CHAPTER 8: Stealing Your Boyfriend
One quiet night, Gaara and Kankuro were sitting on the couch in the living room. Kankuro was watching the news boredly, while Gaara was reading the joke book Kiba had given him.
"I miss him," Gaara admitted, touching the pages as if through them he could revive the long lost connection.
Kankuro patted his knee. "I know."
Gaara brought the book to his chest. "You didn't have to meddle in it. It was none of your business."
Kankuro narrowed his eyes, and he looked way less empathetic now. "He hurt you. How could've I let something like that continue?"
Now Gaara looked uneasy. "He didn't hurt me. He always hugged me, and called me his silly little goose. He knew how to console me. I miss him."
The brunet sighed, and his expression softened. "I know. You had your moments. It's alright to miss the good times."
"See. And it was wrong of you to just end it, when I didn't ask you to," Gaara hissed sourly. "You went way overboard this time."
But Kankuro didn't seem happy about the criticism. "Hey, I was only protecting you. He raped you, don't you remember?"
A blank look came to Gaara's face, and he stopped gripping the book. Their childhood playhouse flashed in his mind. He needed to escape. "I… He… It wasn't…"
"You were drunk. He used it for his own advantage. You were too weak and pitiful to say no to him, and you couldn't have stopped him, because you had driven yourself to a point of drunkenness where you were just an easy piece of meat to anyone," Kankuro growled.
There was a pained look on Gaara's face now, and he refused to meet Kankuro's gaze.
"You're just like mom. Promiscuous and a drinker. That's pathetic. You should be grateful that I still have the energy to save you from the trouble you always manage to get yourself into," Kankuro barked, angry.
"I—I'm sorry," Gaara whispered, his head hung. "Kiba didn't mean it, I know it. He's not like that. He's not evil. I miss him. Could I have him as a friend?"
"No," Kankuro denied sternly. "Out of question."
"Please," Gaara begged, tears in his eyes. "He knew how to read my moods. And he needs someone to take care of him. He's lonely, and he has issues."
"Listen up," Kankuro growled, "Kiba will not be a part of your life anymore. That path would only lead to misery, and I'm exhausted from keeping you out of trouble you seem to draw in like a magnet. For once, obey me, you reckless brat."
"You're lame!" Gaara hissed, crossing his arms. "You're the stupidest person I know."
The brunet's brow furrowed, and he let out a deep breath to calm himself. "You clearly can't see what's best for you. Do I have to smack that into your head, or can we end this exhausting conversation already?"
"Hmph," Gaara scoffed, "You're lame like dad. He always kept me on a short leash as well. He never let me go out with my new friends. I had to stay at home with him, always. You're paranoid just like him."
There was a compassionate, yet frustrated look on Kankuro's face. "He cared about you, Gaara. He didn't want you to end up hurt. And I care about you as well. I wish you saw that."
Gaara considered it, and then gazed at his brother with empathy. "I know. Thanks. And I'm sorry. When I lived with dad alone, he had scary hallucinations. When he was depressed, he didn't cook for us, and then it would turn into a storm of energy, and he was too busy to eat or sleep. Sometimes, I just wanted to get out of the house, to belong in a group of friends. But I guess I always felt like an outsider. I never belonged."
Kankuro pulled him into a hug, and caressed his hair.
"I knew you had it bad. When mom and dad divorced, and mom, Temari and I moved in with Baki, my heart broke. I wanted to stay with you and dad, but ah, things didn't go that way. But hey, I'm grateful we could spend all the holidays together, as well as some weeks and weekends. And we still went to the same school."
Gaara smiled. "Those were the times. I'm grateful we still were a family, even if we had different addresses. I'm just frightened I'll lose it all again."
"There, there," Kankuro soothed. "You will never lose me. I'll always be there. We'll always be a family, forever."
"Oh, it's you," Kiba sounded disappointed, as he opened the door.
"I'm here to bury the hatchet," Kankuro smiled luminously, but there was a hint of sadness in his eyes.
Kiba wasn't immune to it, and so he let the older man in. Even so, he crossed his arms, and glared at Kankuro.
"This is for you," Kankuro offered, and gave him a gift bag.
Cautiously, Kiba took it, and peeked inside. "W-Wow, are these the VR glasses I've been dreaming of? K-Kankuro, you shouldn't have…"
"Nonsense, I wanted you to have them," Kankuro smiled warmly.
"And what's this?" Kiba wondered, as he took out a bottle of wine.
"That's for later in the evening," Kankuro smirked, and Kiba blushed, lowering his face.
"So we'll have a game night?" Kiba tried nervously, looking keenly at the VR glasses.
"No," Kankuro declined, and stepped closer. Kiba blushed even more.
"Look, the last time we met, it ended in an unfortunate way. It was the realities of our lives that put us in that troublesome setting. It had nothing to do with us as individuals. Kiba, I want you to know that I come bearing peace and friendship."
Kiba regarded it, but didn't comment anything. "What's that other bag you're carrying?"
"Oh, these?" Kankuro said, "These are groceries. For tonight and tomorrow."
"T-Tomorrow?" Kiba stammered, leaning away nervously.
Kankuro smirked mysteriously, "Come on, help me put these in the fridge."
"Oh…" Kankuro was shocked, when there was nothing but a bottle of ketchup and soda in the fridge. With concern and care, he gazed at the younger man.
Kiba quickly looked away, as if ashamed, and instead draped the groceries from the bag: greek yogurt, puddings, pizzas, sandwiches, bottles of soda, strawberries, potatoes, apples and oranges, as well as bread, cream, butter and sausages.
"Kiba…" Kankuro whispered, closing in on the younger man. Kiba let him, but kept his arms crossed protectively. "You're caring, loyal and have a great sense of humor. I like that. Your skills as a team leader impress me. The way you are able to build a network of allies from scratch is something I appreciate. You are valuable. I need you in my life, Kiba."
"Kankuro… How can I know that you aren't going to hurt me again?" Kiba wondered.
The older man caressed Kiba's cheek, and gazed at him gently. "Why don't we discuss it over a glass of wine?"
Cautiously, Kiba sipped his wine. It wasn't awful, but the way Kankuro kept on staring at him intensely, was starting to feel a bit unnerving.
"Just because I'm unemployed and in a dire situation, doesn't mean I'll let you parade in here all you want, even if you gave me gifts," Kiba reminded.
Kankuro smiled shortly at Kiba's temper, and took a hold of his hand. "I know. If you want, I can leave. Just tell me, and I'll be on my way and you'll never hear from me again."
But now sadness filled Kiba's eyes, and he lowered his glass. "How's Gaara doing? Is he okay?"
Kankuro gazed at him darkly, with narrowed eyes, "He's alright. He'll survive. But he's already involved with someone else."
"Oh… So soon?" Kiba wondered, taking a gulp of wine.
There was an amused, remorseless look in Kankuro's eyes. "He's with Naruto."
"Na-Naruto?" Kiba repeated, almost dropping his glass, until he brought it to his lips with trembling hands, and took a sip.
"Yeah," Kankuro rubbed it in, inspecting keenly the micro-expressions on Kiba's face. "They've been best friends for so long. Didn't you know how Gaara always adored him?"
"O-Oh…" Kiba understood, shaking. The old pain of rejection and shame was coming back, stronger with each beat of his heart.
Kankuro smiled secretly. "You thought you'd be a match for someone like Naruto? That Gaara would choose you over a guy like him in the end?"
"Oh…" Kiba trailed off, ashamed. What had he been thinking? It hurt, and he placed his palm over his heart.
There was a cruel grin on Kankuro's face, as he looked at the unshed tears in Kiba's eyes. The young man looked broken and helpless, defeated. Kankuro squeezed Kiba's hand.
"You deserve better, Kiba," he said softly, with an encouraging smile.
Kiba wiped his eyes, and tried to shrug off his pain. "I—I don't know…"
With sympathy, Kankuro caressed his hand, and spoke gently, "You deserve someone who'll respect and adore you."
"Adore me?" Kiba repeated, as if the idea of him being the target of someone's genuine affection was foreign to him.
For an answer, Kankuro squeezed Kiba's hand, and then touched his thigh in a certain way. Kiba gulped down the last of his wine, and was about to refill his glass.
"No," Kankuro declined and took the bottle out of his reach. "I don't want you to get tipsy, you need to be sober tonight," he murmured, and stared at the younger man intensely.
Kiba blushed at the innuendo, and the hand on his thigh slid upwards. "Kankuro… I didn't know you had that kind of feelings."
"I've always liked your dimples," Kankuro murmured velvetly, "And your ass. You have a great ass, Kiba."
"U-uh," the younger man stammered, under that piercing, all-seeing stare.
"I've always liked you, Kiba, from the very first time I met you. If you hadn't been with my brother, I would've let you in on my feelings a lot sooner," Kankuro whispered, and caressed Kiba's cheek gently. "I need you. Please, don't send me away. I've longed for you in the shadows for a long time already."
"I had no idea," Kiba said, and let Kankuro pin him down on the couch. Now the older man was on top of him, kissing his neck. "Ah…"
It was midnight, and the two of them were now cuddling in Kiba's bed. Kiba's hair was still damp after a shower, and Kankuro kept on caressing his arm, placing small kisses on his skin.
"I— It was the best sex I've had in a while," Kiba confessed, mesmerized, and clung to the older man.
Kankuro kissed him gently. "I can say the same."
"I could get used to this," Kiba murmured, and snuggled even more into Kankuro's warm embrace.
"Do, by all means," Kankuro promised. "You know I keep my loved ones and family safe."
"How about your casual flings?" Kiba asked tentatively.
"I don't have casual flings," Kankuro said.
"So… Does that mean…?"
"Yes," Kankuro murmured, and caressed his hair. Kiba smiled.
They lay in each other's arms for some time in silence, until Kankuro yawned, and broke free of their embrace.
"Kiba, I have an offer for you," Kankuro started.
"An offer?"
"Yeah, it's a day job. If you're up to it?" Kankuro tested.
Kiba's eyes lit up. "Tell me more."
Kankuro smirked. "My bookkeeper has retired, and I hate paperwork. I need someone to do the office work and my taxes. I think you'd be perfect for it."
"B-But I don't know anything about bookkeeping or taxes…?" Kiba wondered.
"You'll learn quickly, they're easy to do. I promise. I know you're smart and capable, so it'll be a piece of cake for you," Kankuro said.
"O-Okay," Kiba was cautious.
"You'll get money. I'll pay it in cash, so it won't affect your unemployment benefits," Kankuro offered.
"Um, okay," Kiba nodded, feeling a bit embarrassed.
"You'll get enough money to buy those painkillers for your mom. I know she's been using the pills sparingly, but soon she won't have to, anymore," Kankuro went on.
"Really? That'd be amazing," Kiba joyed, with a bright expression. "She's been in so much pain for a long time already…"
"I know. We'll keep her safe. Come to my shop tomorrow in the evening, I'll show you around, and get you started," Kankuro promised.
"I will," Kiba smiled, and for the longest time, it felt like there was a glimpse of hope on the horizon.
The next evening, Kiba entered the small shoemaker shop Kankuro owned.
"Oh, there you are, come on in," Kankuro smiled luminously. "Let me get you started," he continued, and led them to the backroom.
"Okay, so here's what you do. This is the report from the register I get at the end of each month. This sum here is the total revenue, you put it in my tax return. Then, we have the cash book here. If I receive payments in cash, I write them down here, as well as the purchases I pay in cash. You take these into account as well," Kankuro instructed.
"Okay, all clear so far," Kiba said, relieved.
"Good. Now you can get to work, as last month's tax return needs to be done by the end of this week," Kankuro smiled innocently, getting back to repairing shoes.
"B-By the end of this week?" Kiba stammered.
With a calm breath, he set to work. As he had studied the documents for a while, he came to Kankuro.
"A few questions. Can you spare me a minute?"
Kankuro put away the shoes he had been repairing, and followed Kiba to the backroom.
"Okay, so, according to this report from the register, as well as the cashbook you gave me, there should be 113,60$ cash in this box," Kiba said, opening up a small metallic safe. "But there is only 25,30$ here."
"And?" Kankuro asked, leaning on the doorframe.
Kiba squinted at him, "And? There's cash missing. Why?"
"I don't know," Kankuro shrugged, and was about to go back to work. "Oh wait, now I remember. I bought supplies from this one company. I paid it in cash."
"Okay. So how much did you pay?" Kiba asked.
"I don't know. How much is there missing from the safe? It was that much," Kankuro told.
Kiba didn't say anything.
"Here," Kankuro said as he took out a blank paper, "Write down that on some day of last month, supplies were bought with an X amount of cash, and then put your name and signature under it. With this paper you sign, you'll make me a tax deduction."
"Okay," Kiba did as he was told.
Kankuro smiled mysteriously, and patted him on the back. "Good job. If you have any other questions, just ask."
"Well, there's some other thing, too," Kiba admitted, and opened a drawer. "Here's 3000$ in cash, but I couldn't find it in any of these documents. Is this part of last month's revenue, too? It looked like this was missing from the register's report…"
"Ah, that," Kankuro shrugged it off, "Put it back. It's money from last year."
"Really?" Kiba wondered, and carefully folded the bills back into the drawer.
"Leave that stack out of the tax return. It's already been taken care of," Kankuro instructed.
"Alright," Kiba responded.
One evening after work, Gaara was weighing tomatoes in his local grocery store. For a few weeks already, Naruto had claimed to be busy at work, and they hadn't seen each other. Given Naruto's dedication for his job, his athletic hobbies, and his numerous friends, Gaara understood that there was only a limited amount of time he could ask for himself.
A glimpse of something familiar caught his attention.
Kiba! Was it really him?
Gaara picked up his pace and followed him along the aisles.
"Hey," he called, "Wait!"
Kiba turned around, and started running, and quickly he was out of Gaara's sight. Kiba had vanished so rapidly that Gaara wondered if he had turned into a ghost. He was nowhere to be seen, but it was then that Gaara noticed his shopping basket abandoned between aisles.
So, had Kiba been in such a hurry to avoid encountering him, that he had ran out of the shop? Gaara felt his spirits sink, and it was then he glanced at the abandoned shopping basket more closely.
It was full of food, and among the groceries, there was a packet of condoms.
It could only mean one thing. He had a job, and someone new.
Gaara felt like he was dropping within himself, he was wrapped in cotton, far away from the surface. World felt unreal, as if everything was only a dream.
In his dizzy state, he managed to pay for his tomatoes, and left the store with conflicting emotions.
Until now, he had postponed thinking about Kiba, believing that things would settle somehow, without pain. He had not let himself feel grief or relief or guilt, when it came to how their relationship had ended. But now, seeing how Kiba avoided him, he was forced to face the realities. Did Kiba loathe him so much that he couldn't even stand to say hello to him? Was Kiba so relieved to finally get free from him, that he had to go as far as to run away?
Again, Gaara felt like sinking within himself, as the mental pain got unbearable. The dizzying feeling separated him from his hurtful emotions, and far away inside his little cotton ball, it felt safe and unthreatening.
Later that week at work, Gaara was going through the books people had returned. He put them in a little cart, so that he could return them to their correct places.
Again, he saw a ghost of something familiar, and hurriedly this time, he ran after it.
Kiba was heading towards the shelves of business economic books.
"Hey, wait!" Gaara exclaimed, and Kiba turned around.
"I just want—" Gaara started, but Kiba was already running away, the hem of his jacket flapping wildly.
"Kiba!" he yelled after him, in desperation, but it changed nothing.
Fearing that some of his coworkers might've seen or heard what happened, he hid among the shelves and panicked. Had he sounded desperate? Did his coworkers now think he had to be a monster, if people ran from him? They had to be thinking that he had done something unthinkable, to make a man flinch from him like that.
Gaara felt like crying. He felt like a failure, a monster, and he wished he had his knife with him, so that he could lock up in the toilet and cut himself.
For always, Kiba had known how to console him when this volatile, suicidal mood took hold of him. But he was nowhere now, and there seemed to be no hope of ever receiving sympathy from him again.
At home, Gaara locked up in his room and took off his shirt and jeans. First, he began cutting his thighs, dissatisfied how the skin there didn't react sensitively enough. It did hurt, but it didn't offer the special kind of intensity he was hoping for.
The skin on his arms responded more sensitively, and he hissed in pain. This was the kind of suffering he craved for, and with watery eyes, he continued cutting. It was addicting and repulsive at the same time, but the physical pain forced away the emotional pain, even if just for a moment.
With watery eyes, he took out a piece of paper, and started writing. When he was finished, he decorated it with his blood, and sealed it in a clean envelope.
The next morning, Gaara hissed in the shower as water hit his wounds. A painful afterkiss of yesterday's despair, yet somehow he enjoyed the reminder.
As he dried himself on a towel, he noticed how the outlines of his body didn't match with how he imagined himself to be. As he looked at himself, these slim thighs, bony arms or narrow hips didn't feel his own. In his mind's eye, his hips were wide, thighs fleshy, and arms soft and round. The cuts on his skin weren't his doing, and personally, he had nothing to do with them.
He chose to wear all black with a maroon scarf to hide his Adam's apple. It felt strange as wind ruffled his short hair, as he was sure he should've had a ponytail.
At work, he managed just alright, but oh how boring the tasks felt at times. Some good-looking young men visited the library, and he glanced at them in a certain way, until internal fright stagnated him to the spot. Under any circumstance, he could not let people know about his secrets. He had to blend in, and not differentiate too much from the accustomed medium that was supposed to be Gaara. When the young men walked past him again, he pretended to ignore them altogether.
After work, he headed to Kiba's. Before ringing the doorbell, he fidgeted and was about to tighten a ponytail he didn't have. Embarrassed, he politely rang the doorbell.
As the door opened, he put on his prettiest smile. "Babe…"
And right at his face, the door slammed shut. Feeling rejected, he swallowed and dug out the small envelope from his bag. It felt like he had not written it, or that Kiba wasn't particularly his special person. But whatever part of him was connected to Kiba, had wanted this to be delivered. With a polite smile, he dropped the envelope through the letterbox in the door.
On the couch, Kiba was curled up into a little ball. The envelope lay on the floor, opened.
You said you would never leave me. I trusted you. You BETRAYED me.
You left me like everybody else. You're no different!
I hate you!
His position felt all but comfortable, but he was too anxious to change it. All he wanted was this mess to go away, his mother to be safe, and to be a free man. Anxiety paralyzed him to a point he couldn't eat, shower or answer his phone, when his mom was calling him later in the evening.
He wanted to forget Gaara, in hopes it would ease out his emotions. He couldn't let him know how Kankuro had threatened him back then, he couldn't console him, and he was frightened of the day when he would realize that Kiba was dating Kankuro of all people.
If I kill myself, it's YOUR FAULT. You broke my heart.
Did you hate me so much that you had to RUN from me? Twice?
I loved you, Kiba. I truly loved you.
If he had known about Gaara's true feelings earlier, he might've turned Kankuro down. Now it felt like he couldn't write it off anymore, as if he was already married, with a gun on his head.
Why did you agree to leave me, when Kankuro meddled into our relationship?
He knows nothing! And you're a COWARD, Kiba!
He wanted to tell Gaara that he hadn't had a choice. But he also had a feeling he wouldn't understand.
I'm so SICK OF YOU. And I hate you!
You will hear from me again. Don't think this is over yet.
He feared that on the day Gaara would learn the truth, blood-covered letters would not be enough. Paralyzed, he hugged himself, and wished he had never been born.
At dusk, Kankuro came to see him. Kiba was still lying on the sofa, paralyzed. He showed him the letter, hoping Kankuro would understand.
"Burn it. And forget it. Gaara is alright, I just met him."
"But…"
"Here," Kankuro interrupted gently, and gave him a pill, "Take this. It'll be alright."
At that point, Kiba didn't even care to know what it was. Even if it killed him, he would still take it. With a glass of water that Kankuro brought, he swallowed it.
That night, peace came to him with ease. In Kankuro's arms, life didn't feel so lonely, and the pleasant chemical intervention made him feel like his worries were far away. Whatever drug it was, he wanted to have it again.