AIM Message Sent From Ramen Lover XOXOXO 1 to Bluefire23::

Ramen Lover XOXOXO 1: sasuke wat do u realy feel bout me?

Bluefire23: A friend

Ramen Lover XOXOXO 1: is that all?

Bluefire23: Probably. Why, are you looking for love?

Ramen Lover XOXOXO 1: U SOB!

Bluefire23: Calm down, calm down. Anyways, I thought I was just a 'try-out'?

Ramen Lover XOXOXO 1: well yeah but...

Bluefire23: At least we've got that clear. Our relationship is nothing but an experiment ok? If you want true love go after Gaara or something.

Ramen Lover XOXOXO 1: o i'm going on a date with him tonight

Bluefire23: Kiss him, well you?

Ramen Lover XOXOXO 1 logs off

--

Breaking the Music

By FlightAngel

--

Disclaimer: I don't own Naruto, but I do own this story: so you steal, I kill

--

As I drove into the parking lot surrounding the Konoha Convention Center, my view is immediately filled with the bright flashes of yellow and red lights dancing from tens of hundreds of cars all beeping at one another. They were all so jam packed so that the bumper of the car in front of me was literally almost squeezing the front of Neji's precious Porsche into a wrinkled snout, not being a good thing of course. Doing the only logical thing at the time, in my opinion, I honked at him.

"Quit blocking up the driveway!" I scream, and the driver of the car in front of me pops his thousand-pierced face and brilliant green Mohawk out the window and screeches back.

"Shut the frick' up you frickin' loser!" Replace 'frick' and 'loser' with your own inappropriate phrases and you've got what he said to me. Naruto, who was curled up in the passenger's seat, joins into the merry shouting.

"Shove your frickin' Mohawk into your frickin' butt you dip—" I cast him a warning glance and the blonde boy breaks off mid-sentence, sheepish. He didn't exactly use the words 'frickin' and 'butt' either. Sighing, I give the car one last good honk before falling into silence.

Naruto shifts uncomfortably, unfurls himself, and raises his head to examine the outstretch of cars in front of us. I stare at him without shame (the traffic was so bad I could've gotten a cup of coffee and a donut and come back without having the cars move at all).

I was both surprised and pleased to see that Naruto had sort-of dressed up for the occasion as well when I had picked him up from his house. Instead of the usual thrown-on t-shirt and jeans, he wore a black tank-top, a silver necklace with a feather figurine attached at the tip, white pants and had been wearing a dark orange blazer but was now tied around his hips. As he raised his head, I think I stopped breathing when I saw the nape of his neck.

I wanted to bite it, and that was pretty disturbing in itself.

He whistles, "Good thing we decided to come early, eh? How will we ever find a parking spot?"

I really didn't want to think about that right now.

However, in the next fifteen minutes I spent all my available time keeping an eye peeled for one, just one, parking space that was big enough to fit the Porsche into. Finally, it was Naruto had who screamed, "Over there! PARK THERE!"

After a little squabble of who's-parking-space-is-it-anyway with a white sedan, I finally braked the car, leaned back, and let out a sigh of relief. Naruto, misinterpreting my sigh as one of tiredness, shouts, "C'mon, Gaara, the party's only just started! We need to find seats too!" Feeling a chuckle bubbling down in my throat, I open the door and throw myself out of the car, barely remembering to lock it.

If Neji found out that some weirdo had hijacked his precious automobile he'd be out for my blood for sure.

As we start for the entrance to the convention center, I casually take Naruto's hand. It was warm and soft, just how I examined them to be several weeks ago. He briefly looks into my face with a sort of quizzical glance, then smiles, giving my hand a squeeze, "Slowpoke! We'll be late!"

Before I can respond to his words or the squeeze, he takes off, my hand still grasped in his own. Yelping as the momentum from his sprint jolts me forward, I am literally dragged to the entrance and squeezed past thousands of bustling people who were all just as excited to be at the concert as much as we were. If Naruto and I hadn't been holding hands, I swear we would've lost each other within the first few minutes.

As the scent of sweat, perfume, gum and hair spray envelope me in a thick fog, I cough and huddle closer to Naruto, who was seemingly enjoying himself very much. "This is great!" He shouts loudly, but because everyone else was just as loud no one heard him, "Gaara! Let's try to get some good seats, ok?" Inside there was a moment of pitch darkness where the hall before the real auditorium was. I can hear Naruto's steady breath next to me.

I can hear everyone else's steady breath, too, but after I'd met the boy I was trained to hear his voice. And since voice comes through breathing at some level, I could really just filter out all other noise with ease.

Weird, I know, but true.

Suddenly the darkness lifts and the largeness of the dome makes me sort of stumble as I gape at the flashing white lights above me. Naruto, who's been at the convention center before, cheerfully continues to drag me towards some seats that he deemed worthy of our attention.

Large windows lined the left and right wings of the dome, leaving the middle area safely covered with a layer of steel plates that glinted in the light. The stage-area in the front is large and open, the band-members setting up their things in the shallow shadows not cast in blinding white. However, fans still screamed of their awesome greatness, even going as far as throwing shirts, pants, and, even, a thong at them.

"SWEET!" Naruto screams as we finally claim a seat in front of the scaffolding that hovered above the center area of the bleacher-seats (I don't know what they're called), "I'm actually in the same room as them! I'm seeing them live! Gaara, isn't this exciting?"

I nod dimly, and he gives this little shrill whistle in excitement as the lights slowly fade to a dark auburn, leaving the stage the only thing lit and visible in a mass of black and blue silhouettes. People start screaming and yelling out their names louder then before, whirling things in the air, stripping, and giving loud-pitched whistles that rung in my ear. The leader of the band, a young man with a blonde flat-top and a silver ring glimmering in one ear, amusingly holds up one hand for silence.

Naruto's face lights up in this way that I recognized as extremely-high-on-excitement and I catch my breath as I see his lips sparkle in the dim light. Lips weren't supposed to sparkle. Actually, it was near impossible. Then why were his lips sparkling?

"Hey," The man on stage says and fans go wild just at the sound of his voice. Naruto, who was already excited, laughs out loud in sheer pleasure of being here, in the moment, in the same room, as his band-idol. I let a small sort of upward-twitching of my lips to creep onto my face at seeing the blonde so happy.

If he's happy, I'm happy.

Ok, just kidding. That was too cliché, even for me. It's more like 'If Uzamaki Naruto is ecstatic with happiness, I will feel satisfied because then I would know that there will always be a face that is alight with joy around in the world and that I shouldn't worry all that much anymore'.

But saying, 'if he's happy, I'm happy' is a heck of a lot shorter. And, being me who hated talking no matter what, short is good.

The band-member flashes a blinding smile and the crowd quiets. Continuing, he says, "I am so happy that all my wonderful fans have come to see us tonight, and I would like to say before we go on that I appreciate my secretary, blah's (I can't remember her name… nor can I remember the supreme band-leader's name even though everyone is shouting it out), help in helping to organize this striking event." There was an enormous applause, and a woman who had been tucked neatly away into the corner of the stage looks down and blushes. "And I want to dedicate this concert to someone I love very much—love almost the point of death." Everyone coos, except for the occasional fan girl that shrieked that only they could have him and damn them if anyone was going to have him other then them and sounded amazingly like Sakura.

As he stands there, the lights hovering over the stage dims so that the whole center is plunged into pitch darkness. Silence, and then, a whisper.

"Begin."

Naruto lets out a shrill scream of excitement as suddenly flames burst out from the stage and the dark tones of bass and guitars ring out from the now half-lit figures of the band-members. The music has started, and has sucked everyone in.

You can just see the pounding beats coursing through everyone's hearts as they go crazy, hair flinging everywhere as random girls pull away at hair ties, unbutton their shirts and even strip off their bras. Some boys howl and start clapping, some even daring to jump from their ledge into the mulling crowd, where they amazingly land unharmed and leaving everyone else unharmed as well.

Naruto is twisting, dancing, besides me, one arm in the air as he shakes his head up and down, flinging beautiful golden strands everywhere, lean muscles rippling in the fire-ridden light.

As he twisted, I realize how the ebony tank-top clung to his body revealingly; letting anyone who had the thought to look see the rippling muscles as the boy coursed with the music. Not that Naruto was particularly muscular, Sasuke and I being more well-built that he was in any case, he was just… lean. I liked how the muscle clung to his bones just enough to look ruggedly handsome and yet still cutely small at the same time.

The light auburn lights above us has changed back to an order of flashing white lights that made everything look as if it was blinking, like photo-shots of a crowd-gone-wild.

I can feel the thrill making me as giddy as the next guy over, though years of pushing down my feelings have won over the battle-for-dominance and make it as if I know the feelings are there, I'm just not attached to them.

I'm dancing as well, but not as smoothly or flirtatiously as the boy next to me, and I spend most of my time ignoring the dance moves being performed on stage and staring at Naruto.

The way his eyes lit up in his ecstasy and glimmered in the white light was breath-taking. His smile was small, but warm and sincere, tips of his lips curving upwards revealing perfect, white teeth. Golden locks fell onto his forehead with a sort of fluffy-like volume that made me want to lean forward and blow on them, as if they were light enough to fly off in the wind.

I look down, and I see we are still holding hands.

In that moment, I realized that what I had thought was love before was not.

Because the feeling I am experiencing now as the lights are flashing and the flames emerging frighteningly from the stage, was definitely, purely, and truly what love really is.

--

After the concert, while people are starting to file out of the aisles after the amount of screaming wears off, Naruto and I are still sitting in the silence. It wasn't an actual silence—there were those random idiots screaming love confessions to the band members and the people who were excitedly chatting with their friends about the concert, but it was still in a silence, nevertheless.

Naruto is creepily quiet. Why wasn't he shouting excitedly like he usually does? Turning towards me, he says, "That was really great, wasn't it?" I nod, adjusting my black coat self-consciously.

He smiles cutely, and I have the impulse to kiss him.

Cue inner-Gaara battle. Shukaku-Gaara says "Just make out with him, ok? It's not like you really care about him, right?"

Good-Naruto-Gaara whines, "But I do care about him! I don't want to mess up!"

Shukaku-Demon scowls, "Don't think about frickin' messing up and just do it!"

Good-Naruto-Gaara is losing, "B-but…"

Shukaku-Demon smirks, "Just one, ok? One…"

I lean forward and use my free hand (can you believe we were still holding hands? Even though it's been more then two hours?) to tilt his chin upwards. His eyelashes flutter as he blinks at me in a sort-of surprise, cheeks dusted a light pink and he opens his mouth to say something.

Feeling flustered and my heart pounding ferociously on my chest, I use this as a chance to lean forward and--

"Hey, kids, get a move on," I jump half out of my skin and jerk away from Naruto, dropping his hand. I turn to face the intruder.

It was the punk green-Mohawk guy that had been driving the car in front of us. Who knew we'd meet again?

I stand up abruptly, shaking, giving a curt nod to the blonde, who had a mixed expression on his face (I can't say what his face was like without sounding judgmental) and say to the older man, "Excuse me, but my friend and I need to be off." Pulling Naruto with me, I swiftly cut off his course towards the exit and hurriedly run into the parking lot.

As I am driving home I cannot believe what I had just almost done. Was I insane? Was I trying to mess up my relationship with Naruto already on the first date? I'm beating myself over the head with Neji's convenient club-thing that he liked to use to bean Lee from time to time.

Naruto is silent the entire way home, though his face is always turned away from me, so I can't see his face and he can't see mine.

--

I think I have died. No, if I'd died I wouldn't be standing here drowning in Kankuro's cooking aroma. No, not Kankuro being cooked, Kankuro cooking.

If Temari's cooking is that of an elephant on drugs, Kankuro's cooking is that of an elephant on drugs trying to have sex with a monkey. He stank. No, he was worse then just stinking. He was devastating.

At least with Temari, you always had a vague impression what she wanted to cook was. With Kankuro, everything looked like a block of charcoal. Seriously. Even his soups.

"Gaara!" My evil older brother snaps as I lie practically dead on the couch, "Come here!" Of course, when I don't move, he just eyes me and leaves me alone. Advantage of being a tried-and-released serial killer. Suddenly a sudden thought flickers through my memory and I sit up. Kankuro, who is now poking another one of his block-of-charcoal masterpieces, looks up. "You going to help me?"

"No."

"Hn."

I crawl into my room and kick open the closet door. Neji had helped me reorganize my wardrobe and sneak back all the clothes he had 'borrowed' from Temari and Kankuro (he had 'borrowed' things from Temari and had practically punched Kankuro over the head before getting even a jacket off of him), which I was eternally grateful for as now I can actually find items in the damn thing.

After a few minutes of rummaging around, I finally remove a mothball-smelling duffel bag from underneath a pile of newer ones. Dusting it off, I carry it triumphantly into the living room and resume my spot on the couch. Kankuro cranes his neck to see what I was holding.

"Oy… what's that?"

"Bunny."

"…?"

I sit there holding the bag for an hour straight. I know it was an hour straight because the TV was on and had been blaring out various little kid cartoons twice before I stood up and walked into the kitchen.

I immediately wished I hadn't.

"Taste-test this for me."

"No way in hell." I answer and duck down when Kankuro-spatula flings towards my face. "Taste-test your own food."

"What are you doing?"

"I'm going to call Neji." He gives me a stare before resuming his charcoal-making.

Picking up the cheap receiver, I quickly dialed Neji's number and blankly glare at my brother, who was promptly ignoring me. I wait for my other friend to pick up, and right when I want to hang up a voice comes warbling through, "H-hello--?"

"Hey, is Neji there?"

"N-Neji niisan? N-no… H-he and Lee h-have a p-project due t-tomorrow so th-they went o-out…"

My brow shoots up in mock surprise. Neji and Lee went out to work on a project? Yeah right.

"Ok, thanks. Tell him he has to frickin' call me back the time he comes home, alright? Bye."

"U-uh… no problem…?"

I hang up the phone and Kankuro says, "Why don't you call that frickin' Nara boy and ask how Temari's doing?"

I ignore him and stroll to my room, duffle bag still in hand.

Sitting on my bed, I slowly unzip the bag and pull out a well-worn stuffed doll from its pockets. It was a dark chocolate brown teddy bear, hair soft with short polyester hairs and smelt of old-age. It had been the bag for a very long time.

"Bunny," I say to it, as if I was five again, "Do you think I'm a coward?"

It doesn't say anything, of course, but something had sparked. I remember how I used to talk to it all the time and it'd always answer with a smile on its face, until Shukaku killed him and took over. Now, I am imagining it sitting next to me. What do you think a coward is?

I consider carefully.

"Someone… who runs away. Abandons his friends. Turns around and saves his own hide when other around him is being destroyed."

Is that you?

"Well… no…"

Then you're not a coward.

"What am I? A frickin' bastard who doesn't mind cutting people's head off but pisses his pants when it comes to confessing his love?"

Gaara, Bunny says softly, You're not like that anymore. You were, but that is not he current you.

I narrow my eyes as I pick up the worn teddy bear. His name was Bunny because when Temari first gave it to me I still couldn't tell the difference between rabbits and bears and had ended up calling it 'Bunny' all day long until Kankuro told me it was a bear. But, nevertheless, the name stuck.

"Then… what am I? Am I… disappearing?"

I don't know. What do you think?

I sit on the bed for so long I don't realize I had fallen asleep until I can feel Kankuro roughly shaking my shoulder. "Gaara, get up, we're going out."

Blinking tears of sleepiness out of my eyes, I yawn and look over. It took me a few seconds, but I immediately jolted forward when I realized what was wrong.

Bunny was gone.

--

"Yo."

"Hey."

Hatake-san's manning the counter today, one hand propping his head up and the other holding a well-worn orange Make-Out Paradise Novel which he had been so engrossed in before I slipped into the store. I look around for Anko. "Where's she?"

"Out," The musical prodigy replies, turning another page of his perverted book and staring at the wonderful images that come with the thing, "She's been acting strange all week, you know?" I nod and check the clock off-handedly.

It was five minutes 'till my next lesson with a little kid named Udon or something. All I remember was him sneezing snot all over the company guitar and me frantically trying to wipe the disgusting mucus stuff from the shiny varnish. Of course, compared to Naruto trying to tutor that brat, Konohamaru, I had it easy.

"Gaara," I look up from my thinking and see Hatake-san fish some keys out of his jean-pocket and he throws them at me. Effortlessly catching them, I look at them, puzzled. "Give those to Iruka-chan, ok? And tell him not to kill me."

He was, of course, referring to my psychiatrist session with Umino-san after tutoring. It got extremely annoying when your boss and your psychiatrist know, less date, each other. Sighing, I head into the backroom to start my lessons with a certain little twelve-year old boy who couldn't tell an arm from the e-string, apparently.

"S-sorry," He sniffs, though the steady stream of mucus is still running down his lips, "B-but what's this again?"

I feel like taking guitar and whamming him over the head. This was so not my day.

After showing him that if you strum these chords together you'd get a noise that would at least be easy on the ear, I bid him farewell, pack up my stuff and look at the clock in the shop room. Hatake-sensei is still reading the paradise-thing, and I roll my eyes. Usually I would work for three sessions straight, but Hatake-sensei was kind enough to let me off for my next two lessons and teach my kids himself (he'll probably scare the heck out of them, but they pretty much deserve it) while I went off to the psychiatrist.

Umino-san was actually waiting for me in the lobby this time, reading some technological book that made no sense to me whatsoever. He looks up the minute I open the door, however, and smiles. Before he can say anything I throw him Hatake-san's keys, "From your boyfriend." He blushes crimson and hastily stuffs the things into his back pocket. Obviously, patients were not supposed to know of their psychiatrist's love life.

He coughs, "Well, Gaara, my room is actually being refurnished so we have to use the Dr. Hayate's room upstairs. Follow me."

I didn't even know he had an upstairs.

The room up above was much neater and new-looking, white walls gleaming evilly like those found in hospitals and schools (both of which I loathe with a passion), and, in response, I sort of hunch up into myself as we passed door after door of gray doors. Umino-san's humming as he finally stops before a door that looks exactly the same as any other door and opens it. "Ok, ok, come in!"

I creep in along with him and find the whole room furnished. Actually, it was like stepping into an apartment or something, complete with sofa, TV, kitchen, and a black-haired guy crouching in the corner. I stare. He stares back.

"Don't mind me," The man says, using a hand to shoo me away, "I'm just the innocent bystander guy that doesn't say a word. Go on, go on." He crouches down again, and I notice that a dark gray comforter is draped over his shoulders and the box of tissues next to him. He catches me staring at him again, and, in defiance, he sneezes.

"Achoo!" He takes a tissue from the tissue box and gingerly wipes his nose, "Ah—I hate it when I catch a cold…"

Umino-san raises an eyebrow, amused, "But aren't you always sick Hayate?" The black man huddles under his comfortable with a sketchy scowl on his face.

"That's not me being sick, I just have allergies. The only time I really am sick is, like—like—li—achoo!" He blows his nose on another tissue and tosses it with perfect aim into the wastebasket ten feet away, "Excuse me." Umino-san motions for me to sit down on the sofa, but I am still eyeing the other man in concern.

"Don't worry about Hayate," Umino-san sighs, "He was kind enough to let us use his dorm for our sessions so we should be thankful we're not sitting in some park freezing our butts to death. Now, I have a game I want to play."

I raise an eyebrow, "Another game? Is it a let's-find-out-more-about-Gaara! kind of game?" Umino-san looks sort of sheepish.

"Well, yes, it is. Hey, I'm a psychiatrist, right? There's a limit between going nowhere with normal talk and getting somewhere with overused mind games, ok?" He smiles charmingly, scratching the bridge of his nose in this sort of nervous fashion that spoke wonders on what he was thinking. "The game we're going to play is Two Truths and a Lie."

I groan, flopping back into the snug folds of the couch (Hayate is still eyeing me but I didn't care), "I hate this game!"

Umino-san snorts, "Tough, now let's get moving. I go first, ok?"

It was amazing how psychiatrist-like Umino-san could get and how un-psychiatrist-like he was at the same time. Any other doctor would have hastily agreed to not play the game if I hated it, because then I'd feel 'uncomfortable'. But no, this man wanted to play this game and he was going to play this game whether I wanted to or not, and I could see it in his eyes.

"I assume you know how to play, right?" At my nod, he clasps his hands together and says, "Well, we're going to play it Iruka-fashion."

I raise my brow, "…Iruka-fashioned?"

He nods agreeably as he motions for Hayate, who was still coughing and sneezing in his little corner, to get something from the kitchen. "Yes, Iruka-fashioned. These are the rules for Iruka-Fashioned Two Truths and a Lie. If you guess right I have to say something true about me. If you guess wrong then…" He looks at the kitchen door and I slowly turn around and do the same.

Hayate has come back from the kitchen. In one hand is a tower of miniature plastic cups the size of my thumb. In the other is a large bottle of sake.

I widen my eyes briefly, before narrowing them. "I have to drink? You do know I am underage, right?"

He nods again, and smiles. "Normally I wouldn't really do something like this but Kakashi spawned the idea during… one night… and I thought it'd be interesting." He winks and I inwardly shiver, "Get you to loosen up more."

I have never drank in my life. Never. One of the earliest memories of my father I possess is that he liked to drink, and he liked to drink a lot. As I had grown older, I found I hated my father more and more, and vowed, at some point in my childhood, to never become like him. Because he smoked, I didn't smoke. Because he gambled, I didn't gamble. Because he drank, I didn't drink. Kankuro told me was a pushover and actually tricked me in drinking a cupful of spiked punch once before I realized that Kankuro had two faces and Kankuro having two faces is weird.

Umino-san popped open the cap to the bottle of sake and is carefully pouring the liquid into the miniature-cups. "As I said before, I'll start first. Here it is: I grew up in Konoha. I play the violin. I have two dogs which I love very much."

"Uh…" I furrow my brow. One of the main reasons I hate this game is because I'm not good at guessing. Which means this game just may cause me to become drunk very, very fast. "You… don't play the violin?" He's shaking his head and I groan.

"Wrong. I do play the violin. That's how I met up with Kakashi," He sort of giggles and I flashback to images of fan girls squealing in the driveway. Not that Umino-san was anything like a fan girl; it was just the way he giggled. "It was some sort of stupid concert I hadn't wanted to go to in the first place, and I crashed into him on the way out the door. He dropped his clarinet and I dropped my violin and we both ended up paying each other for damages." He chuckles in a more manly fashion, making up for his giggle earlier, "I did grow up in Konoha, however—born and raised here and never really left the city except for vacation-type purposes and all that. The lie was that I had two dogs I love very much."

"You don't have two dogs that you love very much?" I ask, and Hayate's eyes flicker from Umino-san to me.

"Well," Umino-san grins, "I don't have any dogs at all, but Kakashi owns more then six and I love each and every one of them with all my heart, but not as much as I love their owner." I stare at him and am hit by a wave of disgust and jealousy at the same time. Disgust that someone can be so in love, but jealous because of that love. Must be nice to really know that someone cares.

He motions for me to take the cup, "Iruka-fashion says you must drink! Drink, young one, drink!"

"Ok," I mutter as I down the cup of burning liquid down my throat and cough, "Now you sound like Maito-sensei." He grins sheepishly and, out of habit, scratches the bridge of his nose.

"Well, I hang around with him and Kakashi a lot, and I guess they really are affecting my sense of judgment, eh? Anyways, it's your turn."

I don't feel very well. That one thumb-sized cup of sake has made me so dizzy already. I shake off the feeling of impending doom in the form of massive hangover and embarrassment and try to think of what to say.

As you know, I, Sabaku no Gaara, do not have a way with words.

"Um… I… have lived in Konoha for five years. I play the guitar. I have one older sibling and one younger sibling."

"You don't have an older and younger sibling." Umino-san smirks at my wincing expression. Obviously, I wasn't very good a lying, either. Hiding emotions, yes. Lying? No. "Oh, don't look like that. I admit, I sort of cheated here—I've met your older brother and sister already and as far as I know you're the youngest in your family." He smiles again, except this time kinder. Umino-san had this naturally kind smile that made you want to smile back.

Thankfully, that was just one of many other things I am immune too.

"Hey! Iruka-fashion rules! Tell me another truth about yourself!"

"Um… I have an older brother and sister?"

Umino-san raises a book as if to smack me on the head, but he reconsiders. Good thing too, otherwise I'd have broken his neck, good psychiatrist or no. "Doesn't count. Another unique fact."

I have the urge to scratch the back of my head like Naruto but I resist. "Fine… I was raised by a man named Baki, ok?" He nods and accepts this answer wordlessly.

Twirling the sake bottle, he says, "I have always been gay. I like to drink red wine more then I like to drink white wine. Rap annoys me."

This time, I've got him. "You weren't always gay."

He raises an eyebrow amusingly, "Very good. How do you know?"

"You said you were bisexual last time we met."

"Oh, I did, did I?" He scratches the bridge of his nose again, laughing. "Ok, ok, Iruka-fashion! Another fact about me is that my favorite flower is the marigold."

Hayate is having a coughing fit right now, and Umino-san looks at the man, concerned. "Hayate—"

The other man waves him off, sneezing into another tissue, "I'm fine, I'm fine! Ignore me! I am not here!"

Umino-san looks at me and I look back and he says, "It's your turn."

"I think I got this down. I take art and drama in school. I hate facial hair. My brother Kankuro majors in photography."

I think I'm getting better at this.

Umino-san seems more amused then confused as he considers his options. "Ok, this one's hard… I think… you don't hate facial hair?"

I let the dangerously murderous expression settle on my face as I show him my canines. "I hate facial hair. I take Art and Drama. Kankuro hasn't chosen a major yet." I find it easier to keep my sentences succinct. Umino-san, however, in standard psychiatrist language, does not approve.

"Maybe if I guess wrong," he mentions as he slowly sips away at his cup of sake, "You should try to include more detail with each fact. The point of the whole game is to get to know each other, you know?" I just shrug and stare at him blankly.

"When I was in elementary school I was a part of a gang. I was elected Student Council President in sophomore year, high school, and I go out to tennis every Tuesday." I notice, fuzzily, that Umino-san is making more and more of his facts specific. Is that's how he wants to play it?

"Uh… the tennis thing."

"No. Take a drink." I groan. I was still off-balance over the first cup. How many times will it be before I'm singing the Barney song drooling all over the floor? Sipping down a second cough, a wheeze into my sleeve.

"Ok… I have two best friends. I own a red motorcycle. I've never been to prison."

"You've… been to prison before?"

"I have never been to prison, though I've been threatened by it. I own a red motorcycle that Baki gave Kankuro when he turned sixteen, which Kankuro gave to me. I have three best friends, not two."

Umino-san sees an opening. "Who are your best friends?"

"Neji is the first friend I decided to make on my own. We're really close because of that. Naruto is one of those people that forces themselves on others, so it took me much longer to get used to him then Neji. Sasuke came with Naruto but we still get along fine. We've all known each other since high school, but I met them all in junior high."

Was it me or was that one of the longest paragraphs I have spoken ever?

Umino-san nods and goes into another bout of truth-and-lie telling.

I don't know how long we played. I just knew that after a while Hayate started making wheezing noises on the floor, and just when I thought he was about to have an asthma attack I realize that the wheezing noises were actually snores. The poor man had fallen asleep.

I think after that Umino-san, who wasn't red at all no matter how many times he drank, had decided to tone down the game a bit. I have a very vague recollection of what happened next, because by then I'd had ten cups and was giggling on the couch. He had gently scooped up the sick doctor from his corner and carried him to his bedroom, cleaned up the couch and coffee area and helped me out the room.

"Do you want me to drive you home?" He asks, concerned as I giggle into his shoulder.

"N-no… 'ma fine…" I murmur sleepily as I leaned heavily on his support, "M-meh, Umino-sh-shan…" He looks at me quizzically. "H-have you ever been in lurve before b-bud doo afrwaid of rejection to confesh?"

"Of course," He answers as he carefully helps me down the stairs, "I think everyone has."

I'm off in my own little drunken ramble now, "Yeshderday I wend wid my crush to a concert, and I wash gonna kish him but I chickened out in de end… I don't know whad to shay to him now…"

Umino-san is looking at me with a half-worried, half-I-went-through-this-stage-once, and coughs. "Well, Gaara, if he wanted to be kissed then that's a good sign that he likes you, right? Try inviting him on another date, and this time don't be afraid."

I can feel my consciousness sapping away as my eyes start to flutter closed. "Dad's… Dad's a good idea…"

I don't know what happened next except through the words of Kankuro, who claims that Umino-san later called him to pick me up in our Chevy and to drive us home.

I really don't remember anything at all—most of the Two Truths and a Lie is just a blur, what I said during when I was drunk is probably erased due to mortification, and I think the secretary was looking at me funny as I was drunkenly being held up down the stairs.

The only thing I remember is asking Kankuro to stop the car, as I roll down window, and heaving everything I had eaten that morning onto some innocent looking plants that really didn't deserve to have vomit rained down upon them.

But, hey, tough luck, right?

--