'When a person is incapable of accomplishing a certain feat, what do they do then? Do they give up on the thought forever, or do they strive on finding their own crown jewel on which they can perform at their peak performance? Or do they simply just...not give in. When they're too stubborn, too dumb, too naive...to realize that the prize that they so desperately seek is unobtainable, why not do the most common of things...and just give in. When a person chooses to finally give in and accept their own predetermined fate or path, they can finally move on to the next step in obtaining what it they seek. Giving up on life, giving up on love, after that you can take the next step into the warm embrace of death. But in the middle of it all...that person hesitates. They take the wrong road, and go down a different path. And after that person starts to realize it they begin to change even more. So far away from the pain they will take it upon themselves to literally threaten their own life just to jump back onto what they believe is the right way.

And in the end it comes down to one scenario for him. An angel, and a demon living together in what would seem to the common eye like the happiest family on the face of the earth. Little does anyone on the outside of the curtain know that behind all the perfection the demon that the angel loves so much plots his own demise. And even though the angel knows this, she adopts the uncommon nature of refusing to give in until the demon bears white wings of heavenly light just like her own. But he can't do it. Beginning to glow with a white light of his own the demon shrouds himself behind more and more darkness. And now...the light is getting too bright...'

'One hundred and eighty.'

'Two hundred and forty.'

'How is it that a child whom grew up near a beach...could never learn to swim?'

"Pull him out! Pull him out!" Sasuke screamed as his brother finally surfaced from the water, his savior lifting him up out of the pool. The one whom had came to his aid had lifted themselves next to him, clasping their lips over his to breath slowly into him. It was a sensation that he had once treasured.

"Ungh! Uhh...Uhh..." coughing up a vast amount of chemical filled water Gaara sits up to feel the cool sensation of water from his hair drilling onto his pale skin. A cold shiver went down his spine, recollecting on the amount of time he had spent at the bottom of the pool, he reminiced on his childhood, and his multiple failed swimming lessons. "Nande?...What are you doing here. Matsuri..."

'He was the person who searched for their own crown jewel. A little boy who longed for nothing more than for another beating heart for which to call friend. He learned to convey himself through music, filling the rooms of his quiet home with the dark sounds of his sadness filled songs. But it would soon show that making himself different would turn him into even more of an outcast in the eyes of other children. A guitar with no strings, a piano without any keys the boy could never find that one thing to make himself whole. So he practiced. If I get better than people will be more impressed and then they'll finally like me that's got to work, that's what he always believed. But his heart turned out to be made of glass. Shunned again and again his mood only became one of anger and despair.

So he started to sing. Often locking himself away and alone he sang to himself. There is no hope...why keep trying if failure is always the end result. The boys thoughts would only dim, never looking at the bright side of things. Sorrow and despair became his friends, and pain was his form of happiness. People around him started to take notice of the young ones darker self. Throughout the nights he would be heard singing the songs that would rather be vocalized in times of tragedy, just to display how he truly felt about his life.'

"Nande...nande..." Gaara couldn't stop his body from hugging her. Part of him hurt to see her while the other suffocated him with it's own desires of what to say. He was lucky. Matsuri had been walking down the street, only to be intrigued by the rousing commotion of his drowning.

"I just ruined my clothes to save your life, so show a little gratitude will ya?" she hadn't changed at all. She was still the same girl that had fell in love with. The serious yet humorous girl that would always be a pleasure to be around. "I haven't seen you at school, you didn't drop out, did you?"

"Eh? But you don't go to my-"

"Yes I do! Yamata Baka! Since the beginning of senior year."

"Doushite! Quit following me!"

'Again he would show how alone he truly wanted to be. Just as it was sung in the songs of his childhood. His idea was that he only needed to make it through his sorrow to truly abandon hoping for tomorrow to be better. He went into a state of anxiety, throwing his 'comrades' further into a state of worry. He was truly an odd specimen to observe.'

'At the end of that day the boy gave no assurance of his health. No assurance that they could turn away and not find him to be dead seconds later. But this only came with two exceptions. The sweet, innocent, joy filled girls that had blamed themselves for re-surfacing his shortly forgotten pain. 'Don't blame yourselves' he said. 'I would never hate you', he said. Justifiable was his choice of people to re-assure, but even more people existed who deserved to hear his voice. Like the raven, watching over him as he walked the path of a self created hell, or the crow, who was always concerned from afar, standing by silently to see where he would take himself. And then there was those two. The monsters who wore the skin of a monarch and patriarch.

But they put themselves here, he shouldn't care how they feel in the end, right? The waters of love overpowered by his sands of darkness and despair. He always did prefer the sand to the water. He doesn't want their love! So why continue to push and insist on turning on a light that burnt out long ago! He is nothing to them! But in the end...water always flows over the sand, and broken lights can always be replaced. So it was, and so it shall be for all of eternity. You can't cleanse someone who has sentenced themselves to damnation. All you can do is watch...and cry...and know that this was all theri own doing. Every cut, every bruise, a stamp of pleasure that he would have to remember forever.

But always...he can't help but turn around to observe the light that followed him. It moved when he moved, stopping when he stopped. It refuses to simply force itself into his acknowledgment, wanting to earn his acceptance. But how could he turn back now? Give up his pointless dream, and finally settle under the light. Truth be told he loves watching the light follow him. Watching it grow dimmer with every drop of blood was entertainment to sick boy. A dream and a nightmare, sorrow and happiness, beings that oppose the other cannot exist ones whole. If they ever did, then destruction would be imminent.'

"La la laaaaa...la...la la laaaaa, la la la la la la..." another day of isolation was underway. Two days had passed with both him and Sasuke reverting to mutes, avoiding eachother all the while. Gaara sat before the household piano, keying the song 'Lilium' as he hummed along with the rhythm of the tune. He kept wincing, hearing a banging noise over and over again in his head that echoed eerily before repeating itself. Closing his eyes he tries his best to neglect the sound, only to have it increase in volume and repetition. Thinking to himself, his wrists and fingers stopped moving at the last note of his performance before he lets his body fall back from his bench. Hitting the ground with a thunderous bang the sound travels throughout the house.

A stampede of footsteps rushes up stairs to the room he was in, bumping into the door when they noticed it was locked. The handle thrashed up and down, side to side, someone not getting the point in all their struggling. Gaara stared at the rattling doorknob, wondering like most people who it would be behind the frame. As the handle kept rattling, he started to grow annoyed, shimmying his body over to kick the bottom of the door in protest.

'How moronic. Further ignoring the noise behind the door the boy starts to plot once again. An excruciatingly ungrapsable goal that he strived for only to be stopped by another meddler. So to avoid the meddling alltogether, he decides to ask the meddler for help.'