Helloooo, cuties. I'm in an oddly good mood today. I wonder if there's something wrong with me. Hn, dunno. Anywho, here's a new chapter for you beautiful things. Hope it satisfies y'all.
Sweat, blood and the stench of spoiled meat. Whether human or not, Gaara couldn't tell nor wanted to know. He never had.
Some smellscapes could never be forgotten. The stink of his childhood slapped him across the face the instant he entered the unforgettable umbworld of it. He was ashamed to feel surprised to learn nothing had changed. The dry, splintery floor boards creaked underneath him in the same tone and note as they'd used to. A little louder, he noticed. About fifteen years and fifty pounds louder. But the stuffy air and filthy tabletops looked no different to him. Neither did the people, even if their faces were unfamiliar. Same faceless, nameless scum, the lot of them. He flashed a look of disgust to acknowledge the ever-lasting downfall around him, but quickly declared it unworthy of even that.
People there were yet to notice him. He knew, for no fallout of morbid curiosity had yet arrived. Perfectly content with the moment of low profile, he lit a cigarette, grew bored halfway into it and took the first step deeper into the place stuck in time. Three steps in, he attracted gazes, after another four whispers and mumbles, and by the tenth he caught the attention of a man he'd studied from afar. Dark eyes turned to find the cause of the fuss, locked with his green ones and immediately turned into pools of terror. The look didn't hinder his heavy steps. When he reached the man and gazed down at his seated form from above, a grin full of spite and painful promises spread across his face. The man cowered.
"Hey, big brother."
Ugly, uninviting. A haven for the self-detrimental. Such was the building blue eyes stared at with disgust. By the entrance loitered a group of men around a pair of poorly clothed girls, tricked by their bare skin and cheap services. Naruto had no doubt he'd found the right place. He was having second thoughts about everything from seeing through the job to carrying on living at all, yet his reluctance to be there was no match to Sasuke's. Out of the two of them, only one was void of any other choice.
"You don't have to be here, y'know", Naruto told the man beside him.
For a moment, his expression wavered between defiance and defeat, but in the end, forfeited to the latter.
"Gonna go find an arms dealer", Sasuke grunted, turned and waved a lazy hand. "Call me when you're done."
Though the need for a weapon deal was a real one, the timing was but an excuse. The man's easy defeat was a decision Naruto had no right to find a disappointment, yet watching him walk away did leave him bitter and envious. Tearing his gaze from his traitorous friend, Naruto turned to face his unwanted fate. He scowled, sighed and walked through the doorway left as open as the young lady's legs that greeted him first thing inside. There was no polite or respectful way to acknowledge a woman lying undressed on a stained red velvet couch in a position that left absolutely nothing to the imagination. Accepting that he was only a man and incapable of finding a set of eyes in midst of the many distractions, he tore his gaze away altogether and walked to find someone just a little less nude and sprawled. Given that there the line between dressed and naked was thin enough to pass as sheer, the first girl with only half an ass uncovered he came across had to do. Even before he could reach her, she'd already turned to display an alluring smile.
"Hey, handsome", her smooth voice greeted.
Again, finding eyes above bare breasts was a challenge, but not an impossible one.
"Lookin' for company?" she hummed, curling a strand of deep orange hair around a petite finger.
"Nah", he grunted, "ain't here for you."
She was quick to pull a pout that undoubtedly was well worth her hourly wage.
"C'mon, don't be cold", she moaned, one hand swift to find its way underneath his jacket. "I'll take real good care of ya."
The last few syllables of her promise lost the sweet tone. She withdrew her hand and glanced at the fingers that'd come back bloody. The sight fazed her for a mere second. The very next one, her seductive demeanor returned.
"You're hurt, huh?" she said and took a step closer. "Let me make it better."
He couldn't lie. There were many things his life had lacked as of late and something warm to shove his dick into was one of them, but renting warmth positively infectious was a realm of desperation he doubted he'd ever enter.
"No", he grunted and shoved her away. Just harshly enough to make a point. "Ain't buyin', but payin' if you talk."
Her briefly disappointed eyes lit up. "Anythin'."
Naruto dug out the note he'd been given and handed it to her. "You know the guy?"
The woman took a moment to read through the description before nodding. "Yeah. He's here. He's always here. Paid for a girl fifteen minutes ago."
Naruto groaned. He wished it'd been the first time he'd killed a guy balls deep in a prostitute.
"Which room?" he asked, annoyed in advance.
The woman said nothing, but instead held out her hand. Sighing he dug through his pockets for the cash on him and paid to hear the rest of it. She counted the bills given, and though it wasn't much to him, seemed perfectly content. He supposed the years of a roof above his head and food on the table had made him forget what petty cash could buy.
"Down the hall and to the left. Room 42. The door's locked", she advised, sparing a glance she must've rather saved for a recount of her pay. Her full lips pulled a sly smirk. "You, sexy, paid me a night off. You in for free fun?"
He huffed. "Lemme guess. You're clean?"
Her smirk dropped and eyes rolled. His sneer had made its point.
"Whatever. Suit yourself."
Her voice was pure spite, yet she didn't forget to grab his junk on her way past. He pulled a face, but didn't particularly mind. Six and something months was a long, long time.
Not willing to waste more precious time, he began the walk down the hallway, took a left as advised and glanced around to spot the right room. When he finally did, irony compelled him to stop and stand before it. Room 42, kill 42. Life was a jokester like none other.
He dropped the bag thrown over his shoulder, crouched down and unzipped it to reveal a Zastava M21. A heavy-duty lightweight NATO rifle capable of firing 680 rounds per minute, and difficult to get one's hands on. In other words, absurd overkill for a job as simple. It was a choice he'd made thinking the target would be more challenging than a loser with his pants down.
Over-armed and eager to get the task over with, he stood up, cocked his head at the door claimed to be locked and wondered how to go about it. The simple solution of taking a step back and kicking it in had never let him down. Neither did it now. It slammed loud against the floor and allowed him inside to find his target on the bed inside a girl definitely not of age. His grand entrance earned him a thrust long pause, glare and a flinch. His vapid stare and pretentious choice of weaponry caused the man to jump out of the bed, throw his hands up and freeze still. Naked, fully exposed with his stiff manhood hanging out. Naruto shut his eyes and sighed.
"Put it the fuck away."
Jumping at the demand, the man glanced down, then back up again. Though delayed, he obeyed and pulled his pants up, hiding the least impressive aspect of his overall disappointing self. Pleased enough, Naruto gave the man enough time to sigh and spread his arms in defeat, before aiming the rifle and firing a rough five rounds. The first two the guy took standing up, the third on his knees and the last face down. The fifth was but a statement against grown men bringing their cocks anywhere near underage girls. Whore or not, still a child.
Pleased to see the sack of abusing shit out and cold, he turned to glance at the girl instead. She looked frightened and had covered her nude frame the little she could. Not in the name of modesty, only to seem as small and harmless as she could. Blue eyes gazed into her light brown ones. It'd been no challenge for him to find them, no issue to see nothing but them. She couldn't have been older than fifteen. Genuinely sorry for her and disappointed in the world, he shook his head.
"Get dressed, kid."
Surprise flashed in her eyes. Realizing, or perhaps daring to hope the blonde wouldn't hurt her, she left the bed, grabbed her skimpy clothes and dressed herself. The next time she turned to look his way, she found herself being offered money. She looked confused, as if not sure why she'd been asked to put on clothes, if the intention was to pay her out of them. She glanced up to find blue eyes pity her thin frame. He took a step closer and gave her a look demanding but not threatening.
"Go eat."
She flinched, twice. Once at his words, again when glancing at the money. Her shaky hand slowly reached for it, hesitated, but overcame the doubt. She took it, he let it go. By the quivering lips alone he could tell her downcast eyes watered. Eager to show gratitude to likely the only man who'd ever given her unconditional cash, she looked up, smiled and then rushed out of the room. He watched her go, prayed she wouldn't waste it on drugs, and sighed. He turned to stare at the human strainer left to bleed on the floor. Not finding the carcass worthy of verbal insults, but deserving of punishment even after death, he landed a harsh kick on the man's head. It was a shame no scream could come of it.
Naruto shut his eyes, cracked his neck and took a deep breath to collect himself. He had an audience, a dozen curious stares watching from the hallway, but none of them was endowed his attention. Declaring himself done he dug out his phone, dialed the number given to him and waited for the call to get picked up. After a few rings, it did.
"Already?"
The speech slurred.
"Yeah."
Short silence fell, followed by a dubious grunt. "You sure he's dead?"
Naruto clenched his jaw and kicked the dead guy again. That one wasn't personal, mere hatred towards dumb questions.
"Yeah, he's dead. Where you at?" he grunted, balancing on the thin line between neutral and audibly annoyed.
"Still here", was the reply, again followed by brief quiet. "I wanna see the body. "
The body mentioned received a third kick. "You fuckin' serious?"
The other end of the line huffed. "Standard shit."
"Ever heard of a picture?" Naruto asked from between gritted teeth. His attitude received the cold welcome he'd known to expect.
"You want your pay or not?"
Naruto fell silent out of plain fury. He couldn't bother with a fourth kick.
"Fine." He sounded every bit as averse as he felt. "It better be fuckin' astounding."
He hung up. Whatever the man may have replied, he didn't care to know. Not having prepared to drag a body along, he struggled to decide how to make it happen. Carrying a grown man's dead weight for miles couldn't be done. Hoping for good news, he dug through his bag and found a length of heavy chain, a stray bit that'd once struck him across the face. Live targets tended to grasp at straws in the face of death. Supposing it had to do, he wrapped it tightly around the dead man's feet, grabbed the loose ends along with his belongings and dragged the corpse to the doorway. There he found his path blocked by several people too curious for their own good. As it became clear none of them had any intention to give way, he scowled and showed off the rifle.
"I can carry two."
Like the red sea, they parted and allowed him to walk through. Upon arriving at the exit, his ticket to freedom, he spotted the lady from before. She leaned against the door, playing with her hair and chatting to a woman he figured to be the madame of the filthy joint. The girl turned to see him. Her gaze followed him till his very last step still inside. He returned her look but ignored the bitter one from the madame mourning the loss of her best client. The woman tore her stare away, her orange hair hiding her heavily painted eyes. She'd lost her eagerness to have her way with him.
Gaara felt restless. He sat in a room full of memories he'd worked years to suppress, staring at walls he'd wished to never be restricted by again and tapping his foot against the hardwood floor he'd though would never carry his weight again. He felt sick, physically nauseous.
Across from him sat a man who biologically was his brother, but in bond a waste of oxygen their mother should've swallowed. The man barely worth being called one was well aware of how the redhead viewed him. The many years in between hadn't dulled the younger one's hatred or improved the older man's ability to look him in the eye. Neither one had expected to see each other again, nor hoped to.
To Gaara his brother was the definition of weakness. Always had been. While he himself had grown cold and strong, his brother had drowned his sorrows in booze. While Gaara had learned to shoot a gun through trial and error, his brother had indulged himself in drugs. And by the time Gaara had first killed a man, his brother had become defenseless against intoxicants and loose women. When Akatsuki had arrived to take him, the man had disappeared into a world of temptation with no hope of salvation.
For those reasons, and many more, to Gaara his brother had always signified everything that was useless and unworthy of breath. They might've been brothers in blood, but never in bond. To him, the man wasn't a brother at all. Yet there he was, voluntarily sitting mere feet away from what'd sparked his hatred towards the human condition. He hated it, but at times life brought one to their knees.
Despite his fifteen years long absence, Gaara had known the man was too big of a coward to leave his comfort zone. Finding him either there or six feet under had been the only two options. Given the circumstances the outcome was a relief, though difficult to accept as one. His brother, however despicable and pitiful, knew the city like the back of his hand. No rumor would've gone unheard, no enemy undetected. He was bound to know the answers to Gaara's questions, but the likeliness of getting any without force was slim.
So far he hadn't had the chance to ask even one. Kankuro, the second mistake of their parents, had skillfully avoided the third and last one for an impressive total of fifteen minutes, distracting himself with other people and constructing excuses to be allowed it. In the name of invaluable information, Gaara had been patient and merciful with his time, but by the sixteen minute mark he ran out of both virtues. Coerced by gunpoint, the man admitted defeat and reluctantly sat down with his younger brother. Gaara could smell the fear on him. It brought back fond memories.
Kankuro fidgeted nervously, fighting but failing to meet the redhead's oppressive stare. The very first attempt had stripped him from manhood, the second was unworthy of being called one and humiliated him in front of everyone there. His only metaphorically little brother had always deviated from others. As emasculating as it was, he feared him. Even as a child, the redhead had unnerved him to the point of terror. There was no doubt in his mind Gaara had been the most terrifying five year old to walk the planet, and now, at the age of twenty-nine, was inhumane. It showed, shone through the eyes sucked dry from everything that made life worth living. A dead man walking. A ghost.
Several minutes into shared silence, the redhead was yet to look him in the eye. He'd glanced his way, stared even, but never quite at him. Through him, at the wall across the room. It made Kankuro feel small and worthless, but above all, frightened. Gaara's silence was the loudest sound he'd ever heard—wordless, noiseless, yet his ears bled. It never told of good things to come. When the man finally showed signs of life and reached for the gun he'd laid on the table, Kankuro whispered a quiet prayer. The redhead caught it, smirked, but said nothing. Dark eyes watched pale hands detach the magazine, take out the bullets and then arrange them into a neat row on the sticky tabletop. Kankuro wanted to, but refused to ask why. He knew he'd be told, sooner or later. Once pleased enough with his perfectly straight line of bullets, Gaara endowed Kankuro the first look that didn't travel through him.
"Let's play a game."
The redhead paused, as if to wait for a reply. It was but a clever mock. Kankuro had no right to refuse and no will to accept. He wasn't entitled to a reaction.
"I call it..." Gaara trailed off to decide on a name "...Truth or Dare; Undertaker Edition."
Kankuro hated it. He hated the high look his brother's eyes adopted when in the presence of fear he was at fault for.
"The rules are simple", he was assured. "I ask you a question. You answer the question. Either you tell me the truth or dare to lie. Nothin' wrong with lyin'."
The claim was taken with a grain of salt, for good reason. The redhead's face fell into a scowl. His freezing stare felt like a layer of ice on its target.
"The catch is, lies ain't free." Gaara cocked his head. "I'm givin' you two choices. Tell me the truth, and no one gets hurt."
Kankuro watched his brother run a finger beside the row of bullets, as if contemplating which one to choose.
"Or", the redhead paused to light a cigarette, "you lie and pray to the devil I won't figure it out."
His finger had stopped to softly tap on the tabletop beside one of the bullets. He picked it up, rolled it across his knuckles and flashed a grin.
"If he ain't on your side today...Well, you'd be amazed how quickly these bullets run out."
Kankuro chuckled and ran his hands over his face. He was nervous, yet angry. The role of an underdog never was an easy one. Watching his merciless brother place the bullet of choice into the gun's magazine, he made a conscious note of the man's appearance. Knowing it was a rare opportunity, he wanted to take a close look at what his brother had become. It came as no surprise, life hadn't treated him kindly. The aftermath of violence and once lethal wounds were everywhere to be seen. Although the redhead must've at times suffered unimaginable pain, Kankuro knew there was a flip side to each of his injuries. For every scar and scratch on his brother's body, somebody had paid with their life. The deeper the cut, the slower they'd died, of that he was sure. The longer he watched him, the better he realized what sat across from him.
"You're a fuckin' monster."
Nothing, absolutely nothing. Not a glance, not a pause. It was as if not a word had reached the ghastly man. Finding himself fall second to thin air, Kankuro discovered a stray bit of courage among his terror. Whatever the cost, he had to hit where it hurt. He refused to believe not a single brittle heartstring had survived the years of weeding them out. There had to be something, anything, that'd crack the redhead's indifference and spill a reaction.
"Tell me", he said and leaned forward in his seat. "How do you do it? How don't you ever find shit to live for?"
The redhead's lips parted, not to speak, but to let out a breath of smoke. The status quo wouldn't waver, but neither did Kankuro's mind.
"Ain't you lonely?"
"No."
Kankuro huffed. The disinterested mutter wasn't a win in his book, barely even a score.
"Then what are you?" he grunted, impatience clinging to his words, much to the redhead's amusement.
Gaara chuckled. "The fuck's it to you?"
"Closure", admitted the older one, not embarrassed to do so. Frankly, it was a move too courageous to be deemed a weakness.
"Closure, huh?" Gaara muttered, tilting his head to see the ceiling. It'd been repainted, he noticed. "No luck. I don't give back souls I've stolen."
Kankuro shook his head, looking disappointed. "Compensatin' much? Daddy issues really hit you hard."
Gaara disagreed. "Ain't that. Just a hobby."
"Y'know", the older one sighed, "stealing 'em ain't gon' save yours."
The redhead dropped his gaze and turned to flash a smirk. "Good thing I ain't got one."
Kankuro fell silent. He'd run out of straws to grasp at. Maybe he'd been wrong, maybe there really were no loopholes left. Maybe their father had been right and Gaara been born rotten. Tired of fighting it, he admitted defeat.
"Dad was right. You'd cut the wings of an angel."
He saw it, the breath his brother skipped. The next one he held in. Though they could be counted with the fingers of one hand, for some seconds the redhead sat still and sedated. His pale eyes stared into distant nothingness and mind left the room. He soon snapped out of standby, unwittingly reached to touch the scar carved into his forehead and closed his eyes. The instant after, he was himself again. Whatever had taken hold of him was gone as quickly as it'd come, but the tension it left behind lingered. Gaara cursed himself for the faux pas, Kankuro struggled to understand what he'd said to cause it. His curious gaze dropped when met by a vapid one.
"For every lie I catch, one lowlife dies. That gives you six chances."
Accepting that the once in a lifetime moment had passed, Kankuro glanced at the table. A quick count gave him a total of six bullets in front of him and one inside the magazine. In total, seven bullets. Yet only six chances. Gaara wanted the pleasure of stating the obvious.
"Guess who the last one's for."
There was no question included. Out of the two options, the smart choice seemed obvious. Kankuro wished it'd been that black and white. The hood was brutal, pecking order never invariant. In a place where only the strong survived, natural selection had a mind of its own and people were slaves to its power. Bending to his brother's will and satisfying the man's thirst for knowledge would've been a detrimental sign of weakness and a certain kick down from the pedestal he'd fought to seize. Life there was dog-eat-dog, every man for himself. Family reunions were no exception.
Kankuro straightened his back and nodded. Gaara rewarded him with a low chuckle.
"Thought so." His smirk dropped. "You heard 'bout the rumor?"
The older one scoffed. "The city's built on 'em."
It was a deliberate stab at the redhead's strained nerves. A bold one, a conscious risk fueled by immature sibling rivalry. An impressive feat, in it's own right, but not worth Gaara's humor.
"I'll ask again", he said, stare harboring hostility. "You know the rumor, or shall I gouge your fuckin' eyes out?"
The older one sighed, dark eyes rolling in their sockets. "Yeah."
"Is it true?"
Kankuro scowled. "Don't know."
Gaara stopped to study his brother. He saw that the man's shoulders were tense, but hands steady. No fidgeting was evident. Hadn't it been for the small, teeny tiny abnormality in his breath, the redhead might've believed him.
"Wrong answer."
Kankuro was given no chance to regret his decision before Gaara had stood up, spotted the least inviting face in the room and fired his gun.
A woman, no older than twenty-five, fell to the ground with a thud. Her forehead, now a tunnel of lead, bled out the life he'd taken in cold blood, quickly staining the floor in red. Killed in mid-conversation, the friend left without a full reply stepped aside to avoid the gradually growing puddle around her fractured head. Not one person there bothered with more than a vapid glance. Instead of anyone having the courtesy to move her body, all eyes were stuck on him until they ran out of interest. Natural selection was the faded lead star no one felt for anymore.
Gaara lowered his gun and sat down again. Without skipping a beat, the game continued.
"Let's try again. Is the rumor true?" the redhead repeated.
Kankuro stared at his brother, contemplating on what to tell him. A repetition of his previous answer would've only resulted in another vain death. The lie wasn't worth the loss.
"Probably. I heard the guy's in town."
Green eyes narrowed. "Where?"
"No clue. Haven't seen the fucker."
The reply was rushed, unreliable. Though the hurry was all Gaara could consider to be a symptom of telling lies, he decided to play it safe. With a grunt, he turned in his seat, picked another poor soul and took the shot. Another body fell to the ground, this time a man in his early thirties. The fresh victim went as unseen as the first, but the stares on him lingered longer than before. Through their hazy intoxication, people must've realized he was picking out targets at random. Still, very few cared enough to leave.
The redhead loaded another bullet into the magazine and turned to see his brother. The man seemed unimpressed, close to disappointed. Gaara took it he might've made the wrong call.
"You really don't know, huh?"
"No, I don't", Kankuro grunted. "Pull your shit together, bro. You're embarrasin' yourself."
Gaara scowled, wishing he could've claimed otherwise. The man was right, he could do better.
"Who does?" he asked instead of owning up to his mistake.
Kankuro shrugged. "No one does."
It didn't struck as a lie, but made the redhead doubt him all the same. By all logic, it must've been true, but then again, Kankuro was exceptionally skilled at obtaining information no one else could get their hands on. It wasn't an easy defeat, but Gaara decided to believe him. He knew there was a question he could ask and not be fooled by the answer. An encompassing question could not be answered with subtle lies.
"Is there somethin' you know 'bout this that's worth dyin' for?"
Kankuro huffed. "No."
Gaara cocked his head, looking curious. He took his time to study the other man, seeking to find a loophole in his seemingly honest mien, but faced disappointment upon finding none. Thus he altered his question enough to place Kankuro on the thin line between mercy and selfishness.
"Is there somethin' you know that's worth four more people dyin' for?"
Kankuro skipped a breath. Gaara could see the pressure building up and knew it'd be easy to spot a lie, were he to dare give one. The man opened his mouth to speak, and immediately, Gaara knew the question had hit bullseye.
"No."
The lousy lie earned a spiteful chuckle. "Go ahead, pick one."
Kankuro's face fell. Clearly he hadn't expected to be the one picking out victims. Gaara saw that and savored every last bit of the man's open discomfort. After several seconds of uneasy silence and avoiding the inevitable, Gaara accepted that no choice would be made. He decided to take it as a chance to make the game more fun.
"Fine. I'll make it easy for ya", he told and turned to see the entrance across the room.
The flow of people going in and out was constant, and thus the perfect seedbed for his cruelty to grow on.
"Next one that steps in, dies."
Kankuro's stiff shoulders dropped in relief, only to tense up again. Though pleased to have been released from being responsible for the next death, he did worry his brother would shoot someone valuable, business-wise. Patiently the redhead waited for his next victim to waltz in front of his ready aim. The wait wasn't long. The door opened, someone stepped inside and Gaara's trigger-happy finger greeted them with enthusiasm. Another headful of lead met the floor. Pleased enough, he dropped his aim, turned back to his brother and cracked a smirk. The sneer he had in store never made it out. From the corner of his eye, he saw the outline of a gun. Like second nature, he greeted it with his own and turned his head to see who dared to openly carry one in his vicinity.
He flinched, throat closing up. Time ceased, his breath got stuck and heart lost its steady rhythm. And then flatlined.
Naruto weaved his way through flocks of long stares and quiet mumbles, rifle in one hand and rattling chain in the other. The dead weight dragging behind him was beginning to turn from a nuisance into an actual challenge. He was beginning to worry that the pay for this job wouldn't be worth the effort he'd invested in it. Albeit short on motivation, the lack of other options fueled his slow walk to the bar he had no interest in revisiting. After five miles, and an equal number of cigarette breaks, he finally reached the stairs leading up to the rundown booze house. Tired and defeated, he crouched down, hauled the dead body over his shoulder and drew in a breath of forced ambition. He rose to his feet again, only to find a morbidly obese man blocking the way with his wide existence.
Stretching his manners to their limit, Naruto patiently allowed the fat man to wobble his way up the stairs first. He followed the archetype of gluttony up the steps and to the entrance, and at the top paused to wonder if the guy would even fit through. The answer came in a form he hadn't expected. As soon as the man cracked the door open, one chubby leg stepping inside, a loud bang pierced the air. Gunfire, Naruto realized as he watched the second deadly sin momentarily tense up before crashing through the entrance and to the ground with a loud, heavy thud. Though he'd never imagined witnessing a death as tragicomic, it didn't baffle him for long.
Even before the shot's echo faded, he'd already dropped the corpse down from his shoulder to shield himself, stepped through the entrance and aimed his rifle in the direction of the noise. Normally it would've taken him but a split second to fix on a target and fire, but for the first time in months, his steady aim faltered.
He froze. Blue eyes widened and pale lips parted. His breath hitched, the air saved in his lungs ran stale. Though he could see just fine, he still doubted his sight. He doubted, for he could see a man with blood red hair and ghostly skin. As the man then turned to look his way, he could see poison green eyes, a scar he'd traced with his own fingertips and lips he'd kissed more times than he could count, yet never enough. Had it really come to this—him hallucinating what he could not have? He must've gone mad.
Steadfast stillness followed. Nothing happened for seconds, and each one felt like a lifetime. For that short eternity, blue eyes stared into green ones, neither gaze confident they should be trusted. The guns raised at one another didn't budge. Nothing did.
It was no conscious decision. Without even realizing it, Gaara rushed to his feet, only to freeze again. He rose because he wanted to believe him to be real. He halted because he feared he wasn't. Nowhere in between his hope and despair did he notice his hand tremble or the dozens of stares questioning it. The only thought his standby state could fit in was the terrifying potential of delusions. He dreaded it was just that, a lie come to life. But the longer he watched and the more he feared, the less he cared. He realized it didn't matter. A lie was good enough.
Naruto was afraid to move, scared to even breathe. Terrified of blinking, in case the redhead was gone the next time he opened his eyes. When the need to be sure grew overwhelming, he felt brave enough to close them for a blink's while. The second after, he was still there, still watching him in disbelief. He saved the step he wanted to take and waited for a sign of something certain, something worth trusting. His patience didn't suffer in vain. He saw the man glance at the gun in his hand, flinch and drop the weapon as if burned by it. The second it hit the floor, Naruto dared to believe, tossed aside the rifle, dropped the dead weight in his arms and stumbled over it to meet the man halfway. The last few steps he ran, at the very last reached out to find a real body to hold, and the one he never took tasted better than he'd remembered.
A split second into his eyes falling shut and hairs standing on end, Gaara realized it wasn't a lie he held and tasted, but the first and only reason for his downbeat heart to race. His head found an excuse to feel light, his strength a purpose in tightly holding what to him was most precious, and lips a reason to smile against familiar ones. They were familiar, yet it felt like he'd never kissed them before, as if it'd been the very first time. The fingertips running up his neck made up for the lips that left his. Neither one opened their eyes or wandered further than an inch from one another.
"You're real."
Green eyes opened, blue ones stayed shut. Hearing his voice, it felt like a sheet of static electricity on his skin. Unable to answer, he didn't, but instead made sure to claim all attention his and seized it with eagerness he normally would've denied himself. The stares on them didn't matter, the whispers they never heard, and the fear of the moment turning out to be yet another nightmare in disguise was yet to pass. But even if only a dream, it was the most vivid one so far.
Something unthinkable took place. The roomful of oblivious folk awoke to gaze at the real world through their hazy high. Dozens of dazed eyes watched the man they all feared touch someone without intention to harm, hold someone as if desperate for their attention and affection, kiss someone the way every human wished to be kissed. It harrowed, it frightened. It made their skin crawl. Their devil seemed human. Their hell cooled down. Not sure how to handle the sight, people fell silent and stepped away, leaving them on display like freaks of nature. Though the stunned stares and silent dread of the confused crowd was tangible, only one gaze there went beyond shock and into the realm of horror.
Kankuro sat still and rigid, dark eyes wide with disbelief, face twisting in disgust. The thoughts racing around his head weren't something words could describe. He didn't know how to feel or what to do, if anything, and couldn't decide whether to blame the sight on stress or lousy crack. His mind must've been playing tricks on him, it couldn't have been true. Though his feeble reason tried to deny it, his eyes still saw it unfold. It wouldn't go away, the mirage wouldn't fade. He watched his emotionally doomed, mass-murdering brother hold, kiss and whisper sweet nothings to another man, fair hands traveling up and down a body they shouldn't have. He couldn't decide which unnerved him more; the suggestion that his brother was capable of need greater than physical, or whom the need was for. Both felt like lies. One pretty, the other abominable.
He saw all of it. Not just the obvious, but the little things too. The way his brother shivered at every little touch, how his knees seemed weak and desire desperate. He saw every small twitch and tremble. That's when he knew it wasn't the crack. It'd been lousy, but never this lousy. What he saw was real, for he did not have the imagination for delusions as twisted. Not even in the darkest corner of his mind would there have been room for what he was the witness to.
Naruto didn't have to look to know people were staring. But neither did he care. Not with his hands full of many dreams and nightmares alike in their very real, physical form. When he finally forced himself to break away, he did so only to rest his forehead against Gaara's and speak to him, solely because he could.
"You're shaking", he whispered, voice weak with a high he'd never experienced before.
He was. The tremble against him was uncontrollable, but not something Gaara shamed himself for. The cool fingertips gently reminding themselves of the scars on tan cheeks, those they'd missed for months, gave his smile life it'd lacked.
"I know."
Gaara took Naruto's hand into his and laid it flat against his chest. Even through the man's shirt, he could feel his heartbeat. Less that and more of a pound. It pulsed rapidly against the palm of his hand, inside the chest rising with an uneven breath—a confession devoid of words. Blue eyes opened. While his fingers traced a scar he knew like the back of his hand, his eyes gazed at the one running over it, across the redhead's eye and all the way down to his jaw. He gently traced the length of it with his thumb. It hadn't been there before. Though once a deep cut, he smiled.
"I like it."
Gaara, too, opened his eyes. He cracked a crooked smile. As Sai had promised, the blonde liked it. He saw past it.
"Yeah?" he asked between visits against smirking lips.
Naruto chuckled, "Yeah."
He couldn't stop staring. Not only to be reminded of all the familiar features, but to discover new ones. He'd changed. He no longer looked the same. The scar, it was a mark very prominent. His neck, all the way up to his jaw, bore tattoos that hadn't been there the last time he'd kissed the length of it. With a small tug on the neckline of the man's shirt, he found them covering his chest as well. But his arms, they were as bare as before. His hair was shorter, his smile just a little less crooked. Perhaps just a fleeting moment of weakness, but one he wanted to memorize down to the smallest detail. Yet, despite the many changes, he still looked like himself. He still was Gaara. And most importantly, he was there.
Gaara didn't mind the watchful gaze, but did return it. He'd changed, but so had the blonde. His eyes had dimmed, which saddened him. His smile had life to it, which made him happy. His hair had grown longer in the front and been pulled back, while the sides were much shorter than before. He had new scars on the frame that'd grown broader and stronger. But even then, he felt the same, tasted the same. Gaara knew he'd found his way back home.
Naruto smiled at the curious eyes studying him and reached out to run his fingers through red hair. He doubted the man realized it himself, but the pulse beating against his palm quickened. It was worth a small, raspy laughter that faded into the mouth on his.
"People are starin'", he muttered between the redhead's attempts to keep him silent.
"Let 'em."
And he did. The stares burned, but not enough to bother, and blended into the background like whispers into the wind. The decision to leave the unsolicited platform was their own, not stage fright's. Wordlessly Naruto inched away, let Gaara take his hand and walk him to the nearest table. There the man sat him down and crouched down before him, one knee pressing against the floor. From below he gazed up at the blonde leaning forward and resting his arms on his knees, head tilted in a manner as curious as his lopsided smile. The pair of cool hands finding a place under his open jacket, against his bare sides, invited his fingers to gently run through red hair. The intense glare sent from across the table didn't go unnoticed, but as with every other so far, its worth died void of attention.
Gaara swallowed, nervous for a reason he couldn't name. "Hey."
Naruto released a breathy chuckle, shaking his head in disbelief. His voice fell out softer than usual.
"Hey."
The atmosphere was thick with cautious anticipation, as if the floor had been brittle ice and air poisonous. Not a soul there didn't itch with uncertainty over the next moment and what it'd entail. The setting looked wrong. Their devil had dropped to his knees, head low but eyes gazing up, as if bowing down to worship. To see the monster take such a humble position before someone, anyone—it was absurd. The man who'd never pledged allegiance to anyone knelt meek and modest, showing genuine respect, as if admitting inferiority. To whom, they all saw, but none knew. The one most distraught to witness his brother's one man's religion take place was ashamed to feel frightened despite the threat having submitted, humbled like a whore in church. Kankuro still didn't know what to think of the blonde stranger or the sickeningly starstruck look laid on him, but one thing was for sure.
Whatever the blonde had done to earn it, he'd coerced his brother to worship him like something divine.
Gaara was yet to stop gazing upwards, silently begging for attention from the blonde's blue eyes. He was disappointed to find them turn and lay a look on someone else instead. For a short while, they watched the man sitting across from them, a little to the side. Gaara saw the discomfort frowning between the blonde's brows. He worried before he had the chance to choose he would.
"He bothers you."
Tearing his gaze from the man he'd come to meet, Naruto shook his head and attempted a smile.
"Nah. I'm good."
The redhead didn't buy it. An idea sparked in his eyes. "I'll kill him for you."
The offer was enthusiastic enough to stir disbelief in the oldest of them. Kankuro felt ashamed to still bother feeling surprised by his brother's twisted ways.
Naruto chuckled but shook his head again. "Don't. I got use for him."
Gaara looked disappointed, but said nothing. Merely bowed his head lower, humble and obedient. The blonde tilted his head and flashed a wistful look. As flattering as the redhead's humble devotion was, he didn't find it necessary, but knew arguing over it was an idea dead on arrival.
Gaara's gaze viewed him in awe. "You're still perfect."
Naruto laughed, the sound light and vivid. "You're still delusional."
Kankuro scowled. What did his brother see in the blonde? His looks? His character? His admittedly formidable strength? Whatever it was, it'd swallowed him whole and had no intention of letting go. Kankuro hated that Gaara's newfound weakness, the only one of its kind, wouldn't make him vulnerable in the eyes of others but instead title the blonde a deity. Only a divinity could've tamed the devil, and the dumb herd of sheep groveled before any given god. Even his kingship over the town couldn't compare to what the stranger had been endowed.
Gaara didn't reply to Naruto's remark, certain he was right and the blonde wrong. For the first time since seeing him walk in, he allowed his eyes to stray from blue ones and gazed at the rest of him instead. He noticed the deep gash in the blonde's chest. His heart skipped a beat and hand reached out to acknowledge it.
"You're hurt."
Naruto flinched. He'd all but forgotten about his wound. Before he had the chance to assure he was fine, Gaara looked up to question it.
"What happened?"
His voice fell out dark and ominous. Realizing what horrors it entailed, Naruto made the mistake of glancing at the man to his left. It was brief, but Gaara caught it with ease. The split second change in him was hard to miss. His vengeful wrath was the kind to spread like wildfire and exterior not a cover good enough. Without a word's warning to his brother, he rose to his feet, rushed the distance and struck him with all his unforeseen fury. Kankuro took it like the man he'd made himself out to be. He'd learned early on not to put up a fight against Gaara's blind rage. Instead of defending himself from the inevitable, he shut his eyes and let the man ram his knuckles into his face as many times as he saw fit, never daring to even wince. His pain was silent, perfectly so, and his silence the only shred of dignity the redhead couldn't strip him of.
It took Naruto only seconds to rise and rush over, yet the beaten face already made him fear what a full minute could've done. The instant before Gaara's hits would've tipped over defenseless man's chair, sending him to the floor and the redhead on top of him, he succeeded in grabbing the violent man from behind and dragged him a step back. He did put up a halfhearted fight. Halfhearted, as most of him wanted to beat his brother dead, while a lesser part felt obliged to do as the blonde wished.
"Stop it", Naruto said. "It was a fair fight. It's fine."
Though his reassuring words did nothing to calm the redhead's heavy breath and clenched fist, at the very least he stilled. A moment's silence fleeted by, Kankuro wiping away the blood on his face the little he could, Gaara looking to find even one reason not to carry on beating him, and Naruto hoping he'd find one. For the blonde's sake, he grasped at straws.
"Who lost?"
Eyes shutting in both shame and ache, Kankuro raised a shaky hand. It took its while, but eventually the redhead's fist reluctantly relaxed and gritted teeth turned into a clenched jaw. Naruto felt confident enough to let the man go. Whether it was a sound idea or not, he didn't know before seeing the redhead turn to face him. He looked no less angry with his tense features and stern eyes. To avoid another beating, Naruto reached out to hold his face. The way he'd used to.
"Calm down, okay? It's fine", he assured again, hoping his words wouldn't fall on deaf ears.
Gaara said nothing. Adamant, Naruto pressed his lips against scowling ones. After enough times of hoping to receive anything but the cold shoulder, the man finally returned the effort.
"Once", he growled. "Once more and I don't give a fuck what you tell me."
The blonde nodded. "Okay."
Pleased enough, Gaara turned to his brother, leaned in too close for comfort and hissed cruel promises into the man's fearful face.
"Go anywhere near my angel again, and I'll gut you like an animal."
Angel, Kankuro thought, and understood what'd pushed his brother to pause and zone out earlier on, yet a nervous head shake was all he had to offer. Nothing more nor less had been expected of him. Without another word, Gaara left the spot, claimed the vacant seat and pulled the blonde onto his lap. Naruto didn't mind it, not the lips exploring the back of his neck nor the fingertips creeping up his stomach. Taking in a deep breath and pushing out a heavy sigh, he turned to the man with a broken face.
"I did my job. The cunt's dead", he grunted.
He could see the guy's urge to withdraw their deal. He saw it in the deep scowl, the askance glower and gritted teeth, none of which dared to act audacious. Too smart to speak his mind, but too proud to grovel, he offered only silence. Displeased, Gaara abandoned the blonde's neck just long enough to send the man a hostile sideways glance.
"Give him what he wants."
The demand was deep and dark, but no less crystal clear. Several reluctant seconds went by before the man swallowed his pride and reached into his jacket pocket to take out a stack of something. Pictures, Naruto realized upon having them handed over. The dim lighting made it hard to make them out, and so he abandoned the redhead in search for a better one.
"Sorry, baby", he mumbled, stood up and walked to the counter with brighter lighting.
Gaara tilted his head curiously. He was disappointed to let the man go, but enjoyed his walk away all the same. Though well aware of the oppressive stare on him, he took his time eyeing the blonde up and down before bothering to grace his brother with a glare twice as hostile. Kankuro flinched, but pulled himself together.
"A dude, huh?"
Pastel eyes narrowed. The taunt in disguise was like an open arm invite to his fist, but not worth the effort. Turning it into twisted fun was easier done.
"Pretty, ain't he?"
Kankuro clenched his jaw tightly shut. However self-sabotaging, he refused to play this game. Gaara wasn't one to let games go unfinished.
"I asked you a question."
He saw how Kankuro seethed with anger, and savored every last shiver of it. Even the sick he swallowed to speak.
"Yeah. Pretty."
Gaara flashed a pleased, spiteful grin. "You should see him on his knees."
As expected, the face was worth witnessing. At times outsiders' disgust towards his decisions was more than he could hope for. Before Kankuro had the chance to dry-heave, Naruto returned with pleasant surprise in his eyes.
"Look", he said, while being pulled down to straddle the redhead.
The man tilted his head to see the pictures. Sudden interest visited his features. To take a better look, he grabbed the photos to himself and spent a while flicking through them. A pleased grunt fell from his lips.
"They wear the rings."
Naruto nodded. He'd heard the top of Akatsuki's pecking order all wore rings to state their dominance. There were five pictures in total, all shot from hiding, but skillfully so. The images were sharp and detailed. The surroundings looked to be an industrial area. Only few of the men wore rings, the rest must've been workers with a lower status. Or, alternatively, with no status at all, if hired outsiders. Statuses aside, it still was impressive proof of their whereabouts, wherever it may be. Keen to learn, Gaara turned to his brother.
"Where are they from?"
Kankuro sighed, reluctant to cooperate.
"The address is written on the back. Ain't far from here."
The redhead huffed, "Guess you ain't complete waste of cum after all."
Kankuro wished he'd had the right to return the insult. Having grown bored of his brother's sour face by then, Gaara turned to the blonde and flashed a crooked smile. It was returned, but only briefly. The question hanging in the air was difficult for Naruto to voice.
"You'll come with me, right?"
Gaara flinched. Why he hadn't known to expect the question, he didn't know and let it surprise. He considered telling him what he feared he'd hear. Knowing the danger they'd be walking into, he didn't feel comfortable taking the blonde along. But given that he no longer had any reason nor intention to leave, he knew Naruto wouldn't let him out of sight, and thus, would follow anyway. They were both there for the same reason. No matter what he did, Naruto would find his way to danger anyway. Or danger its way to him. Regardless, the outcome stayed the same. His smile reappearing and hand reaching out to stroke blonde hair, he nodded.
"Anywhere."
The relief on Naruto's face, it was the happiest he'd ever seen the man look. Feeling himself melt from the inside out, Gaara gazed at his beaming smile and leaned in to taste it. The glare shooting daggers at their own little bubble couldn't pierce it. Kankuro couldn't have felt any angrier or more uncomfortable. Watching his brother swallow his pride for only one man astonished him as much as it sickened. Who was this blonde stranger and whom had he sold his soul to in order to obtain such absolute power over the maverick redhead? After the slowest, most appalling twenty minutes of his life, he finally questioned it out loud.
"What the fuck have you done to my brother?"
Naruto paused, then flinched, then turned to look the claim in the eye. He blinked several confused times before facing the redhead.
"Brother?"
Gaara's jaw was immediate to clench in what Naruto supposed was resentment, while his gaze traveled to stare at the furthest corner of the room.
"That's an obscure definition."
Kankuro flinched, the blonde noticed. He could clearly see the flash of discomfort in the man's restless eyes, as if the redhead's denial of their brotherhood had struck a nerve more feeble than most. The pinch of disappointment didn't suit the man he'd fought mere hours ago. Not much of the man mentioned was left in general. His egotistic and over-confident attitude was gone along with his self-certain posture. He carried himself differently, weak and uncertain, as if hunched over in shame and guilt. He was afraid of Gaara, that was a given. But that didn't feel like explanation enough. Their curiosity concerning Akatsuki had turned the man grim and uncooperative. A few hours back, he'd made his opinion of the organization well clear. Now, having learned they were brothers, Naruto dared to assume the reason for his resentment.
It had to be about Gaara. About Akatsuki taking him.
It was a perhaps wild, yet no less potential theory. Though it seemed the brothers couldn't stand one another, the older still came across less hostile. It might've left room for one-sided wishes of a brotherly bond, however wasteful. Frankly, it was difficult for Naruto to see the family relation between the two. They looked nothing alike. They shared a few details in demeanor and attitude, but other than that, nothing hinted towards kinship. The knowledge stirred no thoughts nor reactions worth a mention, and Naruto couldn't bother forcing any. He'd lost his skill to feel surprised many unwanted ones ago. His first and only real surprise in many long months sat beneath him, staring at his distracted face and waiting for attention.
"Can we go?" grunted the redhead, gaining the recognition he'd hoped for.
He sounded as uncomfortable as he looked. Naruto nodded and stood up to let the other man follow suit. Gaara took a step towards the exit, but abandoned the idea of another. He stopped, looked down at the rifle lying at his feet. A fleeting pause later he picked up the weapon, made a decision and turned to face his brother. Behind a veil of drying blood sat two uneasy eyes, gazing back at vapid ones. For a short still moment, Kankuro allowed himself to send silent pleas, each one a step closer to inglorious lowliness. He begged in silence, prayed in his thoughts, but didn't grovel, not even when the redhead raised the gun and aimed between his eyes. His will to save even a shred of dignity must've irked the man, as the aim then dropped and fixed on his chest instead. Slow, painful. A death as cruel as the redhead himself.
There was a look, one innate in all men willing to kill, that announced when time was up. Wordless, but unmistakable. When the look visited Gaara's eyes, he wasn't the only one to see it. Out of the blue, Naruto stepped forward and went to stand between them. Never said a thing, only stood and stared at the man deeply unsatisfied with the peace seeking move. Though Gaara undoubtedly did his best not to change his mind, it took mere seconds for his aim to falter and the gun to drop. Kankuro could only assume he'd been rewarded with a smile. Thus did the look unfit for his face suggest. It was yet another instance of weakness the man didn't seem to mind sharing with the world, even if he was quick to scowl and pretend he wouldn't have let the blonde run him over with an eighteen-wheeler, had he so wished to do.
"Whatever. You fuckin' comin'?" Gaara grunted, already on his way to the door.
Roughly five steps in, he started to regret his tone, turned back around and jumped in front of the eighteen-wheeler out of his own volition.
His apology was but a tense cough, the way they most often were. "Angel?"
Naruto huffed through a smirk, grabbed his rifle and followed the redhead's steps to the door. There Gaara hauled over his shoulder the body left to cool on the floor, and without another glance to his brother, left. The blonde stayed for three more seconds. The first he hesitated, the second he glanced at the man watching from afar and at the third he walked away.
The doorway was empty, the floor deserted. The audience now left without entertainment was an extension to the walls, dozens of backs pressed against them even after the reason for irrational fear was gone. All that remained was silence, a roomful of quiet wonder, and one man unable to believe he'd looked the distant past in the eye. Kankuro sat still and quiet, empty head mourning the absence of comprehension. Though he tried to understand, he couldn't, and remained a mess of memories from long ago, confusion of now, and ignorance of the future. He felt lost, helpless. Alone, somehow. But most of all, he felt weak for being in life debt.
Hadn't the blonde stranger become his shield, Gaara would've taken the shot.
Kankuro shut his eyes and released a breath that'd stayed stuck in his throat for a long while. The next time his eyes opened, they took notice of the gun his brother had left behind. He watched it and hesitated, but overcame the uncertainty and picked it up. It felt heavy in his hold.
Heavy like the years he'd spent in regret.
Back together at last. In such an improbable way it must be fate, eh?
For those possibly hopin' this thing would finally end; nah. I ain't done yet. Still plenty of twisted shit I need to get out of my head. Best case scenario; you people might still actually enjoy reading it.
See you next week. *disgusting amounts of kisses 'n' hugs*