Stranger Than Fiction
By Socially Suicidal
Disclaimer: I do not own Naruto
Drabble # 2
Red-orange glow, emanating heat and danger, emerged from within the depths of fluid inside the small cheap black plastic container. The cold urban wind whipped aggressively against it. It flickered from the abuse and finally disappeared back to the depths from which it came.
He growled lowly in deep frustration.
Long pale ligaments surrounded the miniature fountain of fire, protecting the object from another passing breeze. The flame sprang to life from its abyss once more, and he wasted no time in dipping his head forward, causing the clinkering of the chain drooping from one of the many metal studs piercing his ear, and allowing the head of his unbranded cigarette become engulfed in the tiny blaze. The paper fizzled and the rich tobacco inside began to slowly burn when he allowed the flame to submerge itself back into its cozy home once more. Tossing the lighter into his back pocket along with the small metal case in which held more white sticks identical to the one currently stuck between his pale lips, he puffed on the cigarette and inhaled sharply.
Potent Albanian tobacco smoke curled around him like tendrils, or the arms of a lover if his mood was right, and the smell engulfed his entire being. Albanian tobacco made rolling the damn things himself worthwhile. He slowly exhaled, closing his eyes as his body lost some of the tightly bound tension coiled in previously stiff muscles.
He rolled his shoulders and surveyed the area surrounding him as he inhaled and exhaled the burning tobacco methodically. The sidewalks were littered with individuals, the waste of humanity, in his opinion, scampering about. He scoffed at the few rushing happily into the club at the still early hour in groups or holding hands and others sloppily stumbling out of the doors in their drunken stupidity, groping at each other or wailing obnoxiously in their alcohol induced stupor.
Leaning against the bricks behind him, the redhead's eyes narrowed as they fell upon the two scantily clad females he had the displeasure of encountering earlier that night as they blindly stumbled out to their car. Their neon colored, skin tight skirts hiked well higher on their beings than he would have preferred to be subjected to witnessing as the mixture of their ridiculous looking heels and their high alcohol consumption swayed them violently. Laughing hyenas, they clutched onto one another for support and drew a variety of attention their way. He grunted and took a long drag, leaning his head back and letting out a long stream of smoke as he recalled the attention the same two brainless bimbos had attracted earlier in the club.
Easily the most disliked sort of people he was forced to encounter, the two broads had found themselves in a heated argument with a group of rowdy gentlemen who, having taken notice of their less-than dignified appearances, had become more than angered by their refusal to join them in a stroll to the alley behind the club.
He, of course, was forced to step in on behalf of the females and promptly compelled the group of drooling idiots to grace him with their departure. The two flanked him when he came back in, batting their plastic eyelashes and gushing over the impressive display of force he had executed in his persuasion that caused the group of thug's parting. Resisting the urge to remove the two in a similar fashion, he reigned in his self-control and bit out a snarling insult that persuaded them in a, remarkably, similar fashion to leave him alone and find company elsewhere.
The two truly were some of the most brainless examples of the stupidity in humanity he had witnessed, making him nearly grateful for the scarce few of those both dense and bold enough to approach him in the method they had. They accurately exemplified every quality of the female gender that grated his every last fiber of being, making him abhor anything with breasts that was stupid enough to open its mouth. Of course, male as he was, there were few he enjoyed the company of, but with those he never left time for conversation, nearly getting what he required and getting the hell out before they had the chance to subject him to their senseless yapping.
That incident, however irritating and repulsive, had occurred hours ago, and since then the night had gone on as per usual. There were a few morons that had become rowdy and forced him to eradicate them from the nightclub property, but no more than was normal, just enough to keep him from becoming too bored as he scanned over the mass of grinding figures. The normalcy had nearly relaxed him, as opposed to change as he was.
The gruff sound of his oldest sibling's strained voice shook the young man from his short-lived serenity when his ears rang with, "Gaara! Will you hurry the fuck up; I was starting to think you got lost!"
He knew he should have taken his cigarette break in the back, where he was less likely to be disturbed. Exhaling a quiet, sharp sigh, Gaara ground the nub underneath his heavy rubber and metal boots without which he would be significantly less intimidating standing at his natural height of about five feet six inches. His hand exasperatedly goaded through his thick red locks, ghosting past the series of metal piercing his ear and slid down his pale neck.
Gaara stalked down the sidewalk, passed his irritated blonde sibling and back into the sweaty commotion of the club. His eyes quickly adjusted to the flashing fluorescent lights that greeted him like old friends.
Tasteless house beats bounced the mass of intoxicated bodies around as he weaved through them, the less stoned of them wisely parted for him as their drunken counterparts continued their sloppy thrashing obliviously.
He found the form of the tall blond bartender exchanging words with a man with long, dark hair and a woman clad tightly in lavender sitting at her bar as he silently approached. The woman's sole visible blue eye caught sight of him and she politely excused herself from the conversation and offered her attention to him. Her purple tank top revealed entirely too much cleavage, cutting off above her abdomen, as she leaned against the wooden bar expectantly.
"Usual, Ino," he grunted, black rimmed sea foam eyes scanning over the occupants of the club in the vicinity as he turned his back to the nodding bartender.
A small glass was placed next to him and he took it wordlessly, knocking back the burning liquid swiftly. Ino's sultry voice chuckled behind him, "Long night, huh?"
Nodding in his typical laconic manner, Gaara returned the glass to his coworker and leaned onto a stool at the very end of the bar. By his computation, it was only about one in the morning and the club had just opened about two hours ago – and already he had hit the hard stuff.
From his experience, the redhead could already feel that this night would definitely be a long one. He craved a cigarette already, drowning the need with another shot provided to him by his current favorite female in the current area, the bartender.
Spotting an area that was generally vacant of club-goers, Gaara made his way there, setting against the wall to watch the crowd with guarded scrutiny.