-Chapter 1: Funeral-

He stood on the very edge of the cliff, not even an inch away from certain death if he moved a muscle. The clouds that covered the sky made it seem as if there were no sun. The rain pelted his pale skin harshly and the thunder erupted, clashing with the lightning in an enormous battle in the sky. He had no intentions of dieing any time soon. Yet there he stood, hands in his pockets. The wind made the trees whip and bend, blowing leaves everywhere. It smashed into him making his pale blue shirt and blue jeans whip around and stick to him and his short red hair wave and cover the red love sign on his forehead. Though it didn't move him at all.

He had been there for at least an hour now. This hurricane-like weather wouldn't stop him from doing what he did every day. He liked coming here to think. He slowly closed his darkly lined eyes and took a deep breath, then fluidly turned and walked away from the cliff, back to his yellow ford convertible mustang GT. He got in and the engine roared to life. The car sped away quickly rain splattering on the window. Making it close to impossible to see the road. The windshield wipers silently streaked across the windshield. He gripped the wheel and stared out at the grey blur that was a road.

He pulled into his driveway and got out of the car. Though it was still storming he walked slowly to his mail-box. He pulled out the soaked envelopes and read the names on them. Almost all of the mail was for him as he flipped through it. He got to the last peice of mail and made a low, growling sound at the sight of his sisters name on the envelope.

The mail hit the road and he stormed inside. His brother and sister had just died in a car crash, and the fact that people wouldn't leave him alone about it did not help. Though he was overwhelmed with agony, depression, and anger he refused to act sad or cry. The last time he cried was when he was six. He hissed at the thought of people knowing he was sad and got a soda out of the fridge.

A black tuxedo was laying on the kitchen table. He perched on his counter and looked no- glared down at the white plastic it was covered in -to protect it.- His siblings funeral was in an hour and he didn't intend on going. Even though he had already paid for the suit. He took a drink of the soda and looked at the tag that was attached to the hanger of the tux. "Gaara." the tag read. Below his name was his address. The person who dropped it off had probably given it to the maid.

Gaara rolled his jade eyes and hopped gracefully off the counter. He picked up the suit and walked to his room. After putting the tuxedo and his combat boots on he laid down on his bed and pushed his face into his pillow hard. He sat up after a moment and walked to his huge closet. He opened the door and grabbed a towel. He put it over his head and rubbed it through his hair harshly, slinging drops of water all over the white marble tiles on the floor and the dark red walls.

His room was big. It had dark red walls, and white marble floors. In the middle of the room, pushed up against the wall, was a huge bed. It had a thick black comforter on it and dark red sheets. A wrought iron post rose from each corner of the bed and held up a black lace canopy that hung down around his bed like curtains. There was a dark red and black stripped rug on the floor and a big black leather couch pushed up against the opposite wall of the bed. The dresser was black and stretched half way along the wall. It was covered in wilting flowers of apology and grief, from people who called themselves his 'friends.'

On one wall, there was a huge plasma T.V. -that he never used.- On the other wall there was a big portrait of his sister Temari, his brother Kankuro, and him. He was in the middle scowling at the camera. Temari was on the left and Kankuro on the right. They were both grinning and hugging Gaara's arms.

He sat on the edge of the bed, white towel drapped over his crimson locks, and stared at the picture from the past. It was taken about a year after he had finally started to warm up to his siblings. It was only two years ago, when he was fifteen.

After rubbing the towel through his hair one more time he threw it in an empty basket and looked around the room that his sister had designed for him. Being rich and having all of these things wouldn't make him happy. Nothing would any more. His brother and sister were the only things that brought him even close to being happy in his life.

He sank down onto the large couch and put his feet on the long black table in front of it pinching the bridge of his nose with his fingers and closing his eyes. He sat like that for another twenty minutes then slowly got up and walked out of his room. He walked down the long hallway slowly looking at the pad-locks he had installed on the door of his siblings doors.

When he got to his front door he hesitated with his hand on the door-knob. He wished he didn't have to go. He didn't want to see all the people that didn't care. They would all be over it in a month or two. They would move on and forget about them, about him. But he had to go. "For Temari and Kankuro." he whispered and swung the door open.

He pulled into the cemetery parking lot and cut the engine off. He sat in the car for a minute, staring into the rain at all the umbrellas he could see clenching the steering wheel. He finally got out of the car and walked over to the spot he had been told to come to. He was only standing there for a second and he was already soaked as if he had just jumped into a pool. He glared at everyone. "Fake." he said, "All of you, and your fake emotions might as well go home. You are not needed here, you're useless here." he said, if it weren't raining everyone would have been able to hear him clearly.

There were no unfamiliar faces, he had seen them all before. None of them cared for him, and they would all get on with their lives as soon as they left this place. He glared down at the two wooden coffins. 'How dare you leave me here alone.' he thought. They had left him everything, just as they said they would if they were to die. 'I don't want the money, or the house, or anything.' he thought for the hundredth time.

After everyone had left, Gaara helped fill the holes with dirt. He looked around. "Hn. Just as I thought. Not a single person here, besides the workers." he growled. As he looked around he caught a glimpse of pink. He did a double take and stared at the girl who was standing by Temari's grave. She was wearing a dark pink blouse and blue jeans. Her wet pink hair was tied up in a ponytail so it didn't blow everywhere, and her green eyes were staring down at the stone.

She sank to her knees and traced the words with her finger. 'Temari. Loved sister. Loved Friend. 1992-2008' it said. "I'll miss you." she whispered with the hint of a smile on her face.

"So what did she leave you in the will?" came Gaara's voice from behind her.

Her eyes widened briefly and she gracefully and quickly jumped up and turned around. "Nothing. Why do you ask that?" her striking green eyes narrowed.

"Well you're smiling, and not wearing black. The only reason you would be here is if she left you something." he said, his voice overflowing with acid.

She glared at him. Her eyes turning a shade darker and her mouth pressing into a hard line. "Temari was my best, no- my only friend. She made me promise to not wear black to her funeral if she died. She hated the color black. She said it was to gloomy. And I am here to say goodbye to her you jerk. I wasn't her friend for the money, unlike everyone else."

He cringed and looked down at the grave stone. "Good. I'm glad she had at least one friend."

"You weren't her friend?"

"I'm her brother." he looked back up at her, his eyes intense, furious, yet sad. She frowned and took a step forward, her pale skin glistening with every movement she made.

"I'm sorry for your loss." she whispered and put her hand on his shoulder. "I'm Sakura Haruno."

He hissed and shook her hand off, "You have no idea how tired I am of hearing that from people that probably don't even really care!"

Her beautiful face hardened like stone and her eyebrows pulled together. "I do care! You are her family! Anybody that was important to her is important to me."

His face softened, "So you really were her friend huh?" he asked and looked down.

Her face became weary for a moment then softened as well, "Yes, I am. She was the only person who knew my secre-" just the the wind switched directions, blowing his scent towards her. She froze for a moment and turned away placing her hand over her nose and mouth.. "I have to go." she announced sharply and pranced away as if she were a professional ballerina.

'He smells way to good.' she thought as she bounded to her little pink porche.