Note from the Author: This was a request from Ravensbff – an AU, I know. But it was fun to write, and I hope it's enjoyable. (This is partially based on a true story – not with Neji and Gaara, mind you.)
Ravensbff: You're so uber-special that this one-shot is just for you! I hope you like it!
Naash: Thanks, hun!
Focus
The school cafeteria is empty, as most are at five o'clock in the evening. The tables are lined up like soldiers, empty chairs the muskets on their shoulders. My sneakers shun the floor with a disdainful squeak as I make my way to the far table, choosing a remote corner on which to spread my belongings, despite the vacancy of the room. A sack lunch – or dinner – and a book. I have never taken much space.
The janitor is dragging a vacuum cleaner across the linoleum, and he never makes a move to use it. Never makes a move to clean up after the small fraction of society that is this school. I return to my book.
The door swings. Girls in matching t-shirts wander through, chattering like birds. The skin of their thighs shines with their fake tans, their running shorts properly named – short. Their giggles are high pitched, their hair is bright. Their shoes slap suddenly against the floor, propelling them across the room in a sprint like their lives matter.
I frown at the words on the page I have been trying to read. I frown again – or continue to frown – at the Burger King bag that drops on the table opposite me. You, looking down at me, have strange eyes, but some would say I have strange eyes too. Of course, I avert mine, studying the difference between your brown paper bag and mine. You have Burger King. I have soup that my sister made. I am eating it cold. The microwave is empty but still seems so occupied.
"Have you seen Lee?" That voice is deep and quiet, almost unsure if you should be questioning me – but far from unsure of you.
My responding "Who?" answers your question without really intending to, and I try to focus on my book. Of course, focus is harder to come by when a beautiful – what a strange word – person is staring at me. Maybe not staring. Studying – evaluating. My mind is reeling. I am quiet.
I am always quiet.
"Why are you here so late?"
Innocent enough. Where else would I go? I want to ask you, but I don't. I am staring at you – or maybe not staring. Maybe glaring, intimidating – failing. I am not frowning, and why am I not frowning? Of course, it's no smile. When did I last smile?
"Would you mind if I sit here?" You are already sitting. Under the edge of my book, I notice your soccer cleats, and I remember hearing your name over the intercom. You score goals. You're fast. You're unstoppable. I feel strange that I know you, and my stomach twists because you don't know me.
You're eating a veggie burger. That's an honors physics book upon which your nimble fingers rest. You're successful. I remember how they all smile at you. Why can't I smile at you?
"Do you take honors lit, Gaara?"
My heart explodes. I can feel my ventricles hanging by threads against my ribs. You know me. You know me. And my throat begins to close like an elevator door. "Yes," is all that escapes, like a hand catching it before pulling back quickly as not to get smashed.
"I'm tutoring my cousin in that class." Your face twitches as if your mouth is trying to suppress a scowl. "What are you studying?"
I try desperately to find any vocal power. Is there a power button to my vocal chords? There should be. I reference J.D. Salinger in a whisper. And "Neji." I say your name. Quietly. Because I know you. Because you know me. When did we meet? My mind is a projector, counting down to a film that won't play.
Anti-climax.
You're standing. Your uncertainty shows in the furrow of your brow over your strange white eyes as you stare at me, no longer evaluating. You seem to have decided. "Do you eat here by yourself everyday?"
I nod. I cannot speak again. Not through will power alone. My tongue cowers. Your beauty intimidates.
"Would you mind having company?" You don't smile. From the soft downturn of your lips, you seem to never smile. That's okay. Smiling wouldn't suit you.
I shake my head. No, I wouldn't mind. Is my heart recovering? It seems to be climbing back to its position beneath my chest plate, stitching itself back together.
You're walking away, your cleats clicking. A boy in green is waiting, and I realize I do indeed know Lee. Just when I think you have forgotten, you turn. "Tomorrow, then?"
I nod, too eagerly, I think. Your lips twitch upward, and you're gone.
I cannot focus now.