Warning(s): Language... Can't really think of anything else.

Disclaimer: Don't own, don't own, don't own!

Author Note: Do hope this chapter is presentable. I always seem to get one chapter out for a different story, and then this one the next day. How awesome is that? Read and review, please, loves!


This.Is.A.Tearjerker.Crying.Now.For.Him.

Four.Under.the.Sun.that's.Not.There.


At the moment, Temari was pondering a new piece of information from a strange yet somehow impressing person. He had given a long, detailed profile on every single resident in the large building, and every room that made up its contents. Her interest was immediately piqued when the younger man had begun his description of and experiences with Gaara, her past half-brother.

To put it simply, he was…

Actually she doubted he could be put simply. Sometimes she wondered if he even remembered anything about her and Kankuro; it seemed when he wanted to be, he turned a blind eye.

Gaara was the…flame. The flame that if bothered, would easily set the world on fire.

He was the one whom sarcastically and cruelly pointed the traveler in the wrong direction.

He was the thorn that stayed in a person's foot until they had surgery.

He was the fleck of gold that a miner found, reveled over, and proudly took to the bank, until being told that the gold was actually a fake.

He was the mirror that reflected a lie.

He was the one to always point out the loose strands in a plan to survive in, say, a war against aliens.

He was the intelligent one whom always knew the answer, but never told anyone.

He was the thoughtful, beautiful, dangerous, satanic, and teasing one stuck in a group of arguing politicians.

He was the hunter whom killed two birds with a single bullet.

And he was the silent one whom always asked the question no one could answer.

Where Temari came up with these musings, she had no idea. Smiling a bit to herself, she turned another dark corner, heading toward where her new acquaintance had mentioned the kitchen/dining room was located. At the sight of her brother standing like a statue in the middle of the hallway, looking down it with the strangest and most concerning look she had ever seen, Temari froze.

"Kankuro?" she questioned, approaching the brunette hesitantly. Sometimes he'd get in a mood where if you pestered him, he'd snap and chew your head of. That sort of reminded her of Gaara. They did have a bit in common, now that she thought about it.

He mumbled something incoherent, snapping out of his daze, and turned to look at her. "So you live."

She shrugged. "Sometimes I wonder."

The brunette eighteen-year-old gave her a twisted smile. "You think too much."

Again, another shrug. "Hungry?"

"Ravenous."


"Unsweetened tea, two cokes, and a water, table two—"

CLANG—CRASH.

"Shit!" the feminine voice breathed through clenched teeth.

"If I told you once, I've told you a million times! T—" another voice retorted, being cut off by the first.

"Shut the fuck up!"

"What the hell! I didn't do anything!"

"Yes you did, you bitch!"

"Oh, you're calling me a bi—"

"Jesus is watching you," I growled.

Silence came; filling the room like the mixture of soda, water, and iced tea that coated the tile. The two threatened visibly gulped, and made themselves as discreet as possible. All at once, a slightly hesitant atmosphere took over the small diner as customers nervously picked at their food, or sipped at their beverages.

A snicker came from my right, and I glanced over at him, eyes narrowed. "Do you have something to say?" A mock innocent smile met my question, and I just shook my head and turned back to my untouched bagel.

"You gonna eat that?" a slightly overweight, blond boy to my right asked, and I slid the plate over to him without complaint.

Neji caught my gaze again, fixing me with a knowing look. I sneered.

After a wonderful night of sex, you'd think we'd be on better terms. Blame it on my natural charm—it's as sour as the lemon in my water. We weren't really angry at each other, just silently understanding, giving everyone the outlook that we were quarreling lovers whom just had a minor spout over something stupid earlier.

He stuck a strawberry under my nose, already bitten out of. "Eat."

Mumble, mumble.

"What was that?"

"…I'm not hungry…"

"No, that kid's not hungry," he motioned to the blond boy munching happily on my bagel. "You, on the other hand, are indeed hungry."

I stuck my tongue out at him playfully, only to be met with a mouthful of bitter sweetness. Chewing and swallowing, I sipped the sour water, and gave him the dirtiest look I could muster.

He smirked, making my heart go a-flutter, and making me think twice about how I had planned this relationship to end. The light drizzle of rain outside immediately turned into an all-out rain war.

"Looks like we're gonna get a little bit wet on the way back home," Neji said absently.

"Hm."

The two females from earlier returned, practically materializing from the shadows as silently as possible. One offered Neji a refill on his decaf coffee, which he declined, glancing at me over his shoulder. I shrugged, our eyes locking and an instant understanding passing between us. "It's best we go now," I muttered, slipping a ten on the clean counter and glaring at the two girls' for good measure.

Sakura gave a forced grin, definitely not heartfelt, and took the bill, no questions asked. "See ya 'round, Gaara!"

I noted that false tone of voice as an afterthought, and dragged the angel by his short sleeve out the door and into the heavy rain. We had a restaurant in the building, yet figures we'd pick the place outside and across the street. It was just in our nature, I suppose. By the time we made it up the stairs to the entrance door, I was soaked head to toe, strands of red hair sticking to my forehead and blinding me. Annoyed, I wiped my vision clear, and shoved the elegant-looking door open.

The woman at the desk didn't even glance at us having worked here for so long and knowing that no guests would be arriving anytime soon. The entrance hall was so beautiful and welcoming and warm…so comforting from the onslaught of icy water pouring from heavens' angry pastures. I allowed a small smile to grace my near-frozen lips; he's seen me smile countless times. What's one more to the pile?

An antique designed rug stretched from one dark wood wall to the other, lavishly stitched with intricate patterns, some weaving gold threads into loops that confused the common new comer. Most of the theatre was made from wood; it showed the pure beauty of it, dark and inviting. A small set of stairs was placed just to the left of the welcoming desk, a hallway visible just at the top, rooms branching out in different directions, down different halls. TenTen quietly occupied herself, nose-deep in one book or another. She said nothing as I took to the stairs, and down the farthest right hallway, wishing my feet were bare, wanting so badly to feel the carpet that I knew would brush against my toes like they had so many years before…exploring the nightmarish building on the darkest of nights…wishing for the danger, the excitement in which I never received…but so horribly craved…

"Gaara?" his soft voice questioned from behind. I halted mid step, and turned to the longhaired angel.

"Yeah—"

My voice caught in my throat as two strong arms wrapped around my waist, a comfortable chest pressing against my back. Neji nuzzled his head against my neck, and despite the chills that were clawing up my spine, I felt strangely warm.

As though sensing my confusion, a muffled voice reached my ears, drowsy and casual, "You looked cold."

It drew a little smile to my face.

But it fell when I remembered.

He'd be gone soon.


Keir had no idea where the brats had run off to. Not that he really cared. In their minds, probably a better, 'happier' place in the world. They had always complained about him being cruel. Keir didn't think he was cruel. He thought they were just being snobby, and selfish, and Pre Madonna's. Or at least, that's what he had called Temari once, and then curtly being snapped at by her, saying, "My name's Temari."

Like he didn't know!

He named that God forsaken child, after all. But being here—this was really asking for it. Kankuro had practically begged on his knees to stay another whole—fucking—week. Three days had been Keir's limit, and yet the fact that his brunette son would've given his right arm to stay longer was enough to hold him another seven days. But then they were leaving.

The brunette man gave the other adult with him an odd look as the silver-haired man questioned him about where he came from. Hm. What would be a plausible enough answer to get him to shut up?

"Japan."

It was a lie, but the man seemed to believe it. "What is it like there?"

How was he supposed to know? Thankfully, before Keir could even think up another white lie, evolving the even smaller one before that only more, a dark-haired woman approached the first man, sighing. The two began an idle conversation. Keir thought that if that guy could forget a concern so simply, then he must be an idiot.

Out of the corner of his eyes, Keir spotted a flash of red, before it disappeared again.

Oh great, his conscience was catching up to him. In that very minute, he got directions from the front table-lady to the nearest bar. That always helped.

…Right?


Sasuke rushed up the narrow stairway backstage, avoiding several ropes hanging haphazardly in his way, as he continued on. At the top, a few boxes lay open and deserted, completely empty save for a few brightly colored articles of clothing. He breathed heavily, hurrying toward the other side of the storage area, and climbing another set of stairs. Once at the peak of these, he paused, combed his bangs back from his face, and sighed deeply.

Directions were printed clearly in black ink upon the back of his pale hand, and he squinted to read it. Gaara's handwriting was so spidery; Sasuke doubted he'd ever find the opposed object. After a bit of searching and lots of dust later, coal black eyes spotted a small, brown box, isolated and off to the side. Inside was exactly what he needed. Or rather, what Gaara needed.

Muttering under his breath, the youth hoisted the specific box into his arms, and hurried back down the stairs. Instead of descending straight to floor one, to the stage where Gaara most likely was now, Sasuke stayed a few flights upstairs, and approached the balcony that overlooked a clip of the stage area. As expected, the redhead was sitting cross-legged, almost concealed in the darkness of the backstage. Sasuke smirked.

"Gaara!" he shouted in warning, before dropping the box and watching as gravity pulled it downward. Sasuke silently thanked whatever god there was that Gaara had decided to sit where he could reach him; it made his evil plans a lot easier.

There was a loud, colorful curse as the once preoccupied in his own thoughts teen's head was met with the, unfortunately, other end of the innocent brown box. And unfortunately, it was open.

But fortunately, the box contained only pieces of clothing in a variety of colors.

When Gaara opened his eyes warily, he found a vivid yellow kimono draped over his lap, a few hats scattered to his left, and something that he couldn't quite see on his head. Reaching up, he tentatively pulled it down. The second his mind registered what it was, the redhead reflexively threw it as far away as it would go, and hehurried desperately to stand, glaring at the brunette who was undoubtedly laughing his brains out just a few floors up. It wasn't even the right box! Why would he need women's underwear, for Christ's Sake!

"SASUKE!" he hissed, loud enough for even those in the practice room to catch. Kiba, being one of those few, winced, instantly understanding. Oh dear, I fear for the Uchiha's life… Many others reflected this thought.

The boy whose life was supposedly now in threat, flinched, but did not in the least regret his little prank. Sure it was pointless, and maybe a little childish, but honestly, this theatre has been so dull over the past few weeks. He needed to… 'spice it up a bit'. Snickering, the brunette turned tail and darted back up the stairs, then continued skipping a few steps at a time, climbing staircase, after staircase, until he, quite quickly, reached the very attic of the theatre.

Oh, shit. This place was even freakier than the last time he had run upon it! And run, meaning, literally.

Sasuke stopped briefly (though back in his early high school years (back when life was normal, actually) he'd been on the track team) to catch his breath. Panting, he glanced around as though expecting the redheaded demon to materialize from the wall and swing a battle axe at him, before moving farther into the darkish room.

Pausing by the window, he glanced out it, wondering absently why it was so cloudy and dirty (didn't the cleaning people clean? Oh, right, what cleaning people?), then pushed some more loose bangs from his face, and approached the opposite side of the room. The floor beneath his feet creaked threateningly, as though it'd snap from under him any second. Sasuke ignored the lump in his throat, and pushed heavily against the door on the other wall, hoping desperately it would open.

It did, with a bit of manly, 'Uchiha' strength, and the orange and pink-bleached sunset were revealed to him. Instantly, it nearly took his breath away. Being in such a polluted-and-always-busy town, rarely did he ever see sunsets and sunrises anymore. More usually, it was either the gloomy gray of the early morning, the gloomy gray of the evening, or the gloomy-and-cold gray of twilight.

Honestly, Sasuke liked the twilight time. Barely anyone was up at those hours, except perhaps Gaara. But that was expected. And it's not like Sasuke went to the redhead's room to have heart-to-heart conversations. He doubted anyone could have a heart-to-heart conversation with the demon. Where was his damn family, anyway? Even Sasuke had his brother. Everyone knew Naruto's parents were dead; Neji had his entire family living here (his pour soul); and Kiba never really had anyone. He was born without real parents, left on the streets without real parents, and brought here without real parents. Almost the same storyline as Naruto, minus that one small part including an old teacher Naruto had once had that took him in on the spot for about three years. All in all, this place was like a dream come true for them. Nowhere else were they truly accepted. Not even those homeless places.

Lost in his thoughts, he barely noticed the shadow fall over his prone form, and squeaked (embarrassedly) when a foot met his back. "Bastard," a venomous voice hissed, but surprisingly, no other violence followed the shove. Instead, Gaara sat down beside the brunette and watched the sky in awe.

"Pretty, huh?" Sasuke dared to speak.

For a moment, Gaara didn't answer, then,

"Looks like blood."

Awkward pause.

Typical.


"Keir" is a name I randomly found while surfing the net. Like it? I do. But do I have any idea what it means? Nope. And do I have any idea how it's pronounced?

Maybe.

Okay, no I don't. But it's cool, right? Right? Sounds French, doesn't it?

Anyway, do review. Would've added more, but you know… Lazy me. This chapter wasn't one of my bestest though, sadly. u.u