Hope you like this one
He lit the cigarette, inhaled deeply, and exhaled when he was out of breath; tapping the bottom, he watched the ashes fall to the ground. He inhaled again and let the smoke stay in his mouth a little longer before he let it out again.
He let out a tired yawn before flicking the cigarette onto the cermet and stepping onto the cigarette before heading down the dark alleyway. He loved going down this way because it brought him sudden peace, surrounded by darkness and fear.
That's how he loved his walks back home.
He had just finished training at the dojo and was walking home in the quiet night and calming breeze. He tilted his head up as he felt the wind blow his red blood hair away from his face and give a clear view of his love tattooed on head forehead.
With his hands in his pocket, he shifted along the pavement at a casual pace, not in any hurry, just the joyful quiet the nighttime had to offer. He had no one waiting in his cramped, dirty apartment but the crazy fleas-invested dog that comes and goes as it pleases.
No welcoming arms that allure him or sweet kisses. No one.
Who would wait for such a person as him? He spent most of his time at the dojo or the fight clubs, which is how he made money by fighting. What kind of woman would love the lifestyle he had to accustomed to? What kind of woman would want to clean the stained blood off his sheets and clothes or him battered and bruised to the bone?
It was a weakness to have someone who would only get in your way, and fighting is all he's ever known, and no woman would ever get in the form of what he loved doing. It was his hobby, his job.
Swinging his head to the side, he heard sirens go off, both police and ambulance speeding past. The water on the wet road flung up and wet his shoes, which had holes in them, and soaked through his socks.
For fuck sake! He cursed, panting himself down; he realized his pants and jumper were also drenched; cursing more, he shook his head and looked left and right before crossing the other side of the road in a jog-like walk.
I better not get cold after this. He mused as he walked the broken, crooked road to a town with damaged and burnt houses. People were either lying down drunk or high. Children ran barefooted, and junkies were trying to sell stuff for more drugs, drug dealers were selling to single and desperate mothers. Wild animals roamed the cold and damp streets.
Home sweet home. Hearing a loud bark, he turned around to find a dog behind him.
"Shukaku." He greeted, reaching for a hand; he let Shukaku sniff his hand before scratching behind his ears.
The dog yelped in pleasure, "C'mon, let's go inside and eat." Shukaku growled in agreement, so his just as hungry as I was; shaking his head, they both turned down another alleyway and found a broken and distorted door.
"At least no one's tried to break in." looking down at the dog, who only growled predatory at the door, "good boy." patting his head, he opened the door wide enough to let them both in.
Turning on the lights in the house, the room was lit with a flickering light. "Let's see what we shall eat, aye?" turning into the small cramped kitchen, he opened the fridge door, which hit the kitchen sink, "oops." looking in the contents of the kitchen fridge, he grabbed a can of half-eaten dog food and this morning Chinese.
Shrugging, he closed the door and grabbed a bowl for Shukaku and a fork for himself before putting the bowl down and eating his food on the bench.
"Enjoy," he said with a mouthful of food. He only heard the rustling of the bowl as Shukaku demolished the food in his bowl.
Finishing his meal, he shoved the Chinese container in the bin, then turned to the door when he heard a knock.
Shukaku barked at the person on the other end of the door.
"What!" he yelled.
"Oh, Gaara honey, it's me, Karin. I wanted to know if you wanted some sweet loving company tonight!" the girlish woman, Karin, replied from the other side of the door.
"NO!" Gaara replied flatly.
"Oh, but Gaara…" she whined.
"No!" he said again.
"C'mon, all you do is disappear during the day and come home late at night… I'm really worried about you, baby, please." he saw her figure press up against the door frame, her red hair peeking through the holes of the door.
"I don't have any money." Karin was a cheap whore in this town; all she wanted from him was a good fuck and ample cash for her handiwork.
"Oh baby, you don't have to, just the sweet loving arms that I can provide you is all I want for you." rubbing herself against the door frame.
"Go away." he turned from the door to the window where his bed lay tangled and messy.
"Fine!" he heard her sign angrily and huffed away in her heels, clicking on the wet concrete floor.
Signing, he kicked off his broken shoes and peeled off his jumper and pants, laying in nothing but his boxers.
Looking down at himself, he saw bruises and cuts, bloody and shades of purple and yellow. Lightly touching the scar around his heart, he clenched tight around the skin and calmed down his heavy breathing.
Closing his eyes tight, he relished the depth of memory.
"Yashamaru?" looking around the vast room where he often found his uncle, he called out to him.
"Yashamaru? Where are you?" he called again.
"Yes, Gaara-same." a tall blonde male smiled in the doorway. Sama, a nickname he always gave him when he talked to him.
"Oh, I just wanted to know where you were, uncle Yashamaru." Gaara smiled brightly at his uncle.
"Oh, I was just speaking with your father," he said.
"Oh." a downcasted look covered the tiny boy's face.
"Good things Gaara, good things." going down to the little boy's level, he put a hand on the young boy's shoulder.
"Sure… Good things." he looked down to the ground.
"Hey." Yashamaru lifted the boy's head to meet his eyes, "Your father loves you, Gaara, very deeply." he smiled, "He tells me so, Gaara."
"What even is love, Yashamaru?" Gaara questioned.
"Love." his eyes widen.
Gaara nodded.
"Love." he looked at a picture of a young woman with short brown hair and eye of sea form green, just like Gaara's. "Love is what my sweet dear old sister has given you, Gaara. In her last and faint words, she spoke of how much she loves you and watches you now." he looked up to the ceiling" from the heavens of where she is now."
"And your father." looking at the boy, "Well, your father loves you by making sure you are safe and well-kept. Always asking how you are and worrying over you.
Because when you love someone, you want nothing more than to keep them safe." he smiled brightly, "Your father loves you."
"I love you."
I love you the words echoed in his head like a broken record.
Damn you, Yashamaru and damn you, father to hell. Opening his eyes, he loosened his hold on the skin and put one hand behind his head, looking out the window.
Love doesn't exist for bad boys.
Hope you like. R/R