AN: This chapter contains drug use and sex.

Back at the apartment, Shikamaru asked Gaara, "Is there anything you want to watch tonight?"

"Like what?"

"I don't know. Anything. I just need to wash the memory of that video out of my head."

"I'm sorry. I shouldn't have shown it to you. That was a mistake."

"Don't worry about it. It's gone now." He forced a smile. "So, any movies you've been wanting to see lately?"

"Actually…do you have The Secret of NIMH?"

Shikamaru's mouth opened in surprise. Gaara had never expressed much interest in movies or TV shows at all. The last thing he'd expected him to request was a kids' movie. "You want to see that?"

"I'd like to. It was one of my favorites when I was little, but it's been almost ten years since I've seen it."

"Well, I don't have it here, but I can rent it for you if you like."

"You'd do that?"

"Sure. There's a video rental place next to the convenience store just a few blocks from the apartment. I'll go get it for you. It'll only take me fifteen minutes or so. Wait here."

"Okay."

Shikamaru left the apartment and returned shortly after with the DVD in hand. When he opened the door, Gaara was sitting on the couch, hunched over the coffee table, filling the bowl of a glass pipe with weed from a baggie.

Shikamaru shut the door quickly. "Where'd you get that?"

"From the plastic Hello Kitty bank in your closet," Gaara said without looking up.

"How'd you know…"

"I saw you do this once while you thought I was asleep. Sorry. I should have asked first, but I feel like I need a little something to relax me. Seeing that thing again…it stirred up all kinds of bad memories."

Shikamaru sat next to him. "I thought you didn't smoke pot."

"I haven't for awhile. Yashamaru used to get me stoned sometimes. Mostly to relax me before he…you know." Gaara struck a match and lit the pipe. "At the time I didn't really know what it was. Figured it out later on."

Shikamaru watched him. He himself had been using weed for the past three years or so. Hell, most of his friends did it, and it had never struck him as a big deal. But still, a part of him was uncomfortable with seeing Gaara do this, and he couldn't have said why. "Be careful, okay? If you're depressed, too much of that stuff can make it worse."

"I'm not depressed, really. I just need to settle my mind down." He sucked smoke from the end of the pipe and broke into a fit of coughing. His eyes watered.

"Easy." Shikamaru rubbed his shoulder. "Maybe you should just have a little. If it's been years since you've done this, your body's probably not used to it."

"I won't make a habit of this, I promise. I know this stuff costs money."

"It's not that. I just…I don't know, really. Just be careful."

"Okay." Gaara glanced down. "You got the DVD?"

"Huh? Oh, yeah. You still want to watch?"

"Sure."

Shikamaru slid the DVD into the player and sat next to Gaara on the couch.

A few minutes in, Gaara asked, "Do you think it's strange that I want to see something like this?"

"Nah. I'm kind of a kid at heart myself, in case you haven't noticed. I mean, I spend all my days just goofing off, playing video games and drinking soda. I'm not one to throw stones about liking cartoons." Shikamaru curled an arm around Gaara, pulled him closer and dropped a soft kiss on his forehead.

Gaara rested his head on Shikamaru's shoulder, his dark-ringed eyes heavy-lidded. "I remember seeing this for the first time when I was six years old. I remember loving it. Now…I can't see movies the same way I used to when I was that age."

"How do you mean?"

"It's like something broke in my mind, and now it's just images on a screen without any meaning. The fascination is gone." Gaara sucked in another mouthful of smoke, coughed and hiccupped. Gradually, his expression softened and the muscles in his face went slack.

Shikamaru's hand drifted to the back of Gaara's neck and massaged the velvet-soft skin there. "How do you feel?"

"I don't know if I feel anything yet." A pause. "Kind of relaxed, I guess. More than I was a minute ago. My head's a little fuzzy." His eyelids lowered as Shikamaru's fingertips rubbed in small circles on the back of his neck. "Mmm. Don't stop. That's nice." His eyes closed for a moment, then opened again. A little sigh escaped his parted lips. A moment later, he asked, "Do we have any chips?"

"Yeah, hang on." Shikamaru paused the movie, went into the kitchen and grabbed a bag of sour cream and cheddar chips.

Gaara ate a few, then took another drag of smoke. He studied the small, glass pipe in his hand, then looked at Shikamaru. "When was the first time you tried this stuff?"

"I dunno, I was probably fifteen. Kiba offered me some and I thought, why not? And I liked it, so I kept doing it. Not a lot. Just, you know, whenever I could get some without going to too much trouble for it."

"How does it make you feel? I mean, I know how it makes me feel, but maybe it's different for everyone."

Shikamaru paused. "I've never really tried to describe it to anyone. Let me think." He tilted his head back and stared at the ceiling. "It relaxes me, but there's more to it than that. It just…I don't know, it makes me fascinated with things. I remember one time I got high and spent about twenty minutes just staring at the back of a cereal box while my thoughts wandered in all these weird patterns, and I came to some sort of understanding about free will and how it related to quantum mechanics and the movement of subatomic particles in the brain. But I can't remember the specifics now. Maybe it was all bullshit anyway. Then another time I was in the field with Chouji and I watched this ladybug crawling along a blade of grass and thinking about how…just how perfect it was, this tiny creature, and how its nervous system was probably more complex than the most advanced computer on the planet, and if that's true of a bug, what about us? It's kind of crazy. I mean, humans spend most of their time thinking and worrying about all this shit that doesn't matter, obsessing over what other people think about us or whether we're 'good enough,' all that garbage. It makes us forget how incredible the world is, how weird and amazing and beautiful it is. So we take drugs just to experience that sense of wonder again, because that's the only way we know how."

"I don't know if it's the same for me. It just makes me feel safe, I guess. It quiets the voices in my head."

"You hear voices?"

"Not literally. There are just certain thoughts I can't stop thinking. But I feel okay right now." Gaara leaned his head against Shikamaru's shoulder; one sock-clad foot stroked his leg. "Do you want to keep watching?"

"Sure." Shikamaru picked up the remote and hit play.

They watched in silence for a few minutes longer. Shikamaru found himself rubbing Gaara's bare arm. On the screen, Jeremy, the clumsy crow, was getting tangled up in a piece of string. Gaara giggled softly—the tiniest, briefest sound, little more than a gust of air between his lips, but it was the first time Shikamaru had ever heard him laugh. It warmed him to his core.

He wrapped an arm around Gaara's shoulders. "You know, I saw this when I was a kid too. I'd pretty much forgotten about it until now. But it's a good movie."

"They don't make animation like this anymore, do they?"

"Yeah, these days it's all that CGI stuff. Somehow it's just not as magical." He nuzzled the top of Gaara's head. His hair smelled nice, like cinnamon gum mingled with something subtler and darker; a heavy, spicy-sweet smell, like dying roses.

"My favorite part is coming up. There's a song in this I like." Gaara stared at the TV, eyes half-lidded and dreamy. Then when the song started, he mouthed the words along with it.

Dream by night, wish by day, love begins this way. Night's a friend with love to send each new day…

Shikamaru was surprised to realize he knew it, and found himself murmuring the lyrics.

Bless your heart, bless your soul, let your dreams come true. Future songs and flying dreams wait for you.

"That's where this is from," said Shikamaru. "My mom used to sing this to me sometimes when I was really little. I'd completely forgotten about it."

"I wish I'd had a chance to meet my mother. I hardly know anything about her. My dad didn't even keep any pictures or home videos of her around. I only have that one." He nursed the end of the pipe. "I always thought this woman had such a nice, gentle voice. The one who plays the mouse in this movie, I mean. Just listening to it is so soothing. I looked up her name once to find out who she was."

"Yeah? What's she doing now?"

"She's dead. She committed suicide just a few years after this movie was made."

"Jeez. I'm sorry."

"It's all right. It's not like I knew her. But I was sad anyway." He paused. "It's like she's gone but she's still around, in a way, because people still see her and hear her in her movies."

"There's some cultures that believe you're not really dead until the last person who remembers you is dead. If that's true, I guess that means people in movies will live forever. I mean…even if your body is gone, you're still alive in someone's heart. Your memory, I mean."

"Maybe that's why people want so badly to be loved. To have someone who'll remember them when they're gone. Otherwise you just…disappear." He looked down at his own hand, as if confirming it was still there. Then he said, in a tone of wonder, "Shikamaru, we're alive. I mean really alive."

"I know." He found himself looking at Gaara's ear and thinking it was the most perfectly formed ear he'd ever seen—small and shell-like and pale. He had a strong urge to nibble it.

He started to lean toward Gaara, but just then, Gaara spoke: "I remember this part too. They're going to see the Great Owl."

They watched as Mrs. Brisby, the mouse, entered the owl's lair—a shadowy place inside a hollow tree, filled with cobwebs and tiny bones. A huge spider emerged from the darkness, many-eyed and many-legged. Venom dripped from its mandibles as it crawled toward the unsuspecting mouse.

"This is kind of freaking me out," Gaara said. "I feel weird all of a sudden. I think I had a little bit too much."

Shikamaru turned off the TV, took the pipe from Gaara's hand and set it aside. "Everything's okay. You'll feel normal soon, just give it a few minutes." He pulled Gaara into his arms and rubbed his back. "I don't know if you should use that stuff anymore."

Gaara rested his head on Shikamaru's chest. "Until a minute ago it was fine, really. It reminds me of Valium, except this doesn't make me as drowsy."

"You've been on Valium?"

"I've been on everything. My dad kept me on sedatives whenever he could. Made me easier to handle, I guess. I remember one point when I was around thirteen years old, I was taking like six different pills a day. I didn't even know what most of them were. Officially it was to treat the depression and the psychotic outbursts, but I think my dad was secretly hoping there was a pill somewhere that would make me straight."

"That's fucked up. Liking guys isn't a mental illness."

"It wasn't just my sexuality that he hated." Gaara stared into space. "As a child I was always sensitive. I liked baby animals, I preferred reading and drawing to sports. I cried a lot. That sort of thing. And he hated it. It was against the rules for me to cry, and when I did he got angry. So I learned to do it alone, in my room, with my head under the pillow so he couldn't hear me. I learned to hide all my feelings, to push them deep beneath the surface. But even then he wasn't happy with me. He was always trying to find some way to rewire my personality, to change me into someone else, someone he approved of. At the institution…" Gaara's voice trembled. "Being in a place like that…it just makes you frightened down to the core of your being. You don't belong to yourself anymore. You don't have any control, you're just at everyone's mercy and you hope to God that they know what they're doing. And they're always watching you. Always."

"I'm sorry." Shikamaru hugged Gaara tighter. "You won't ever have to go back there. I promise."

Gaara trembled against him, breathing rapidly. "I need to cry," he whispered. "Can I cry?"

"Yes."

Gaara hid his face against Shikamaru's chest. His shoulders shook silently, and his chest hitched. But when he looked up, his eyes were dry. Despair lay in their depths like a shadow. "I don't even know how anymore. I'm so used to just pushing those feelings down. I can't cry or laugh. Something stops me."

"Let it out." Shikamaru cradled Gaara in his arms and rocked him like a child. "Just let it out. It's okay. You're allowed to feel. Just let those feelings move through you. Don't fight them."

Gaara gulped. His chest hitched again, and his face contorted, as if in pain. Then, all at once, the dam broke. Sobs poured out of him; raw, harsh, primal sounds, the sort a wounded animal might make. He lay in Shikamaru's arms, gasping for breath, almost choking. His whole body convulsed and vibrated with tremors. His eyes were tightly shut, but tears still seeped out, wetting his cheeks. Shikamaru held him, giving him something solid to cling to in the storm of his emotions.

After awhile, the sobs tapered off into hiccups, then silence. Gaara clung to him, his face pressed to Shikamaru's chest, his tears soaking his shirt. Shikamaru lifted him off the couch, carried him into the bedroom and lay him down. He turned on the lamp and studied Gaara's face. His reddened cheeks gleamed wet with tears. The whites of his eyes were pinkish, the dark flesh around them slightly puffy. "I'm sorry," he murmured. "I look ridiculous, I know."

"You look fine." He grabbed a handful of tissues and gently cleaned Gaara's face.

"I love you," Gaara whispered.

"I love you too." Tears prickled in his own eyes. "I love you so much." He touched Gaara's smooth cheek.

Gaara closed his eyes.

"Gaara?" Shikamaru whispered. "What do you need?"

"Love me. Please...just love me..."

Shikamaru leaned down and softly kissed his lips, his cheeks, his eyelids, his throat. His hands slid beneath Gaara's shirt; his thumbs found the tiny, hard buds of his nipples and rubbed them. "You're beautiful," he murmured.

"You don't think I'm sick and dirty?"

"No."

"You don't think I'm broken and need to be fixed?"

"No. Not in the way that you mean. If you need healing, it's because of what your father did to you, not because of the way you were born. Who you are is who you are. There's nothing wrong with it."

Gaara looked up at him, his eyes hungry--but it wasn't lust, not exactly. The yearning went deeper than that. "I need you to touch me."

Shikamaru ran his hands up and down the length of that slim, smooth body. He pulled off Gaara's shirt, lowered his head and kissed the scars on his chest, one by one. He ran a finger over petal-soft lips. Gaara wrapped his lips around the finger, drawing it deep into the wet heat of his mouth. A moan rose from Shikamaru's throat, and a wave of dizziness washed over him as that mouth gently tugged and sucked. It was just his finger, but it felt so intense, Gaara might as well have been sucking his dick. His hips twitched, then began to move in an instinctive rhythm, pushing against the bed. His cock strained against his pants, pulsing in time with his heartbeat.

Gaara's hands went to Shikamaru's groin, and those slender, deft fingers undid his belt, then the buttons of his jeans. Shikamaru watched as his jeans hit the floor. A moment later, Gaara's joined them, followed by two pairs of boxers.

Shikamaru cast off his shirt. Then he lowered his head, and his lips brushed the head of Gaara's cock, but Gaara slid a hand into his hair and said, "I want you in me."

Shikamaru stared at him. "Are you sure? I mean…we could do it the other way around if you like. Maybe that might be better…"

"I want it this way. Please."

Shikamaru took a deep breath. "Okay." He looked at Gaara's face, and for a moment, he didn't really know what to do. Then he remembered the bottle of KY in the drawer. He'd bought it about a week ago. Just in case.

He opened the dresser drawer and rummaged through until he found it. Then he knelt on the bed. Gaara lay naked and stomach-down, looking up at Shikamaru over one shoulder. Waiting for him to take the lead. "I don't know how to do this, Gaara."

"It will feel natural once you get started."

"No, I mean…I really just don't know what to do. Should I stretch you out first with my fingers, or…"

"If you like."

Shikamaru squirted some lube into his hand and hesitated. You shouldn't be doing this now. He's stoned.

But Gaara was on the bed, offering that pale, sleek body to him, and Shikamaru's head was buzzing, his thoughts careening in every direction, making it difficult for him to think. And Gaara was so beautiful…

Just try fingering him a little, maybe. See how that goes.

Shikamaru took a deep breath. He reached down, and his fingertips found the opening between those small, round cheeks. He explored it, feeling the ring of muscle beneath the surface, the puckered dimple of flesh—tiny, tight and closed, like a flower bud. He pushed; the bud blossomed open, and his lube-slicked finger disappeared into Gaara's body. Hot, dry flesh pressed in around him. Gaara moaned and arched his back.

Shikamaru swallowed, mouth dry. Experimentally, he moved the finger in and out. Sliding deeper, he felt something round and firm, like a little rubber ball. He pressed. Gaara pushed back against his finger, eyes closed, cheeks flushed, mouth open and panting. "How's this?" Shikamaru whispered.

"Good."

Shikamaru's heart punched his ribs as if it wanted to break through them. His tongue crept out to wet his lips. "I'm going to put another one inside you. Are you ready?"

"Yes."

Shikamaru eased another finger past that tight rim. He continued to rub the smooth gland with the tips of his fingers.

Gaara clenched the sheets in both fists. Small, even white teeth pressed into his lower lip. His eyes opened wide and gazed up at Shikamaru. His pupils were huge, two dark pools inside those blue-green rings, deep enough to drown in. "Oh God…don't stop, please…" He pushed his hips back and forth, rubbing his dick against the bed-sheets. A thin, soft whine escaped his throat. "Harder…"

He thrust his fingers deeper. His balls throbbed. They felt like they were about to explode.

"Shikamaru…oh, God…"

"What do you need?" he whispered.

"Fuck me."

The words sent a hot electric jolt to Shikamaru's cock. He pulled his fingers out of Gaara. With a shaking hand, he squirted more lube over his cock, then he pushed into that warm, waiting body. Gaara gasped and arched beneath him.

Shikamaru had never felt anything like it. His own hand didn't begin to compare. Gaara's body pressed in around him, hot, slick with lube and so very tight. His body moved of its own accord, hips thrusting hard and fast, pumping in and out of him. His mouth found Gaara's neck; he kissed that smooth, white skin, sucked it, bit it. His teeth pressed into one soft earlobe. He floated through each movement in a sweet daze, propelled by something beneath his rational mind.

Gaara kept making those soft, incredibly sexy little noises in his throat. Shikamaru wrapped an arm around him and pulled Gaara's back flush against his chest. Look at me, he thought.

As if in response to his will, Gaara's head turned, and his eyes opened. Shikamaru's fingers slid through his hair and gripped, anchoring his head in place as his hips rocked against Gaara's ass. He held Gaara tight with one arm and looked into those eyes as he moved inside his body, wanting to flow like water into every nook and hollow within him, wanting to plunge into the deepest recesses of his soul and psyche, to merge their very cells, to mend their two minds together. He could hear his own voice, as if from outside himself, crying Gaara's name over and over.

Gaara's eyes opened wider and went blank, as if he'd been struck blind. His body went rigid, and his voice rose in a series of sharp, breathless cries as he came. The sound of his voice pushed Shikamaru over the edge. His hips jerked one final time, and a moment later, he went limp, panting.

When he caught his breath, he pulled out and flopped onto the bed, drenched in sweat. He didn't speak. There were no words to encompass what he felt. After a moment, he surfaced from his daze and focused on Gaara's green eyes. "Are you okay?"

"Yes."

Shikamaru wrapped his arms around Gaara again and softly kissed his lips. He felt like he should say something else, but he couldn't find any words. And the moment was so perfect. Just laying there, feeling Gaara's warm, damp skin against his, listening to the soft in-and-out of his breathing—if Shikamaru lived a hundred years, he thought, he'd never find another moment as perfect as this one. Words would only spoil it. So he just held Gaara a little tighter and rubbed his back, fingertips reading the Braille of his spine, the tiny scars marring the smooth perfection of his skin. He hated the fact that Gaara had been hurt, but he didn't mind the scars. They were part of him.

Shikamaru ran his thumb over a tiny, bumpy scar on Gaara's shoulder. He kissed one closed eyelid, and Gaara let out a small, contented sigh.

He's happy. The thought swam like a drug through Shikamaru's veins, making his head buzz pleasantly. My Gaara is happy.

Shikamaru held him tighter, closed his own eyes and drifted off to the gentle rhythm of Gaara's breathing.

-To be continued