K, so I felt like making a yaoi drabble with Gaara as the main character. It's a bit AU. The only thing that's really AU is that there is no sand to protect Gaara, everyone lives in the same village, Kankurou is OOC, not too much of the "jitsu" stuf, and there are no demons. Otherwise, I guess that I kinda made it like the original. If there is more that isn't right, let me know k? I'd rather fix what needs to be fixed before I make another chapter. If you don't' like Gaara/almost-every-yaoi-pairing-under-the-sun, then don't read. No flames please. You've been warned, if you consider it to be "shit like this", then don't read it. IT WAS SPUR OF THE MOMENT! If at the end, you find that you didn't like it, then don't review, please. Rated for future chapters, and I don't own Naruto or any songs or whatever else I put in the fic at any time. Thank you.

1
Lies

He didn't blame anyone. It was his fault after all. He was the one that forgot that Kankurou didn't like the news on after ten o'clock at night. He was the one that forgot that the wine bottle had to be replaced. He was the one that forgot that he had to be home at four. It was his fault. All his fault. His fault. His. Gaara kept telling himself that as he applied liberal amounts of eye-makeup around his right eye. The left one only needed a little today. Kankurou made sure of that. The left eye would only need a small amount to even out the bruise, make it look like it always did. No problem… now if he could only see out of that said left eye.

He looked at the white scar that was forever above the same eye, and began to paint it over with red, making it look like a tattoo, rather than what it really was. "Love", what a stupid thing to carve into someone's head. But there it was, the kanji for love written forever into Gaara's flesh. By his brother. Not that he ever felt any, but o-well. The makeup done, he stood back to look back into his reflection, and sighed. His red hair was limp, framing his perpetually thin/white face. His red long-sleeved outfit highlighted his hair… hair so unlike his older siblings. The black eyeliner covered his eyelids, and some of the sockets around them, making his eyes look ever more sunken than they really were. Not that it was all his brother's fault. Gaara had a hard time sleeping, as the voices taunted him in his sleep worse than they did during the day. So he wore extreme eye coverage everyday, to hide the insomniac eyes that were his.

He stepped into his sandals, straitened his fishnet arm-gloves and leggings, slipped his leather sash with the white cloth that hung from the front and back over his shoulder, tightened the straps, and put on the other white sash (that hung the other way) over his other shoulder. Grabbing his normal handful of hair gel, he ran his hands though the red locks so they stood up again, then wiped his fingers on the towel that was ever present in his bathroom. It turns out that Temari liked to embroider symbols onto towels. Looking at himself in the mirror one more time, Gaara picked up his jug-shaped backpack, slung it on his back, and trudged into the kitchen.

Temari sat at the table, a cup of coffee in one hand, and an icepack in the other. The icepack was being held to her shoulder, where a thick bruise was visible under her nightshirt. His older sister took a sip of her drink, then smiled faintly at her little brother, pushing another full cup of the potent liquid across the table at him.

"'Morning Gaara, how did you sleep?"

"I didn't." She chuckled sadly at his reply.

"I'm not too surprised. When was the last time you slept? If you want, I can get some one in the village to let you sleep over for a night. You're still in school, you need your rest."

"It's not him," Gaara looked at the floor for a moment, then went over to the cabinet to find something to eat, picking up the cup. Black coffee, just the way he liked it. Strong, and nothing in it. "He's only part of it. Temari, I think that I'm loosing my mind. I'm always looking over my shoulder, thinking that someone's following me. And it's even worse at night; I hear people yelling at me, taunting me, and hating me when I try to sleep. If I try to stay awake, and don't bother with sleep, they don't bug me as much. I don't know why, but it's there." He found a Poptart, and bit into it without heating it. He also refilled his coffee cup.

"I'm sorry, I don't know what to tell you Gaara. I think it comes with having to live with the two of us." Gaara wasn't amused.

"Yeah, well, I'll see you later Temari, I gotta go to school." He put the empty cup in the sink and walked out, only to be stopped by a thick hand grabbing his hair and pulling him into the broom closet. He looked up, and felt his heart fall through the floor. There, with his blood-shot green eyes and his blond hair all askew from under his hat was Kankurou. He reeked of booze, and every slurred word was accompanied with a sharp blast of the foul air.

"Hiya Gaara boy! I's just got home, an' I fin' that yous is gonna heed out? Now, tha's not right. You wasn't gonna say 'bye to mhe."

Gaara wasn't sure what happened next. He knows that he heard his sister scream, and felt his stomach meet his spine. Then the world went black as pain erupted behind his eyes, and broken glass mixed with the hair gel he had used not too long before.

vxr

The world slowly came into focus, and then it spun like some crazy carousel. He closed his eyes again, and felt someone's hand on his forehead. He slowly opened his eyes and found the school nurse, Tsunade, above him. He blinked up at her, and groaned as his Poptart protested against him. The well-endowed nurse provided a trashcan, and moved out of his way as his meager breakfast presented itself.

"You're one lucky boy, your brother brought you here. Said that he couldn't find you last night, went looking for you, and found you not too far from here. Though, I'm not sure what happened. You were in bad shape…" Gaara stopped listening, knowing that the rest of it was another lie. He had just spilled his breakfast, if that wasn't proof that he had been home that morning, then what was? It didn't matter anymore, it happened a lot. His whole world was full of lies. Like the one that he was telling himself at the moment. He was the one that forgot that his brother liked to say good morning. He was the one that forgot that he had to leave the house early in the morning after a bashing so that he wouldn't meet his brother. He was the one that forgot that he was all that stood between his brother and his sister. He was the one that forgot that it was all his fault. All his fault. He was supposed to protected his sister from getting hurt, and he had forgotten that too. His fault. His. Not anyone else's, his. And his alone.

He knew that it was a lie. But he kept telling himself that over and over again, because then he was able to keep himself from sleeping at night. Therefore, keeping the damn voices away from him. It kept him alive at the moment. It kept him fighting. So he kept lying to himself as he walked to his first class. P.E. was going to be hell that day. At least he made it to school on time.