TITLE: Tutor 3

GENRE: General, (Humor)

RATING: K

In the beginning, everything was normal, or as normal as it usually was with Gaara. He didn't express himself much in words or expressions. Mei soon became accustomed to his blank stares and hidden insults to her character, but those things didn't bother her as much as the fact that he was taking French so lightly and wasn't learning a thing besides what little he knew when they began. Three weeks passed, two sessions every week. Six times she'd seen him and he was still on Workbook 1, Section 1.

Mei slammed the book closed in frustration, making herself jump. She'd closed Gaara's hand in the book. He looked up at her, not even blinking, and removed his hand, leaving the pencil inside to keep the page. "I-I'm sorry," she stuttered, turning away from him. "I just—I'm a terrible teacher. I'm so sorry you got stuck with me."

Biting her lip, she expected nothing from him over anything, maybe another unpleasant comment about how her smiles gave him goose bumps (which she took in the worst way) or about how her tied-up hair reminded him of a spool of yarn (which was in no way flattering or accurate). She was embarrassed to say so much in front of him, a boy, who could care less what a woman who was only a little older than his sister felt.

And for a while, she did get nothing. He didn't speak or move for so long that she was about to check that he was still there and breathing. But then he did talk. "Terumi-sensei, the first day I met you, I said my name was Gaara," he reminded her in a low voice. The way his words travelled over her, husky and more mature than his age might've indicated, it was lovely. "You have yet to call me by that name."

Jolted by surprise, Mei suddenly turned around. The boy was separated from her by a table once again but she'd never seen his eyes so clearly before. Then she realized the markings on the left side of his forehead. "You got a haircut," she realized quietly.

He ignored it. "What is my name?"

Mei's voice failed her for a moment. She'd never heard him talk so much at one time, only fragmented responses when absolutely necessary, and almost always in clumsy French. In Japanese, his voice had a certain tone that made her want to hear more. More than she'd ever wanted to hear even French. This revelation shocked her, causing her to whisper the name, "Gaara."

A flash of emotion crossed his face. It was confidence and satisfaction. Mei felt a little manipulated into going at his pace and abruptly broke their eye contact, flipping the book back to the page they'd been on.

"Now then—"

"Why bother?" Gaara interrupted her, which he'd grown a habit of doing. It infuriated her that he thought whatever short little blurb he wanted to get out was more important than her teaching. Her eyes accurately reflected this when she glared up at him from behind her bangs. Mei nearly swept her hair out of her right eye just so he could feel the full force of her glower. This only seemed to make him even more confident, though it didn't show on his face, just in his tone and the way he held himself a little taller.

"Thinking yourself a failure as a teacher," he went on, "would make you want to give up, correct?"

"I'm determined," she informed him, matching his confidence with refined arrogance. "French is a beautiful language. If I fail to show you that, then my teachings mean nothing. That would be my true failure. And I won't give up until I reach this goal."

Gaara took this in, a very small smile touching his features. Not his lips, but his eyes. They softened the slightest bit and he leaned back onto the couch. "Next time, we should do this somewhere else," he said, his attention now on his surroundings. "I'm tired of all this brown."

"Your clothes are brown," Mei pointed out with a snort.

"…so they are," he muttered, looking down at himself as if just realizing.