There is nothingness where I am, standing still in a field of white and blank and a whole of holes. There are voices dancing around me, close enough for me to feel their edge but no way near close enough for me to listen in. I know I'm going to die. That's what people do to people who murder others. Die, in the name of "justice".
Fuck them. The Justice System is made of a bunch of sissy-bastard hypocrites that'd jump at the chance of killing another themselves. I wish I'd targeted more government officials in my rampage.
They kill murderers because they took "others away from their families and beloved". Pah. Did they ever think about how killing a murderer takes THEM away from THEIR families and beloved? Like that woman in the news, before I was born. I heard they killed her, even though she had a baby, killed her right in front of the baby and didn't give a damn.
People are idiots that way. Shukaku is whispering sweet murderous things into my ear as I stare up at the judges, a young psychiatrist at the stand--he's defending me, I think--trying to convince the man that I was clinically insane. He takes out folders, he takes out books, he gets other witnesses to come up to speak for me, but I'm not listening, I can't hear, anything other then the words Shukaku are saying. And even those are deaf to my ear.
The psychiatrist is young. Dark brown hair, tied up in a ponytail. When he turns around I can see a scar slashed across his nose. I stare, then forget. Forget everything there--what the judge looked like, what Temari and Kankuro looked like, Baki, my father, before he was killed, what was said there, the psychiatrist altogether, gone, gone, gone...
Because it would be too hard to remember.
--
Breaking the Music
By FlightAngel
--
Disclaimer: I don't own Naruto, but I do own this story: so you steal, I kill
--
The first time I went to the Nara residence the deer was what caught me off-guard the most.
Standing there in the frigid cold with two sweatshirts pulled over a black tee and a pair of dark trouser-things I grabbed from the finished laundry bin this morning, I stared into a pair of large, innocent eyes dyed a dark hazel brown. I stare. The deer stares back, flattens its ears, and makes this weird braying noise that makes me jump up in surprise.
"Ha," A familiar tone says dryly from behind me, "She likes you." I turn my head towards him, finally recovering my composure, and stuff my freezing hands into my large and fuzzy trouser-pockets (fuzzy… obviously one of Kankuro's pairs, of course, because no time in my right mind I'd buy something fuzzy). Shikamaru was dressed a heck of a lot differently, like he was still living in the good old days of Daniel Boon and whoever else became a 'wild man' or something. No, he wasn't wearing skins or moccasins, just his handmade boots, dark green vest, black leather gloves and these pants that looked twice as bulky as mine, if that were possible. It was just his whole… posture… made it look like he was living in the good ol' days.
"Came to see Temari?" He says simply, and I nod, eying the deer with wary eyes. It blinked back at me, the image of innocence. Scowling, I turn my back away from the infuriating animal and look around.
Finding the residence had been extremely hard, maybe because it is situated in the middle of the Konoha Forest and was a big, frickin' farm. That's right, people, Shika lives on a farm and it smelled like deer here. Yes, a deer farm. Who would want to raise deer? A couple of weirdos? I have yet to ask Shikamaru their importance but this is not the time.
"So where is she?"
The other junior nodded towards the wooden door (I mean real planks of wood—big, solid planks), "She's inside with my mom. Are you going to come in?" I hesitate a moment before I nod. Giving a final wary glance to the deer that said I'm-watching-you, I enter a domain that smelt, horrifyingly, of pine.
The first room we encounter is surprisingly modern, unlike the outward farm-like appearance the house gave off at first. Nice white walls with plenty of scenery portraits and landscape paintings decorating interior, dark green sofas aligned in a rectangular fashion before a normal family-sized TV (bigger then the one we have at home, which was supposed to be a personal television but ended up being shared by all of us), spiraling stairs leading upwards into the bedrooms. The only distortion to the whole modern-day feel were the deer skins that were 'rugs' lying on the ground and a whole line of thick bags lined up against the wall that said 'Doe Chow Extra Strength: All the nutrients your lovely deer need!' I stare at the furniture for a while as I'm taking off my sneakers and Shikamaru, his boots.
We step into the room.
Immediately the air is disrupted by loud, high-pitched screams.
"Shikamaru! Did you do your chores yet? If you don't sweep up the dung in the eleventh stall Maki's going to get a parasite virus or something! Shikamaru! Shikamaru! NARA SHIKAMARU are you listening to me, young man?" I think I can feel my eardrums threatening to burst.
Shikamaru has a finger in his ear as he mumbles, "I know, I know, shut the heck up Mom, I heard you the first time! Gaara, over here." He leads me into a small room off the side next to the ladder as another wave of shouting hits our ears.
"Did you just tell me to 'Shut the heck up'? Is this how you treat your mother? The mother had took care of you and fed you and made sure all your needs were met, huh? Ungrateful little brat! Shikamaru, come here! And do your chores! Shikamaru!"
I let a drop of sympathy slither into my emotions. Shikamaru's mother reminded me of Temari except ten times worse—wait, where was Temari anyways? I open my eyes, alert, and see that Shikamaru was leading me through a large storage room or something, with harnesses, brushes, weird metal-hook things I didn't dare think what they were used for, and other gadgets and deer-farm related things. The air was stuffy with an acrid leather smell, the lights a dim golden color seeping from an old-day gas lamp hung from the ceiling. I stare.
"Gas lamp?"
"Dad has a fetish with old-time things," was his reply and I didn't comment further about it.
After a little pushing and shoving and almost getting suffocated by a particularly large punching bag-like thing, we manage to pop out unharmed into an open field behind the large farm house. The moment I step out onto the grass, however, a faint stampeding sound can be heard, and that was my only warning as I suddenly got pummeled by large, brown, fuzzy things.
"Po-po! Kimi! Ba! Maki! Off! All off!"
Shikamaru has apparently taken a large equally fuzzy hook-like object and was gently prodding the deer that were all stomping, licking, and, even, peeing on me all at once, to get off, "Bad boys! Go! Shoo! Go flirt with Yuri or something over there, doesn't she seem lonely? Get off!" A rather persistent little buck, Maki, I think, had such an affinity with me that Shikamaru had to tuck his hook-thing away and wrap himself around the small deer to haul him off.
By that time we were both panting and I had pee all over my hoodie. I motion towards the wet spot near my abdomen and the other boy screws his face up into one of extreme annoyance. "Agh… this is so troublesome…"
"Gaara?"
I look behind me with an expression of utter distaste after being peed on, stomped on, and probably sexually harassed (the deer things were humping me or something!) and was now in an explicitly stated 'bad mood'. I immediately wished I hadn't looked.
Shikamaru, who obviously was not as fazed as I was, says, "Hey, Temari."
Oh. My. Not-God (I didn't like to use the 'lord's name in vain' or some other stuff like that not because I was Christian, which I'm not, but because it was a totally stupid phrase in the beginning—was there even a God? If there was, you would be blaspheming. If there wasn't, why were using his name in the first place? It was a total lose-lose situation).
Let me back up and hand you a photo of Temari at the Sabaku residence.
Hair tied up neatly into four ponytails, two at the top of her head, two at her neck, neatly done makeup that consisted of lip gloss and mascara, mostly wearing purple low-cuts or shoulder-hugging long-sleeves, dark purple or white skirts that went mid-thigh or maybe some light lavender Capri's, white stockings, socks, whatever was in her cabinet, fish-nets, if she was in the mood, buckled girl's shoes that made her look ten, a pale complexion that ran in the Sabaku family, hands smooth and white, though a little roughened up from martial arts training and a pair of dark green eyes glinting with a hidden strength from within.
Let me now hand you a picture taken in my mind when I first turned around to acknowledge her again.
Long hair now braided in pigtails behind her, face make-up-less, wearing a dark deerskin dress that went to mid-thigh and was decorated with little leather tassel-things that annoys me, almost exact copies of Shikamaru's boots except girl-ified, a weird tan hat that she was fanning herself with, green eyes now large and sparkling, skin a much darker tan color then what she had left with.
In other words, it was like Temari made over country-style. I gawk as she and Shikamaru hold a normal conversation, like Shikamaru didn't notice the obvious change in my sister's attitude. But of course, it was his house that made her dress this way so why would I be surprised?
"Temari…" I say in a low-tone, and she turns to look at me, "um, can Shikamaru leave?" Before the words are out of my mouth the deer-boy had already disappeared around a mysterious corner that probably only existed in my mind. I glance back at Temari.
An enormous grin is pulled across her face, lips stretched so that her dimples are all bunched up near the edge of her mascara-less eyes, "Oh, Gaara, I have so much to tell you!" she gushes, looking like she wanted to envelope me in a rib-crushing hug but was too scared to because of my murderous intent, "It's been so great here! Sit down! How's things at home?" her eyebrows furrow, "Did you do the laundry? How many people has your brother slept with this week? Oh my word, how much money did you spend on take-out?"
I stare at her blankly while trying to process the questions and answers inside my already thought-filled brain, "Hectic. Yes. I think at least four or five, you never know. Probably close to eighty dollars." She looks absolutely ecstatic, and I look at her warily. Who was the cowgirl and what had she done with the real Temari?
"Oh that's great! I was worrying that I'd left too much responsibility for you two back at home, you know, because you're boys and all, no offense," she adds as she catches the irritated twitch I made at the sexist comment, "but it is so awesome out here it's making me crazy!"
Before I can stop her, a torrent of stories about the Nara household spills from her lips, washing me away in their speed and strength, "So when I first came, Shika's mom was in the living room and she was just like 'Oh poor dear! Shikamaru's been telling me all about you! Come here!' and she sat me down on the couch and forced me to drink some really, really good cocoa and listened as I told her all about th-that bastard Yuki, and she even agreed me with how he was so stupid and let me stay here. Anyways, I'm staying in the guest room next to Shika's room, and the first thing we did the morning after I came was to go hiking out back with the deer. Those things are so cute, aren't they? Makes me want to cuddle with them, except Shika says they'll pee all over me—like they did to you, is that wet spot them? Thought so. So we were out there hiking and I realized how bad of a sister I was."
I am horrified to see tears streaming down Temari's face as she crouches down to my level and pats my head, like I was still only six years old, "All these years I've been too busy being scared of you to realize that deep down inside, you were really just a scared little boy that didn't know any better and was just lashing out because you were hurt. I feel so guilty! I should've been better to you and Kankuro, and if I had you probably would actually smile at home, instead of being stoic like you usually are and Kankuro wouldn't be sleeping around with all those awful women!" Before I can let anger cloud my vision at how I was a 'scared little boy' she puts an arm around me and starts sobbing on my shoulder. "Gaara, will you ever forgive me?"
I stare. I stare harder. Alright, I was almost absolutely positive this girl was not my sister. What the hell was going on? "Um… I really couldn't care less." For some reason, this makes her extremely happy. Removing her face from my hoodie with a renewed smile on her face, she practically bounces back.
"Really, Gaara? Really? You…" she sniffs and wipes her nose on a handkerchief she had someone dug out of her leather breast pocket, "You don't know how much this means to me!" I just stare, too stunned to speak. I wasn't one to be mushy-gushy, as one would know. I was a trained, hardened, killing machine that didn't mind a little blood and flesh scattered around. You really had to misplace the feelings to go about killing the way I had.
After my sister has properly cleaned herself on and regained her composure, she snaps back to her almost-normal Temari form by forcing me to remove my Hoodie and draping me with a blanket she dug almost out of nowhere. "Hey, Gaara," She giggles uncharacteristically, though by now I am already pretty much numb to all her 'new' habits, "can you keep a secret?" I cock my head to the side and say nothing. Silence was a virtue, right?
"Hn?"
"I think…" she looks down and I can see a wave of red sweep over her cheeks, like… like… a lovesick schoolgirl, like the time she first came home that day when Yuki had asked her to marry her, that freak, "I think… I'm in love with…" She visibly gulps, "Shika…" She squirms in anticipation of what I have to say.
I stare at her, running through my vocabulary, trying to find the correct words to express my shock at how she was falling in love with one of her brother's…friends? No, more like acquaintances, who was three years younger then her and also my smug 'I knew you were going to get together' expression flitting through my face. "Um… I really don't care much more about this then forgiving you..."
She squeals. "Thank you, Gaara! You're the best brother ever!" I don't bother to point out the irony at her comment. After briefly giving me a bone-crushing hug and then jumping back like she'd touched a hot coal (which is an accurate description in many ways; my red hair and my fiery, murderous temper), she let out a laugh of what must have been relief. I stare at her. Er… ok? I had no idea what I had done to make her so ecstatic but as long as she was happy and not after my throat, all was… well?
"Hey," Shikamaru pokes his head out from the wooden door, leaning over to see what Temari and I was up to, which wasn't much, "Mom made some of her gingerbread cookies. If you don't want to continue freezing your butts off outside, come in and get some cocoa."
"Coming!" Temari says, back to her normal, strong self, "C'mon Gaara, I already told you about Mrs. Nara's awesome cocoa! Come on!" Sighing, a little shocked and disturbed already from Temari's sudden change of… heart? Character? Both? I head in after my sister, still wondering what would happen to my deer piss hoodie.
Maybe I'll stuff it down Shikamaru's throat and watch him choke?
Now that's an interesting thought, I chuckle to myself as I close the door behind me.
--
The morning after visiting my sister (who insisted on staying at the Nara's for another three days, unfortunately), I impulsively decide to walk to the psychiatrist's instead of just riding there under the excuse that it would be 'good for me'. The real reason was that Itachi, who was still camping out at our house, had come up with the brilliant idea to spray paint part of my motorbike magenta and I was so furious with him I didn't want to deal with a wounded reputation on top of that. It would be like insult to injury. So I grit my teeth, stuff my hands into my jacket and push through a horde of some of Itachi's friends by the front door (I don't recognize many of them except for Dei, who lives in the flat next to us—that was how Itachi knew where I lived) into the frosty air.
March was slowly coming to an end and the Battle of the Bands was frighteningly drawing closer. Sighing at my own caught-up, stressful life, I aim my furious glare at my feet as I briskly stride down the steep slope of the street, through No-Man's market, across a field of what used to be flowers but were now empty stalks stiff in the cold, into an alleyway which I knew quite well and out onto Main Street, where I carefully opened the door to my psychiatrist's office and quietly stepped in.
The door closes behind me. It is pitch black and I stumble over something lying on the ground, hands groping around for a wall, a chair, something to guide me in the darkness. Blindly wandering around, I hear noises close by.
"No, no, I can't…"
"But c'mon… only a second…"
"I have another appointment—let me go!"
"But Iruka…"
"Stop it—ah!"
My brow shoots up to my hairline. From the voices alone I can pinpoint Umino-san and… Hatake-san? What were they doing? "Hello?"
There is a yelp and a thud as something hits the floor hard, along with a scrambling of feet. Slowly, the lights flicker on and Umino-san, whose front shirt looked a little wrinkled, coughs embarrassingly at the sight of me staring at him, and motions me into his office. Hatake-san, who looks obviously dissatisfied, rubs his head gingerly as he lifts himself off the floor and gives me a small smile that obviously cursed me for interrupting their… happy time. After giving my boss a wary look, I follow Umino-san into the little now remodeled room, complete with a kitchen and small futon now. I peer at the futon with surprise.
"What's that for?"
For some reason, Umino-san's face flushes pink and he coughs embarrassingly, "Um, for when I get tired…during the day." I quirk a brow at him and he turns away from me, suddenly totally engrossed in his coffee. I look out through the door and see Hatake-san's face peek out from behind the doorframe. I shut the door with a slam.
"What was that?" Umino-san looks up hurriedly and my face is quickly devoid of all emotion.
"No one. What are we talking about today?"
"Um," he scratches his nose as he carries his mug of coffee to the coffee table and slowly set it upon its varnished wooden surface, "well, I just, well, wanted to talk about… who you are." I am silent, and, obviously feeling pressured, the psychiatrist continues to talk. "Of course, it has to be a fair exchange. Some psychiatrists have a rule to reveal as little about themselves to their clients, but I don't follow that rule. I think it's better to carry burdens together then just dumping a whole package on someone who already has a lot of troubles."
I nod. The less words, the better.
"So I'll start with myself." He takes a sip of steaming coffee and leans back, like he was so used to telling the story he'd already taken steps to make it less painful for his audience, "I was born here, in Konoha, in the middle-straw class where I was neither poor nor rich, neither smart nor stupid. I went to school like any normal kid, for a while, until…" He sits still, very still, as if a tremor of pain had run through him, "Have you heard of Kyuubi?"
I shake my head no.
He cracks the same forlorn smile had had directed me to the first time he had handed me my father's will, on that hill in what seemed like ages ago. "Kyuubi was a mass murderer, a ruthless woman whose pain tore her apart. She was always compared to a fox, both because of her looks and personality along with her uncanny reason for murder: she believed Konoha was the true land for the wildlife, and that the people who were invading the forest were murderers themselves. This reasoning led her to believe her killings were justified—because of her love for nature she turned on her own kind and starting slaying random civilians: men, women, children, even babies… she had no heart, no mercy. She haunted the news, the streets, our minds for months, killing every day, never getting caught until one fateful night when the police found out where she lived and raided the place."
I'm listening intently. He looks pained, as if recalling a memory too awful to remember. Taking another shaky sip from his coffee cup, he coughs.
"My father and mother… are both policemen." he says in a quiet voice, eyes glazed over, distantly remembering memories long buried. Even though it looks as if he was used to telling the story, it ached every time he tried to touch the past, "They were in the raid that invaded Kyuubi's home. Immediately when they entered, there was gunfire. Rapid gunfire. First, my uncle and aunt, my parents' friends, were badly wounded in the gut and chest as the other policemen rushed in. They surrounded Kyuubi, but that caused her to shoot faster. I don't know, but according to the only uninjured man from that squad," he pauses a little, then continues, "he heard gunshots, then a scream, and turned around to see my father flailing on the floor, his jacket soaked with blood, my mother shortly following him. Seeing it was futile to try to capture her, he dragged the wounded policemen out of the apartment building, calling for backup, but not before… not before, inside the house, a little behind the gunfire site with Kyuubi, he heard the cry of a baby…"
He pauses again, this time choking down some coffee to hide his obvious discomfort. "My parents were declared dead not ten hours later. I was only nine at the time, and I remember being afraid and alone. I was shipped off to some aunt's house for several years, before I finally managed to snag a place of my own under the 'protection' of my aunt. I started playing hooky, smoking, doing drugs, even drinking alcohol, going totally out of control. My aunt didn't care a crap, so I just continued to do it until the only thing I haven't done yet was murder and have sex. Committing murder was against what I thought of with my parents, so I was determined to get laid.
"After some decisions, I put a condom in my pocket and went off to a high school party. I got smashed, I blacked out, I woke up next to a strange person. At least I had enough sense to use the condom I had tucked into my pocket, but when I looked up I realized that the person I had slept with was a guy. Before I can catch a good glimpse of him, I had picked up my clothes and rushed out the door, the only thing lingering on my mind was his unusual silver hair and swirl-like tattoo on his arm.
"Afterwards, in my embarrassment, I committed myself more to girls. I dated them, hung out with them, but they always broke up with me in the end because I was unwilling to have sex with them. They assumed I was a virgin who was too stuck-up to sleep with people. But because of my initial shock when I first got laid, I was always worrying about if I had a sexually transmitted disease, if I was going to die, and more, and even after it was obvious I was fine and that I wasn't in any danger of death, I was always just a little scared. After the party-incident, I decided to pull myself up from the hole I'd dug for myself. I got my grades up, stopped drinking, quit smoking, refused drugs, moved back in with my aunt and started to actually look for a job. When I graduated, I entered the community college and got a teaching degree. I was a teacher for about three years, teaching kindergarten and second grade. My life had definitely turned for the better.
"One day I was walking home from the supermarket when someone grabbed my shoulder. When I turned around, I saw a man with a patch over his left eye, shocking silver hair, and a turtleneck pulled over his face. 'Yo,' he said as I was trying to not look startled, 'Found you.'" Suddenly, Umino-san's face softens to one of utter devotion and, probably, 'love' (did my face look like that when I thought of Naruto?), "Little did I know, but it was the same guy who took my virginity back in my freshman year, high school—Hatake Kakashi, music prodigy and former music teacher. Back then, he had still been a music teacher, so we knew each other at work. Say," he suddenly looks thoughtfully, "didn't he just quit teaching a year ago?"
"Last semester," I correct him. Rumor had it Hatake-san had finally found himself a decent job that paid more then what the school had to offer him and that was why he left. But seeing him working at the music shop I taught at was just too hilarious to speak of. He'd actually bought the old manager out and replaced him, forcing him to spend most of his time at the shop. Because he was the old music teacher, however, some people still had a hard time calling him 'Hatake-san' and not 'Hatake-sensei'. I used to call him Hatake-sensei, too, but decided to convert it to Hatake-san after Naruto aimed a few dirty he's-not-a-teacher-dammit looks at me during a particular conversation we had some weeks ago.
"Yes, last semester," Umino-san says off-handedly, "and basically I quit my job teaching and went back to college, earning my psychology degree and becoming a psychiatrist. Kakashi and I moved in later… and… yeah…" That last part is filled with blushes that show up well on Umino-san's well-toned face, "um… and that's my… sad? past."
I nod, acknowledging the man. He's emptied his coffee mug and was now staring at it in such a sad manner I wanted to crack up. I mean, seriously, a grown man, mourning over a cup of brown liquid that he could easily make again. I stare out into the distance, wondering what the chances were my love life was to be as smooth as his. Losing his virginity to a random man at a party and then meeting up with him again more then seven years later and getting together with him for more then… eight years? I'm not exactly particular to mental math and wish I had Sasuke at my side. He's a math wiz.
"…do I… have to talk now?" I ask hesitantly, though I already know the answer. Umino-san just smiles at me, morose after telling his story. The ending was happy, though the beginning was filled with heart-wrenching grief. Similar to mine, though there has not been that much joy to mine at all.
"Yes."
I cross my eyes (a habit I picked up from Neji, must to my embarrassment).
I try to keep my story succinct. "I was born into one of the most powerful families in Suna, the city where I lived in before. My father, however, was a ruthless ruler and shipped me and my siblings off along with my aunt and my tutor and bodyguard, Baki, for 'training' in the slums. My mother had died at my birth and, when I was little, I had the cliché feeling that Temari and Kankuro were always accusing me of her death. I grew up in a harsh lifestyle, my father coming to visit once in a while, but only to teach me how to hold a gun correctly or a knife." I laugh a little bitterly, "I must have been so odd to my siblings—a five year old boy, confused and small, holding a butcher knife the length of his arm. I was his 'ultimate weapon'. As long as I was strong, Suna Tech had a chance of surviving the 'hard times'. But, after a while, my father started fearing what I had become. He tried to kill me several times, sometimes through bodyguards, sometimes trying to do the deed himself. He failed, however, and I am still standing here today. He failed, tragedy's happen, my aunt dies, I become a serial killer, Baki ships us, my siblings and I, to Konoha and we've been here since." I stop. "Baki left us two years ago to go back to his hometown. It's just me, Temari and Kankuro now."
Umino-san is looking me through curious eyes, observing my every move and motion, how I spoke and what I revealed, tapping his bottom lip with a finger. I feel like a specimen that must be examined in every which way, every secret buried inside pulled to the surface, every thought fluttering about caught and trapped in his scrutiny. "Hm… that last part is pretty fast. Describe that last year, where your father died a little more."
I feel a small tendril of anger thread through the emotionless mask I wore on my face. I hated being forced to do anything, no matter how small, though the tone Umino-san had used spoke of not even thinking of disobeying. I breathe in and out. Psychiatrists help you. Answer all of their questions and you will get better. I don't remember where those words had come from, but I cling to them with a metal grip that refuses to let go.
"I was put on trial for murder… twenty-six cases, and I was about to be sentenced to life sentence when something weird happens. I apparently get away with it because I was both underage and 'clinically insane'. There is… a gap… between that and suddenly moving the day my father's death is announced on the news. The murderer was unknown, but I felt a strange gratefulness to the guy—he got rid of something in my life that had been holding me down for so long."
"A… gap?" Umino-san coaxes.
My eyes narrow, "I don't remember what happened between there. It's approximately a nine-month gap." His eyebrows lift a little, inquiring. I ignore them—he thought there was something vaguely unusual about not being able to remember anything in a nine-month time span. And, unlike other things I had missed out on, I really didn't know what had happened there; it truly was a time-gap.
There is an uncomfortable silence for a while, me casually lying on the couch and Umino-san, still looking sadly at his coffee mug. The sun flits through the blinds, quietly, spontaneously, and I immerse myself in studying the patterns reflected onto the floor, wondering where these things came to being. Umino-san is examining his nails, then to the mug, and then back to his nails, like clockwork, trying to find fault in his fingertips when there weren't any. Suddenly, the silence is shattered when Umino-san squawks in surprise, face flushing a dark crimson as he looks down to where a hand had just been squeezing his butt. "Kakashi!"
"Aw," The music prodigy lifts himself from behind the armchair the psychiatrist had been sitting in and leans forward, head resting on Umino-san's shoulder, "And I was having so much fun, too."
I stare as the psychiatrist opens and closes his mouth like a fish in bewilderment for a moment before shrieking, "When did you get here? How many times do I have to tell you not to embarrass me in front of my clients? And what are you reading?"
"Make-out Paradise." is the curt answer. Umino-san looks like he is going to die, the blood rushing to his face along with the choking and all.
"Ka-KAKASHI!" he just manages to holler shrilly after getting his mouth to work.
"By Jiraiya?" I say blankly. I remember the one time the band met at Naruto's house and we arrived at the exact moment his aunt and uncle were having a fight about how Jiraiya had used Tsunade's name in his newest novel and how it was porn and was not respectable and all this other crap I have conveniently forgotten. That, and the fact that most of the money that family lives on is from Make-Out Paradise Enterprises, which Jiraiya obviously owns.
Hatake-san's eyes twinkle mischievously as he turns to face me, "Ah, so you know of it? My, I didn't except people your age already got into this kind of stuff… but teenage boys will be boys, after all." I didn't even bother to acknowledge his thinly veiled accusation of me reading/watching porn. Hell no, I'm not like Kankuro. Before I can inform him that I knew of Jiraiya because he is my crush's (I still have yet to differentiate crushes and 'loves') uncle, Umino-san finally manages to catch his voice and starts shrieking again.
"OUT! OUT! Gaara, I'll see you tomorrow, Kakashi, get out right this second before—eek!" He jumps back with a squeal while Hatake-san looks pleased at getting another good grope, "KAKASHI!"
I take one look at Umino-san's murderous glare, Hatake-san's playful smile barely seen under his turtleneck, and the coffee pot boiling over, turn heel, and run.
"HATAKE KAKASHI! You—you pervert! Agh! Get back here!"
--
The room is cold—infinitely cold, biting my skin, my eyes, my open mouth, nibbling against the inside of me as well, my outer walls, my inner walls, my dried-up heart that had long stopped beating… Shukaku is sitting, back arched, on the bed stand, next to the white, crisply folded sheets of the bed I was lying in, and, I suddenly realize where I am: in a hospital.
My body is moving itself, feet flying upwards in a swoop towards the ground, my mind screaming—no, no, no, no, no, not a hospital, no, no, no, get me out of here! no, no, no—my physical heart beating in my chest as I try to unlock the door, but it's glued shut. Shukaku is still silent as more feelings sweep through my head, my heart, my soul, fear, phobia? no it's just fear, fear of being caught, fear of being trapped, fear of being controlled as I cling to the windowsill—no, no, no, no, not a hospital, no—and start to scream.
Suddenly the door slams open, waves of harshness hitting me in tons, flinging me hard against the chilling floor, a towering being hovering over me screaming, "Shut up! Shut the fuck up you fucking asshole! Shut up!" Each word is accented with a piercing kick to my side, though the pain was only physical. That was ok. I was used to physical pain. I am mesmerized by the shining being above me, however, and I'm thinking—is he a god?—as he keeps kicking me, muttering about frickin' crazy newbies who thought they could just do as they damn please, the light highlighting the outer edge of his lean figure. I'm whimpering and Shukaku is still sitting silently on the stand, not moving, not breathing, not living, and I am scared, so scared, scared, scared, scared, afraid, not a hospital, no, no, no, scared because he's never frozen up before.
"Why are you doing that?" I whimper at him but the raccoon won't move, piercing yellow eyes caught in time, mouth open in a joyless smile, and a wave of nausea hits me, for some reason, not just a physical nausea, but internally too, my mind shouting out—get away, get away, crawl out the window, hurry, hurry, leave him behind—and the being above me is saying something, but I can't hear him. Can't hear him, like I couldn't hear Mother speaking to me as her life drained away from her face, her body, her toes, every living aspect of her dissipating into what some people may call 'Heaven' because I am sure, absolutely sure, that she is there.
"What the fuck are you talking about? Jeez, you're so cliché, talking to yourself. Great, we got another damn schizophrenic on our hands, god, don't you guys just shut up for once? Well? WELL?"
I open my mouth and scream. And scream. And scream so loud my ears are ringing, the being is kicking me, my empty heart shredding itself apart, the scene around me falling, Shukaku laughing besides me, and the image of the being caught in what must have been a photograph above me, blonde hair fading away from my sight.
"STOP SCREAMING!"
And the world falls away.
--
This morning, Itachi left and Temari came back. It was a pleasant switch.
"I've finally got Dei to let me sleep over his place!" Itachi was screaming at me while I attempted to brush my teeth in the mirror and glare at him at the same time, "so I guess this is farewell!" He leans over my shoulder and my irises follow him suspiciously, "Yeah, so I was a little crazy on Thursday, 'cause I was drunk. I get kind of insane when my little fish goes off to some state far away—I always end up thinking he's cheating on me or something." He pouts, "And yeah. I see Naru-chan's paying more attention to you now, which is good. Otouto's getting pissed, but he's always pissed about something." Suddenly a wicked smile flits across his features and his expression changes into one of utter seriousness, "Yeah, so are you planning to take the little fluff-ball on another date any time soon? If you do, I promise I'll anything I can to help you. I'm a pretty good guy, most of the time, and I'll make sure Otouto keeps away from him." His face flits to one of 'playfulness' again. I bend over to spit the toothpaste-foam out of my mouth and suddenly feel a hard pinch nab my bottom. I whirl around in an unrivaled fury and Itachi, who was smart, quickly takes his duffel bag and runs out the bathroom, out the door, "Ok, Gaara, bye!"
I consider chasing him and socking him in the face. Ditching the idea because it would both ruin my reputation and cause everyone within eyesight to see me in my boxers, I am satisfied with just glaring at my toes and gritting my teeth.
"Kankuro," I say in a gravely monotone when I pass him thirty minutes later, hair damp from a shower and wearing a dark burgundy tang-top, "Clean up the kitchen and bedrooms; Temari's coming back today." He groans and turns his back to me, looking out one of the few windows we had, facing the forest that grew in bursts behind us.
"Agh! I forgot! Ugh, Ne-chan's going to kill me if she finds out I've been sleeping with Miki… Pan…and Papori, or whatever her name is…"
"Put a lid on it," I snap at him as I make my way into the kitchen, about to attempt to do something I've never tried to do before, "I already told her."
"WHAT?!" is the response I get and the response I ignore. I stand on my tip-toes as I reach up and snag the oil canister from the top cabinet, place it on the off-white, stained kitchen counter, and opened the refrigerator door. I can do this, I say calmly as I finally find the eggs and take out six, large brown ones from the box and placing it next to the oil, it's not hard. After locating the cheese, the milk carton and a frying pan, I am almost totally ready.
"Gaara! Where'd you put my frickin'—what are you doing?" Kankuro stops at the doorway to the kitchen, staring at the eggs, the cheese, the milk and all the other things I've taken out of the cabinets. He stares harder. "Are you… cooking?" I don't bother to satisfy him with an answer.
"Get me an apron." I order and he, like a dog, obediently does what I say. Usually his obedience is marred by complaints or mutterings, but I assume he is too shocked to even let a 'aw, dammit' escape from his lips. "Now go away." I glare at him after he hands me the offending piece of cloth and he immediately flees to the safety of his room, so he didn't have to see me in an apron.
Yes, Kankuro, it is just so terrifying seeing Gaara in an apron.
I tie the thing around my waist, happy to find that it was plain and simple, no frills, no color, no design, just a plain, thick piece of white cloth covering the front of my body from the oil and eggs, and put the frying pan on the stove.
I recite the instructions over and over in my brain as my body acts accordingly—place pan on stove, turn heat on 'high'. Pour desired amount of oil into pan—our family wasn't an exactly junky kind of family (if you can call it a family), Kankuro being a just-eat-the-food-and-get-out-of-here kind of guy, Temari, a health freak, and me, a picky enough eater as it is. I add a dab of oil onto the pan.
Crack six eggs into a bowl—I go fetch a bowl—and whisk with either a whisk or a fork—I do, and the thing spills a little onto my apron. Brow furrowing, I grit my teeth and continue to mix it until it was sun-yellow and goopy.
Add desired amount of milk for creaminess and stir—I stop and consider, again, our family's tastes. Out of us Sabaku siblings, Temari and Kankuro both put cream in their tea, while I liked milk in mine. None of us liked sugar. After processing this information, I take the milk carton and generously pour some into the yellow-egg mixture.
I stir it until it turns a light shade of pastel yellow and continue—Oil should be bubbling by now. Pour mixture into pan and take a spatula—grab a spatula—and let concoction sit until firm enough to lift without problem. Take cheese and place desired amount of cheese onto egg. I take three slices of the cheese (I was getting sick of the 'desired' this and 'desired' that) and pile it on top of the bubbling egg-mass. A spark of pain runs through my finger and I instinctively bring it to my mouth, realizing that I had just been burned by the freaking pan. I glare at the pan.
Fold egg over, enveloping the cheese. Wait for egg to completely cook through and then place onto plate. Wait for a minute before serving. Feeds two to three people—serve hot.
I finish placing the omelet onto a plate. I admire my work.
It looked like an omelet, smelled like an omelet and, hopefully, tasted like one too.
"Have you burnt the house down yet?" Kankuro hollers from his room and I ignore him. Gingerly lifting the plate the entrée sat on, I place it onto the kitchen table, put away the ingredients, place all the dirtied pans and plates into the sink for Kankuro to wash later and throw off my apron.
"Kankuro," I order loudly, heading down the hallway and stopping in front of the closed door leading to his room. "Come out and eat breakfast."
There is silence, before my brother cracks open the door a sliver, looking at me suspiciously. "Did you poison it?"
"No."
"Are you sure?"
"Yes."
"Positive?"
"Kankuro," I growl menacingly and he hastily skitters out of his room and into the kitchen.
"Fantastic! A work of art! Beautiful!" He shouts sarcastically, taking a seat, and I can feel my temper at its peak. Before I can properly take the still-hot spatula from the sink and beat him across the head with it, however, the door flies open and Temari, every cow-girl freckle-face inch of her, stomps in.
"Guys!" she says in a tone that said what-were-you-up-to? "I'm back!" Easily kicking off the hide-boots she was wearing and setting her hat upon an old hat rack none of us had ever used because none of us wore hats (except for now), she drops a bag of stuff next to the doorway and stares at what I made on the table. "What's that?"
Kankuro immediately jabs a finger in my direction. "He made it."
She stares at me hard. "…Gaara?" I just aim an equally fierce glare back at her. She is totally, maddenly silent, pulling a chair up to the table and looking at the omelet. We all stare at each other, Kankuro at Temari, Temari at me, me at Kankuro. It's suffocating.
"…well?" Temari shouts, suddenly, causing us brother so jump, "Are you going to cut it into thirds?" Kankuro hastily fumbles with a knife he'd pulled from the cabinets, trying to cut the thing, but he's holding the knife wrong. "No, no, no, cut it with the teeth side, the teeth!" After Temari finishes screaming at Kankuro and Kankuro finally gets the omelet to resemble something like hardened piss (ok, not really, but his cutting is messy), we stare at it again.
I glare at my siblings—weren't they going to try some of my food? I mean, I had to suffer with their lack of culinary skills long enough to deserve some of their time spent choking on my food as well. They glance at each other, then back at the omelet, and then back at each other.
"…you first."
"No, you."
"Really, I insist."
"You are the oldest, so you deserve first bite…"
"No, really…"
I can feel my brow ticking. "It's not poisoned," I spit, "it won't kill you!" They glance at each other again, uneasily. I stand up this time, determined to make an impression. Placing a hand on my hip and leaning across the table, I widen my eyes so the white gleamed all around my jade irises, "EH?!"
They jump.
"Hm, delicious!" Temari says, sweating as she stuffs the omelet into her mouth.
"Absolutely!" Kankuro agrees with her shrilly, as I settle back in my chair with a smirk.
"Yum!" They both shout at the same time, rubbing their stomachs with a fake grin plastered across their faces, "That was good!" And, before I can see them turn green, they run out of the room and lock themselves in the bathroom.
Ha. I feel so evil.
--
The next day everything was, in the loosest sense of the phrase, 'back to normal'. If you count waking up to my siblings' squabbling every morning with your sister screaming about the stupid phone bill and your brother hollering back that it was all my fault, even though I haven't touched the phone in weeks, 'normal'. After the usual breathy question 'should I get up and go to school or stay in bed and sleep until I die?' is answered and done with, I slowly crawl out of my bed like some mutated slug and drag myself to the bathroom.
"Look here! Long-distant calls! Over to… Maine! London! Tokyo! Africa? Kankuro, what were you doing?" Temari is shrieking shrilly in the kitchen, hands holding up a long bill, shoving it into Kankuro's oversized nose.
"I keep telling ya!" Kankuro shouts back, hand desperately attempting to get his face out of the odd-smelling paper, "I'm not the one making the calls!"
"So who was it?" my sister screams as I stare at myself in the mirror, their argument like buzzing flies in my ear. Annoying, but, mostly, harmless. I examine my almost unblemished skin, taunt lips pulled in a slightly downward line, and, to my utter annoyance, dark eye bags that insisted on staying there. "Gaara? He barely calls anyone, less talk to them! Stop lying this instant young man and come here and be RESPONSIBLE!" I roll my eyes as I carefully unravel the small container of eyeliner I kept inside the medicine cabinet, unscrewing the cap and taking out the small, cool brush attached to its inside. I would feel bad for Kankuro, if I could feel bad for anyone, because I (and everyone within a twenty mile radius of her) hate Temari's 'responsibility' crap she spouts off any moment she could get.
Kankuro says, when he's standing up for her, that she was just being motherly. Well she can screw motherly and live in the slums being a slut for all I care.
I, with precise vigilance that even scares me sometimes, apply a thick line of the black waterproof liquid around my eyes; face perfectly frozen, eyes perfectly still. Years of practice make me grateful that I'm not spilling inky stuff all over myself and sink or onto my face, causing me to look more like a black and white canvas board then anything else, less a properly eye-lined male.
"Emo!" Kankuro screams at me as he passes the bathroom, obviously still angry about the phone bill. I pause in my application to glare at him a moment before finishing the almond-touch the ends of my eyes created. Blinking at myself owlishly—no, not owlishly, more like deviously—I wait for the liner to dry before stripping and ducking under the shower curtain.
I never close the bathroom door when I strip. Temari and Kankuro have both seen me run around the house as naked as the day as I was born countless times; there really was no need to hide myself from them. Kankuro would just shout "Gaara, sicko!" if he passed by while I was stripping and Temari would turn her head and close the door for me with a 'click'.
I was, in Naruto's terms, a big boy now.
After five minutes of chilling cleanliness (I take cold showers for waking-up purposes), I hop out of the shower, rinse myself off (with the red towel. Under no circumstances am I to touch the purple or green towels, because that would end with either me on the floor after having been beaten to death with a pan by Temari or me smelling like sweaty armpits and feeling sticky all day), and carefully step into the kitchen. Temari is back to dressing like her normal self, a purple tee shirt and some white Capris, along with slippers, and is muttering to herself about damn brothers who thought that money grew on trees and how they never really appreciated her and she never should have come back in the first place. A plate of burnt scrambled eggs sat next to her.
"I can cook better then that," I say blankly, and she just gives me the dirty look. I peer at the clock—7:10—and hurriedly take a scoopful of egg and place it into my mouth. My face pinches into one of disgust.
"Get your own plate," Temari says irritably as she finally decides to just ignore the bill and threw it onto the kitchen counter, forgotten until the bill company calls to threaten to disconnect our line (they've done it many times when Temari's, Kankuro's and my jobs were not sufficient enough to pay for anything), "It's not like we have a shortage of plates as well." She means, as well as money.
"Too troublesome," I quote Shikamaru, stuff another two spoonfuls of the disgusting yellow mush that tasted like charcoal into my mouth, drop my spoon into the sink and head back into my room to look for something sufficient to wear. After blankly staring at my clothes in my wardrobe for about five minutes, I give up, tug on a tee-shirt with some logo on it I don't bother to look at, a black and burgundy jacket over it, some black pants and a beanie. Yes, a beanie.
"Is that a beanie?" Kankuro asks, stuffing a bagel into his mouth (he'd found a moldy package at the back of the pantry and neither Temari nor me was willing to eat any of it) as I pass him by in the hallway. I just give him a look that said no duh, loser, and stalk past him, effortlessly slinging my overweight maroon pack over my shoulder and heading out the door.
"Gaara!" Temari shouts from her room, "Did you bring your lunch? Your planner? Your homework? Oh my god, did you remember to bring the condoms?!" I want to smack her. Why would I want to bring condoms to school? It's not like I was going to have sex with anyone, especially in a public environment, as I had almost no libido at all and wasn't really interested in that kind of stuff in the first place anyways. I chose to just ignore her stupidity, walk down the stairs, and off to school.
I arrive about ten minutes early and immediately meet up with Neji, who was dressed up in a normal turtleneck and white pants and was blowing a bubble with his bubble gum. He was also equipped with a three-hundred page book that he used to whack me with when I approached him.
I just stare at him with a what-the-frick'-I'm-gonna-kill-you look glinting in my eyes. Neji, who huffily takes out his trusty white with gold fringed bookmark out of his pocket and carefully marks his place in the book, towers over me such a furious anger that even I didn't even know what I've done wrong.
"You," he growls, hands suddenly digging into my shoulders, shaking me, "didn't kiss him again, hm?"
I stare at him.
I stare at him harder.
"Uh… yes…"
This seems to put him in a greater fury. Hauling me up by my jacket, he hisses, "I heard you went on your frickin' second date and you have not done either of the following: kissed the living daylights out of him or confessed your love!" He pulls me up closer so we're almost eye-to-eye, "How long are you going to be a coward?"
All this time I have been blankly staring at him because my brain hasn't totally comprehended the fact that Neji was lifting me up two inches above the floor and that he was yelling at me because of my relationship with Naruto. But, before I can react at this conclusion by taking his hand and whamming him onto the concrete, said blonde pops up out of nowhere behind me.
"Yay! Good morning, guys! Um… what time is it Sasuke?"
"7:23," the dark haired youth says, curtly. Naruto just nods bouncily.
"Seven minutes 'till class! How you all feeling?"
"Bored." Sasuke.
"Furious." Neji.
"Blank." Me.
They all stare. I glare back.
"Chipper!" Naruto finishes it off, and Neji lets go of my jacket and leans down, hair spilling over his shoulder as he whispers into my ear.
"You better go for it soon." He straightens up effortlessly, toss his hair back and smoothly walk down the hallway to his neck class with the noble 'clink, clink' of his shoes echoing behind him. I glare at him from over my shoulder. What was he, my counselor? Plus, Neji giving pep talks was weird. Very weird.
After saying farewell to Naruto and Sasuke (Sasuke looking very pleased as the blonde hooks onto his arm and dragged them to their PE class; me, dissatisfied), I stumble on with my day.
Die almost out of sheer boredom in Writing. Stare at my Spanish-sensei and wonder if it was legal to smoke in a public environment. Throw notes at Naruto during Trigonometry and secretly make fun of Sasuke's apparent interest in Sakura (Naruto thankfully agrees with me that Sakura is a pink-haired slut that needs to be punctured many, many times). Try to pay attention in World History and just end up getting a detention for sleeping in class (like I'm going to do detention anyways; no one ever does and the teachers really don't care). Try not to crack up in Drama while Neji struts about the stage wearing mascara, blush, and eyeliner bellowing out random chords about love and peace and being a prostitute. Have lunch. Have lunch.
"Chicken Teriyaki!" Naruto smiles cheerfully as he carefully places the Styrofoam plate onto the table seat next to mine, casually scooting in between Sasuke and I. Thus, leaving Neji all by himself on the other side of the table.
He just aims a dirty look at us. "Thanks guys."
"No problem!" Naruto responds, then leans my way and whispers, "I try." I don't know if this is normal but as he leans closer I want to reach over and eat his hair. It just looks so alluring all of a sudden, like a scrumptious, fluttering piece that looked and imaginably tasted sweet.
Weird.
Neji just huffs indignantly and returns to thoughtfully chewing his chicken alfredo, which he eats every week, and is apparently made by his kind-hearted cousin, whose name I can't remember. She is, without doubt, noted for her mad kitchen skills.
The cafeteria is a spacious place to be in. Random thought, but true. The ceilings stretched high above our heads, dozens of poles and wires holding random shapes about. Three levels of eating area were provided—freshman and sophomores often sat on the lowest level, near the entrance, we juniors huddled together on the smaller, but higher, level, and the seniors, the kings of the hill. Plain light blue walls enclose the eating area while a thick blue gate separates the place where the food is served and the place where the food is eaten. People like Neji and Sasuke carry their own lunches, Neji because, as I said before, his cousin makes his lunches and Sasuke because Itachi made his lunches. Naruto and I, unfortunately, are stuck with the less appetizing school meal (Naruto not because he couldn't afford it like me, but because his Aunt Tsunade and Uncle Jiraiya didn't believe in wasting time making him a lunch that he wouldn't eat anyways).
Now that I think of it, I still have to tell Temari and Kankuro about the will, right? But then, I better tell them after I finish my sessions with Umino-san, because only then would I be able to even touch the Sabaku fortune. Oh well. (Money would definitely make life a heck of a lot easier, but then, looking at Neji, Sasuke, and Naruto, definitely less fun).
I hesitantly poke the slimy, rowan-colored slab of meat and look at Naruto for confirmation of its tastelessness. The blonde, despite the cheerful grin plastered on his face, looks pained. I take it as the-food-is-horrible and sigh. Suddenly, a question that had been floating in my head comes into being and out of my mouth (an annoying habit I must have picked up from Naruto. Why do I keep on picking up bad habits?)
"Neji, are you top or bottom?"
Sasuke spits out his food, Naruto goggles and Neji just stares.
And stares.
And stares, until slowly a faint dusting of pink first appears on cheeks, deepening to a more of a dark maroon, then, the dam breached, crimson flooding through his whole face until he has to hide it in his sleeve to prevent himself from being mistaken for a tomato. He makes a sort of strangled noise, straightens up a little, then collapses.
We wait for him to get up, but he doesn't. Naruto, being the naturally curious being he is, cautiously pokes the older boy in the arm.
"Uh," he says uncertainly, glancing at me a moment. "Did you kill him?"
I just glare at him, then turn towards the other two. "He didn't answer my question."
Sasuke looks bored, adjusting his dorky navy headband (I want to snap that thing off) and says, flatly, "He's bottom." This, Neji shoots up and, face still a heavy crimson, he tries to stammer out something incomprehensible, looks flustered, and, finally, turns his back to us so we can't see his face. We, however, can still see him sulking.
"Aw," Naruto giggles, exchanging a stealthy look with Sasuke (over me, which pisses me off, sort of) "Don't like it that you're taking it up the a—"
Neji, who was sitting directly in front of Naruto, turns around swiftly and kicks him under the table. Naruto stops, yelping, and the boy turns his back to us again.
"Anyways," he continues matter-of-factly, as if he wasn't sulking and giving us the cold shoulder because we were plainly discussing too in-depth his sex life, "Are you guys going to Sakura's party tonight?"
"She's having a party tonight?" Naruto and I chorus, him, surprised, me, monotone. Sasuke just looks like he's heard this all before. Neji turns his head back enough to let us see the very side of his eye and cheek. His face is still beet red.
"Uh-huh. It's a free-for-all; anyone in our grade level can come. It's pretty tight, though," he takes his thermos and spun it open, as if drinking water would calm his nerves along with talking, "No alcohol, no drugs, no sex, no nothing unless Sakura says so. You know you serious she can get when she really wants to be." Naruto and Sasuke nod while I just look a little blank. I didn't know her very well. Hell, I hated her. Why would I want to go to her party?
"Gaara!" Naruto chirps, hand casually swinging over my shoulder, locking me up next the crick between his neck and shoulder, "You going? I'm going for sure—if the rest of the guys are there, why not?"
I am definitely going to that party.
"Hn." is my answer, which the rest of the group takes as a 'oh my gosh I am so excited I'm definitely coming count me in!' I have no idea what's going to go on at the party, but, hell, I wasn't going to let a chance like this slip by (I think Neji's pep talks are getting to me…)
--
"PEPSI!"
"COKE!"
"PEPSI!"
"I'm telling you for the last damn time, it's coke!"
I walk in with Kankuro and Temari in tow (they both insisted on following me to my first high school party to keep me 'safe'. I know they're lying through their teeth, though—they just want to have some fun), dressed in a bright red long-sleeve and white pants (me, not emo? It's the end of the world!) and plastic grocery bag in my hand. My sister hollered at me all morning that if I'm going to a party I need to at least be courteous to bring something and how I couldn't bring condoms because that would be rude and what are you going to do with condoms anyways, Gaara? I think Kankuro and I should go with you. Agh, stupid siblings.
So anyways, we walk in to see Kiba and Naruto having a screaming match on the couch about the insides of the cups they were holding. Oddly, someone had torn the label off the bottle and basically just left it with a bunch of white sticker-streaks filled with dark, brown-colored liquid. Thus, leading up to Naruto and his conversation.
"Gaara!" Naruto shouts when he sees me, stumbling to try to get up from the couch and to my side without spilling any of his Pepsi/Coke while Temari and Kankuro sort of diffused into the crowd, "Does this taste like Pepsi or Coke?"
"It's coke!" Kiba shouts hotly from his seat on the couch, sipping his own drink huffily while his friend, the boy-with-bugs, just watches him, slightly amused. Before I can even protest a little, Naruto's shoving the cup into my mouth while I choke. After one taste of the liquid, I flail in agony and run to the bathroom, bile suddenly seeping into my mouth as I look at the toilet longingly.
"It's Pepsi!" Naruto says triumphantly while I gag, coughing up foam because I really had nothing to eat all today except for that awful Pepsi-thing, "Gaara hates Pepsi but he doesn't mind coke! Ha! I win!"
If Naruto was any other guy I'd strangle him for using me like that. Stupid taste, tastes like socks soaked in fermented beer…
I come back after washing my face and trying to look expressionless, nodding at Naruto who immediately envelops me in a friendly hug (the hair… I want to eat the hair… mm…) and spotting Neji at the back of the crowd talking to Temari. Slightly curious and annoyed that one of my friends was striking up conversation with my sister, I slowly head in their direction, but to no avail.
"Hey, it's volcano boy!" A high-pitched voice squeals a little above me, and suddenly my face is caught in between two large, bouncing, um…"assets". "Good! You came too! Hey Ino Pig, come here, look at our cute guest!" She turns around and I get a brief glimpse of bright pink hair and a red dress before I am… caught… again. Her skinny limbs are draped over my shoulder and head and all I can think is get this out of my face, get this out of my face, get your frickin' boobs out of my face!
"Whaaaaaaat? Even little Sabaku-chan decided to come to our wonderful party eh?" Suddenly I am released when pink-haired girl and gold-mascara girl clap hands and squeal, "This is going to be the best party ever!"
Yeah, whatever, as long as I'm not molested or beat up by the time I'm done here today. Trying to smooth out my ruffled hair and withhold myself from ripping pink-haired girl's head off, I shoulder past Chouji (who is wearing a 'my name is Chouji' on his shirt, just in case you're wondering how I managed to remember another name) and Shikamaru, who kept glancing at Temari worriedly out of the corner of his eye. I don't know if he was worried about her, or himself.
"—so I was thinking that maybe you can take him there tomorrow?" Temari is saying when I stop about two feet away from her, pathetically hiding behind a decorative bush. As I'd busted out a little more then what I had been when I first started high school (I shot from a little over a hundred pounds to… a hundred twenty? Damn, I'm fat) I was more then noticeable. Shikamaru keeps giving me weird looks.
"I see." Neji looks a little worried, because he's started fiddling with his charm necklace again, "Are you sure it's alright? You know, he might get pissed…" Temari's violently shaking her head.
"No, no, he'll love it; it'll be real good for him. Please? I'll pay for it, but maybe you can also get the other two to go along with you?" Neji sighs and nods. My blonde sibling squeals, clapping her hands together, and hurriedly thank him. They start walking away and I start coming out of my "hideout" when I hear Temari say, "Sometimes I can't believe it you know? He's really changed over the years… he's nothing like the insane murderer I'd known for so long before…"
I stop cold.
Really? Did…Temari really think that?
Before I can get lost in another Gaara-is-silent-because-he's-thinking-so-don't-interrupt phase, Naruto's loud voice overpowers all conversations that had been (previously) taking place, "TRUTH OR DARE! YAH!"
I open my eyes wide.
What?
I'm thinking the exact same thing when Naruto pulls me over and plops me onto a fuzzy pink polyester cushion lined up with many others in a circle, so all the guests were facing one another. Neji sat at my other side, long hair pulled in a tight ponytail and wearing a nice white-collared shirt. I always make a point in noticing his clothes; out of all of us (Naruto, Sasuke and I) he probably had the most variety. A whole lot of other people gather around as well, though I won't even bother to list them all because I don't know most of their names anyways.
Pink-haired girl (Naruto kept telling me Sakura) is giggling, holding a cup of sparkling apple cider, "Tee Hee! So this is my party and so we'll all, like, play truth or dare? 'Cause, its like, the coolest thing in the world! So, like, do you all know the rules?" Before anyone can answer gold-mascara girl (Ino, Naruto hisses) waves her hand up wildly.
"Me! Me!"
"Ino Pig!"
"Okay pipsqueaks," The girl shouts loudly, raising her arms up above her head, "This is how it goes! We have this bottle over here,"
"Bottle!" Sakura yells, holding up a wine bottle.
"And, like, the first person, me, is gonna spin it and all. And, whoever it lands on, I ask, 'truth, dare, or double dare?' and then that person has got to, like, choose one. Truth is you ask a personal question and they have to, like, tell the truth,"
"Truth!" Sakura yells again, this time holding up a pile of cards.
"Uh, and, if you can't come up with a question, Big Forehead and I stayed up all last night making up cards you can pick from to, like, ask. Um, dare, is, well, daring someone to do something."
"Dare!" The pink-haired girl holds up another pile of cards.
"And, yeah, like we did the same thing with the dare, so huh. And double dare is just basically asking two dares and the person gets to, like, choose which one the want."
"Double Dare!" Sakura looks pained because of all the jumping around on a full stomach. "Ah, just pick two dares from the dare pile, heh, heh…"
"Oh, and, like, if you don't do a dare, then you have to..."
"Kiss the person that asked you!" Sakura says triumphantly.
"And, so, like, that's how it goes. Um, hey Big Forehead, how many rounds should we go?"
"Rounds!" Sakura holds up some pink colored tabs, "So, like, every time you're picked, take a tab. Um, we should do, like um, five rounds, looking at all these people. So when you get five tabs, um, you don't play anymore, so it doesn't go on forever."
"I go first!" Ino shouts and they both squeal like mad women. All this time I've been hiding behind Neji's sleeve (because I didn't want to hide behind Naruto's because I just might really try to eat his hair), and look at the older student pleadingly.
"Do we have to?"
"If you want to preserve your reputation."
"Yosh!" Ino says, quoting a character we all know very well, leaning over so everyone gets a good look of her not-caught-in-a-bra boobs when her tang-top complies to the laws of gravity, "Okay, spin the bottle!" Taking a hold of the bottle neck, she effortlessly spins it and watches as it goes around in dizzying circles, round and round, getting slower…and slower…and… "Shino!"
Bug-boy just looks blank and white. Kiba, who's sitting beside him, pokes his friend. "That's you." Shino just looks a little more rigid.
"Alright, big guy!" Ino giggles, enthusiastically patting her victim on the back, "Truth or dare?"
"Don't forget double dare!" Sakura squeals and the two start laughing together. Sasuke, who is sitting directly opposite me, and I share dry glances.
Shino pushes his round sunglasses up from the bridge of his nose. "Truth."
"Boo!" Naruto shouts, "Coward!"
The taller boy just shrugs, as if it mattered very little to him.
Ino, not to be beaten down by the other's flat 'party pooper' attitude, shouts, "Out of all the girls in this room who would you date, why, and what is the worst possible scenario that can happen?"
Shino doesn't even pause in his answer. "Hinata. Because she's sweet. She gets pregnant with someone else's kid and ends up dropping out of high school and never becoming a teacher, which is her dream." Said Hyuuga girl's face is flushed crimson, though she exchanges odd looks with Kiba, who just sighs and ruffles his hair. Was there some competition going on between those two boys?
"It's 'cause Hinata's one of Shino's closest friends," Naruto explains to me quietly, "And Ino said 'in this room', so he pretty much had no choice but to choose the girl he was closest to. His real crush's probably somebody else."
"Spin! Spin! Spin! Sp—damn, it's me!" Kiba swears and gives his friend a dirty look. "You did that on purpose!" Shino looks away and adjusts his glasses, looking very, very innocent.
"Truth, Dare, Double Dare?"
"Oh, what the heck," Kiba huffs, "Dare."
"Dare you to get some of that white wine from the cellar, mix it with apple juice, and drink it."
Kiba stares.
Sakura and Ino stare.
Everyone else stares.
Shino doesn't even look the slightest bit perturbed.
Kiba explodes.
"WHAAAAAAAAAT?! I'm not even old enough to drink! And apple juice? Are you out of your mind?" He screams, taking a hold of bug-boy's shoulders and shaking them, "No way am I going to do that!"
"Then kiss me." Shino says coolly and the other boy looks flabbergasted.
"Ooh!" Naruto croons, "What are you going to do, little Kiba-chan?"
"Argh…fine!" Getting up huffily, he runs into Sakura's kitchen and into the basement to get the wine.
And, in basic terms, that is how the game went.
Kiba drank and gagged while everyone cheered him on, Sakura had to sing a cheesy love song dressed in nothing but her bra and panties, Temari had to kiss me on the nose (I almost bit her), Hinata gave Kiba a lap dance (much to everyone's amusement), Neji had to play a game of strip war with Lee (ending up with Neji's entire upper body exposed and Lee practically naked on the floor), Kankuro had to read aloud an erotic scene from a love novel without blushing or else he'd have to start over (I think all of us turned green after his fifth try), Chouji had to stop eating until the end of the game, and Shikamaru kissed Chouji because he sure as hell wasn't going to take off Temari's clothes and ravish her. Oh, no. That'd be way too troublesome.
It went on, and on, and on, and on like this until, by the fourth round, everyone started calming down and doing more Truth questions because we were all pretty tired. I mean, I've run out into the street screaming 'Boo yah!' until someone saw me, drank a cup of Pepsi (ugh…), and admitted that the reason I didn't still have eyebrows is because I shave it off just for the sake of shaving it off. Ino brought out the snacks and dumped them into a huge plastic bowl in the middle of the circle, next to the bottle. Everyone dug in, except for Chouji, who was looking very, very depressed.
"Hey, Gaara," Ten Squared says, hiccupping because her last dare was to drink nothing but beer for the rest of the night, "Truth, Dare, or Double Dare?"
"Truth," I say, not that anyone would've thought I'd say differently.
"How'd you hic meet up with hic your best hic friends?"
I furrow my brow.
"Um, I first met Neji at a pep rally/assembly thing in middle school but he didn't really start hanging out with Naruto and Sasuke until high school. And… I first met both Sasuke and Naruto in middle school sixth grade when some guy tried to beat me up…" I stop because Naruto is giving me a puzzled look.
"What?" He says, utterly confused, "That's not how we first met!"
"Hm?" I stare. What was he saying? All this time that memory (the one with the bully and the poop and all that…) had always stuck to me because it'd been when I first met Naruto. But he was saying it wasn't?
He's shaking his head.
"You don't remember?"
"…remember what?"
He stops shaking his head, and, with a ferocity he is well known for, looks me straight in the eyes. "You know.
"Spring Forth Christian Treatment Center."
Something springs forth and shocks me until I can't seem to move, can't seem to think.
The room is cold—infinitely cold— my dried-up heart that had long stopped beating… white—Shut up, shut up! you— stand, next—I am: in a hospital—swoop towards the ground, my mind screaming—no, no— as I cling to the windowsill—no, no, no, no— start to scream—no, no, no—
I stare at him open-mouthed.
And everything comes crashing down around me.
--
Author's Notes: Yeah, slow update (sorry!) I'm just running around trying to tie up a bunch of loose ends I'd referenced in previous chapters... Sorry! Story is getting too confusing and/or boring! Waaaah! (hides in a trash can). Yeah, so for those wondering about the whole Gaara-job-thing its coming up next chapter! And more of Gaara's past is revealed! But what is he hiding? Tune in next time! Waaaaaaaaaaaah! My reviewers are my god/desses! Without them this story would be ten times harder to write. I bow down to you and worship your awesomeness! When (or if) I finish this story I'll be sure to list all reviewers/supporters/ppl who favorited/c2ed/and/or/alerted me in an afterword along with a summary just in case people really didn't get anything when they read this. Thanks! R/R Please? But no flames. Flames are bad