Chapter 4: Milk and Cookies, and Conversation
Disclaimer: I don't own Naruto. (long exasperated sigh) Oh, and the first little scene was insipired by the book and movie 'White Oleander', which both rocked, and I don't own them either.o
Twisting; Turning; Swimming; Churning.
Darkness around white. White milk, pouring, rushing down, down. Droplets on a surface of black. No colour. Drowning in the pure white, albescent. Voices telling me to swim. I don't want to swim.
Words pouring down, in, through the milk. The words were the milk, the milk that was trying to drown me. Wrapping around my ankles, pulling me down, down, under. I had nothing to hold onto. There was no sound but the poundng of silky white liquid over my ears, through my hair and into my mouth. I was alone. No one to save me.
Mourning; Creating; Manifesting; Breaking
'I don't need saving,' I told myself. I found I could breath through the milk, and I didn't have to listen to the voices. I let the current carry me, free, uncaring. The milk was thick, no colour shone through. Intricate spirals of black came and went with night. The milk continued to flow. It refused to stop.
Dancing; Burning; Fighting; Learning
'I can save you.'
I can save myself.
o
His hand lay on the pillow beside him, fingers open, arm slightly outstretched. Through his thick and heavy eye-lids, Gaara saw the dim light of morning through a window coated in raindrops. The storm had started again in the night. They do that sometimes, leaving a calm inbetween.
He sat up, lightly holding onto the pale sheet. Across the room, Kankurou snored. The Day-Glo numbers on his alarm clock read 6:25. Wait... 6:26. Time didn't mean much, though. It came and went. Humans just divided it for their own purpouses. They could have come up with a better system though. Who really counts in base 60?
The room was a basic mess on Kankurou's side. Clothes were never put away, and neither was food, or anything else for that matter. Gaara's side was clean, as there was no reason for him to make a mess. He didn't own much beside the odd book, and some clothing.
The house was so quiet in morning. Even Mariko wasn't up yet, it seemed.
Gaara disregarded time once again and flopped back down on his pillow. He closed his eyes and willed himself to sink back into sleep. And he did. He was swimming in the milk, the edges of his vision growing black. As he turned his head to investigate, there was nothing there. A hand emerged through the tumbling cream, and he stared at it for a while.
'I don't want to be saved.'
'I never offered to save you. Come.'
And he took the hand, feeling himself being pulled along.
o
"She left a note..."
"Wazzat say? Give it here!"
"No, Kankurou, you'll rip it!"
"Will not! Dammit, Temari, you're such a-"
Gaara opened his eyes again. No, time hadn't melted away, along with the rest of the world. What a disapointment. But the smell of coffee seemed to pull him out of bed. He pushed away the blanket, noticing that he'd been sleeping for an hour, and Kankurou's bed was empty. Judging from the ruckus, Temari was also awake. Joy.
" 'Dear Temari, Kankurou and Gaara," Temari read, "I have been called out of town, for reason you don't need to worry about. To compensate, there are fresh batches of cookies in the oven.' "
Kankurou raced over to said oven and proceeded to look through the glass.
"I don't see anything!"
"Maybe you should open the freakin' door, Kankurou."
"Shut up Temari!"
On the counter sat Temari, a piece of floral stationary in her hand. She was dressed only in a pink tank top and blue shorts, her hair frizzier than normal from sleep. Kankurou opened the oven, after sending her a glare he had leaned from watching Gaara (though his didn't quite work the way Gaara's did). Temari was immune to the look, and proceeded to reach over to the fridge to get the orange juice, the classic breakfast drink.
"Hey, they're chocolate chip! Yes!"
Temari sighed, noticing Gaara had come in from the other room.
"Ohayo, Gaara."
Gaara proceeded to grab some bread from the cupboard, along with peanut butter and a knife (a butter knife, to the relief of Temari and Kankurou). He then spread the peanut butter on the bread, and grabbed the milk, after slight hesitation. Temari had grown bored with Brother-Watching, and was making her exit.
"I'm using the washroom, come in and I'll gouge out your eyes!"
"With what?" Kankurou called after her.
"Sporks."
o
In the time it took for everyone to get their stuff, groom, and eat something that actually had some nutritious benefit, they were late, and two-thirds of the party seemed very ticked off. The other third seemed indifferent.
And so they began their usual trek to school. It was quiet for the most part, as Temari had decided Kankurou didn't exist (he had accidentally walked in on her in her underwear, after which she threw her hairbrush at his head (there were no sporks in arm's reach). This caused him to pass out for a few minutes, only making them even later than they were before). Kankurou was trying to study for a history test he remembered he had about five minutes ago, as well as guzzling a bottle of Pepsi. It wasn't turning out to be the best of mornings...
"Have a good day, Gaara," Temari urged anyways as they neared the gates to the Junior High, "We'll meet you here after school."
"No we won't," Kankurou interjected, "He's probably embarassed we walk with him. I certainly am."
Temari opened her lips to speak, but found it pointless, as Kankurou had re-emersed himself in the wonders of the Fuedal Era, and Gaara seemed to be heading off of his own accord. Her eyes found a black haired boy, leaning against the gate. And Gaara seemed to be heading right for him.
"Is that your friend, Gaara?" she asked loudly. He shrugged as he walked away.
"No wonder he doesn't answer you, you treat him like he's five," Kankurou muttered.
"Don't you ever wish that Kankurou?" Temari turned back to look at her brother.
"Why, do you?"
"Yeah. He was actually happy then," Temari resumed walking, watching her shoes, "I mean, as children... we seem so carefree. I haven't seen Gaara laugh in... ever. To be filled with childlike innocence..."
"Temari?"
"Hai?"
"You've been reading way too much of that poetry crap."
"Thanks, Kankurou."
"Anytime."
Meanwhile, Gaara had given Neji a greeting nod, and recieved one in return. The schoolyard flowed around them, people they knew, but didn't know. They were alone, but not alone in a weird way. What was usually a lonliness of one, turned into the comfort of two.
"Were dose your sibligs?" Neji asked, and Gaara nodded, then gave him a stare.
"Are you okay?"
"I'b fide, I just hab a cold."
Gaara looked quizzically at him. "Could've stayed home."
"Naw, I wanted to use the dark roob," Neji sneezed, and Gaara gave what seemed to be a smile. But it was hard to tell. Just the corners of his lips twitching upwards a little. He pulled off his knapsack, and proceeded to pull out a bag of cough drops.
"What're dese?"
"Temari gave them to me," Gaara said quietly, "Like lemon?"
"Dot particularily, but dat's okay," Neji pulled the ends of the candy wrapper, watching it open. "Danks."
Gaara shrugged. Shrugging and nodding seemed to be things Gaara was very good at. Neji popped the cough drop in his mouth, letting it soak into his tongue, while Gaara put the bag back in his backpack. His own throat felt a little sore, but it was a good sore. Sore from talking, maybe. Sure, he talked during class when he was forced, and he grunted now and then. But conversations were different.
"You should cob (come) by the art roob at ludch," Neji said, "I'll show you how to develop filb."
"And you cad see odder people's works. Do you eber do ady art?"
"I don't know."
"You seeb the type to be idto it."
'I'm a type?' Gaara blinked at this, hearing the bell ring, though it sounded far-off. Neji raised his eyebrows, and they headed into the school. It was as it usually was.
Except it was a little different.
o
AN: If you had trouble understanding Neji, just replace most d's with n's or a th, and b's with m's and it'll probably work out.