Lee turned his face to the pillow, the soft fabric muffling his sigh of discontent. He had just returned from a long day of training—one that had gone into the night. He distinctly recalled the breeze that had floated across the training arena, invading his hazy senses, moments before Gaara's voice had roused him from his semi-conscious state. It had smelled of desert spices.
Lee mumbled something incoherent and rolled to his back, staring into the darkness that hung silently around him.
"I don't get it." His voice was barely above a whisper, "Gaara hates me…so why?"
He stretched his hands, free of their usual wraps, in front of himself, fingers interlaced. He stretched slightly, wincing as the scrapes across his knuckles twinged painfully; he smiled though, the thought that he had trained hard enough to get those injuries strangely inspiring.
"I wish sensei hadn't left on that mission…I could use his wise advice." Lee frowned in the darkness, his brows furrowing, "I'd be happy to get to know Gaara…"
Lee ran a hand through his short and somewhat choppy black hair, before yawning, thoughts of sleep leaving him.
"Gaara of the desert…he's rather strange. Mmn.. desert. Need water." Lee mumbled through the yawn.
The young man sighed, sitting up, not even bothering to fumble through the darkness for the light before he stepped out of bed. He carefully picked his way across the floor, steps light from the lack of weights, which he had carefully placed on a sturdy desk along with his uniform, before slipping into a clean pair of boxers for sleeping. He reached the door of the room, calloused fingers closing around the doorknob, turning it and pushing the door open easily. He walked down the hall, padding silently along the carpeted floor, until he reached the kitchen. It was only a few steps to the sink, and a short reach for a glass; he put it under the tap, turned the proper knob and water splashed into it, clear and cool. Lee raised the glass to his lips, taking a sip of the water, letting it roll around in his mouth for a moment before swallowing. He turned, leaning back against the counter with a sigh, holding the glass in both hands. After a few moments, he shivered; the kitchen was chilly, and boxers didn't provide enough warmth.
With a frown and a fleeting thought of Gaara's strange behavior, Lee headed back to bed.
In a different part of Konoha, the very subject of Lee's troubled thoughts was pacing back and forth across the rooftop of the hotel that he and his siblings were boarding at. Loose gravel crunched under sandal-clad feet, the owner of them letting a bitter sigh slip past his lips. Auburn hair was illuminated by the light of an almost-full moon, black-rimmed eyes gleaming in the silvery light.
Gaara, just like every other night of his existence, could not bring himself to sleep. His thoughts were haunted by the why of things.
Why he was in Kohona.
Why he was up here, while Temari and Kankurou slept peacefully, safe in their rooms.
Why he had gone to help that thickbrowed freak.
He had never had a reason to go. Perhaps it was just the simple wanting to go and do something, to watch the young man train and fail and train and never give up. To see his unyielding determination. Gaara narrowed his eyes at the thought of Lee falling, laying prone on the cold ground of the training arena.
He had watched the boy fall that evening; it was still beyond his comprehension as to why his heart had skipped a beat- why he had thought to ask if he was alright, instead of letting an insult roll off his tongue. Why his first urge had been to pick Lee up and dust him off instead of nudging him awake with his foot.
Emotions were confusing things.