Once again, I have deleted a certain portion of this chapter. Sakura Haruno is NOT going to be Marriotte Rose. She is just a simple past-time painter. No famous painter. Just to clear that up…
In this school day I will completely ignore the fact that she has Health and History next. I find them unimportant to this part of the story, so fuck 'em. To Art we go!
I am actually very proud of my work on Gaara's POV in this chapter. It was a lot easier/more fun to write than I ever thought it would be!
Warning: In this chapter Gaara imagines Sakura bleeding and dying…and, well…we all know how he gets when that happens. Ahaha…ha.
Hope you enjoy!
Sakura's POV
"Art is a very important aspect in each and every person's life. Pablo Picasso with his Guernica, First Communion, The Absinthe Drinker; Vincent Van Gogh with Sunflowers, Starry Night and the Potato Eaters; Leonardo da Vinci with Mona Lisa, The Last Supper, and Madonna Litta, each and everyone of them changing the way we view art today." our teacher, Ebisu, starts.
He's standing at the front of the classroom, one of those ridiculously long pointer thingies whapping against the board next to each of the paintings he's referring to. Though they're only prints, each one has been encased in an expensive looking frame, as if the fake prints were actually the real paintings themselves. These over-dramatized pictures were scattered throughout the room running along the collections of white boards and tack boards.
I sigh is disappointment.
Art class is never fun.
Sure, there are some really awe-worthy paintings every now and then, but those are usually gothic paintings depicting death and destruction, demons, and images of hell. Other than that they all give me the feeling that anyone could have done it with enough time. Yes, they are done by famous painters that have lived hundreds of years ago, but most of those are just vague images caused by thick layers of splotched paint, never really making things look real enough to be called an imitation.
Ebisu seems to be in a trance, continuing on with his lecture even though no one is listening. "Why without art we would never have learned to speak! Cavemen used art to communicate their thoughts, beliefs, desires…"
"You mean if I drew my desire to eat a cheeseburger on a wall someone would run to McDonalds for me?" an extremely familiar gruff voice asks the teacher, his voice hinting at both sarcasm and seriousness.
My eyes wander to the speaker, only to roll the moment I found him sitting in his chair, a smug smile plastered on his face.
Yup, that's definitely something Kiba would pull.
I now pronounce him the King of Saying Useless Things to Piss off the Teachers.
Congratulations.
Ebisu adjusts his beady little black sunglasses, turning back to the board to write today's assignment down as if Kiba hadn't said anything at all.
What a creeper.
He's an old man, yet he wears a complete outfit of black, including a black bandanna to cover his (most likely) bald head, with that pair of hideous black sunglasses.
He's like some gothic creepy emo wannabe from the hippie days.
Said Gothic Creepy Emo Wannabe from the Hippie Days walks away from the whiteboard, staring at us as we try to absorb the near illegible words he's written.
Paint a portrait of your partner. Assignment will be worked on throughout the week.
Oh God!
I look to my left where Gaara is stationed at the easel not even ten feet away from my own.
His frozen jade eyes are glaring back at mine, his chin lowering defensively, as if he's ready to pounce on me, a deep growl emitting from his throat.
I sink in my chair.
Of course, I had to be forced to paint a portrait of him! He hates people looking at him and I'm going to have to do it all week!
I steal another glance at him.
He's looking down at his clenched hands now, as if trying to hold back the urge to strangle me. Again, that impenetrable wall of aura is surrounding him, suddenly masking his emotions until he becomes an unmoving statue.
Great. How the fuck am I supposed to paint that?
"Fuck." I mumble under my breath.
Gaara looks at me slightly, but I can't make out what he's thinking.
"What did you just say Miss Haruno?"
I freeze.
Ever-so-slowly I pivot myself until I look behind me.
Ebisu- my scary acting/looking teacher…
"God! Don't do that! You creep me out even more when you sneak up behind me!" I say.
He's slightly taken back by my comment and is adjusting his sunglasses furiously in order to hide the fact that he is, indeed, a creeper. "That's not the point, Miss Haruno. Did you swear just now? Don't you lie to me, I heard you."
I lift my hands to my head to start rubbing my temples, trying to ease the slight headache splitting my brain.
"No, Mr. Ebisu, I did not just swear." I growl.
Do schools give students pain medication for headaches?
I hope so because-
"You're lying! I heard you say the F-word! Detention!"
I stop.
Detention.
If I get detention…that could harm my standings…I won't be able to beat the Uchiha's…
You have to get out of this.
Do what you do best.
Lie.
Resting my hands down on the table gently, I turn back to Ebisu, complete innocence on my face.
"You're going to give me detention when I haven't done anything wrong?"
"You know what you said, and you need to feel the consequences of it!"
"Luck."
"What?"
I watch as my teacher's face contorts into one of confusion, not really understanding my random word.
That's good.
"You're going to give me detention for saying luck? Isn't that a bit Harsh Mr. Ebisu?"
"You're making that up!"
I make my gaze go cold.
"No I am not. I did not swear, I merely said luck. As in Good Luck." he eyes me suspiciously. I dodge this suspicion by directing my hand toward my blood haired partner. "I'm going to need luck in order to capture his true essence, when he so clearly hates people doing that. You know, sir, making false accusations isn't any good. The woman who calls herself my mother wouldn't be very happy about it."
"Your mother? And just who would she be?" he says nervously, his fingers fidgeting frantically.
I smile another childishly innocent smile, tilting my head to the side to add to the effect.
"Mai Haruno."
For a moment I think he's having a heart attack, for he's clutching his chest and his mouth is agape.
"M-M-Mai H-Haruno is your m-mother? She's your mother!?"
I allow my eyes to widen in pretend shock. "You know her?" I ask, letting the surprise of it fill my voice.
"Y-Yes! Of course I know her!" he stutters.
I grin inwardly.
Of course you know her.
An art fanatic like you would know of the top art traders and sellers in the world. You would also know the influence Mai would have on the art society and those who follow it.
"I am so sorry for the misunderstanding, Miss Haruno. It is completely my fault. Please, do not hold it against me. I am merely trying to be the watchful teacher that parents and universities respect."
Suck up.
Though I highly dislike this man I send him another understanding smile and a slight nod, turning back to my desk to prove the discussion is over. He sighs in relief, clearing his throat now that the pressure of my unsaid threat is gone.
"W-Well then class," he starts, back to teacher mode. The class- which had become incredibly quite at our conversation- tears their gazes away from me and redirects them to the teacher, whom I have wrapped around my finger. "I'll be handing out your paint. Please keep the paint on the paper plates. I don't want to see any of it on the floor. Now, using easels is new to most of you, so please know that the canvases located on each of your stands are to stay in that position. You have been organized next to your partners in a way that will make it easy to look at them to base your paintings on them." He stops for a moment, before deciding to add one last thing. "Oh, yes, stick figure paintings will be considered an F…minus."
A couple groans erupt at the last comment, as well as some sighs of hopelessness.
This is going to be a long week.
Poses.
What should I paint him doing?
True, that most people will just be painting them as they are- sitting across from their partners painting at an easel- but that just sounds so…unoriginal.
I let another sigh escape my lips. One of many I have released in such a short period of time.
I rest my elbows on the edge of the easel holding the paintbrushes, allowing my head to fall against my arms.
This is hopeless.
I'm never going to figure this out!
Knowing that just sitting here isn't going to help me figure anything out, I sit myself up so quickly that my hair falls into my face.
Oh how I hate this class.
I glare at the pink strands interfering with my vision, warning it- once again- that there is such an invention called scissors.
They ignore my warning.
Infuriated, yet exhausted from always fighting with my stupid hair, I run my hand through it, smoothing it back and combing it away from my face.
I stop the movement.
Gaara.
One hand running through his hair…but not like this.
I lean forward, staring at the blank canvas.
There, starting at the bottom I can see the beginning of the joint in his elbow, the pale creamy color running up toward where his face would be, his arm obscuring half his face and making part of it hide in shadow. There is no need to make everything detailed…that's not what I want.
His eyes.
His eyes should be where everyone's gazes will go.
I take a quick breath, allowing my lungs to refill again since I had my sudden epiphany.
If I can take that pose, enlarge it, and copy it onto this canvas I can fully allow myself a want to do this painting.
It'll work.
But…I'll need an example…
Taking a deep breath I spin in my chair, sending my determined gaze to my partner, who hasn't started painting either.
"Gaara."
He tenses, letting his face snap toward me to send me a chill so strong that my body goes cold and I can't help but shiver.
I regather myself. "Go like this…" I order, running my hand through my bangs, then clutching them slightlyl halfway down my part. My other hand is supporting my elbow, steadying it as well as adding to the look.
Gaara leans forward, resting his elbows on his black jeans, allowing his arms to dangle off of his chair and into the space between his legs.
"No."
I knew he's say that.
How do I get him to position himself like that… I'll need to threaten… No, threats won't work on someone like him…but bribery might!
My face twitches as a distasteful expression forms a mask on my true intentions.
"Look, I don't want to do this anymore than you do, and I know you don't want me to be staring at you all week. All you have to do is go into that position once, allow me to take one good look at you, and I won't have to keep stealing glances at you all week."
His eyes shine with realization, making his eyes seem alive and bright for once, but as soon as it appears it fades away, returning to the dull dead frozen pupils I know him for.
Well? Is he going to except or not?
An aura wall stronger than he's ever shown before barricades himself from me, he himself turning away from me and giving me the cold shoulder.
Shit.
I knew he wasn't going to accept the deal.
Hold on…
All walls are just made of rock... and what's one thing that can destroy rock with ease?
A cunning grin makes its way across my mouth.
…of course.
There is always my secret weapon.
"Gaara." I call out again.
He doesn't move, but I can see his pupils gliding over to the corners to see me.
Even though you may be made of stone, oh great stoic Gaara, no stone can defeat the power of my jackhammer!
Let's see how you like this!
Ever so slightly I let my lip jut forward, my head tilting to the side as though I were looking at things from a different, innocent, angle. I lean forward so that I'm sitting like him, except that I'm crossing my arms over my stomach, letting them rest on my lap- folded in a very lady-like manner, making my hands seem brighter, as well as softer, than they did before.
My eyes are pleading, but not too much.
Each move has been so precisely calculated so that I will be doing the puppy pout…but he won't be realizing that I am!
Gaara seems unmotivated.
Come one…just look at me a bit longer…just a bit more.
There!
Something just flickered across his eyes again, though this was so fast that I couldn't even tell what emotion it was.
"If I do this, you won't look at me in this class for the next week, right?" he clarifies, his monotonous deep voice not betraying any emotion.
I nod once.
"We have an agreement then."
With that he lifts his pale hand toward his face, placing his other hand below it to rest his elbow on. Ever so slowly he allows his hand to run through his bloody hair, making the strands spread like the Red Sea.
I try to keep from blushing.
When he does that…he looks kind of…hot.
No.
Bad, bad Sakura.
Though he may be hot he is a madman, and said madman wants to rip out your heart and…most likely…eat it.
I resist the urge to grimace so instead I look at him intently.
The arm in shading his face, just like I had hoped it would…but it still seems…off. It's not that he's not the right type of person to get the feel I want…maybe he just needs to adjust a bit. There's no way he would be able to tell when he's at the right pose though…
I stand up, walking over to him to get a closer look.
His eyes follow me, yet he doesn't move his body.
He must really not want me to look at him.
For some reason I find that thought quite irritating.
Red hair is perfect for the image in my head and his is so much like blood that it's almost scary. Then again, if it was any other way I might not have had such a brilliant idea to base his pose off of.
How will I fix things though? It has to be exact or I won't get the affect I want.
I feel my fingers cupping my chin, an old habit I'd accumulated after years of painting, letting my arm support my elbow. Perhaps this is the reason I thought of him doing that pose?
Walking around him, I view him from one side and then another. He doesn't seem to mind that I'm observing him. In order to get the true feel I have to get him from all angles.
His eyes will be the most difficult. In real life they're ominous, threatening, yet they give you the feeling that you want to drown in them. I bring my eyes to his, soaking up every aspect about them- the way they shine, the way the steal some of the light and never letting it go, they way they make him look so alone, so sad, yet wise and intelligent, as though the whole world has been placed on his shoulders and he just bears the pain without screaming out. And those rings... Being both incredibly dark, yet they appear to be so natural, so complementing with his complexion that he must have had his eyeliner custom made. That's when I realize it. Those deep dark rings that surround his eyes aren't eyeliner. They're…
My eyes widen slightly.
The rings around his eyes are sleep rings.
Is he… an insomniac?
I manage to tear my eyes away from his again, now wanting to observe his eyebrows. At first, I think that they're a different color form his hair, leaving me to think he dyed it, but that thought is soon shattered. His eyebrows are as red as his hair, but they're so fine and thin that they look a lot like the color of his skin, making them seem nonexistent if you're not paying attention.
I crouch down into a squatting position, making my eyes level with his chin.
His skin is incredibly smooth. There isn't any sign of oils or pimples of acne at all, almost as if he were created from a painting itself. His aura is cold and bitter, which means I should use more blue than I do green.
"I need to adjust you a bit…" I warn.
Not waiting for an answer I gently grab hold of his chin, the coldness of it surprising me a little, tilting it downward at a greater angle, and then to the side, not even a centimeter, but I can still see the differences.
His eyes glare down at me, but he's not shifting so he must be able to handle this amount of contact, so I continue.
I stand up; yet lean at an angle so that I can keep a good eye to eye level with him.
I can do this!
Gaara's POV
I watch her.
Stalk her.
One wrong move and she's dead.
Her hand comes toward my face and I want to flinch away, but I can't do that. If I do she'll have to start over, and that means more skin to skin contact, which I don't want. She grabs my wrist, using it to make my hand run through my hair even more.
Her skin is incredibly warm, and each of her touches leaves my mine with a burning feeling.
She brings her hand toward my arm now, placing it on the inside of my arm and pushing against it slightly, making it move mere millimeters from where it was.
Somewhere in the back of my mind is the vague urge to just slam her face into the sharp corner of my easel and be done with it, but that feeling is overpowered by something else… something stronger.
She continues shifting me in slight ways: A shift of the knee here, a shift of the arm there. It's all rather annoying if you ask me, I mean, what difference does it make if she changes it just a little bit?
Whatever.
Let her have her OCD moment. I'll be sure to pay her back for this soon enough, and that payback is promised to bring pain and blood.
I inwardly smile.
I wonder what her face would look like contorting into one of pain.
I can almost imagine it.
Her mouth would open slightly, soft moans escaping her lips as the pain slowly comes. It would be little at first, irritating and annoying; like little needles poking her. Then it would start to increase. Pressure would start to build inside her organs, causing them to constrict and tense, making her body spasm and her lungs burst into beautiful screams. She would roll on the ground, tossing and turning, trying to make the pain stop by force, but nothing would work.
I'm really getting into my fantasy now, imagining her pink hair swaying around her in waves as she collapses onto the floor, obscuring her sweating face and sticking to her skin in the heat. Her skirt rising up, showing her lustful bleeding legs; the blood rolling down them like priceless pearls… Then her eyes…
Yes.
Those beautiful emerald eyes- the sacred gems that men hunt until they die... They would be shining, reflecting the arousing red that covers and smears her naked skin. The metallic smell of it would fill her sense, driving her mad. Soon the shining would be replaced by fear. Fear of death. She would know it's coming, and be terrified. Watering, her stunning eyes would overflow with salty tears, painting her face in such a beautiful look that the gods would elongate her suffering just to see it for a longer time.
Her mouth would part even further, her soft luscious lips releasing even more screams, begs of mercy, bribes to live, threats if Death refuses her desperate offers, and when those fail she will cease to scream. That sound that no one in the world can imitate will be gone, and she will choose to live the rest of her death in silence, letting pants of hot breath replace the screams and moans.
And then…
"I'm all done, you can relax now."
Wha-
I awaken from my fantasy of her, suddenly finding myself staring up at her, my arms tiredly dropping down to rest on my leg.
"Sorry if it was so traumatizing, but as I promised, I won't look at you again in this class for the whole week, so rest easy okay?"
She spins around, walking away to return to her easel.
I watch her.
Her long hair dangles down past her waste, swaying back and forth with each step, her hips leading its movement.
Blood.
Pink.
Dying.
Sakura.
Screams.
Emralds.
Red.
Bleeding flesh.
Skin.
Moans.
I get the vague feeling that my pants are tightening, but that doesn't matter. Nothing matters, all that matters is the god-like power of her blood!
My breathing comes out in ragged pants and heavy breaths, the images filling my mind once more, seducing me into madness.
My breathing starts getting quicker and quicker, more painful and exciting as my lungs start to scream at me to breathe more slowly. Soft sounds of my possessed laughter start to fill the air around me; small snickers of proof of my deranged madness.
I bring my arms around me, hugging myself, holding myself, trying to encase this feeling, never wanting to let it go.
This feeling with such intensity that it makes me tremble in excitement…
This feeling that is more pleasurable than sex…
This feeling that makes me feel like I'm alive…
I want it!
So? What did you think?
Please tell me your thoughts on this chapter, cuz this is the chapter I want them the most on. I think I got Gaara down to a tee…I think…
Hoped you liked it!