that Wednesday so long ago, but all his question garnered was an icy stare, and a curt, "Suck it." He did notice her green eyes held a wariness when regarding him, as though he might be a typhoid mary. Also in her gaze, if he really thought about it, was a sort of glassy bloodshot quality, as though she had been staring at a computer screen.
Gaara knew why she shut him out, fundamentally. He was new, strange, already invading her life and her lies. He watched her socialize from the background, saw that she could smile and laugh still. But not with him. Not with fucking him! Jealousy burned his gut, and bile rose in his mouth. He cared because she was also new, and strange. Because she smelled like sweet things, like candies and flowers, and angel kisses. He could see a wry humor in her green depths, a keen intelligence bound by the limitations of the average high school. He stood back and watched her pink lips twist, watched her nibble them in consternation, watched her lick them in anticipation. And he would twist, nibble, and lick his in subconscious response.
His siblings had noticed his tension that day. Temari quietly asked him how his day had gone, with all the quiet interest a mother-figure should have. He simply walked past her to the stairs, and said nothing. At dinner that night, Kankuro had joined in, tactful as ever.
"So, what's got your panties in a chokehold?"
Gaara simply extricated himself from the table.
Now it was February 9th, the Friday before Valentine's Day, and he had nothing to do for the weekend. Gaara's mind swam with boredom and unwanted thoughts. If his father were here, he would be training in martial arts.
Of course, if his father were here, Gaara would most likely be prematurely tucking him into bed after his latest binge. It was easier these days to think on the subject. His heart no longer felt like it was going to beat out of his chest.
Gaara's father, the late Kazekage of Suna, capital city of a state far south, had died five years prior in a car accident. The horrible irony was that, one, it was one of the few times he had been driving sober, and two, he was hit by a drunk driver. That situation alone made Gaara believe karma was a cold and vindictive bitch.
Suna had been in a period of morning for two weeks after. They wept for the figure his father represented, while his children cried for the father they had wanted him to be and never was. Temari had dutifully taken on the maternal aspect of the house, and Kankuro always made sure bills were paid in a timely manner. The only thing Gaara had to worry about was his education.
For the five years following his father's death, Gaara had been a cold person. Angry and violent were terms that were too loose when describing him. He often would come home with bruises and bloody lips, and shortly thereafter, the cops would come.
After the last time, two years ago, the state admitted him into a mental institution for at-risk youth. He would say that, yes, it did help him, but the medication made him feel nothing, turning him into a hollow shell. He would rather feel pent up than empty.
His thoughts were cut short as a sharp knock sounded on his door. Without waiting for a reply, Kankuro stuck his head in. "Hey."
Gaara's nonexistant eyebrow raised in reply.
"Wanna go somewhere with me?" Gaara needed no more invitation. He sat up on his bed, toeing his shoes over to him.
"Where are we going?" He eyeballed his closet, wondering if he should change first.
Sensing his question, Kankuro replied. "There's a show at the local youth center, and I gotta pick something up." He entered the room fully and turned on the Playstation. "We have time if you wanna shower first."
"Nah, it's okay."
Kankuro turned his head, regarding him seriously. "Dude, I didn't wanna say anything, but take a fucking shower. You smell like my balls."
Gaara grabbed some clothes and a towel. On his way to the bathroom, he smacked Kankuro upside the head, which earned a yelp.
"What the hell?"
"That's for using my shampoo to wash your balls." Kankuro's laughter followed him to the bathroom. It was nice being able to joke again with his brother. After the 'home,' things between them had been tense. He felt like Kankuro was deliberately watching his words and treading lightly around him. He resented his brother for being afraid of him, and resented himself for making his brother fear him.
He supposed that was what drew him to Sakura so much. He recognized her issues, and, while they still remained largely undefined, he couldn't fault her for being skittish. She seemed to be comprised of extremes and contradictions. The relationship with her mother mirrored that of he and his father, and he felt for her.
But his compassion had limits, and her actions on a daily basis for the past several months had quickly depleted it.
His shower done, he quickly dressed and retrieved Kankuro. He wasn't surprised to see him leaned forward in the beanbag chair, mashing buttons. After a rather impressive attack combo, Gaara unplugged the power strip from the wall.
"Hey! I was almost to the save point!" Kankuro whined, and Gaara shot him a pointed glare.
"Aren't we going somewhere?" He asked, slipping his floor length leather coat over his broad shoulders. Realization lit up Kankuro's features, and he ran out of the room, yelling back, "Meet me at the car!"
The redhead sighed and shook his head. For as responsible as Kankuro could be, he was pretty immature sometimes. Gaara had no delusions of what they were picking up. Kankuro had admitted to him that he habitually smoked pot, and had explained why.
It helped calm him down and help him focus.
At least he had a reason. Occasionally, Gaara had joined in, more of out the need to bond over something. He knew the risks, and made his brother promise him never to do anything stupid. Gaara's belief was, as with coffee or soda, or any type of legal drug, responsibility and moderation were important. Just because a drug was illegal didn't mean one just forgot to be responsible. Granted, things like crack and heroin are bad for a person, just based on the chemical composition, but something like marijuana had such a low amount of harmful traits... It just made sense to treat it as though it were a tobacco product.
Realizing he had been zoning out, he laced up his combat boots, and stalked out the door, shutting it behind him.
******
The drive was relatively uneventful, yet not beneficial to Gaara's overall mood. The conversation was the killer.
"So, I already talked to my dude, and she said it's fine to bring you along." Gaara nodded in response, absently staring out the window as the road turned from countryside to cityscape.
"She'll grill you at first. Just answer her questions honestly, and don't be a dumbass."
Gaara eyed Kankuro as though he had grown a third head. "I doubt you have anything to worry about."
"I mean... She's real sensitive about her appearance and stuff."
"What? Is she a cheerleader or something? Concerned about flyaways while doing a drug deal? I'll bet she eats a tictac before shotgunning a blunt, just so her breath won't smell." Kankuro made a sour face, and shook his head.
"Not... Quite... She's just-uh- unique, is all. I guess when she was a kid, everyone made fun of her, calling her 'Forehead' and 'Pinky'." He turned onto another street, and immediately turned on his blinker.
"Wait... We're meeting Sakura?!" Gaara demanded, an impressive display of emotion for him. Kankuro turned into a parking lot, narrowly avoided a skateboarder, and pulled into a space.
Next to him was the same horrific Volvo Gaara had seen in the student lot. It's back hatch was open, and he could hear music blaring, as smoke rings drifted up, up, up.
As he and Kankuro exited the car, he heard her voice.
"Hey Kanky! And..." She paused, then said with as little emotion as possible, "Marceau."
******************
While Inner Sakura was laughing her head off at Sakura's luck, Outer Sakura was schooling her face into a calm mask. She invited both boys to sit next to her, and grabbed a McDonald's cup. Taking a fake sip, she pretended to offer Kankuro one.
Sly, she was. As Kankuro took the soda, he slipped her $40. "You can have the soda," she replied to him. "It's flat anyway."
If the cops tried to search him for pot, they would find nothing. The eighth-ounce was in a sandwich baggy, tucked into the cup.
She had a joint prerolled, and lit it up. Taking a healthy drag, she handed it to Kankuro, then lit a cigarette.
"So are you staying for the show?" She asked his brother. The shaggy haired brunette shrugged, and looked to Gaara.
He took the proferred joint, sucked on it, and handed it back.
"Might as well, Kankuro. You're not driving for an hour." Sakura looked between the two, confused. Taking her hint, Kankuro explained.
"Gaara's got this thing about responsibility."
"Okay? So, your name's Gaara?" Her Inner swooned a bit, repeating his name dreamily, and Sakura mentally rolled her eyes.
The boy in question nodded.
"So what's your 'responsibility' thing?" They passed the rolled paper around while Gaara compiled his thoughts, which were already muddled.
"Well- wait. Do you have water or anything?" She nodded and twisted to reach her case of soda. He cleared his throat and continued.
"Well, I pretty much figure pot's less harmful than alcohol or cigarettes, so why can't it be personally managed as such. I mean, people do stupid shit after drinking a few beers," Kankuro winced as he said that. "Kankuro knows what I mean. So anyway, if a person can be responsible with consumption, or have sort of like a D.D., then marijuana wouldn't be the scourge of the government."
Sakura's mouth hung open. Murmuring a 'peace out,' Kankuro walked inside the youth center.
"So, you're expecting, one, people to take personal responsibility for their actions, and, two, the government to give up their cash cow?" Now it was Gaara's turn to gape. She was talking to him! Not even that, she was debating with him!
Composing himself, he replied. "I'm simply saying that, if one is going to make the decision to use, they should be prepared for the consequences, and think and act safely." Sakura hopped off of her back hatch and motioned hastily for him to get out. He complied, and barely missed getting his head knocked.
"Maybe some people don't care about consequences," she replied, before walking in herself.
He trailed behind her, feeling even more so that he should defend his point. His next sentence drove it home for Sakura. "Maybe some people should."
She could feel her anger rising past the haze in her mind. "What the hell is that supposed to mean?!" She gritted out, whirling on him. The woman working at the admission table looked up in surprise.
"Ms. Haruno, I suggest you curb your language. It would be a shame to have to ask you to leave." The older woman stared at Sakura benignly for a moment, before waving her through.
"Ich bin traurig. Ich versuche, mein temperament zu steuern," Sakura replied, placing a hand lightly on the woman's shoulder. She nodded and smiled brightly.
Mrs. Märchen was probably one of the last people Sakura had to cling to, and she was not about to put that relationship in jeopardy. If there were anyone who had stood by Sakura through thick and thin, it would be the woman at admissions. She had reminded Sakura of her talent for the plays. Had helped her rehearse her lines and memorize the blocking. When Sakura needed to learn sheet music, she had been there.
Fraulein Märchen ran the center for the city of Konohagakure. It had begun as a place for the youth to meet and take field trips; a sort of YMCA specifically for latch-key kids. The center had progressed into a full on recreation center, accepting donations to build a snack bar, and allowing local bands to play.
Regretfully, it had also become a place for the local youth to conduct their less than legal activities. For the Fraulein's sake, most of it was done in the alley behind, but it was still done.
Sakura took in the renovations that had been done that week with wide eyes. Exposed rafters were wound with rope lights. Dome lights hung over two new pools tables over in the North end. Next to them sat the snack bar, with newly upholstered stool cushions of deep blue.
Looking to her right, she noticed the stage had been raised a foot and a half, to prevent the bands from being rushed. Tables were set in a half circle twenty feet from the stage. To the right of the stage, a pleather sofa sat under a window, with the matching chair adjacent. To the left of the stage, a door led to the deejay booth.
The walls had been decorated with band and movie posters overtop Jackson Pollack inspired paint splatters.
Sakura stumbled forward as Gaara bumped into her. "Stop daydreaming, space cadet." She rolled her eyes and sucked her teeth. Looking over at the snack bar, she noticed Ino doling out treats.
As she approached, Ino looked up and smiled. "Hey Forehead!" She greeted loudly. Sakura grinned right back and sat down on a stool.
"Hey Pig. Didn't think you were working tonight?" She half-asked. The blonde girl in question scoffed and twirled her hair around her pointer finger.
"I wasn't supposed to, but Chouji and Shikamaru are playing tonight, so I figured I'd put in some hours. Besides, looks like it's gonna be crowded." She smirked knowingly at Sakura, who grimaced in return. Ino's eyes shifted behind Sakura. A coy grin split her face. "Well, hello there."
Sakura turned slightly to identify the person and groaned. "Don't you have other people to stalk?"
Gaara took the stool next to her and smirked, his red hair hiding his eyes. "But I thought I was your stalker?" She gaped openly at him, blush slowly creeping over her cheeks.
"Are- are you flirting with me?" Ino leaned forward, ignoring the calls of other customers, to put her chin to fist in interest. Some things are just more important than money. Seeing her pink haired friend flustered and speechless was right on top of that list. Next to a date with Sasuke, of course.
The redhead leaned slowly closer to Sakura, one hand on the back of her stool, its thumb swirling little circles into her shoulder blades. She gasped as his breathy reply caressed over her neck on its ingress to her ear. "Would you like me to?"
She stammered and shot Ino a 'help-me' look, eyes wide and pleading. The blonde girl rolled her eyes and glanced at her watch.
"Welp, kiddies, as fun as this is to watch, Sakura's got about 5 minutes to get her cute little ass backstage." The cerise-locked girl needed no further spurring. Sakura damn near jumped from her stool, almost knocking it over. She grabbed the water Ino held out to her and rushed through the crowd.
As Gaara watched the backstage door shut behind her, he slid his gaze toward Ino. Her cobalt eyes glittered with amusement and protectiveness. "So what was that all about?"
He shrugged. "Nachos."
Confusion swept over Ino's pretty features like the ebb of a tide. "What?! What is that-"
"I want nachos." Her face turned beet red and she nodded once. She spun to retrieve a tray of bite-sized tortilla chips and a cup of warm jalapeño cheese.
"Two fifty," she replied, setting the snack in front of him. After making change for his five, she leaned once again on the counter. "So, seriously, what was that shit?"
He met her eye vacantly, the perfect picture of stoicism. "I don't know to what you are referring." He crunched a nacho for good measure, and turned to face the stage. Soundcheck had started, and someone was a killer bassist.
"Shika, you showoff," Ino cursed under her breath. The bassist in question turned out to be a lanky boy with a high, spiky ponytail. An unlit cigarette sat in his mouth, bobbing with every pluck of the heavy strings. His Shechter Stiletto hung as far as his strap would allow, his back bowed under its weight.
The crowd gathering cheered suddenly as he played 'Winona's Big Brown Beaver', and booed when he suddenly stopped. The teen heaved a troubled sigh and stepped to the microphone. "Troublesome... Check... Check one..." After three minutes of repeating himself, Shikamaru finally nodded and put his bass on it's stand. He grabbed the guitar, an LTD Viper, and let loose a series of tremelo picks.
"Chouji's gonna be so pissed," Ino commented. Gaara turned and shot her a glare, akin to 'shut up', before he picked his nacho tray up and stood.
"Wait!" Ino grabbed the sleeve of his coat, and fought to keep her grip under his death glare. "Just... Listen, if you do anything to hurt her, I will end you. I don't know how I'll do it, but I will." She let go, and turned to take someone else's order. "Goddamnit, Kiba, you're up my ass like a hemmorhoid!!"
Gaara stared at the space the blonde girl had been for a moment before turning to walk to a table. Shortly thereafter, soundcheck was over, the moment marked by cheers of the impressive crowd that had gathered. Another roar started up when the woman from Admissions stepped onto the stage. She looked around a moment and squinted through the light up at the deejay booth.
"Ready?" She asked quietly. "Okay." Raising her voice a little more, to address the audience, "Wow, there are a lot of you. Phew! And here I was worried no one would show. Welp, I wanna say a few things before we get started. For those of you who don't know me, I run this place. My name is Mrs. Märchen." As she introduced herself, shouts and applause broke out. She held her dainty hand to silence them.
"Some of you call me a few different things; the Fraulein, Mein Führer if you're on my bad side... My favorite is M. I just love James Bond. But I digress... The reason we're here tonight is to celebrate the renovations we've done, with your help, and to raise money for the Skate Jam in June. I feel it's only appropriate to have the band that will play the Jam do a show to get you excited." She smirked and eyed the audience expectantly. "Are you excited?" Thunderous applause filled the space and she laughed.
"Well good. As some of you know, we normally have a lot of rules here when a show is going on, but because you guys worked so hard to make this place what it is, I'm giving you a night off. The only rules I have tonight are no moshing, and keep the food off the dance floor. You do not want to be the one to clean the floors. So," she said over the excited shuffling of the crowd before her, "without further ado, the band that will play the Skate Jam; Red City!"
Chants and cheering broke out as M descended the stairs stage left, and five people ascended stage right. The same pineapple-headed boy slung the bass strap over his shoulder, experimentally plucking a few strings. A husky boy picked up the LTD Viper, and ran his fingers along the fretboard, getting a feel for the strings. A girl with straight indigo hair sat behind the drum set, tapping her sticks on the rim of her floor tom absently. The second guitar was retrieved by a muscular boy in a Woodstock '99 shirt, his brown hair in a shave under.
Finally, the chanteuse walked upon the stage, and for a moment, Gaara forgot how to breathe. There, bathed in the blue spotlight before him, was one Sakura Haruno.
************
Aaaaaaand there it is. Kinda boring, but it's a lead up to the next one, which is almost done. Feel free to message me with questions, suggestions, whatnot...