A/N: New chapter.
NOTE: In case you get confused in the first section, I'm going to clarify it beforehand. Present Gaara is having a flashback to the day before Flashback Gaara then has a flashback to the day of his and Neji's fight, semi-explaining his side of the story, the aftermath, and why he didn't show up to school the next day. IT'S SOME MEMORY INCEPTION SHIT, PEOPLE.
Anyway, read on!
Norway
With one inhale of the browning leaves around him, Gaara felt at peace with himself. He always enjoyed autumn, getting to watch green leaves go through their colors. A dark orange to a dull yellow to a vibrant red that will fade into a grim brown before withering and falling to the ground. A beautiful process before winter comes and mutes nature's colors. Gaara had nothing against winter though. It had its own unique beauty with glistening snow and plentiful icicle structures hanging off of porch ledges and roof gutters. It also benefited his reason for his sweater use, but the lack of color made the four months monotonous. White after white after white was not a sight he wished to see.
Gaara reclined his head against the bark of the tree, taking in the skyline of tree tops. Between the branches, he spotted the smallest section of green, open land. It was a lovely sight from his height. It's a shame that these trees will become naked. He glanced downward at the ground, viewing the scattered assembly of leaves on the ground. Most of their clothing are on the ground anyway. They must be cold. He considered this viewing the last hurrah of the autumn trees since the littered floor of the Majestic Forest spoke volumes of its longevity.
Ah, yes, the magical land of bears and whimsy. He had been visiting it more often than he expected, but for what reason? He felt the need to be here, relaxing with metal structures and watching the branches dance, just waiting. A meaningless, unexplainable waiting game. For the past two or so weeks, the redhead's Converse guided him through the woods without any indication that they were traveling to the Majestic Forest. All he knew was that his destination would be right before him whenever the limbs decided to stop. He'd take a seat inside a bear or climb up the tree ladder and relax on the edge of the platform and wait. For the length he aimlessly waited, he'd contemplate the reasons why. Why was he here on days he didn't feel like playing? Why was he here on days he should have been doing homework? Why was he here during the chilly weather he despised? And yet no answer would conclude from the thoughts he had fumbling through his head. How he wished that the human brain could stop using intricate maneuvers to outwit himself from the truth.
The closest he got to an answer was yesterday when he headed off to lunch. He slipped through the cafeteria, past Iruka, crossed the field, and walked along the pathway to the lunch tables. He finished off his pudding, soft cookie, and milk and needed something else to kill time until the bell rang. The Majestic Forest was the easy solution. As he began to walk the path, he looked down, checking on the seeds he'd planted and soon discovered a red spoon lodged in his eye.
A loud "FUCK!" echoed through the forest as Gaara winced from the sting and whined from the eye throbbing.
He began to wonder why there were spoons in the trees to begin with. He remembered. "Neji."
The pain of his eye was forgotten as he remembered the brunet's harsh words: 'You're the furthest thing from normal.' The redhead felt his body freeze up, unable to function correctly. It was like a computer with a magnet placed on the CPU. It created a discombobulated assortment inside of him, emotional programs all trying to run at the same time. Shame, anger, sorrow, loneliness... And then when he put his hand on Gaara after? Like fuck he had a right to do that! He said exactly what he wanted to say. Neji wanted to hurt him!
Neji brought up not knowing anything about Gaara and asking how he's supposed to treat him. Gaara told him the same way he did before, like normal. And then that comment. That one quiet comment that rung through the redhead's mind and ceased all tasks. He was speechless, thoughtless. When the brunet reached out for him, it was the reboot button. Gaara snapped momentarily, but returned to normal and left as fast as he could.
Why? He asked himself. Why would he say that? Gaara was well aware he wasn't average. He wanted nothing to do with his 'peers,' so normalcy was not his social goal, but thinking about that brought up another 'why.' Why do I care what he thinks?...
He felt a twinge in his heart as he replayed the comment in his head again. It stung worse and worse every time it cycled. Gaara saw that flicker of anger through Neji's eyes, supported by the vein in his forehead as he yelled. However amusing Neji's complaints were, his insult felt worse than almost anything Gaara experienced. It wasn't a quick, witty jab, it was a brutal stab that still left him bleeding like an hemophiliac.
The redhead crouched down next to the tree and hugged his knees, briefly remembering after he left Neji behind in the hallway. He went straight to his father's private entertainment room and proceeded to open the smallest bottle of the strongest alcoholic beverage that was provided at the fully stocked bar. He was aware that alcohol could not solve his problems. He heard enough alcoholic tales from health class, but he just didn't want to hear the words in his head. 'You're the furthest thing from normal.' He carefully sipped on the drink, staring at the tacky, fake fire place on the wall. Although it felt like he was swallowing liquid fire, it was doing its job.
Numb, numb, numb. Even the burning aftertaste didn't feel like anything after awhile. And Neji? The thought of him did nothing to his mind or body.
Or at least for fifteen minutes when Gaara met his limit. He couldn't remember it clearly, but he probably began to slouch over, unable to use his body properly thanks to dizzy nerve receptors. He'd never admit it to anyone but himself, but he was a lightweight, the expected result of being of a 'light weight.' Didn't make it less embarrassing though. The last thing he remembered was falling over to the side and something cold pressed against his cheek. He shut his eyes and opened them, realizing it was morning. Judging from the limited eyesight of swollen eyelids, he assumed that he fell asleep crying. Worse than being a lightweight, he was an emotional drunk, the most pathetic drunk there was. He chose to skip school that day since he had a nasty hangover and bloated eyes, but he unfortunately did not feel better that morning anyway. He laid in bed all day, staring at the ceiling, beginning to see Neji's words spelled out in the stars above him, taunting him.
I'm not a freak...
Gaara closed his eyes and sighed, tightening his knee hold. He hated feeling exposed. He hated feeling sensitive and vulnerable and everything. He cut off ties with Neji, not wanting his source of distress by his side, yet with solitude within his grasp again, it felt strange. He felt more alone than he did before...
Gaara's mind returned to present day, feeling the same ache in his chest like yesterday and closed his eyes once more.
Four days without the Moon and the Sea is in chaos, thrashing and crashing at the wrong times. The Sea sent him away thinking he didn't need someone to help him. Conundrum: How does the Sea get the Moon back when he has moved on?...
x - o
The bus rolled up to Gaara's house, blocking the driveway where the S.U.V. was just pulling up to leave. As Gaara strolled down the bus aisle, multiple obnoxious honks were heard in the background from the vehicle. The redhead could only sigh, thinking, Kankuro, you're such a moron.
He stepped onto the sidewalk and made his way towards the steadily increasing annoyance that was Kankuro. Through the window, he could see the cat-hooded boy likely yelling profanities that were cut off by the glass panes. For a legal adult, he was a child when it came to miniscule moments like these. He questioned his relation to the boy, almost to the point that he habitually dismissed their blood relationship to those who asked. He was not up to explaining how someone like himself could possess the same genes as the 'man' wearing cat ears and theatre makeup while repeating their second year of senior year. It was too embarrassing to acknowledge as a reality.
The bus was several feet down the block when the redhead yanked open the passenger door and yelled, "SHUT UP!" The loud shout caused one last blast to the horn from Kankuro's fearful slap on the wheel. The cat hood slipped off and revealed the natural orange hair that might as well have turned white from fear.
"Dude!" Was the first eloquent thing that left Kankuro's mouth once his mind and body calmed. Gaara rolled his eyes, not in the mood to get a scolding. His hand reached for the door frame, ready to shut the door and go inside the house, but he was cut off with, "Wanna go out with me?!"
Go out? With you? You mean you want me to willingly spend the time I could us looking at my sky ceiling or reading to do whatever inane activity you have planned? He balled up his thoughts into a concise "No," and tried to shut the car door again.
Another cry rang out before the door shut. "Temari's boyfriend is over!"
The redhead stopped, slowly opening the door just enough to see Kankuro's eyes. Before he made any decision to get into the car, he needed to know if Kankuro was lying. They appeared a bit nervous, flickering back towards the house, not able to keep full focus on Gaara's. It was like he was trying to convince himself that his words were the truth. This caused great doubt to Gaara, but Kankuro rarely lied, especially about Temari's boyfriend. He was often the first to remind him of the boy's arrival. The redhead wasn't sure what game Kankuro was playing at, but he chose to play safe than awkwardly sitting in the same room as Temari tongue-fighting the significant other.
A grin filled up Kankuro's face as Gaara opened the door wide and hopped inside. It was the very same grin that worried the younger boy about whatever strange plans he had in store. Kankuro pulled up his hood, saying, "I'm glad you want to come with. You never want to hang out with me, man."
I wonder why, Gaara thought, pulling on his seat belt. Oh, that's right. It usually ends with me hurt or making a fool out of myself. Why'd I get into this car?
"You're definitely going to have fun," his brother tried to convince him.
He snorted and shook his head. His eyes fell outside of the car, wondering when he was going to pull out of the driveway. Doubt it.
"I have to go pick up a friend though, alright?"
Gaara's head snapped towards Kankuro in shock. Not all right! He mentally yelled at the carrot top. I hate your friends. They're fucking weirdos with no understanding of how much I despise their existence. Ino shoves her chest in my face because she's a freak sadist. Lee doesn't understand personal space nor proper speaking volume. Android Sai has the social skills and emotional range of a spool of twine. Makes me look as deep as a goddamn soul singer. And don't even get me started on Cyclops Debbie. He's the worst of them and even fucking worse than that is that you make me have to see him more than any of your other friends. What do you see in him as a friend other than he can do your goddamn makeup?
Kankuro was happily pulling out of the drive way, unaware of both Gaara's mental rant and the look on his face that screamed 'stop the car.' Although inner Gaara urged him to speak up against the travesty that could be resolved, he couldn't bring himself to speak up. The very little respect he held for his older brother prevented him from doing so. Whether it was from guilt or genuine care for his older sibling's happiness, all he could do was cross his arms, frown, and pray to endure the day with any strange marks or punching anyone.
The S.U.V. began its trip down the road, passing the houses he'd already seen on the bus ride to his house, including the small white house he'd sat outside of before, waiting for Nej- "Who?" He asked his brother.
"Uh, someone you don't like," His older brother admitted, beginning to turn onto a road called 'Wicker Road.' By the mere sight of the street sign, Gaara knew immediately who they were picking up. He reached down for the emergency brake like the last car ride he took with Kankuro, only to have his hand smacked away. "Oh, hell no, bro! We have cars behind us and I ain't getting into a three car domino crash," his brother informed him. Gaara glanced into the side mirror. He was telling the truth. There were two little cars behind them, practically riding their bumper.
You're lucky. The next stop sign, I'm out of here.
Unfortunately, there were no stop signs. The S.U.V. keep moving on while Gaara made plans to skin Kankuro into a cat-themed kigurumi(1) to wear around the house for warmth. He sunk into the seat, aware that he probably wouldn't have a chance to run out since his friend would be waiting on the sidewalk. Why'd I get into this car? He asked himself once more.
He heard the little click of a turn signal and felt the car slowly park to the side. His crossed arms tightened as he eyed the small red townhouse. It was relatively normal with white shutters and a rocking chair on the porch, but had an amazingly handmade birdbath in the tiny patch of land deemed a 'front lawn.' The only reason why he knew it was handmade was because Kankuro's friend was an artist. Albeit, a wonderful artist, but awful personality, he reminded himself.
Gaara felt a breeze on the back of his neck and heard a friendly screech from beside him. "DEIDARAAAAA!" and two follow up honks. Gaara groaned and pressed his face into the window, contemplating if he smashed his face hard enough against it, would he die or just get severely wounded.
"KANKUROOO!" Was the returned greeting that furthered Gaara's suicide decision.
The door he leaned on opened, leading the redhead to a momentary fall. He caught his foot on the step bar though and steadied himself back into the seat, eyes following the dark jeans and purple shirt in front of him. He reached the face of his most despised foe, the blond artist, Deidara. The blond's one seeable eye returned a glare down at the redhead, contrasting with the grim smile he held on his face. By now, insults would have been exchanged, but Deidara didn't speak up. He stood with the door wide open, looking down upon Gaara like he was waiting for something. The smaller boy crossed his arms and hissed, "What?"
"I'm sitting in the front," Deidara told him. He nudged his head towards the back seats, mumbling, "So move it, Ginger."
Before Gaara could even retort to the insult, Kankuro tapped Gaara's shoulder with a sheepish smile and asked, "Is that alright? You can sit in the front when we drop him off."
Is it alright if I murder Deidara? You can drive back when we dump his body in the woods.
Gaara didn't get a chance to answer the question because his seat belt was undone by Kankuro anyway. Once beltless, Deidara yanked the small boy out of the seat by the forearm. Like a rag doll, he almost flailed to the ground, but Deidara surprisingly caught him by the waist and pulled him to his feet. Gaara elbowed the hands off of him, although he thought about thanking him for the save. He rejected it though as the blond shoved Gaara towards the back seat doors. The taller boy smirked and climbed into the passenger seat. He watched the long legs swing inside and the door shut, leaving Gaara outside the car, pissed off and ready to leave.
He wiped his mouth like he was getting rid of Deidara's bad taste and spat right where the blond stood before. He loathed Deidara and now he provided yet another reason to dislike him. He held a great deal against the cyclops, but by getting in the back seat, he would be indulging himself to another five to fifteen reasons to chalk up. It wasn't worth his time. Deidara wasn't worth his time. Gaara turned on his heels and began to walk way with absolutely no place to go. Home was off limits, Majestic Forest was less relaxing now. I guess I'll just look for a new place. Adventures are infinitely better than sharing air molecules with Debbie.
Not even five seconds after starting to walk, he heard the sound of the car door opening and shutting and the yell, "Gaara!" He rolled his eyes, thinking, Just leave me alone. There's nothing you can do to change my mind. Heavy footsteps came closer to him until a meaty hand on his shoulder stopped him completely. "What are you doing?" Kankuro asked.
Gaara didn't turn back to answer. "Leaving."
"But why?" He asked. The voice grew softer as he said, "I thought you wanted to hang out with me."
The slightest ache bumped at Gaara's chest, but he refused to give in. "You, not him."
"But I want to hang with both of you. Can't you just put whatever you two have against each other aside?"
What?! Gaara turned around, ready to chew Kankuro out for such an idiotic proposal, but he was halted by the look on his older brother's face. He wasn't mad like Gaara assume he'd look. Instead, he wore worried eyes, sagging eyebrows, and lips parted enough to look like he was silently asking 'why' again. He looked straight into Gaara's cold blue eyes with such a nauseating elder sibling stare of concern. Gaara wanted to scowl. He wanted to put on an angry face or his indecipherable Noh mask(2), yet the guilt. The guilt he was admitting to himself was stopping him from the actions he wished to do. That little respect he held for Kankuro was fucking with him.
Shit.
x - o
"So, how you doing, Ginger?"
Gaara's barren eyebrow twitched at the question. He would not give in. He would not answer that ridiculous question. He would not-
"Still haven't given up the makeup, Raccoon?"
He would not dare say anything. He would sooner dye his hair pink than give into the blond's trap.
"What? Not saying anything, Orphan Annie?"
He wasn't going to open his mouth. He would let his fist tightened until it resembled a perfect scoop of vanilla ice cream, but he was not go-
"Deidara, shut up," Kankuro cut in, returning to their table at McDonald's with their food. "You bugged him enough. I practically had to beg Gaara to come back. Don't drive him away."
Thank you, Kankuro.
"And Gaara, put down the plastic fork. No stabbing."
Oh, he noticed.
Deidara smirked at the redhead. Gaara imagined burning the blond to a blackened crisp. Kankuro looked between the two boys and sighed. Gaara knew exactly what he was thinking. This was going to be a long day.
x - o
After the incredibly tense fast food meal, the three climbed back into the S.U.V. (with Deidara claiming the passenger seat as his once more) and drove off to their first stop, the dollar store where Deidara worked. According to Kankuro's incredibly vague plan about their day, they would go by the dollar store, the costume shop, and the fireworks shop before heading over to the abandoned baseball field in the South part of the town.
Gaara didn't voice his opinion, but he expected something catastrophic to come out of this if his activities involved fireworks. He didn't trust the boy with anything that involved the word 'fire.' It brought on traumatic flashbacks of the 'Fire Ant Library Infestation of May,' back when Kankuro was in sixth grade. Fireworks would not lead to any good outcome. He could just tell already and he sure as hell was not going to be known as a co-conspirator of the 'Firework Brush Fire of October.' He would just have to keep a close eye on his brother's actions. Numerous packages of matches, a bag of red plastic cups, and six pinwheels later, the car was on its way to the costume shop, so far, the only highlight of the day for Gaara.
He hadn't been to the costume shop since last Halloween when Kankuro wanted to get a creepy costume as a mutilated animal. He remembered running off by himself in the store despite Temari's orders to stay close. It was something she wanted to do as a family bonding activity since his father was actually free. Instead, the redhead ducked through the tall shelves of plastic wrapped costumes of princesses and grim reapers, trying to find the real costumes. He wasn't going to bother with cheaply made wear. He was spoiled by his school's drama club wear that was hand made by the workers of the same store he stood in. After shuffling through a few more aisles, he found an open door with a 'welcome' sign tucked in the corner. If the sign welcomed him, he was going to make himself at home. Gaara stepped in and found the motherload, the same he wanted to go back to today.
The smell of teenage B.O. from around his neck reminded him that he was with two guys that weren't exactly interested in the makings or authenticity of period clothing. Rather, they preferred the scavenger hunt for the crudest and gore-like costumes they could. Kankuro continued to crush Gaara's neck with his arm as he led him into the purple building with Deidara chuckling at the obvious displeasure the redhead wore.
His shoes sunk into the plush black carpet, nostrils hit with the smell of unnatural fibers and plastic. It smells like mediocrity, he sneered to himself. Gaara shook his head out of Kankuro's hold and took a quick look around. Dark purple walls, wooden shelves with costumes hanging off or in them, random Halloween decorations dangling off the walls, purple Christmas lights hung overhead like a starry sky all across the store. Same as last time.
Thick fingers slipped into his hair and ruffled it with Kankuro saying, "'Kay, we're gonna go find some shit. Go look around. Fetch you when we're done, alright?" Gaara smacked the hand off, despising his brother's need to touch him, joking manner or not. Kankuro continued to grin down at the peeved redhead before frolicking toward one of the aisles. Of course, Deidara made sure to give Gaara one last smile that made the younger boy run up and punch a hole in his teeth.
Finally, he sighed in relief. I'm alone. He slowly spun in a circle with his eyes upward, looking at the skulls and pumpkin paper ornaments tacked to the ceiling. Alone with something I actually like.
"Is there anything in particular you're looking for?" A quiet voice asked, taking Gaara by surprise. He whirled around in the direction of the voice and saw a dark-haired woman behind the counter by the door way. He guessed amidst his looking around, he missed the black counter blending into the shadowy entrance. The woman took notice of Gaara's silence and repeated her question, however, Gaara had begun to move onto finding the door from the last Halloween. Her assistance wasn't necessary. He walked through an aisle of skeletal themed items, able to hear the laughter of the two older boys in the aisle beside him. He rolled his eyes at their ruckus and turned right at the end of the aisle. Straight ahead was the open door from his past. The wooden 'welcome' sign was still propped in place, urging Gaara to step in. He walked under the strands of purple lights up until he reached the door way.
From the place he stood from entering, he could see slivers of raw materials stretched across a big white table in the middle of the room. Brown leather scraps with embellishment and lace ribbon that sat in spirals on the floor. Even with his imagination, he couldn't come up with what sort of project the costume maker was creating this time around. They're probably seperate costumes. Lace doesn't go with heavy leather, especially with gaudy studs and grommet.
He carefully went inside and fought the urge to smile (unknown of another person's presence in the room) upon seeing the racks of uncovered garments hanging down in their full state. From the left of the room, there were kimonos with lavish floral and landscape designs floating down the dress and sleeves and late 1800s period dresses, decorated in simple calico prints of mauves, reds, blues, and whites, long enough to cover the ankles. As his eyes roamed over to the right, he saw Civil War era uniforms of pale blues and navy coats with gold painted brass buttons, while it's opposing uniform was the Southerner's gray coat and pants and stiff white cotton undershirts. Further through the room came all the other sets of clothing. French Baroque, English Victorian, Qing Dynasty era, and others that Gaara couldn't even recognize. The detailing for the garments were astonishing. Whether or not they were to be worn by someone in the town's theatre community or were simply made for a historical costume art event, they weren't just replications, they were thought out, physical interpretations of world history passages.
If he had the privacy, he'd slip into one of these costumes and re-enact any historical moment or scene from a television show he'd seen. He wouldn't even mind squeezing into a saloon girl sort of dress if he could successfully pull off a musical number from the 1953 Calamity Jane movie. Gaara could not do this though. Although the room said 'welcome,' it did not welcome him to play dress up as an Native American warrior, a Soviet Union soldier, or a white-wigged King Louis XIII of France, no matter how tempting it was.
"Beautiful, huh?"
Gaara whipped around to see Deidara standing by him. The blond smirked, but said nothing, looking around the room the same as Gaara. The redhead sighed and agreed, "Yeah, it is."
Deidara stepped further towards the costumes and reached out for the hem of a kimono. He rubbed it between his fingers, saying, "It's hard to believe how much detail one can get into for mere costumes, hm? Embroidery, dyed, hand-painted patterns." He crouched down and ran his finger along the fabric, continuing, "The worst part is that most of these items will either meet their fate in the garbage, unless a fan of costume designs purchases them."
It was peculiar, but for all the moments that Deidara and him went back and forth, when it came to appreciating art, there was a neutral ground between each other. They were free to treat each other as humans until they stepped away from the scene, but until that moment came, Gaara took advantage of the lack of annoyance and joined Deidara by the kimonos. He softly picked up the sleeve of a light blue one with a soft-colored green, blue, and purple peacock motif. "I'd buy them," he admitted. And he would. Someone in this uncultured town had to. Gaara doubted there were any bidders in Konoha City or Kiri or any of the other cities nearby.
Deidara shook his head. "Doubt daddy will be happy with that."
He decided not to reply to the statement and looked up to the next section above the kimonos. Keeping in the Asian category, there were several dresses that he believed were chang'ao(3) from his angle. Gaara definitely have to give credit where credit was due. Most people wouldn't know the difference between kimonos and chang'ao, automatically assuming from the shape in the front that they were the same.
"This guy does good work," the blond commented, standing up and looking where Gaara peered.
"You think it's a guy?" He asked.
Deidara answered, "I don't think it'd be a girl."
"Why not?"
"I'm a bit chauvinistic, but I don't think a lot of women would have the patience to do this many pieces."
"This was done over a lifetime, not a few years."
"Still, I think a guy would be more ambitious than a woman."
"Whatever," Gaara mumbled, avoiding the potential feminist debate that could have occurred. Deidara was a woman-hater and while Gaara was a people-hater, he understood that there was supposed to be an equal playing field for both women and men in the career world. It was frequently touched upon subject at his home when Temari did or said things that would be typical for a man. The ruckus of the back and forth between his family educated him enough, but he wasn't in the mood for it with Deidara. Personal opinion is a hard thing to change.
"Gaara," Deidara called out. Gaara didn't expect the older boy to refer to him by his proper name, but he paid attention to the guy. The blond touched a sleeve of a red kimono and asked, "Remember when we tried to dye my hair?"
"No," Gaara automatically said. He turned back to the kimonos and touched the collar of one. He did remember. He wish he couldn't though.
Deidara continued, running a hand through his blond fringe. "Don't lie, dipshit." Gaara growled, but Deidara kept talkling. "I wanted to look like you, Kankuro, and Sasori, but I couldn't dye my hair permanently. So we went down to the market and bought some red Kool-Aid."
The memory filtered through his mind. The images of a younger Deidara with short hair and an eyepatch tugging at Gaara's hair, saying how left out he felt from the group. The little redhead tried to get Deidara's grubby hands off, but he didn't until Sasori plucked them off. Sasori was fourteen at the time, two years older than both Deidara and Kankuro and at least six years older than Gaara. Sasori led them down to the market and got some Kool-Aid. The afternoon was spent dying his hair, then-
"Then my mom flipped out at me," Deidara's voice slipped into his mind. He realized he drifted for a moment and scolded himself for such a stupid mistake. The blond crossed his arms and grinned at nothing particular, chuckling, "She thought I was bleeding or something, tried to take me to the hospital. She got double-pissed when she found out it was false coloring." He scratched his forearm, smile fading a bit. "I still have the photo we took. You know, the one with all us redheads as a single group?"
Gaara wanted to walk away from Deidara if he was just going to go on about things from the past. They happened and he wanted to move on from it. Too bad for him, he couldn't actually move from his spot. The younger boy's feet felt cemented in place, forced to listen to the rest of Deidara's reminiscing.
"I miss that," he heard the blond admit. Baby blue eyes flickered towards him, words still being spoken. He whispered, "I miss Sasori."
The words tumbled out before he had a chance to shut his mouth. "We all miss someone."
Gaara snapped his head to Deidara, realizing what he just said. The blond's pitiful eyes widened and immediately opened his mouth with something like, "I'm so-"
The redhead looked away sharply and pulled his hands into his sweater sleeves, cutting him off with, "We should go." And Deidara agreed.
x - o
"Took you guys long enough," Kankuro said, tapping the steering wheel. A thumb pointed to the bags in the backseat with Gaara, saying, "I got all of that in ten minutes. What the hell were you guys doing?"
Deidara answered, "Just checking out some of the custom costumes. They're really, really nice."
"Really really?" Kankuro repeated.
"Really really." Deidara propped an arm on the dashboard and asked, "Where next again?"
A bright smile spread along Kankuro's face as the word 'fireworks' rolled off his tongue. Deidara clapped his hands in enthusiasm. Kankuro might have looked back at Gaara to see if he was excited. Gaara wouldn't know. He was too busy counting the lines on his palms to take notice.
x - o
It was like Gaara relapsed back into his childhood. Time was becoming meshed together after his previous memory recall. He knew the car was heading to the fireworks store, but he was sitting in McDonald's with Deidara, listening to his insults, trying his best not to stab him in his good eye. He found himself standing a field with all of Kankuro other friends who started shooting straw papers at each other as they tried to drink their sodas, but he was in the fireworks store still, checking out some sparklers he convinced Kankuro to buy for him. Deidara grabbed Gaara from behind and stuffed him into the cart with the rest of the fireworks. Kankuro and Deidara tried to imitate their childhood, pushing him as fast as they could down an aisle. When they got yelled at, Gaara's head drifted back to the ride to the abandoned baseball field where Kankuro and Deidara sung along to Queen's 'Bohemian Rhapsody.' There was no coherent timeline right now. There was no steadiness. He wanted his ceiling. He wanted his starry ceiling.
"Hey," Deidara mumbled in his ear. When he turned to the blond, they were no longer at the field, but outside the costume shop. Across the street, he saw the familiar body he rejected and another brunet boy beside him walking down the sidewalk. Oh no. A smirk wormed its way onto Deidara's face, as he asked, "Hey, isn't that your friend, Pearly Eyes?" He wanted to say no, but he knew it was Neji. How could you forget a set of eyes like that? When he didn't answer, the blond made a move without him. He cupped his hands around his mouth and yelled, "YO, PEARL!"
Both boys turned and looked in their direction. Deidara frantically waved at them, but the regular-eyed brunet waved back before lowering the hand to his mouth. A smoker. Gaara turned away from the guys and grabbed Deidara's wrist, pulling him towards the S.U.V with the blond going on about how rude he was. Kankuro, you liar.
"Hey," Deidara mumbled in his ear. When he turned to the blond, they were no longer at the costume shop, but at the field, where he was in reality. The blond petted his culturally insensitive feathered headdress and asked with a slight slur, "What's your deal?"
Gaara shrugged. "What deal?"
"You know. You're... weirder than usual. What's up?"
What was up? The night sky. The stars. The moon. The Milky Way. The universe. Or to be specific about himself, his anxiety, his paranoia, his comprehension of the situation. A little far off, his brother and his friends were playing around, shooting Roman candles(4) at each like morons. Gaara had been sitting by the food and drinks, not willing to be a participant in what would be a trip to the E.R. if traumatically hit. Deidara went out of his way to come over and ask how Gaara was doing. Why did he care anyway?
Gaara voiced his thoughts and asked, "Why do you care?"
"It's not that." Well, at least I know you're being honest. "It's just..." The blond looked over his shoulder and back to the redhead, saying, "You've been different since we left the costume place."
He pulled his hands into his sleeves and replied, "No idea what you're talking about."
Deidara stared down at his hands and said, "Yeah, right! You always cover your hands when we talk."
"My hands are just cold," Gaara reasoned.
"Or maybe you're hiding."
"Hiding?" Gaara asked. He rolled his eyes, unconsciously stuffing his hands further into the sleeves. "Hiding from what?"
Deidara didn't believe the ruse Gaara was trying to pull off though. He stepped closer to Gaara and said, "You know what."
He felt a bit of tearing in one of the sleeves, dragging his nail down against the knit surface. What was Deidara playing at? What exactly did he know about Gaara that would make him assume that he was 'hiding' or whatever the fuck the blond assumed about him? Gaara shook his head and begun staring at the multicolored feathers on the blond's head rather than blue eyes piercing through him. The feathers tipped closer in and said, "This 'I don't need anyone' thing is wearing thin, don't you think?"
No. "Face it, you've grown tired of being alone. You're hanging with Pearl Eyes, right?"
"I don't need him," Gaara whispered to the feathers. He winced when he heard the loud pop of fireworks in the distance.
The feathers remained still from the noise and shook their heads in disapproval of Gaara's statement. They asked, "Oh, so is that why you wouldn't say hi to him earlier? Because you don't need him?"
Stop talking already. "You pushed him away, didn't you?" They asked, smugness emanating from the body residing under the tall-standing set of feathers. Stop fucking talking, he ordered them, but they continued on. "You push everyone away." You don't know anything.
Gaara's hands grabbed the headdress and attempted to rip it down the middle, scattering red and orange feathers everywhere. Unable to tear through the leather strap, he threw the mass into Deidara's face, and yelled, "I didn't do anything!"
Gaara started to move, but he wasn't sure where to. Time began to blur once more, finding that his footsteps through the dead grass were not leading him to the sandy baseball field where his brother resided, but back to the S.U.V. after school. Kankuro asked him to go out with him. He said yes before, but maybe... maybe he shouldn't go. Gaara shouldn't go. I shouldn't go. He shut the car door and turned back to the driveway. His feet moved forward, stepping over little pebbles and sticks sitting on the pavement. He heard Kankuro calling after him like earlier. He didn't turn around this time though. He kept going back home, to the forest, he didn't know. Then his feet ran. Ran as fast as they could down the sidewalk, blending into the baseball field's light posts.
"Gaara!" He heard behind him. Footsteps followed him as he ran past the school from the first day of school. He ran past the costume shop they'd gone to earlier and even past the church where he watched a baptism. Flickers of his memory kept seeping into his head from every time and place he could remember until a bright light stopped him in his place.
"GAARA!"
The terrified scream pulled him from the time loop he was caught in and he saw the bright light in front of him. Headlights.
His body met cold ground hard, arm skidding across the gritty surface like sandpaper. The air was knocked out of him from the weight that tackled him. He gasped for a breath, only to himself yanked up by the collar of the sweater and flipped over, facing the sky and an surprisingly angry blond with a frazzled fringe from diving. Gaara's mouth flopped open in its attempt to gain oxygen, but Deidara wasn't waiting until Gaara could breathe. He launched into yelling as soon as their eyes met.
"What the FUCK is wrong with you!?" Deidara pulled at his sweater collar and pushed Gaara back down for emphasis, effectively pushing out the air he just received. Gaara wheezed in pain, enduring the second half of these screams he couldn't believe was leaving the older boy's mouth. "You could have fucking died, okay!?" Died? "You could have been a fucking river of blood flowing down the street!" River?
Deidara yelled, "Don't fucking ignore me, Gaara!" But he did. He couldn't concentrate on those words being tossed his way. His heart, it just kept banging away at his chest, too loud to decipher the slurs above him. Just thud, thud. He couldn't hear him over the jagged breaths he tried to take. His insides were a wreck and his head... he didn't even know where to begin.
Soon enough, Gaara found himself propped up against a wall by the baseball field, bloodied forearm wrapped in bandages. Deidara sat beside him holding an ice pack to his elbow that got banged up on the landing. They didn't talk about much after Deidara scolded him. They hobbled to the closest convenience store for a first aid kit and settled by a nearby church, watching the light show Kankuro and his friends set up. Neither were in the position to return back to the group with their wounds.
"I don't think they even know we're gone," Gaara mumbled, eyeing the green sparks against the dark sky.
Deidara shrugged the best he could. "Kankuro doesn't notice anything."
"What are we going to say?" He asked.
"What do you mean?"
"You know what."
Deidara smirked at the mention of his past words. "Yeah... I know what," he sighed.
They stayed silent during the fireworks, letting the explosions and whistles fill the spaces. Gaara wished he could enjoy it. He wanted to be at the field at a safe, but viewable distance from the fireworks, laying on the lunch table. He couldn't go back though, not without an excuse for the stinging blotch of shredded skin. He'd have to face it eventually, just like he'd have to face those words Deidara said. There were a jumble of thoughts and feelings that rolled around in his head, all relating to his words. Hiding, he said. Gaara was surprised that Deidara spot things out better than his own family, however, he was still missing a lot of facts. A clever boy, but not bright enough to deduce a theory that didn't sound over all general.
"What happened?," pierced through his inner dialogue.
"What ar-?" Oh, right. I said something stupid again. Gaara shook his head and crossed his arm, accidentally gliding the damaged forearm against the other. "Nothing," he replied.
"Bullshit."
Gaara grinded his teeth. Deidara was purposely doing this to piss him off. He turned his head to reply with something snarky and saw a calm Deidara looking back at him. He seemed rather docile with his head against the wall, cringing the slightest when he adjusted the ice pack. The blond closed his eyes and shook his head. "I'm serious, what happened?"
"Nothing," Gaara repeated.
"And I say bullshit," Deidara also repeated. He sighed, "We can spin this merry-go-round of avoidance for as many rounds as you like, but I'm not going to stop until you do."
"Why do you even care?," left his mouth without consent. It was what he was thinking, but Deidara's answer would stir up trouble, Gaara knew that much.
As he mentally reprimanded himself for senseless word vomiting he'd been doing today, the blond looked down at him and asked, "Do I need a reason to?"
Gaara quietly snorted and mumbled, "Never cared before."
Deidara shook his head in disbelief and put his head back against the wall with a heavy sigh. He seemed exasperated with the entire situation. Gaara was too and they'd be out of each others' hairs if he would just drop- "Am I always going to be a bad guy in your eyes?" He suddenly asked.
Bad guy? Deidara carefully moved his arm upward in an attempt to stretch his shoulder and brought it down with a hiss. He didn't look at Gaara as he spoke, watching the fireworks instead. "Do you really think I'm some asshole who goes out of my way to piss you off?" A pink firework burst and sent sparkles left and right in the sky. The pink bounced off of Deidara's pale skin, raising his voice to talk over a sudden round of fireworks. "I don't want to be an asshole, but you-"
"Me?!" He asked. A loud whistle rung through his ear and stuck a pinkie into the ear facing the baseball field. "You're blaming me for you being a jerk!?"
Five other fireworks set off within seconds of each other, lighting up the sky in a disorderly mess of clashing colors. Gaara didn't have the chance to observe it with being preoccupied by Deidara yelling, "You treat me like a jerk without me even doing anything! Like-"
Gaara cut him off, leaning closer to minimize the yelling he had to do over the stupid fireworks. "You've always been a jerk to me!"
"If you're talking about when we were little, you're just being a brat! Every kid is a jerk when they're little, okay?!"
"No! You were always mean to me!"
"Yeah, because I was a kid! You were the youngest in the group!" Deidara yelled back. He looked back at the baseball field and growled as another batch of whistles went off. "What did you expect, we treat you like a princess?"
"Fuck you, I'm talking about now!"
"Now?! I'm only an asshole now because you started it!"
"How did I do that?"
"Because you were an asshole to me-!" Deidara's words drifted off near the end along with the speaking volume. The fireworks stopped after Deidara's 'princess' comment, meaning Gaara and him had just been yelling at each other for the past few seconds. He finished it up quietly, "First."
Gaara painfully crossed his arms. "Was not," was his immature words back.
Deidara frowned and looked off at the field that was covered in smoke. "You know what," he mumbled. He gently rubbed his injured elbow with the ice pack and said, "We're probably never going to get along. You have some fucking warped view of me that I don't even understand, right? It's like you only see me putting gum in little girl's hair and kicking puppies." He ran a hand through his bangs and stomped a foot on the sidewalk, scaring Gaara for a moment. He laid his head against the wall, admitting, "It fucking sucks, okay?!" He took a deep breath and groaned, "That no matter what I do, you'll never see me as an okay guy. We don't need to be best friends for fucking life. A 'hey, whatsup' once in awhile or a 'oh, how are you doing?' would be nice rather than getting chewed out for even looking in your direction, okay?"
Oh, please. You expect me to believe that bullshit leaving your mouth? Gaara thought to himself, glaring at the blond who stared at the field. You just said some awful crap earlier and you're not even acknowledging that you made a common asshole mistake. Saying you're some good guy, as if! If that was the case, you wouldn't have even brought Pea- him, into this, talking about my feelings and my thoughts like you know them. Asshole.
"God only knows how difficult you make it for someone to actually put up with you," Deidara continued, only ensuring Gaara's opinion as a jerk further. However, a little smirk crept on. "I wonder how Pearl Eyes did." A little smug eyebrow raised, asking, "How did he anyway?"
Gaara kept silent. It was not his business to know what was going in with Nej- him. Deidara would only take whatever information he could and twist it into some way to further torture Gaara.
"Or did you mean what you said earlier?" The blond continued to ask. "When you said 'you didn't do anything.' Did he do something then?"
The redhead groaned and ran a hand through his hair. "What's with this 'twenty questions' bullshit? If I said it's nothing, it's nothing, so drop it." Fed up with him, he started to get up, deciding he rather deal with Kankuro's questions than Deidara's questioning. The blond followed suit and got up as quick as he could. Gaara was already crossing the road when he heard footsteps behind him.
"Gaara!"
For a moment, he thought it was kind of funny how this was a replay of the beginning of the afternoon, but unlike earlier, he wasn't going to stop. Fuck him.
xoxo
Kankuro looked between the two boys standing in front of him. His own little brother was obviously lying about the bandages around his arm and the scraps on his hands. Even if Deidara 'tackled' Gaara to the ground, what reason would he even have for that? Gaara does nothing, but stares off into the distance or random things he thinks are pretty. And on the other hand, his blond best friend with an ice pack on his elbow couldn't be speaking the truth either. Gaara wouldn't accidentally walk into oncoming traffic. He was a smart kid, he wouldn't do something stupid like that. He knew how to look both ways before crossing the street. Between the two, neither story was believable, but there had to be a truth between the two, otherwise, why the hell would they be scraped up like this?
The worst part was that both of them were surprised when they showed up and he actually noticed they were gone. How could he not know they're missing? Gaara, no offense, was practically a piece of furniture that traveled everywhere with him. He belonged and it felt strange when he was missing. Deidara, he's Kankuro's gringo(5) amigo in a poncho eating nachos. By not knowing he was missing from his side, he'd be a piss poor friend. It sucked that they both thought he was that much of a space head.
However, neither of them were still offering any information that was explaining why they left in the first place. Both stories, they said Gaara left first, but after that, everything went two different ways. The (secret) carrot top sighed. He supposed the only way he could get an answer from him willingly would be to be direct. "So Gaara... why'd you leave in the first place?"
"..."
Kankuro frowned and looked to Deidara. The blond shook his head. He didn't have a reason for Gaara's disappearance either.
"Well," the cat-hooded boy said. "If y'all can't tell me anything, we might as well come up with something for when we get home, huh?"
xoxo
"So, Mother Hen is rather disappointed in us, huh?", a voice asked.
Gaara looked over his shoulder at the blond, trying to remember why exactly he had opened the door for him. He didn't have to open the door for the asshole. Deidara only came over to his side of the hall because Kankuro was taking a shower and he was bored. What entertainment Deidara tried to seek from Gaara, he wasn't sure, but unfortunately, Deidara had the type of asshole charm that even convinced the redhead to let him inside his room. Gaara let out a exasperating sigh. "Whatever," he mumbled back.
"Do you not care about your sister's concern?", the voice questioned.
"Nope." Gaara truly didn't. Upon arriving home, she had three maimed boys standing before her. Deidara's ice pack was fully melted, but dripped moisture onto the floor from the thin mesh material. He was clearly wounded. Gaara's ripped sweater, scrapped hand, and bandaged forearm wasn't fooling anyone, and dear, sweet, responsible elder brother Kankuro had a small burn on his neck from the Roman Candle skimming across it, a burnt hole in his new jeans, AND reeked of cheap booze. Deidara had to be the driver because Kankuro wouldn't let Gaara since he had little experience, but Deidara wasn't completely sober either. Temari was pissed. Truly and utterly pissed. After properly treating their stupidly gained wounds, she backhanded everyone's head for their idiocy and gave another lecture about how they could have gotten harmed and blah, blah. Gaara had begun to tune her out in the beginning of it all.
He heard a shuffling of sheets behind him and the creak in the metal frame. Gaara guessed that it was Deidara climbing into his bed and cocooning himself in his velvet sheets because they were so warm and comfortable. The blond always found Gaara's bed comfortable anyway. And what do you know?, he thought as his eyes landed on the lump under his blankets. Just because I let you into my room doesn't mean you get permission to sleep in my bed, he scolded the blond. His actual scolding though came out more like, "Get the fuck off."
Blond hair peeked out the top of the dark blue sheets with a little whine of, "No, your bed is comfy, okay?"
Gaara put his face into his hands. "Fucking Buddha."
"It's vulgar to use Buddha's name in vain!" was the answer to Gaara's frustration.
The crime scene I'm going to leave of your body will be vulgar.
"So, Gaara..." Deidara started, reaching a hand out from the jumbled mess of blankets to grab a piece of candy from Gaara's bedside table. "I don't think we're done with our chat about Pearl Eyes."
Again? Deidara was bringing up him again? Why? What is so fucking interesting about him? Gaara was getting sick of the mere mention of the brunet boy. He spent the last four, five days trying not to think of him and his awful words, usually ending in him feeling worse and worse by each night and Deidara's intrigue of the very subject that pained Gaara only swelled the hurt feeling. "Get the fuck out my room," He ordered the blond, knowing the blond would most likely not follow it. As expected, the blond stayed still. The only action from him was the chewing of a piece of Gaara's chocolate bar he stole and a little hum that Gaara interpreted as 'I don't care.' Gaara groaned, "Don't eat in bed."
"You do though," the blond told him.
Gaara shook his head. "No, I don't."
"Then why do you have candy on your table?"
"Drawers are full."
An unconvinced "Hmm..." came from Deidara. Of course, he wouldn't believe Gaara. He sat up in the bed and leaned over the side of the bed, reaching underneath. Another quirk of Deidara he disliked, he liked to go through people's things. 'Secret surfing,' he liked to call it. When the hands pulled out from under the cavern that was the underside of the bed, the blond had a plastic container of brown liquid with white foam at the top. He shook the case and asked, "This iced tea?" Gaara nodded. With this confirmation, Deidara opened it and took a big swig before closing it and putting it on the ground. He smacked his lips with a tiny bit of confusion on his face. "This tastes a little... off? Is this an offbrand, right?" He asked.
"It's alcoholic," Gaara explained. He swiped some of the ingredients from his father's bar and tried to make it as quickly as he could before his sister noticed that he slipped towards the door by the staircase. In his haste, some of the measurements were off, thus the not so nice taste. The point was that it was alcohol that he could store in his room without his siblings asking about.
Deidara wiped his mouth with his sleeve, sending a smirk toward the redhead. "So it's still iced tea, just from Long Island, right?"
"Basically," Gaara told him. He turned back to face the door, wondering when the hell Kankuro would be finished with his shower. Although Deidara wasn't doing anything specifically annoying or offensive, Gaara wasn't comfortable with Deidara rolling around his bed, especially when he wanted to be sleeping in the bed right now. After the rather tiresome day they had, he actually wanted to rest, even if he wasn't going to get beautiful dreams that matched his starry sky of a ceiling. Plus his ass just hurt from sitting on the edge of the bed for the past twenty minutes.
Fuck it, he thought. It's my bed. Why should I let him just wrap himself in my blankets without my permission? It's mine and I can sleep there if I want. Gaara turned his head to see the blond leaned over the edge of the bed, taking another large drink of the poorly made iced tea. On the right of him was the untouched space that Gaara could easily slip into. He'd be able to wrap himself in whatever amount of sheets he could yank from Deidara's hold and put his weary eyes to sleep. His eyes felt heavier just imagining the treat. However, the longer he stared at the empty spot next to the tipsy blond, the warmer his face felt.
"Ginger," Deidara called out, waving a hand to get his attention. Gaara shot a glare instinctively at the nuisance. Deidara pointed towards his own face and circled around it, asking, "Your face, it's red."
Nope, it isn't happening. He turned back around and told him, "Fuck off. Get out."
"Noooo," was sing-sung by Deidara. "You're gonna have to maaaaake me!" Gaara immediately shuddered at the thought of whatever cheap methods Deidara would do to keep the redhead at bay from yanking him off the bed. He didn't play fair. "Buuuuut..." 'Buuuut', that's the sound of something bad to come. "Maybe I'll leave if you tell me what happened with Pearl Eyes, okay?"
Of course. It came right back to him again. Why the fuck was he just interested in him for? Gaara crossed his arms and stared off at the wooden chair at his desk, answering in the briefest way he could, "He said shit, I got pissed, we stopped talking. Now leave."
"More."
"What?"
"There's more, so tell me."
Determined drunk, he inwardly growled. Gaara shook his head, but Deidara wasn't dropping it. The blond crawled out of the sheets and up by Gaara at the edge of the bed. He dropped his weight on the corner, tilting the redhead to the right for a brief second. A glazed blue eye looked up at him and said, "Seriously, you can talk to me. I won't judge if you cry, right?" How that sounded like a comforting statement to the blond, Gaara had no idea, but it wasn't convincing him to open up. "I'll even cover my good eye," he promised, lifting up his crossed fingers and swearing over his heart. He wore a goofy smile that would probably work on Kankuro trying to get information out of him. Gaara blankly stared down at him. He was unaffected by the stupid grin.
But... Gaara reached for Deidara's face and covered his good eye. The blond hated when people covered his eye and expected him to move his hand. Instead, he laid there still, only squirming to get into a comfortable position. His head tilted towards Gaara's direction and waited for what Gaara was going to do. With his other hand, he pushed the bangs out of the way, revealing the shiny glass orb in his eye socket. The pale blue eye looked straight forward at him although it lacked any intensity of any sort. It was a flat stare like the eyes of a painting looking at you.
It brought him back to when they were children, back when Deidara's bad eye was the biggest problem in his life. He had a bad eye to begin with, developing a cataract around the age of five after getting hit in the eye by a baseball bat in school. It became a hassel to not see well and deal with the oversensitivity of the eye and he started wearing an eyepatch, at least until he was old enough to get the surgery to lessen the cataract. His mother kept holding the surgery back though. She didn't want to take the risk of her son losing even more vision or having to lose an eye in general, so Deidara stuck it out until he was thirteen, wearing an eyepatch or covering his bad eye with bangs. In the end, it didn't matter because as a reckless teenage boy with stupid friends (Kankuro and his friends), the eye would be removed after a knife accident. Kankuro never explained fully what occurred and Deidara never spoke about it, but now there was the product of their idiocy, a glass eye that would most likely stay there for the rest of his life. A sad reminder of what could have been a proper working eye, lost to boys with no common sense.
Deidara was sore about the subject, but Gaara admitted to himself time after time, his eye was maybe the only interesting quality he found in Deidara. It was something that Gaara could stare at for a long time without any judgement because... well, it wasn't like Deidara could see out the eye anyway.
"Are you crying or just staring?" Deidara interrupted.
Gaara sighed, "Neither."
He felt the good eye move under his palm, trying to look up in the direction of Gaara's voice. "If you don't want to talk to me, maybe you can talk to another blond, right?" He suggested.
xoxo
Deidara couldn't see it, but he could feel it. He felt the hand over his good eye trembling. In fear? A chance. In anger? Most likely, but he meant it. Whether or not Gaara chose to believe him, it was pretty obvi. that the Ginger was hurting. His weirdness was about 50% increased. The fact alone that he allowed him into his room had to prove something. Gaara hated his company for the stupid reason he believed and he still let the blond walk in and curl up in his bed. If he was in the right mind, the redhead would have pounced and thrown him off or even hold a sharp object to his head as a threat. Pearl Eyes was bugging him more than he wanted to let on and with Gaara distracted by the idea of another certain blond or whatever else went through that head of his, Deidara could potentially find a way to make their relationship a little less violent and a little more nice.
Now only if Gaara could stop staring at his fake eye...
xoxo
Kankuro took Deidara away about three hours ago. Gaara's been laying on his bed, staring at the ceiling for two. His gray cellphone rested in his palm for an hour. A number was typed on the screen for thirty minutes. And for the past thirty minutes, he'd been working up the will to either hang up the phone or go through with it.
His thumb did the work for him. It rang and rang and rang and then, "Gaara?"
xoxo
Troublesome, Shikamaru thought, trying to remain as quiet as possible as he sneaked down the staircase of his girlfriend's house. It would be beyond trouble if her father found him at this hour of the night. Really, it wasn't a smart thing to be doing, but he was a sucker for her long, batting eyelashes. She's too pretty to be pulling this shit on me, he complained, taking careful steps down. If her father comes from the corner, I'd be done.
An extremely loud ringtone went off, scaring the absolute piss out of him. He grabbed onto the handle of the staircase and tried to fish for his phone, but slipped through his sweaty fingers. "Fuck this," he whispered, making a run down the stairs and out the door as fast as he could. The hell to be sneaky if your phone wakes up the entire house.
He shut the door behind him and ran down the porch before he realized that he couldn't leave through the front thanks to motion sensor lights. He silently cursed at his girlfriend's father's security precautions and fished the phone out of his pocket. He pressed whatever buttons to shut it off and thanked his lucky stars that the front door hadn't done its automatic lock procedure. He slipped back in and went through the side door of the house, dashing through their yard until he was far off enough to actually answer his phone.
Shikamaru collapsed onto the ground, sweat pouring down his face from something other than sex, and dug into his pocket for the phone. He turned it on and saw his missed call icon. He rolled his eyes at the collar ID and pressed the call button, waiting for the idiot to pick up.
A little voice answered 'hello.' "What the hell do you want at four in the morning?" He asked. He really wasn't in the mood to be polite after what could have resulted in his murder.
The little voice explained the reason. Shikamaru sat up in surprise, looking off at the house he ran away from. "He did?" He asked.
The little voice started rambling about things that weren't exactly relevent to the tale, but ended up saying 'bye' and hanging up before Shikamaru could even say anything else.
"Wow," he whispered into the night air. "Can't believe you talked to him, Gaara."
(1) Kigurumi: Those cute fleece, one piece costumes that often come in cartoon, video game, and anime characters.
(2) Noh mask: Japanese masks with bare features that don't outright look like a certain expression, rather relying on the physical movements of the person wearing it to show happiness, anger, or sorrow.
(3) Chang'ao: A Chinese garment that looks similar to a Japanese kimono in the front, but are vastly different in construction.
(4) Roman candles: Those fireworks that shoot off balls of flame from a can.
(5) Gringo: A Spanish term for 'foreigners' or anyone not well versed in Spanish culture.
A/N: I hate this chapter so much. I really don't like the ending (as usual), but man, I can't deal with it right now. My inspiration is starting to run flat, but I really don't want to stop this story. I have too many unfinished projects right now and I do love this story, I mean it's my child. I've put over 80,000 words into this already, I can't drop it. I think the only thing pushing me on right now is future scenes I have planned that I want other people to read. I apologize if the chapters are not up to par to like, past chapters. I feel like I'm not writing characters out nicely anymore. Or maybe it's just this and last chapter since I'm forcing out information a little too strongly. I don't know.
Anyway, as I said before, since inspiration is dwindling, I need time to write and figure shit out. Next update is somewhere between February and April.
Thanks for reading! Reviews are nice.