Chapter 2: The Weird Umbrella-Giving Kind of People
Note: Gaara and Neji's class is an 8/9 split. Gaara is 13, Neji is 14, etc.
Disclaimer: Nope.
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'I guess you could say I'm messed up. Hell, I know I'm messed up. I don't really care, one way or another. I stopped caring a long time ago...'
The skies were darkened with clouds, the air hot and sticky. It was early in september, but summer had refused to give up so easily. Even breathing was difficult.
Around him there were many people, all strangers. Faces he never knew, and didn't plan to know anytime in the near future. Swinging the metal door of his locker firmly shut, he turned to go. The others rushing in the same direction moved around him, like a current. But no one bumped into him, or even grazed him.
It was an eerie feeling. But one he savoured.
'Being lonely does not mean you're unhappy. It simply means you have no one to bother you.'
Rain pattered on the roof above. The walk home suddenly seemed very long. Very, very long. At least he didn't have to walk with Temari or Kankurou. For reasons he didn't quite understand, they (meaning Temari) insisted on walking to and from school with him everyday. Temari had a doctor's apointment that day, and Kankurou?
Well, Kankurou kinda did what he wanted, and no one asked many questions.
Eyes piercing ahead blankly, he took a few steps into the current, feeling the energy around him. A whirlpool. Everyone was taller than him, quite a bit taller, but he wasn't thrown by pointless statistics like that. Fear. Fear could take down the largest of predators...
He stopped. There was someone behind him.
"Oi."
He didn't turn, though he knew that was what the voice wanted him to do. He felt a small prodding on his arm, and then the object found it's way to before his chest. The hand that gripped it connected to an arm, connected to a whole body. Still, his eyes didn't move.
"Here. It's raining."
'No, really. I didn't know that.'
Gaara looked down at the umbrella, silent, then slowly turned to it's owner. The taller, milky-eyes boy stood there, looking displeased. Neither moved. Gaara didn't really want the umbrella. It was a gesture of sympathy. He'd get wet, so what? Rain was nothing compared to what he'd felt...
The milky eyed boy shook his head, pushed the sleek, black package into Gaara's hands and then became lost in the current. Gaara stared after him a while.
And even for what he'd been through, that seemed pretty weird.
---
'i barely remember my past... i never knew my mother... i don't think...
'i was lonely. i know that much.
'sometime, i lived with someone i thought was nice - i think - but they went away, and things got even worse.
'but i'd much rather not get into that.
'dad's gone too. They're all gone...
'this way, I've nothing to lose. I feel cold. And when I see poeple hurt, the cold revels.
'some days...
'nevermind. its nothing.'
---
"Gaara! Where were you, it's almost four thirty!"
Temari rushed out of the kitchen, looking at her brother in an annoyed fashion. He shrugged, and headed for his room. Seconds later he came out again, a pile of similiar, but dryer clothes in his arms. Temari's look softened, as he gave Mariko (still cooking) a slight nod as hello. She smiled back, knowing very well that would be the best she'd get out of the boy.
"Oh, Gaara..." Temari looked over him. His dark clothes hung loose to his skinny frame slightly damp, skin paler than usual and dotted with bits of rain. Red hair was strung through with crystallic droplets, dripping just a little. He was just a little boy to her still, and she doubted he would ever lose that image to her. Resisting the urge to reach out and ruffle his hair, the older girl's lips turned down again.
"Where's Kankurou? I told him to meet you."
Another shrug, as Gaara moved to the washroom.
"You mean he just didn't show up?"
The door closed, and the sound of the shower being turned on was present.
"That bastard!" Temari exclaimed angrily, "I told him! I told him twice!"
"It's okay, Temari," Mariko laughed from the kitchen, "I'm sure Gaara wasn't expecting him to come."
"But-"
"Come here, I need some help with the potatoes."
Temari sighed, and reluctantly strode back into the kitchen. "I'm just worried about Gaara."
"I think we're all worried about eachother."
---
Hot water poured from the spout, a foot or so above his height. Half soggy garments were strewn over the rack, a towel folded by the shower door. A pale skinned form was visible through the glass door, sitting in the corner, whilst a finger traced symbols on the floor, the water curling as it was sucked down the drain.
Much to his annoyance, the wamrth of the water only seemed to make his feet colder. The streams rushed over his ears, drowning out all sound save for its pounding. He closed his eyes, the smell of Temari's shampoo still lingering from that morning.
How many days had it been...
He tilted his head back and closed his mouth, letting the water come over his face. They created paths down his neck, over his shoulders. All over him, it was warm. And yet he himself was not.
It wasn't a physical thing. Warmth was always thought to be physical, and it is. But real warmth is something you can feel, it heats you on the inside.
It can burn you.
'I don't like to get burned...'
Gently he rose, his feet splashing lightly in the water collected at the bottom of he stall. His fingers applied light pressue on the knob, the water slowing. Then with one push, he turned it all the way off. The last trickles rained down on him, as cold began to settle back in.
---
"Damn rain..." came a mutter, as the front door was pushed open and shut loudly again. The teen shook his head, water flying from the hood covering his head. An angry shout came from the kitchen as his sister flew in, reminding him strangley of the Wicked Witch of the west.
"Kankurou! Where were you!"
He blinked, unsure of what she meant. "The Hell...?"
"You idiot bastard!" she yelled, "Why didn't you pick up Gaara this afternoon!"
"Language!" Mariko shouted cheerfully, answered by "Sorry, Mariko-san," and then the arguement continued.
"Calm down, Temari," Kankuru said, laying down his backpack, "Gaara's 13, he can take care of himself."
As if on cue, the door of the washroom opened and out walked Gaara. His hair was matted into damp strands, dripping onto his black garb. The eyes of his sibling's watched him, as he headed over to the doorway near them.
"Oi, pipsqueak!"
"What did he ever do to you, Kankurou?"
The eldest male crossed his arms, watching the small boy pick up his bag and a new item. An eyewbrow raised in interest.
"Where did you get that umbrella, pipsqueak?"
Gaara ignored him, not bothering to even scare off his borther. He heaved the backpack over his shoulder and started back to his room.
"I asked you where you got that umbrella!"
Temari balled her fists, resisting the urge to hurt Kankurou, as he yelled again to Gaara. Finally, the youngest stopped in the doorway to their room, not turning back as his lips parted for both breath and speech.
"A friend."
End Chapter 2