Some Spoilers in author's note - Gaara's Childhood!
A/N: I woke up a few minutes ago, with one thought in my head: Why haven't I written this yet? This is a GaaraYashamaru fic! And for those who don't know, Yashamaru is Gaara's very feminine looking uncle who tries to kill him, although it ends up the other way around. So that's where this came from... And no, I've never seen this episode OR read this volume of the manga. I'm AMERICAN. LOL!
But we all know that Yashamaru WANTS the Yondaime Kazekage!
oOo
I closed my eyes as I felt my blood loss taking over, I knew I didn't have much time. I looked up at the redheaded boy standing beside me, with a look of horror on his face. His green eyes were vacant, his whole body trembling with fear. "Uncle Yashamaru! Why?"
"I never liked you, Gaara." I whispered, smirking. "Y-You...killed my sister. You know your name means 'death', right?" I paused, taking a deep breath and wincing before I continued. "On the day you were born, you killed your mother..."
"Wh-What?" Gaara whispered, clutching his beat-up teddy bear even tighter to his pudgy body.
"You're a monster. I never loved you..." Speaking was becoming painful. In my injured lungs and throat and in my heart as well.
Gaara did the most amazing thing then. Sitting next to me on the cold ground, he curled up in my arms. I could feel his chest rise and fall rapidly as he breathed, and his warm hand clutched mine.
"And you killed me too, Gaara. I...c-can't love you." I said, hoping silently that he would leave me to die.
Gaara didn't move at all. "What about all those nice things you said and did for me, Uncle Yashamaru?" Gaara whimpered. "All those years you spent taking care of m-me...was that all just a lie? Why did you do that, then!"
"I d-did it for...your mother. But I would have rather left you to die..." I whispered. I tried to glare at him, but any movement at all sent ripping pain through me.
"I'm glad I know the truth now. Th-Thank you, Uncle Yashamaru." Gaara looked up at me with black-lined eyes, cheeks streaked with tears, and gently kissed me, before slowly walking out of the room, teddy bear dragging carelessly behind him on the ground.
I wanted to shout out for him to come back, because that kiss had awakened something within me - love. As much as I wanted to deny it, I had always felt some love for the boy.
It was too late, because I had already slipped away, the moment his lips left mine.
oOo
And that's how we take out the trash! If I had a nickel for everytime my parents asked "How long have you been up?" in the course of my writing, I'd have...20 cents.
