To Know You Is To Hate You So Loving You Must Be Like Suicide
(authors note:this is the last chappie. I know it's short and there are many ways I could continue it but I really want it to end this way it's so dramatic! I'll be starting a new story soon( NO YAOI! SORRY! not a fan of yaoi...I mean, I lovea good guy-boning-each other story as much as the next person but not for me). Well,I hope you had as much as fun as I had writing it...that sounds corny but It's true so enjoy!)
Sakura sat up from her down position on Gaara's bed, and pushed him up, taking her hand down to his, which was underneath her shirt, pushing it away as well. Both their chests rose and fell as they stared at each other awkwardly for a few moments. Sakura saw the red crawling up Gaara's neck, all the way up to his round cheeks; his mouth was just slightly open, breathing in and out quietly.
She brought her hand to his face, and quickly pulled him to her one last time, crashing her mouth against his, sucking onto his bottom lip briefly, and parted from him again, almost pushing his face away, as if to say she didn't want to admit she liked him at all.
Gaara's eyes bore through Sakura as seconds ticked by, just waiting for his mother to show up in his bedroom again to see what the hell Kankuro was screaming on and on about. He just couldn't help but stare.
Sakura hastily got down from the bed, and brushed the loose hair out of her face, and behind her ear. She reached down on the floor, grabbing what had been done of the poster, rolling it up as fast as she could, even though her fingers could barely work at the rate she rushed herself at; she was shaking terribly. After she got a good grip on their poster, and also grabbed her hoodie from the floor, she continued on to Gaara's door, and turned to him as she opened it.
"I fucking hate you," she said to him as he watched her leave. And as she left, she whispered, "I hate what you do to me."
You scream for ice cream, I scream for ice cream, we all scream for ice cream.
Everyone knows that little saying you were constantly told, and occasionally would join along in as a small child. But as the child grows, and becomes older, they begin to scream for something different. Either that or they're the ones getting screamed at. Sometimes it's for good, and sometimes it's for something bad--- or annoying, or immature, or--- looks.
And then they learn to ignore the bad screaming, and engulf themselves around the good. Or at least the supporters- you can't always call people who admire you the best souls in the world, because they truth is--- they aren't.
Sakura refused to because the screamer, nor the screamed at. She had chosen something much different, and something much more depressing to focus on- even after the switch, when she left the few people she knew, to embark on a boring journal to meet even less. Or according to Sakura, none at all. But after that, she was done. She refused to go to school again- she thought graduating meant you were done. Why do it all over again for another four years or more? And for what?
But she, to her misfortune, was forced to spend at least two more years of her life in the education department. Wasting away her days in a room where no one would care if she ever came to class. No one would be looking forward to see her, or watch her, and pretend to hate her. And now that that was gone, she didn't have to pretend anymore either. She could show the hate all she wanted, because, no one important would ever notice, or care.
So she landed herself in a fair sized apartment-- alone, and a job working at a local music store- which was the closest she would ever be able to get to anyone who was important. Even so, it sometimes made to her sick to think she had been forgotten- and she knew it wasn't just something she ate, because every time she saw the faces together in print for the whole world to see, she'd push past people in her way,and shove her face down in a toilet to empty herself of all the toxins he had left behind.
But one night she deemed the last chance she'd ever have, she used the last of what she had from her lousy pay check, and exchanged it for a ticket back to her old life, that she now, desperately wanted to have back. She regretted taking it for granted, and pushing it away.
Sakura watched all the movements that were made, and all the actions and words from a short distance. Not too far away where she couldn't see, and not too close up where she would have to crane her neck. She listened to the flirts, the growls, and the preaching. She watched as he would send out demands at anytime he wished, and saw as the on-lookers immediately obeyed, and bowed down to him as if he was their God. People worshiped him.
What-a-change.
And then they were the moans elicited from himself, that he seemed to not even take notice of- as if he was completely turned on by everyting that was going on around him. Like he was getting some sort of sexual rush from it all.
Maybe he was.
But why should Sakura care?
She didn't. And it was beginning to make her sick--- that's why she left. Pushing past people, who would yell, or curse at her every now and then for blocking the view.
What view? she though to herself sarcastically, grunting as she finally made it out the back exit doors, past security, before the last song of the night ended. The chair was no cooler than it had been when she was inside, and didn't send her any relief at all from all the sweaty, ungrateful bodies she had just seconds ago stood next to, and shared the same room with. Breathed the same air with.
She felt like a smoker at that point, feeling like it would have been routine for her to light up as soon as she had made it outside. But she didn't smoke-- and she didn't drink. You'd think all the depression she had gone through the past few years of her life would have killed her, and she would have drank herself to death. But she chose not to. Unline someone else she knew...
That's when she noticed an abnormal amount of screaming coming from behind the door, inside the venue; then doors had opened, many people piling out, some staying behind calling out in unison up to the stage, "One more song" over and over, until they would realize there wouldn't be 'one more song' and they should have left like the rest of people, and then maybe they wouldn't have to complain about not being able to get out, and being stuck at the light for an hour.
Sakura looked up, and saw them emerge from the another set of doors behind the fence that stood in front of her. Shortly after that, a horde of people came rushing past her, pushing, and shoving her in all directions, fighting to be the first up to the fence.
One from behind the fence strode up to it quickly, and decided which sharpie he should take from who first. He quickly made his decision, as people were in high demand.
"Relax, I'll get to all of you," he mused, smiling at all who had come to see, and collect his signature.
Sakura knew who he was. But never had met him. Maybe should would have at some point if she wouldn't have been so stubborn those few (what seemed like) short years ago. But she didn't care much, he wasn't the one who had caused her so much pain. He was just someone to add, because he had helped.
Curiosity began to arouse in her mind. Thinking what any of them would do if she just walked up there, and stared at them, just to see what he would do, if anything at all. If he even noticed, that is.
So she kept her head up, and pushed past all the people that had done so to her earlier, and reached the fence, letting her hands grip onto the chain links. And then she saw him. She was so close. Close enough to where she watched him again; all the movements he made, all the expressions that crossed his face. His smile...
She bit her lip- holding back a small amount of tears she knew would soon fall if she didn't leave right at that moment. But she couldn't. She couldn't push it away again. Never would she, she vowed, if she ever got the chance again. And she had.
"Um," a throat cleared in front of her, and she recognized the voice. "Are- you... okay?" he asked slowly.
Sakura didn't answer him, and he watched her, placed a long piece of the front of his hawk behind one of his ears. She saw him begin to walk away. Oh no- no he wouldn't.
"I FUCKING HATE YOU GAARA SABAKU!" Sakura screamed out, as loud as she could gripping painfully onto the metal fence holding her up.
Gaara had his hands in his pockets, casually walking back toward what would be his home for a few months, ignoring all the useless screams and pleas coming from all the female admirers behind him. But something about one of the screamers stopped him. Something different had occurred. Something was off. He knew that voice.
He turned around quickly, just incase he wasn't hearing things, or going crazy as he deemed he had been for quite a few months now. It was a very rare occurrence for him to not approach a girl and tell her, "Fuck you" for saying he was hot. He had always told girls who called to him in that manner so, and he wouldn't say it any other way.
And then there were the haters. Instead of telling them to fuck off as well, he simply ignored their comments to him and his band- they didn't mean anything to him, and never would. They were just a bunch of losers like he once was, trying to act like a punk.
But that voice was neither a hater, nor a raper. It was a 2-in-1 package. The only kind he would ever prefer to have.
Gaara picked up the pace as he advanced towards the gate, the screams getting louder as he approached. He stopped in front of her, examining her tear stained face. A security guard was holding tightly at her shirt sleeve- Gaara assumed it was, 'Just incase' like all the other girls were handled. But this time, he didn't like it.
"Opened the gate," Gaara said to the man in the red shirt, roughly tugging at Sakura. "Let her," he said pointing his index finger at Sakura, "in."
The man raised an eyebrow at him, and stared, as though Gaara was 'high', so to speak.
"Do it!" Gaara commanded, the back off his hand slamming against the fence.
The guard shrugged, releasing his grip on Sakura, preparing himself for a stampede that would be about to take place as soon as he turned the lock. He opened the gate enough for her to slip through, and fought with the rest of the crowd to keep them out.
Gaara took another step up to her, and reached his hand up to her cheek, rubbing his thumb over where a new tear had fallen. Her skin was so familiar to him. Yep, it's definitely her, he thought.
"Sakura," he said.
"Gaara."
There was a pause, and Gaara let his hand slowly fall from her cheek to her shoulders.
"Come here," he whispered, gently tugging on her shoulder- slowly incase she would resist.
But she didn't. She just gave into herself, and let her feet trip over the cement, and into his arms.
Gaara held her tight, and didn't mind she did as well, pinching the skin underneath his sweat soaked jacket. He knew she would be crying.
And Gaara wasn't sure if was the right thing to do, but there was something aching away at him, just as it did when he was just eight years old, and had carried on from then--- longing to touch her hair. As he did, but slowly, waiting for resistance again, he brought his mouth to Sakura's ear, and softly said, "I hate you too."