Chapter 3: Neji's Good Photograph Day and Other Happenings
Disclaimer: I don't own Naruto, blah blah blah.
o
'there's a little piece of reality we all end up dealing with at one point or another. some people are oblivious, and it pains thier trapped souls. some people realize it, and try to escape, only causing other's pain in the process. but there isn't escape. so you just have to make the best of it.
'i came to terms with this fact a long time ago.
'that is, life doesn't care abut you, your petty wishes, dreams, and joyous memories. in fact, life hates you.
'it hates me, anyways. but i hate it back, and that's that. i guess we're even.
'i guess.'
o
Drip... Drip...
Emerald eyes glared out the window. The TV hummed in the living room, along with the scratch of a pencil.
"Je suis, tu es, il est, elle est, nous sommes... vous... vous..."
"Vous etes."
"I knew that."
Why Temari couldn't memorize le verbe etre au le present quietly, Gaara didn't know.
"Ils sont, elles sont! I did it Kankurou!"
"Great. I'll mail you an Oreo."
Mariko wiped a smudge of sauce from her mouth, watching the siblings. Gaara sitting placidly malicious by the window, Kankurou channel surfing, and their sister scribbling away on her french. Sighing, their care-taker wandered over to them, eyes mostly on Gaara.
"Oh, it stopped raining."
Gaara nodded, not facing her. Kankurou, however, had been drawn by the smell, and was already heading past Mariko, an entranced look on his face.
"Pig," Temari muttered, though affectionate, shutting her binder. "Come on Gaara."
It was only a small moment, but as he had spoken before... she almost saw something in Gaara. Maybe it was how soaked he looked, or that he was still on the short side. She couldn't quite place it, now matter how she tried, staring at him from over a mound of mashed potatoes.
Or perhaps she was just wishing for her old little brother back. The one who drew her pictures with crayons, and always wanted oatmeal cookies for dessert. The one who loved the rain...
Suddenly, she came to sudden awareness of that fact that she was staring at him, and rather intensely too, as his eyes met hers for but a second before both glanced away. Temari went back to her potatoes, and Gaara poked at what was left of his for a few more minutes before putting his plates into the sink. He gave a slight bow to Mariko as 'thanks', then headed for their door.
"Going for a walk, Gaara?" Mariko asked sanguinely, tucking a strand of shoulder-length auburn hair behind her ear. How she kept up her demeanor was beyond the others...
Seeing as the boy was bending down to take off his slippers, it was taken as a silent 'yes'.
"You might want to take your umbrella, pipsqueak," Kankurou muttered through a mouthful of chicken. Surely enough, the youngest headed to his room, then came out again with the small package in his hand. The door swung shut behind him, leaving just Mariko and Temari staring at the only remaining male.
Temari smirked. "You do care."
"Naw," he scoffed, "I just didn't want to see him get sick is all. You'd blame me."
"Whatever you say, Kankurou."
o
Water hung heavy on the leaf, the droplet quivering in the still. No wind, no sound. Dove-coloured clouds made the background, swirling in post-thunderstorm. It was like the rain had swept all signs of human life away, leaving the steel frames of the playground and the houses around it. And the lonely tree.
The click of a shutter sounded at the press of a finger. His legs had begun to ache for release, his balance beginning to teeter. One foot was placed on a narrow beam of a climbing gym, the other on the pole of the base. The sand of the playground seemed quite a long way down, yet he didn't notice.
Letting out his breath slowly, he settled into a crouch, taking a look at the settings on his camera. A scarred, black cure for the world. Resting a taut wrist on the bar behind him, he observed the area. He'd been there since the rain stopped. It was too perfect not to, and he knew he could get the best pictures then.
The way mists danced around everything, threatening to engulfe it, showing you tiny glimpses of things already entrapped.
And out of the mists blanketing the end of the street, came a figure, head down, hood up, hands stuffed in pockets. Neji watched him out of the corner of his eye for a while, wiping off his camera's lense with just a hint of a smile.
Just as he thought, the boy stopped by the bench, a short ways away. His shoes were damp from the grass, just inches from being swamped in a puddle of dead earthworms. They always came up in the rain, trying not to drown in their tunnels... helpless.
"Hey," Neji greeted him. And he was answered with silence. With a firm gaze, Neji twisted around to look at him. "I didn't know you lived around here."
Gaara suddenly seemed preoccupied with something, shuffling through his (rather large) pocket. Neji raised an eyebrow. His umbrella.
"Thanks," muttered Gaara, as if he'd never said the word before.
"No problem."
Yet another long pause, and the red-head glared off into the distance. He didn't know much about the other boy, besides the fact that they were about the same age, and he owned an umbrella. That was more than he knew about a lot of people.
"Have a name?" Neji asked, and Gaara glanced up.
"Gaara."
"Neji."
Creamy eyes met kelly green ones, in a sort of war which neither one. Romantic? Depends on your opinion. Maybe it was just two strangers meeting eyes. Not so much strangers as aquaintances, though.
And then there was silence. The kind of silence that wraps around you, threatening to drown you, whispering in your ear. And you like it, because it's comfortable. Because the person in the silence with you doesn't have any words either, so it's entirely fair. You begin to think you don't need words to have a conversation.
From the tree, a bird stirred, causing the branch to shake. Within each leaf there was a small pond, and those ponds emptied themselves, droplets sprinkling onto the ground. And onto Gaara. Splotches apeared in his near-dry hair, and he put out a hand, catching a bit in his palm. They glistened, before he raised the hand to his lips and blew them off, leaving trails from the path they'd taken.
Neji gave a smile, not quite smug. "Perhaps you needed that umbrella after all."
"Water doesn't hurt people," Gaara responded softly.
"Sure it does. What about a tsunami? People drown, are crushed. Their homes are swept away, along with everything they knew. Maybe those few drop are nothing, but faced with a tsunami, you'd be dead."
Neji watched Gaara's expression, not revealing anything. Just blank pensiveness. I trip inside that boy's head would be interesting indeed. Either there would be nothing... or thoughts dark enough not to have words.
Neji thought he might like to find out.
Gaara put his hand back into his pocket and turned, taking slow steps away from the structure Neji was balanced on. The colour of his hair began to fade, mists wraping themselves around him as they'd done with everything. Neji watched the peculiar boy, raising his camera as Gaara was swallowed by the fog. Or maybe it was Neji who'd already been swallowed, and Gaara was just leaving.
And the shutter on Neji's camera clicked again.
o
'A twisted version of ourselves,
a truth no one wants to hear.
to be what you're not supposed to be.
Defy the rotation,
against the current.
I see someone riding alone,
on a slow-moving carousel.'