Painted Dreams Chapter 8: Red and White Lines, a naruto fanfic

Disclaimer: Kishimoto owns Naruto. Not me.

Notes to a few lovely people:

Beloved Shadow of Light- Thanks for continuing to read and I hope I didn't lose you these past few months. If you want the (pretty good) excuses, they're in the Author's note. And, if you want some Hinata badassery, this chapter is perfect for you :).

sadistic homicidal child- munches on BBQ chips, clutching her Sasuke plushies you bring me gifts, I love you. And I am sorry for not updating sooner. To compensate, here are 30 pages of goodness and I will have another chapter up tomorrow.

I love reviews, hearing what people think, and I can't wait to see if you guys have any thoughts on this chapter, as well. Erg, even though I am not sure writing it all in four days was the best idea.

Warning: This is a really long chapter. If you feel the need to stop, stretch, get a drink of water, the best time will be after the two lines indicating a large break in scene like this…

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Forcing his slightly shaking hand steady with a muttered oath, Kankuro slid thick greasepaint onto his face with meticulous precision. A tracery of delicate lines began to splay over his features, each section taking the young man approximately fifteen minutes to finish.

As obvious time and effort were required, Kankuro had arrived at the theater a full two and a half hours before his show began. Also because of this fact, the actor was rapidly losing any fondness that he'd had in the past for Kabuki makeup.

And these fucking makeup lights. Damn, it's freaking hot in here.

At this thought, Kankuro's hand paused in midair. Glaring deeply into his own light brown eyes, the young man muttered, "Or, maybe you're just nervous. It's the first time you've been a show's lead since coming to college." He leaned back into the uncomfortably plastic and uncomfortably orange chair that the university had so kindly provided for the college's theater department.

Not focusing on anyone or anything.

Cracks lined the linoleum counters, while shoes rose in absurd hives along the walls. A pink geisha costume was poking out of a footlocker. And, the faint smell of sweat and powder lingered upon the room's edges. Even though the young man seemed to see these things, his mind had drifted away. Exhaling, he leaned forward, placing his thin makeup brush on the counter and his crinkled forehead against the cool Formica.

Gaara.

A slight case of pre-play jitters was not the only thing causing Kankuro's stomach to do back flips, or his brow to crease. With a quick shake of his head, the boy seemed to be trying to rid himself of the instant worry that the thought of his brother caused. Looking back at his reflection again, Kankuro was greeted with a grin.

Can't worry about that right now. He'll be fine. Gaara's a lot stronger than other people think, And, if something was really wrong…he'd tell us.

As the boy ran through the familiar mantra, his cheerful expression became a little more forced and memories flooded into his mind.

"I think you should go." Gaara's eyes were deep pits of blank sky, staring at Kankuro, not giving away any of the redhead's thoughts. This shield extended from the young man's eyes to cover his entire body.

Keeping any pain from getting in, the only thing was…

"It really isn't any trouble. I mean, if I waited another year, Baki says he's got a job for me. And, I'm not going to lose my spot."

"No, Kankuro, go. I can take care of myself."

Love couldn't reach the boy either.

Trying to keep himself from getting angry with his younger brother's lack of emotion, Kankuro breathed steadily in and out of his nose, head in hands. From underneath a black hood, he examined Gaara, desperately searching for…

Something.

With a slight inward sigh, he found it.

One of the redhead's hands was hanging limply at his side, but the other was clenched tight enough to drain the blood from his knuckles, leaving only pure white pain. Kankuro knew that if he'd pried Gaara's fingers apart, identical bloody moons would line his younger brother's palms.

So, Kankuro tried again.

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And, it failed again.

Sigh. They all failed.

An estimated two hours were left before the show, and Kankuro had not applied any makeup for a good twenty minutes. The young actor was literally lost in his thoughts, whole body deflated inward.

Hearing the bang and shuffle of others coming to get ready for the play, he woke with a start.

"Damn it."

His hand still shook slightly as he lined his face in Kabuki style, but nerves were long forgotten.

Can't worry about that right now. He'll be fine. Gaara's…

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Gaara was anything but fine, calm, or detached an hour and a half before his brother's show was supposed to start. In fact, the redhead was on the verge of an emotional collapse.

It seemed that he had (finally) reached his breaking point.

Staring in wide-eyed confusion at his closet and its utter lack of appropriate clothing choices, Gaara decided that he had one of three options.

The first and most readily apparent to the redhead was to use one of the numerous black body-covering outfits strewn across the floor to carefully conceal all of his identifying features, sneak over next door, kill Naruto (probably with some form of a blunt object), sneak back, and meet the authorities with incredulity, when they came to inform him of the brutal tragedy that had occurred.

After which, I will, of course, be too distraught to leave my room, much less go to any thing like a play. And, I'm pretty sure that Kankuro won't even notice that I couldn't make it to his show. So…

With that, Gaara leapt into frenetic action, proceeding to try and find a mask of some sort.

Luckily, it took him only moments of sifting through the clothing coating his floor and mattress to realize that he was having just as much trouble deciding on how to disguise himself as trying to figure out what he should wear to the play.

A couple of minutes later, the redhead also recognized that he'd probably feel a little bit guilty about killing his new friend.

Not to mention the annoyance if he was caught.

In many ways, this complete and utter lack of human compassion signified how nervous the redhead was; Gaara could never have truly hurt the blonde, but, for some reason, his fear of the outing was so great that some primeval fight or flight switch had been thrown.

And, if fighting was out…

Option number two was rather simple and could be accomplished no matter what the ensemble.

All I need is some sort of sharp object, a pencil and paper.

As the young man got situated in the nest of mesh and cotton that his bed had become and prepared to write a good old-fashioned suicide note, he briefly wondered whether his death would shock anyone. With uncharacteristic nonchalance, Gaara mused, I doubt Temari will be all that surprised.

Pale, thin hands seemed fluorescent with the contrasting cherry red and charcoal-colored paint filling their cracks. Delicately, fingers loosened their grip on pencil and moved to cradle the boy's forehead in an unknowing mimicry of his older brother.

I wonder if she'll cry.

Carefully, Gaara raised himself off his bed, as if any quick movements might break him in two. The loamy scent of kaolin followed. Apparently, he had not washed his hands very well following his afternoon sculpture studio; there was still some earth underneath his fingernails.

Paint, clay, suicide.

The situation had become very real.

I bet she would.

Casting about for an answer to his dilemma, Gaara latched onto his third and only real option.

The slim youth began to methodically try on ensemble after ensemble, figuring that he just had to find something suitable to wear.

Can't have that. Can't have anyone crying over me.

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Ring. Ring.

Sigh.

Ring. Ring.

Click.

Preparing for the worst, Neji held the phone an estimated eight to nine inches from his ear.

"Neji, how come you never answer your phone?!"

Bringing the phone up to his ear as his girlfriend's initial anger faded and her volume decreased, "Hi, Ten-ten. I was just about to get changed for your show. What did you want?"

The girl's laughter tinkled like a train wreck, crashing into the raven-haired Hyuuga's eardrum. It wasn't that Ten-ten was all that bad a girl, or girlfriend, for that matter. But, after dating her for six months,

"Well, I just put two tickets to the show in your mailbox. And, I have a little favor to ask you"

she annoyed the crap out of him.

"Two?"

"Yes, two. I know its last minute, but Ino couldn't even give hers away. So, I figured since I have you and you have soo many friends, you could easily scrounge up someone to cheer her on in time for curtain rise."

"Someone? Ten, its an hour before the show starts. Who's going to be free and ready to go now? Shit, I mean, I still have to change."

Ten-ten's voice feigned innocence, "I hear Sasuke's schedule is open. You're friends with him right?" The girls had come upon yet another poorly wrought scheme to land Ino the great Uchiha.

I bet Ino already asked him to go, and he said no even though he wasn't busy. So, now, they want me to try for him again. Fuck.

Silence.

"Neji?"

"What? Oh, yeah. I guess, I am friends with him. I mean, I've talked to him a few times when we were in high school and, supposedly, we are distantly re-"

"That's great," Ten-ten excitedly interrupted him, relief evident in her voice, "So we can't see you guys during intermission because we have to chang-"

A burst of anger swept annoyance and confusion away.

"Hold it! I didn't say I'd ask him. I don't even know where the guy lives."

"Oh? Didn't you know? He's in the room next to Lee's."

With more than a little passive aggression, the Hyuuga became resigned to his fate.

"And, if he doesn't want to come to the play?"

"Then just find someone male and mildly attractive. I doubt Ino will be too choosy. I could count the number of guys she's dated on one hand, no matter what she says differently. And, it isn't because she's picky." Neji's stomach turned a little in revulsion at Ten-ten's callousness, even though he could be nearly as bad, at times.

Changing in tone, the athletic, young girl's voice, brooked no argument, " Not Lee, Neji. I like him as much as you do, but he…his looks are…besides, I don't think he'd like Ino all that much."

Rubbing his temples, Neji reminded his girlfriend of a situation she was probably only pretending to forget, "Ten, Lee's been dating Haruno Sakura for over a year now. Happily, I might add."

Being unable to recall socially unimportant people was just Ten-ten's way of asserting her superiority.

I'm surprised she still remembers Lee. Let alone likes him.

"Haruno Sakura? Hmmm…pink hair, right? Haha, it's a wonder that I'd forget her," the girl's voice became a little light-hearted and mocking, "Oh, and those outfits she used to wear. Dear God, red clothes and pink hair. Total clash, huh? Well, anyhow, don't bring Lee. If Sasuke doesn't come, then just pick someone from your soccer team."

The sounds of music and hands clapping in time signaled the end of this particular phone conversation.

"Oh, Neji, looks like we're going to do some warm-ups; Kurenai just walked in. See you after the show, honey. Byes."

"Yeah. See you."

Sitting on his bed, the Hyuuga stared with blank amethyst eyes at the phone, lying in his limp grasp. With a sigh, he hung it up and began to change for his girlfriend's play.

Well, let's be honest, the play she happens to dance for a few minutes in, which I am being forced to go to.

…

Yay.

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Less than fifteen minutes later, the handsome youth was locking the door to his single-sized dorm room. Never one to care about what others deemed fitting, Neji had thrown on the first outfit that had seemed mildly appropriate. Raven-winged hair nearly disappeared into the black button-up shirt he was wearing, while simple charcoal slacks clung subtly to his lower body. Black dress shoes, a quick brush through his hair, and Neji had been ready to go. But, needless to say, (time taken notwithstanding) Neji looked good.

In fact, he even had to blatantly ignore some rude ogling and whistles on his way to play matchmaker.

Hmph, I hate that. Why can't they just leave me alone? thought the too-sexy-for-his-own-good Hyuuga, as he came to a stop in front of Uchiha Sasuke's dorm room. Bringing his hand up to knock, Neji stopped himself, fruitlessly delaying the inevitable. With the taste of anxiety making his mouth a combination of sour and dry, the handsome youth tried to think of something, anything that might allow him to stall for time.

Inspiration.

I wonder if Lee is home…

Glancing to his left at the room next door, Neji had to pick.

UCHIHA S. or LEE R.

Sigh. Choices, choices. Not used to all of these choices.

UZUMAKI N. or…

SABUKANO G.

…

It can't hurt to just say hi, reasoned Neji as he turned the doorknob, opening the left door.

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Forty minutes before Kankuro's show started and Gaara still had no idea what he was going to wear.

At least, I'm not panicking anymore, the redhead thought as he pulled a navy blue shirt over the tangled mess his hair had become and tossed it onto the growing pile next to his bed. For a second, his expression took on a slight pout as he pondered his latest choice of ensemble, I kind of liked that one, but maybe a black shirt would go better. With these brown corduroy pants. Only-

The redhead made his way over to the large mirror, hanging in the room's adjoining bathroom. Staring in dismay at the large, dark circles around his eyes, a product of long-term insomnia, the slim youth used his right index finger to pull down at the lower lid. Releasing it, he watched his young skin try to spring back but fail due to the bags under each eye. Gaara stared at himself and wondered if the circles would ever go away.

I've been sleeping okay for the last few nights.

The dark rings were just another feature labeling him different.

Luckily, before he could fully steep himself in inner turmoil, the sound of the dorm room's front door opening interrupted his train of thought.

Lee must have gotten back from Gai's early.

Scooping up a black shirt that he'd thrown on the closed toilet, Gaara walked out holding the top in one hand and pulling down on his eyelid with the other.

"Hey, Lee, do you think that this black shirt would make my eyes look…Neji."

System shut down commencing. Embarrassment level too high.

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"Oh, excuse me, I didn't realize," a deep blush began to spread across the Hyuuga's features as the he realized that he'd basically walked in on Gaara changing clothes.

The redhead's hand slowly dropped to his sides, until he remembered that he wasn't wearing a shirt, and his muscle development was nonexistent. Limbs turned stiff with humiliation, Gaara pulled on the ¾ length black top, mechanically and with little expression. Then, empty, he began to pick up the catastrophic mess that he'd made of the dorm room in the past two hours.

Possibly owing to the awkwardness of the situation or maybe out of some unconscious sense of guilt, Neji set about helping Gaara pick up clothes, while explaining his untimely entrance, "I was just looking for Lee…"

However, this just increased the peculiarity of the situation, as Neji had never felt the need to justify his actions before. Not to mention the fact that he rarely had to clean his own room, let alone help someone else pick up theirs.

Gaara's mind raced as the Hyuuga spoke, "I've just been so busy this week with classes and practice and advising sessions that I haven't gotten a chance to talk to…him, since that first day. And, I figured, I'd drop by and…" stopping mid-sentence and mid-shirt fold, the Hyuuga suddenly inquired, "Where is Lee, by the way?"

"Friday. Date night." Monotone.

"Ohhh. Date night. So, where did he take Sakura? Fancy restaurant? Concert?" Neji had begun to calm down, and if there is one thing that a Hyuuga does well, it is small talk. Although, he had never been one to voluntarily participate before, the above average brain beneath the boy's head of dark hair felt that this was a great time to start.

"Gai's," said Gaara without even a smidge of irony.

Again, Neji stopped and for the first time in his life, the stiff, unbending, emotionally-stunted Hyuuga…

…burst out laughing.

Needless to say, Gaara was horrified.

Dark rings widened at the sight of the handsome youth having a fit in front of him, unable to move.

This went on for about five minutes.

Eventually, wiping the tears from his eyes, Neji looked at the poor clueless boy in front of him and nearly started laughing again at the expression on Gaara's face. But, he quieted the impulse, in fear of completely destroying the redhead's self-esteem.

"I'm..heh, sorry, it's just…hehheheh…only Lee would consider dinner with Gai to be a suitable date activity, and even him…haha…I can just picture it in my head." Setting down the pile of clothes he had picked up and folded, Neji sank onto Gaara's bed.

"Hem, ha…ha..heheh"

Looking up, Neji was surprised to find Gaara chuckling to himself, a grin quietly tugging at the corners of the redhead's mouth.

And, not surprisingly, the boys soon found that the tension had started to seep away from their minds. No longer totally embarrassed, the gentle smile that Gaara normally reserved for Lee alone, played along his lips. Neji answered the expression with a smirk, and, although the redhead did not realize this, it was one of the first times he'd used that particular smile without a hint of self-importance.

"You've met Gai, then?" asked Neji, as he took in a stack of paintings that their clothing excavation had uncovered.

"Yeah, he's shown up here a few times," Gaara's voice was surprisingly gentle and open.

After the scene at the café earlier that week, Neji had struggled a little with the idea that Gaara might hate him for the way the girls had acted, for not contradicting them sooner, for being a fucking pansy ass. How can he not be upset?

Having recently decided to not let opportunities pass him by, Neji decided to take advantage of Gaara's amicability.

So, he asked "A few times?"

With utter seriousness, "Seven or eight…maybe nine."

Yet another unfamiliar expression tacked itself to Neji's face: bewilderment.

The poor boy nearly exclaimed, "In four days?"

Flames licked up and down in a silent nod.

Cannot start laughing again. Cannot start laughing again.

As desperately as a Hyuuga was allowed to wish for anything, Neji hoped and prayed that he would not start into that embarrassing spasmodic fit again. Already, he could picture his face, ballooning with hilarity. Spit flying, as the compressed air burst forth from his lungs.

Dear God, there might even be mucus.

So, Neji thought about anything and everything but the fact that his soccer coach, whose lack of self-control was legendary, had felt the need to visit his foster son nine times in four days. Neither did he let his mind dwell on the fact that Gai was teaching half of the athletic performance classes on Lee's schedule. Nor did he ponder the possibility of Gai showing up to the dorm still in "uniform"…

And I will not think…heh…about Gaara's face the first time he saw…oh no…

Luckily, Neji's dissolution into merriment was stalled by the other boy's discomfort. Taking the dark-haired Hyuuga's silence for boredom, Gaara had decided to end this awkward yet satisfying meeting before it turned foul with long pauses and uncomfortable glances at clocks. Yes, in the course of four days, the redhead was beginning to develop a belated sense of social awareness and sensitivity.

"Well, thanks for helping me clean up. Sorry that you made the trip over here for nothing. Um, do you want to leave him a message or something?"

"Actually, I was just heading over to this play my girl…" Ten-ten, café, fuck, "…my friend is in, and I had an extra ticket. I was just wondering if he wanted to go," Neji lied, while staring right into Gaara's unblinking bits of sky. Lying to someone while looking them in the eye was just one of the things you learned growing up in the Hyuuga household, a place where secrets were only as good as the mouths they were shut behind.

"Since he's not here," Neji, whether to make up for Ten-ten or his attitude the past few days or that lie or just because he liked being near the redhead, asked" are you interested?"

Ever so-slightly, Gaara's nearly non-existent eyebrows raised themselves with evident surprise and in his endearing monotone voice, he eloquently asked, "What?"

This was the first time that Neji had received such a response to an invitation. Caught a little off-guard, he explained himself for the second time that day, the second time in his whole life, "I wouldn't mind the company. You see, my… friend is in the show, so I got free tickets, too. You won't need to pay me back or anything. Not that you couldn't! I mean, couldn't afford to, I wasn't trying to say-"

"I can't."

Amethyst eyes became glued to the floor.

This has never happened before.

"Oh, sorry, I should have known that you'd be busy or something…"

No, I shouldn't have. Why can't you go?

"No, it isn't that. It's just…," having kept his eyes directed at a spot of blue paint, Neji had to lift his head and look at Gaara to see that his mouth was stretched a little thinly in disappointment, "I'm already going with a friend…Naruto Uzumaki, Uzumaki Naruto."

Unfortunately, it seemed that Gaara's prediction of how events might sour had come true. For, at this point, Neji did a fair imitation of the redhead, face vacant of emotion, "Oh. You are already going with someone to the play. With Naruto. Heh. And, all these clothes were because you were getting ready to go to the play. With Naruto."

Gaara's face began to heat a little in shame, fanning a fire that had been stoked by Neji's original offer of an extra ticket.

Blinking widely at nothing in particular, Neji stood up rather brusquely and headed for the door, "Well, um, I guess I'll just be…"

"You could sit with us, if you wanted."

Blink. Blink.

My stomach hurts.

Without turning around, Neji replied to Gaara's proposal, "The seats are assigned on the tickets, and since the play only runs tonight, I am sure its probably going to be a full house…but thanks," the appreciative words rolled from his tongue with startling ease and a half-hidden humiliated air.

"No, I'll be fine," the Hyuuga said to the redhead and to himself, "But, I seriously, better head out. I'll probably see you…and Naruto around."

Feeling as though he was in some alternate dimension where down was up, toilet seats were currency, and opportunities always passed the most deserving people by, Gaara tried to keep the Hyuuga from putting on his position, again. For, it would mean that Gaara would have to seal himself away, as well.

""Maybe during intermission…"

"Yeah, maybe…well, bye."

"Bye."

Neji leaned back against Gaara's door and felt like an idiot.

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"Fuck."

I should've talked to him about my art class or his paintings or something. Instead…I just ran away-

The dim lighting of the dorm hallway fit Neji's mood.

I guess it was for the best, though. If he'd actually said yes, rumors would've spread the second we were seen. Instantly making the situation out to be far more serious than it actually was, and, that's the last thing that I need. Hiashi is letting me stay on my own, doing what I want for now…if he thought I was gay…no matter what I said, the fact that we are just friends...He wouldn't believe me.

And I'd be back in that house again.

Stuck.

Letting his head roll to the side, Neji peered through fallen strands of midnight to see his forgotten objective.

UCHIHA S.

"No. Just no."

Pushing himself fully upright, he walked away.

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Behind the abandoned right door, Sasuke's face peered at Naruto from behind an Advanced Calculus textbook, his lips turned up in a smirk that was more than a little self-important.

"Do you really think I care about some stupid play, dobe?"

The blond, who had been dressed and ready to meet Gaara for about an hour, narrowed his eyes in feigned anger, pursing his lips. With the movements of a predator, he came up close, right in front of the smirking Uchiha.

As a general rule, Sasuke did not like people entering his personal space.

Naruto knew that he was making the other boy uncomfortable and reveled in the feeling.

After the blond had officially caused his best friend's hand to clench into a fist but before he got punched in the face, Naruto completely changed his demeanor. Hands on hips, he grinned broadly at Sasuke and with a chuckle proclaimed, "No, I don't think you care about a play. You're just jealous that someone asked me and not you, the all-powerful, all-popular Uchiha.

Casually, Naruto leaned against his desk, grinning like a fox that'd gotten into the henhouse, " Looks like college is a whole new world, and I might just be better fit for it than you. In fact, I was even thinking of going into criminal justice, too, but I feel bad. You're so used to winning, it might squash your spirit a little if I showed you up." He drained the last of an old, forgotten soda, walked back over to Sasuke (who was far more amused than angered), and tried his best to be intimidating.

Crushing the can in Sasuke's face, the blond whispered, "Or, maybe that's all the more reason to do it."

The lean brunette's eyes pretended to glaze over in boredom, "Are you done?"

Surveying the crushed can he held and feeling the depth of his manliness, Naruto was absolutely serious as he walked over to the trashcan. "Yes, Sasuke, yes, I am," the clink of aluminum on metal.

With a roll of his eyes and a smile to himself, Sasuke went back to studying. During high school, the blonde's little outbursts had been annoying.

Well, they were happening six or seven times a day.

Since their senior year, though, the dynamic between Sasuke and Naruto had deepened from rivals to friends to…

Brothers, the word made Sasuke feel equal parts exhilaration and disgust.

Naruto had grabbed another can of soda from Sasuke's miniature refrigerator and was trying to open it using only the power of his mind/machismo.

Yes, just like brothers…unfortunately.

Now, with the blonde only challenging Sasuke every few days or so, the Uchiha had a harder time controlling his laughter rather than his temper. "Well, Naruto, unlike some people who mess around, going to plays, and pretending to be a college student, I am going to stay in and study. We'll just let our grades show whose better."

Naruto's eyes became angry slits again as Sasuke taunted him with a smile, "But, have a good time."

I'm just glad he forgave me for leaving.

"I will, Sasuke, the best time…ever! You're going to be so jealous. Just you wait."

Knock. Knock.

"You're date's here."

"Oh, just shut up!"

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Amber spotlights fell upon a broken young man, as he weaved the tale of love and loss that had taken over his world. In his youth, he had fallen deeply in love with the daughter of his village's feudal lord. By trial and challenge, the young man had won her heart and permission for her hand.

After taking over the land, following his father-in-law's death, the new feudal lord had found great success. Regrettably, this success had come with a price. Meetings with the village council, the official visits of other feudal lords, and the necessity of touring his country, left him little time to spend with his wife. Even though love had come first, duty's call was more incessant.

The feudal lord saw his wife less and less, but, after five years, they were still happy, still in love, and still ready to face all challenges together. The lord's wife looked upon her husband with pride and respect, seeing how well he treated her and their people. While, if necessary, he would have given up the land, the money, the title, all of it, just to have the honor of holding her hand.

Until, that is, tragedy struck…

Gaara's gaze was glued to the stage in front of him; the story was cliché, and the traditional Kabuki form alien. But.

I don't care. It's incredible.

The amber light gave everything onstage a soft, hazy glow, like an afternoon sun on a scalding summer day. Rich royal blues, blood-red crimsons, and velvety purples drenched the long patterned sleeves of kimono after kimono. While still recognizing reality, all of the actors moved with a stylized grace that helped to create a new world, one Gaara had never dreamt of before.

His fingers were itching to copy it all down. Every time a bow was offered to "the lord" or the dancers provided an interlude, the redhead cursed the fact that he'd left his sketchbook at the dorm.

Strangely, from an outsider's perspective, the ruby-haired boy, pale and slender, staring with heavy lids and unsmiling mouth up at the stage appeared to be bored or, even, half asleep. For Gaara never indicated his enjoyment by clapping or commenting aloud. Only inside, as yet another dance began…

Why in the hell did I not at least bring a motherfucking pencil?! I could've drawn on the program or something.

Next to the silent redhead, absorbed in admiration, Naruto sat.

Sometimes.

Other times, like when he was real excited, Naruto would raise about half of his body up in the air, as if to get a better view. Also, he had a tendency to (very loudly) empathize with the feudal lord. During happy times, the blonde nearly slapped his knee off in laughter. During sad, his face hid itself as the boy's body sunk deep down into his seat.

In other words, he was kind of obnoxious. Loveable...but obnoxious.

Of course, there were also the three bathroom breaks, Naruto had found it necessary to take. Seated center stage, fourth row, the blonde's fellow theatre-goers were not pleased.

In contrast, Gaara didn't mind, at all. Actually, the longer the play went on, the less attention he paid to the blonde.

And, luckily, Naruto didn't care that the redhead never answered any of the extremely important questions he had throughout the show:

"Oh my God, did he just hit that guy?"

"Do you think we'll ever actually see the lord's wife? I bet she's really hot."

"How hard do you think it is to be a feudal lord?"

"Did they really wear makeup like that all the time? 'Cause, you know, it's kind of cool"

"How long do you think it is till intermission? I seriously have to pee."

To be honest, the blonde never really expected answers anyway.

So, two acts passed and the third was beginning to draw to a close, bringing intermission with it. Gaara was starting to lose focus on the stage, as he planned the future deluge of paintings that inspiration would soon require of him.

Definitely acrylics. I wanted to use those new pastels, but the colors…definitely need acrylics.

However, his reveries were soon broken by a story the feudal lord had begun to relate onstage. A letter had come.

His wife was dead.

Drowned in the river.

Apparently, some men had broken into their home, stolen a few things, and made sport with his wife. In a last ditch effort to save her and her husband's honor, she'd killed herself, by jumping into the river.

"You've got to be kidding me. Oh, God, it's just too sad!"

More than a little less empathetic, Gaara's only real thought was, I wonder if we'll see her now. Oh, a death scene would be perfect.

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In the pit area, below the stage, a single dancer stood on the electric platform, waiting for her cue. Nervously, feet shuffled back and forth, back and forth, and her scattered thoughts kept time.

Why, oh, why did they have to extend the solo? One, two.

But, it's just a minute, a measly minute. Three, four.

What if you humiliate yourself, in front of everyone? Five, six.

What if he really is out there watching? Seven, Eight.

Hinata's slippered feet came to a stop.

Breathing deeply, the costume-covered young dancer felt all of her muscles humming with tension. The worn plywood of the platform molded itself to the balls of her feet, and its solid strength seemed to echo throughout her small frame. As the pale blue lights signaled her entrance and the platform began to rise, there was only one thought left in her:

I'm ready.

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Draped in heavy silks of azure and ivory, the feudal lord's wife entered the play.

Long hair fell shining down her back as the young woman moved in tiptoed grace across the stage. With playfulness, she tossed her long locks, batted her eyes, and played the coquette. Girlishly cocking her hips and twirling her body, she was love. She was innocence. She was beautiful.

As the dance continued, her steps became longer, slower, sultry. Flirtatiously, she used the rich cloth covering her body to entice her love. But now, her story had progressed, and they were married, far past flirtation. The outer blue robe dropped away to reveal elaborate designs of crimson and burnt orange, tightly wrapping the curvy girl's frame.

Occasionally, a collarbone or thigh was licked by spotlight, pale and lean. Her body curved in a tarantella of seduction. Many seated in the audience wished those pouting lips and bedroom eyes were directed at them. The attraction only increased as the lord's lover used her shining length of hair to its fullest advantage; it was a silky curtain to tease or a sexual toy to muss.

And yet, not a single motion was dishonest or perverse; the girl's movements were genuine, open, and incensing.

Suddenly, the music began to change, a darker tone drifted across the stage, whose light blue aura had turned a fiery red. No others came on, but, nevertheless, the feudal lord's wife began to show the brutal tragedy of her rape.

Tearing at her clothes and forcing her broken body from one side of the stage to the other, the greatest horror was the girl's radiant face, dry of tears but drenched with pride and resolve. Kicking, fighting, yelling, biting, many in the audience could not watch.

Then, just as the mood had altered so quickly before, everything changed as the girl collapsed into a graceful disarray, center stage. Harsh white spotlights hit her back and shoulders. While, the music seemed to prematurely mourn the young woman's final actions.

As her head arose and thick locks of deep violet fell onto her thin shoulders, beauty looked, for the first time, out at the audience. Her gaze was that of a broken child, a kind heart, a warrior, a woman, a wife. It seemed to penetrate every man, woman, and child, seeing through their masks, seeing their pain, seeing them. Her sadness cradled theirs, wiping it from their souls.

When her eyes left the outside world, many began to cry.

Onstage, pale violets let tears fall for the first time. And, as if mimicking her desolation, white flakes began to drift down, around her. Even the sky was mourning her loss.

In a single, elegant movement, the lord's wife arose, letting scarlet and sunsets fall in her wake. A simple white kimono (her wedding dress) covered her shapely body. Slowly, she found her husband's picture. And as the lights dimmed and the stage turned, the beautiful young feudal lord's wife kissed her husband goodbye.

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As the houselights came on, the audience members looked at one another in bafflement. The emotional experience had been taken from them so abruptly that it had left them all a little stunned.

So, it was a few moments before the clapping began.

Much less time passed before, each and every person started to rise to their feet.

I have to remember that hair and those movements.

I knew it. I knew she could do it.

That bitch…

Beautiful girl, who…

Hinata-san?

…

As the Konoha University theatre program received its first standing ovation after only half a play, one slim girl stood backstage. Cheeks red hot from embarrassed pride, she smiled quietly.

I did it.

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"And, did you see the part where she just like stopped everything, and looked out at us? That was my favorite. Oh! Or, wait, remember when she kissed that picture? Oh, man, I was totally going to cry. If the lights-"

Nearly smiling, Gaara thought to himself, You did cry, Naruto.

A lot.

No, he wouldn't remind the blonde of that. In fact, Gaara was trying to make as little noise as possible, for fear that the other boy might actually remember Gaara's presence and desire some form of real conversation. For now, the redhead was contentedly the recipient of the blond's babble, the chatter almost comforting; it reminded him of the few happy times that he'd had back in Suna.

Images of an eight year old Gaara eating his lunch behind stacks of books in the school library, while other children his age sat at one of the room's tables, talking and laughing, flickered past the redhead's eyes.

I knew, they were afraid of me, but times like that. When they didn't notice I was there. I used to close my eyes and pretend that I was sitting at that table with them. And, any minute, one of them was going to ask to trade desserts with me or see if I knew the answer to number three on the math homework.

Other days, I just wanted to kill them all, thinking it was their fault everything hurt all of the time.

But, those days…those were good days.

"And, do you remember the part where-"

Not as good as this one though..

Having spoken nonstop since intermission began, Naruto finally paused for air after Gaara answered his question of, "I wonder who she was?" by shoving the program under his nose.

Feudal Lord's Wife Hyuuga Hinata

"Hinata?!"

Gaara raised his forehead in question.

"You see, I've gone to school with her since I was…She's-she's even in our English class this year."

Quickly, Naruto went from stunned but ecstatic mode to serious deliberation mode.

After a momentary hesitation, the blond came to a rather obvious conclusion. "Do you think she remembers me? You know, it would be really rude if she noticed that I came to her play and didn't stop by during intermission to say hello, doncha think? Us being old classmates. But-" the tortured expression covering Naruto's face could've been due to the fact that he was planning on ditching his new friend for fifteen minutes or so, but, the truth was, "Gaara, can I ask you a favor?"

"Mmm."

"Well, you see, I'm pretty hungry. Starving actually. So, a trip to the concession stand is a must, but I don't know if Hinata has to stay for the whole show and I really-"

"Go."

The blonde's face lit up but quickly scrunched a trifle in concern (an expression that still made Gaara feel a little uneasy), "Are you sure?"

"Yes, go…Wait. What do you want?"

"Anything and everything and lots of it," Naruto responded with a grin, slipping the other boy a twenty, "Thank you, thank you, thank you. I promise to be back in like ten seconds. Later"

"Bye."

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Thus, Gaara went to buy anything and everything that the concession stand had to offer. Without the blond ball of energy chattering away beside him, the redhead's mind turned once again to his utter lack of a writing utensil.

Hmm. They might have a few pens next to the register. I doubt anyone would notice if one or two went missing.

Focused on his devious machinations and pen-stealing plans, Gaara bumped into someone walking by the refreshments, nearly upsetting their large cardboard tray of…

Cupcakes, a candy bar, ice cream, popcorn…wow. That's a lot of food, mentally exclaimed the slim youth as he looked up and started to excuse himself.

"I-I apologize. Please excuse me…"

Lilacs.

"…Neji."

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The one good thing about having to go see a play by yourself is that no one is around to see you misbehave.

Theoretically.

No one should be around to see you ignore the health regimen that your soccer coach planned out specifically for you this season.

No one should be able to find out your greatest weakness: a deep, irrational love of sweets.

No one was standing in front of Neji with bright red hair, turquoise eyes and a scarlet kanji tattoo branded on his forehead.

"Hey, Gaara. It's no problem."

"Hi, Neji," the redhead's eyes were glued to his, and yet Neji had absolutely no idea what the other boy was thinking. Most people fidgeted or glanced around themselves. Growing up in the cutthroat business world that his family belonged to, with all of its dangers and pitfalls, the dark-haired Hyuuga had thought himself more than adept at reading people.

But not Gaara.

And, normally, Neji enjoyed his placid stare; it was sort of restful, but, now, caught in the act of massive sugar consumption, it just felt like he was being scrutinized.

Feeling a little judged and sounding a little exasperated (albeit more with the situation/himself than Gaara), Neji asked," Uh, are you getting some food, as well? Because, if you want, I think I got enough for two…actually, I think I got enough for eight."

Neji watched as the redhead tacitly fingered a twenty dollar bill. Realizing that he was not the only one feeling lost caused the tension across the handsome boy's shoulders to ease. "Or, never mind. Do you care if I wait in line with you?" surprised to hear a smoothness enter his voice, Neji listened to himself explain, "I got all of this," he lifted the giant cardboard tray to illustrate, "and I forgot to get a drink."

The little smile was back, "Yeah, sure."

Quickly moving onto the end of a steadily growing line, the boys waited for their turn.

Conversation. Making conversation. I can do that.

I'm great at it.

Let's see, "So, what did you think of the first half of the play?" or, maybe, "I bet you are just dying to draw now, huh?"

Hmm, oh, I could talk about the dancing, "I really can't believe Hinata did so well. She's my cousin, you know?"

Wow, that sounds fake.

Or, I could…

"I'm sorry," said Neji, carefully not looking at the boy next to him.

"What?"

"I said I'm sorry," fingers tightened on cardboard," Sigh. I should've said it earlier, but I was too foolish to admit that I'd done anything wrong." Sneaking a glance at Gaara, Neji found him silent but looking a little shaken; the redhead's mouth was slightlyopen, and the Hyuuga could just make out the sound of him breathing.

He's not asking why I'm apologizing…At the café…I did hurt him.

Facing forward again, "This kind of thing. College. Choices. It's all so new to me…I know it's not an excuse, but there you go."

Don't look at him again. He must think you're insane...what is he thinking?!

"But, I meant what I said that first day, and I really want your friendship. I just- I just can't promise not to be a stuck-up asshole every once in a while. Apparently…apparently that's just who I am, sometimes," even to Neji's vain ears that last part had sounded pretty pathetic.

Why am I doing this? I'm just going to end up-

The dark-haired boy's lapse into angst was prevented by the now familiar sound of Gaara's faint chuckle, which was accompanied by the welcome words,

"It's okay."

It wasn't, not really, but, the truth was that Gaara had already forgiven him days ago.

"Really?" asked Neji, whose quick turn towards the other boy caused three people near them to shout as they were hit with random items of sugary goodness.

"Yes."

Thank you.

"Okay, then," he turned back to face the front, bringing two more cries of, "Hey, asshole, watch where you're flinging that shit!" along for the ride.

"So, I heard," Neji looked over at Gaara, who stopped speaking as he realized that he had the Hyuuga's full attention before continuing," I heard that you got into the drawing class?"

He stole my conversation topic, Neji smiled.

"Well, I figured that it would be good for my med-," No more lies, "To tell you the truth, after seeing some of your stuff, I wondered what it would be like to, you know, make something…like that. So, I signed up yesterday."

Not even the flicker of an eyelid to tell me his response.

"Then, it appears we have a class together."

What?

"You're in Drawing 101!? But, you're so good."

"And, I'm a freshman," the redhead's quick-witted response drew a mental forehead slap from Neji.

Oh, duh.

Thankfully, he was saved from the situation by the fact that the pair had reached the head of the line. Gaara scanned the menu and, in an even tone, ordered nearly half of it.

Looks like I'm not the only one who was hungry.

"Is that all, kid?"

"Um, hold on a second. Neji?"

"Yeah?" the Hyuuga articulately replied.

"Do you want me to just buy your drink? It might be difficult for you to get to your money," the redhead said as he gestured towards Neji's full arms.

Opening his mouth to accept the kind offer, the Hyuuga was stopped by a voice behind them in line.

"Aww," the voice dripped sarcasm down onto the two boys, "Isn't that just adorable. The little homo is buying a drink for his big, strong boyfriend."

"Adorable, Sakon? It's fucking disgusting. I don't know why we even had to come to this fucking play, and now you're making me look at some gay shit. Jesus!" retorted a pretty girl with unnaturally long red hair and dark eyes. Her delicate features marred by anger and antipathy.

"Oh, fuck off, Tayuya, you're just pissed because that little redhead's hotter than you are," cried a silver-haired boy, wearing blue lipstick, who happened to look identical to the boy named Sakon.

Twins.

"You, fuck off, Ukon! Me uglier than that little shit?" seeing Neji glaring back at her, the girl responded viciously, Hey, what the fuck are you looking at?! Finish your order, already!"

Gaara's face had drained white in frustrated humiliation. Embarrassed, as well, Neji's flushed cheeks did not make him any less angry at the comments and the change they had caused in the redhead's mood.

I swear, if Hiashi wouldn't force me back to that house of his the second he found out, I would kill those guys.

Just kill them.

"You know what, Gaara? That would be great. Thank you so much."

Trying to ignore the group behind them, the pair got their respective items and went to sit on one of the hall's many old, wooden benches. Side by side, both sagged a little in relief when the unkind observers got their concessions and went to the opposite side of the building's atrium.

My ice cream is melting.

Neji swept a white plastic spoon along the edges of the transparent bowl, collecting the melted sundae's drippings. With great care, he lifted the overly full spoon up to his lips.

"So, you're here on a soccer scholarship?"

"Shit." Melted ice cream dotted the dark-haired boy's chin and shirt.

"Oh, I'm-"

With a wave of his hand and an upward curve to his full lips, the Hyuuga dismissed Gaara's apology and answered, "Yeah, are you a fan? We have some games coming up, if you wanted tickets."

By now (seconds later), Neji had nearly finished his strawberry sundae and was contemplating the eternal question of chocolate or vanilla, as he stared down at the two cupcakes he'd bought, when Gaara answered, "…soccer?"

"Heheh, don't tell me you're not a sports fan?"

"…"

Neji laughed at the blank look of incredulity that was the redhead's only response.

"Don't worry. I'm just kidding. In fact, the only reason I even started playing was because my father wanted me to. In college-oh…you don't want to-"

"Go on."

"In college, he was the best. Even better than my uncle, the older twin. They were going to make him the captain, but…you see, there was this big donation from the Hyuuga Corporation, and Hiashi, my uncle, had recently inherited the family company," rubbing his forehead, Neji paused for a second before continuing with his story," Anyways, my dad never got made captain, but," Neji smiled bitterly," there's still old stories told around the locker room of how amazing he was on the field."

Two cupcake wrappers were empty but for crumbs. Gaara listened with a sympathetic ear, mouth slowly draining an extra large soda.

"So, I joined, and when I realized that it could pay for my college, I tried- No. I became the best. Its kind of like a job, but when I am on the grass, in the game, well, I wonder if my father felt the same rush of adrenaline, the same heat of the fight between two opposing forces, the same certainty of victory," feeling as though he had said too much, Neji changed the conversation's tone, "Watching it, on the other hand-"

"I'd like to come and see you play," Gaara interrupted, "I just- I don't know the rules or anything."

Blank stare.

"Soccer? You don't know the rules to soccer?" Neji grinned as if the redhead had just cracked some hilarious joke, but stopped when he realized that the other boy was serious.

Staring at the drink wetting his hands with condensation, "I just never really was allowed to play…sports as a kid."

"Oh, if that's the case, then I'll get two tickets," Gaara's head snapped up in surprise to see Neji holding up two fingers, "One for you and one for Lee."

"He'll love teaching you all of the rules and regulations. I mean, his foster dad is our coach, you know?"

"Hmm, then the clothes make a lot more sense now."

"Heheh, actually-"

But before Neji could continue, he was cut off by a loud, obnoxious but loveable voice, shouting to Gaara across the room, "Gaara! I'm back! You're never going to believe this!"

Naruto.

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The blond had returned and brought with him the energy and excitement that typified his personality. In agonized tones, he related to Gaara the disappointment he had met with backstage, which had been cluttered with actors, tech people, dancers, and (other) fans; he hadn't even gotten close to seeing Hinata. However, he had seen Gaara's older brother, Kankuro.

"And there he was running around, shoving another costume on, so I called out hello (to get him to stop). He did, and I told him I was one of your friends, and we'd come to see the show together. You should've seen his face! Probably embarrassed that he knew people out in the audience, huh? So, I told him that he was doing a great job as the feudal lord," the boy's face took on a slightly huffy and confused expression, " Even if I still don't see why he couldn't get me in to see his wife, for crying out loud."

"Naruto."

"Yeah, Red, what's up?"

Gaara wasn't sure what to ask first, "You do realize that they aren't really married, right? And, who told you that Kankuro was my brother?"

A little affronted, Naruto answered the redhead, "Of course, I know that they aren't really married, and here," he tossed the program onto the boy's lap, which already held a tray filled with food for the blonde," You' re the one who gave it to me. Sabukano Kankuro comes right before Hyuuga Hinata. And speaking of Hyuuga," continued Naruto with barely an intake of breath, "Hey, Neji."

The dark-haired youth looked at Naruto with stiff shoulders and complacent eyes, "Hey, Naruto."

Ignoring Neji once again, Naruto returned his attention to the redhead, "Sooo, Gaara, is all of that food for me?"

The pale boy nodded in acquiescence.

"Thank you. There-there are even nachos!" tears began to fill the corners of the blonde's bright blue eyes as he picked up the tray from Gaara's lap while attempting to hug him, stomach grumbling, "...I'm-I'm just so happy."

At that moment, the lights in the theatre's atrium began to slowly flash, alternately dimming and brightening. Intermission was over.

Wiping imaginary sweat from his brow, Naruto exclaimed, "Looks like I was just in time. We better head back. See you later, Neji."

"Later…."

"Well, Neji…Maybe we'll see each other after-," Gaara started.

But, the handsome Hyuuga had already walked off.

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Only two acts long, the rest of the play passed by with some excellent acting by Kankuro and a climatic end, the feudal lord's dramatic suicide.

Naruto cried. The lights came on. And, it was time to go back to their respective rooms.

The two boys shuffled out of the theatre, the blonde haggardly coming down from a sugar rush he'd gotten during the fourth act, and the redhead glancing inconspicuously from side to side, looking for someone he wanted to say goodnight to.

Unfortunately, no matter how hard he searched, Gaara wasn't going to find Neji. The other boy had left the theatre while the clapping and cheering was still going on, avoiding the crowds and his girlfriend.

So, the boys began the long walk back to their dorm.

Kankuro had performance notes and a department meeting to attend after the show, so the redhead knew that he wouldn't see his brother till tomorrow.

I'll have to thank him…and Temari, Gaara thought as the boys reached their dorm doors.

The blonde yawned loudly and rubbed sleepy blue eyes with his right hand while waving his left in the redhead's general direction, "Night, Gaara. That was so much fun. We'll have to do something like this again, as soon as possible."

"I agree."

Opening up his door, Naruto called, "See you in class."

Reaching for his own doorknob, Gaara replied, "See you."

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"Hey loser! You will never guess how completely awe-"

He's asleep.

Naruto was right.

Sprawled halfway across his desk, Sasuke had conked out, facedown in his Criminal Justice textbook. So black that blue highlights shone in the glow of a metallic desk lamp, soft strands of hair fell across his pale skin. Face relaxed in sleep, thick eyelashes brushing against his cheeks, the boy barely looked old enough to drive, let alone go to college. Completely unguarded, dreamless nights (such as this one) were the only times when Sasuke was freed from his brother, the death of his parents, and his own shortcomings.

He's going to be so sore in the morning, if he stays there all night.

Gently gathering his best friend in his arms, the blonde carried Sasuke to the brunette's carefully made bed. Laying the boy down and covering him with an extra blanket, Naruto collapsed onto his own mattress. Too tired to change or move, the blonde peered over at the great Uchiha Sasuke.

It's the first time I've seen him sleeping well since we got here. Sigh. I wish he'd just tell me what happened this summer.

And so, Naruto drifted off to sleep, looking at his best friend, and wishing there was some way he could help.

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Hands crossed behind flaming red hair, Gaara's body was bathed in moonlight that shone down from the room's large, open window. Five paintings had been sketched out, the initial brushstrokes laid, and frames placed aside, to be finished in the morning. While he could stay awake all night, working away, the light might have kept Lee up.

Calluses had deepened on the boy's right hand, due to the filling of at least one sketchbook as he related the night's events to his roommate. The bowl-cut wearing youth had gushed with tears and laughter, sharing all of Gaara's beautiful trials and tribulations. Ecstatically, Lee had told of his own wondrous night, including the youthful games and activities that Gai had so thoughtfully prepared for his foster son and foster son's girlfriend.

The memory made the redhead chuckle a little, for the third time that night.

I can't remember the last time I laughed so much.

Feeling his pale jaw, my cheeks even hurt.

Reflecting on the moments that had caused him such amusement, the boy's eyes were drawn to a number of the sketches that lined the floor around his bed. The redhead had jotted down page after page, detailing the play, Hinata, costumes, etc. And yet, the pale violet eyes that stared up at him from the carpet did not belong to the feudal lord's wife but the handsome boy who'd left without saying goodbye.

Gaara had been confused about his feelings toward Neji before, and tonight had only increased his befuddlement.

I find everything beautiful. Neji's is just the same as a dilapidated, old building or Sakura when she smiles really wide, eyes closed.

This wasn't like a Kabuki play, where the characters fell fervently in love at first sight. And, the thought of anyone kissing him, holding him made Gaara feel nauseous and out of breath.

Still, the boy could not deny that there was something nagging at his chest and mind, every time he saw the handsome Hyuuga.

Yes, Gaara wanted to be friends with Neji. But, no matter how much time passed, the redhead knew that his best friend would always be one with large eyebrows and zero fashion sense.

Gaara, also, knew that part of him liked being around the pale-eyed boy because he represented everything that the redhead had wanted, growing up. Acceptance, acceptance from some societal ideal, the kind of person who made his life miserable in high school.

But, do I like him…am I even allowed to do something like that?

The boy knew that no matter what the answer was, being in a relationship with Neji, acting on his feelings was not an option. To tell the truth, Gaara didn't care; the idea of dating, romance, and mutual love had never been in the cards fate had dealt him. He just wanted to know.

Sigh.

There was one thing. One thing that felt like the shadow of an answer.

The boy might not have the stomach to kiss anyone, but…

If it was allowed…

If no one minded…

I wonder what it would be like to hold his hand.

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It was past one o'clock in the morning and Neji was pissed off.

No, wait, Neji was not just pissed off; he was fucking pissed off.

At everything.

It had started when Ten-ten called to bitch Neji out for skipping off after the show. Then, Hiashi had phoned to ask his nephew how his first week at school had gone.

Wants to judge how long its going to take before I crack down and change to a goddamn business major, probably. Ugh, why can't everyone just leave me alone?

Despite Neji's frustration centering on those around him, the one he truly wanted to pound into oblivion was himself. He cursed all of the things he'd let slip about his family situation that night, couldn't stop thinking about his lack of action at the concession stand, and hated the fact that Naruto had gotten under his skin.

I can't believe I am jealous of his friendship with Gaara. That's what it is…jealousy!

Throwing his date book across the room as he violently thumped onto his bed, Neji's inner rage continued, I have tons of fucking friends! Gaara is…Gaara is…

…different.

A calm descended.

Why in the hell am I such a jerk to him?

On his mahogany nightstand, two brand new sketchbooks, an art eraser, and a set of professional drawing pencils glared at him from beneath a halogen lamp.

I bet he drew his hand off the second he got back to the dorms.

Grabbing the blank pad, a pencil, and the eraser, Neji decided that maybe he could be do what the redhead did. Considering what had occurred the first time he'd met Gaara, the dark-haired Hyuuga had a feeling that the other boy took out a lot of his rage and pain on paper.

I can do that.

The only problem was…

He had no idea what to draw. His mind was blank.

Sometimes, just starting is the most important step.

So, he drew a line and another line and another and…

"Ugh. I don't know what I am even doing!"

Neji hated this, hated the fact that his cool, calm composure had slipped so drastically. This wasn't him. He did not yell or throw date books or curse the heavens.

Neji played soccer and abhorred intense emotional outbursts and met everyone else's expectations.

But what about my expectations?

What about what I want to do with my life?

Letting his fingers thread through his soft hair, kneading his scalp, Neji composed himself.

Calmly, he, once again, picked up the sketchbook and tried again.

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Author's Note:

Welcome to another segment of the Author's Note brought to you by yours truly, and with a little help from my handsome (if a tad uppity) personal assistant this week, Hyuuga Neji.

The dark-haired boy stands sullenly next to the author as a blue fluorescent "APPLAUSE" sign blinks over their heads.

Today, we are going to answer a few questions that might interest our studio audience and help clarify some things about how this show actually works.

Neji, the slides.

The Hyuuga, who appears to be wearing three or four layers of clothing, stares in annoyance at the author, before padding silently to an easel and flipping the first page of a large stack of posterboard slides that are heaped upon it.

The first slide says in bold lettering: Where in the hell were you?!

The answer to that is quite simple, dear friends. Neji, the author says pointedly.

The boy shakes his head in refusal, crossing his arms across his chest.

Neji...you know I was thinking, I've been reading a lot of Sintari's fan fiction lately, what are your thoughts on Hyuugacest?

Angrily, Neji gives into the threat, uncrosses his arms and takes off his outermost shirt. Underneath is another shirt which lists, in this order:

1. 21 credits this semester taking almost entirely practical theatre class (lots of work)

2. Working three jobs to pay for said college

3. Having friends

4. Getting deathly ill for a week and a half

5. Moving

6. The fact that I didn't like how the chapter was going so rewrote the entire thing over the course of the past four days.

Yes, life blew (in a general sense), so there was little time to sit down, focus, and write. Since I am home for the summer now and have yet to land a suitable job, updates will resume. There should even be a new chapter (although only a 1-2 page interlude like chapters 1,4) up sometime tomorrow.

But, this chapter, long, huh? Long and…angsty. Speaking of angst, Neji.

Neji turns the next page, rather sullenly.

Keeping the characters…in character.

Or as I like to think of it. Neji…, as the boy resists once again, the author lowers her eyelids and slyly remarks, Wasn't Hinata just gorgeous in this past chapter?

Scowling, the boy takes off the next shirt.

OMFGBBQ OOC :P

There are times in this story where characters may act a little odd, a little unlike themselves in the manga/anime. One, this is because they are an in alternate universe, where their situations (while comparable) are still different. I try to take this into account as I am writing, and I alter what I think needs to be altered. However, it should be noted that all characters are seen by those around them as acting exactly like they did in the show/manga.

Hehe, although angst really does suit Gaara and that whiner over there, author points to Neji, who glares back.

Next.

Neji reveals a new posterboard that says:

Pairings, pairings, who's got the pairings…

Ahh, my favorite part…Neji, last shirt please.

This time the boy adamantly refuses; he is not some piece of meat, fan service for the author to entice people to read her story. Hell, he'll have sex with his cousin before he forgets his worth and pride.

Realizing that she needs to pull out the big guns, the author sidles up behind the boy and whispers in his ear, So, Neji, I was just thinking, the way you were acting this chapter and how much Gaara has grown…what are your thoughts on being the…uke?

Quickly, the boy takes off the last shirt to reveal this in bright red lipstick:

Although some pairings are obvious (or so you think, hahahaha), there is a lot of loving goin' to be happening in this here story. While most of them are solidified in my brain and won't be revealed until the story continues, I am open to suggestions.

Most of the plot has been totally mapped out alraedy, but an occasional love/lust detour won't kill it. Although, I tend not to crack pair too much. If I like your idea enough but it doesn't fit with Painted Dreams,

Who knows, I might try writing a one shot with it :P.

So suggestions are always welcome.

Oh, and, Neji, turn around. On the boy's back, still in the lipstick,

I heart reviews!

Yes, I love hearing what you all have to say, and I will start taking the time to answer them at the beginning and/or end of every chapter. Tell me what you like, hate, want more of, or just talk about something that stuck out to you.

Anything. I love it all. (winks at a the people who have reviewed more than a few times)

I love you guys, and maybe, just maybe…

She whispers so the sullen Hyuuga can't hear her, "I'll throw in shirtless Neji as a prize."

Returning to her normal speaking voice, Well, thanks for coming out tonight, everybody, and slapping the dark-haired boy a little hard on the back, Neji thanks you, too. Right, Neji?

He glares.

Anyways, see you next chapter, everyone.