The art of sand

A/N: Things with me should pick up now. A plot has officially been decided on! Thankies very very much to Momma Cat for helping me decide. I owe her my soul now, i do believe =^^= and thanks still to Becca for dealing with me and beta-ing for me. Hope I don't disappoint with future chapters. And I am going to try my very best to get these out much quicker now. Thanks so much for reading and reviewing!


Chapter4

Gaara walked calmly down the streets, hands in his pockets. The occasional street lamp lit his way. Once he had ensured a lack of assassins following him, he had taken to wandering the streets. He ventured downtown. He always toyed with the idea of going into a bar or a club, but never really found himself doing it. As he watched people stumble from the buildings, laughing and, occasionally, puking, he dismissed the idea. Those places always held too many people. He was turning around a corner when he heard his name. He sighed and vanished around the corner. Logic and experience told him running was futile.

"Gaara~! Wait up!"

Gaara ground his teeth together. His hands formed fists inside his pockets. He was tackled to the ground from behind.

"Didn’t you hear me?" Naruto demanded.

"Do you need something?" The response was meant to sound innocent.

Naruto frowned and disconnected his form from Gaara’s. Neji stood behind them. Gaara picked himself up, and looked to the other man. As usual, Neji’s face showed nothing. Gaara nodded to him, and the returned nod assured him there would be no conflict for Naruto’s lack of consideration. Naruto crossed his arms and huffed his frustration. Neji wrapped a soothing arm around the blonde’s waist.

"Gaara-kun probably just wanted to be left alone," Neji muttered.

"No way. Gaa-kun, you haven’t been out in months. You should come with us."

Naruto’s pout was hard to resist. And he knew it. Gaara turned away quickly before falling into that spell.

"No thanks. Hyuuga-san is right."

Naruto started forward to fight. Gaara raised his hand as he walked off. Neji frowned at the retreating back. He kissed Naruto’s forehead and pulled him away. Something was wrong with Gaara, much more so than usual. Naruto was never too bright when it came to the red-haired man’s emotions. Neji led the way home, silently praying Gaara did not turn up in another hospital.


*****

Gaara growled as he sensed the people behind him. He forced back the smile tugging at his lips. He did not have a wallet. He had never been stupid enough to carry anything with value down there. He wrinkled his nose at a foul smell as he walked. The people drew closer to him. They had been following him for several blocks now. He sighed. Best to get it over with. He felt a weird sensation, and was eager to get home and figure it out. He stopped walking and held his hands in the air.

"I don’t carry anything down here. Best to leave before my mood turns sour."

The three men following him locked up in fear. Such menace in that voice. It chilled them to the bone. One man regained composure, and started forward. His leader grabbed his forearm and shook his head.

"Not him. I have a pretty good feeling he could rip us apart," he whispered.

His companion cursed, but resigned. The men scrambled off in the other direction. Gaara frowned in disappointment and headed home. He had been looking for a fight. Only his luck would have denied him that chance. And just when he was the most frustrated. Fuck. Gaara opened his apartment door shortly after the encounter. He let himself fall wearily onto the couch after locking up. Only then did he remember the feeling. He was tired. A true smile graced his features. Try as he might, he could not remember the last time he had let himself sleep. No one was trying to kill him now. Sleep would be most welcome. Gaara slowly pulled himself up. He pealed his clothes from his body. Shower first. Sleep second. He stepped into the bathroom to shed the last of his clothes and turn on some hot water. He was surprised at the dirt washing off his body as he bathed. He had not expected to come back from a walk filthy. He smiled to himself for showering first. Very good choice. The water raced down his body in little streams. Gaara savored the heat. Feeling clean was always the best. His eyes starting drooping and he knew it was time to leave the steaming water and get some much needed rest. He just managed to get something on his legs before falling into his bed. He mused at the fact h had never really slept in the thing since he bought it, and he let the dreams that awaited claim him.



******

The paintbrush fell to the ground softly. The paint clinging to the brush made a nice circle on the floor. A loud smack resonated in the small room. The owner of said paintbrush watched it roll away. His pale cheek reddened quickly. The much older man standing over him grabbed his hair and pulled his gaze back into cold eyes.

"Do it again."

Sai nodded into the grip. He was released. He watched his father’s retreating form. He slowly bent to pick up the brush. The red spot on the floor made his heart tighten in his chest. He frowned slightly, and touched the place where the pain throbbed. He stared at the painting in front of him. The flowers were red. Not pink. A very nice, dusty red color. The greens were much too light. Sai broke the paintbrush in his grip. Even now the man was plaguing his thoughts. Sai dropped the broken pieces to the ground once more. He roughly pushed the canvas off the stand. A book lay open next to him on a small table; the pages were open. The picture in the book matched the one now lying on the ground. The two were identical, save for the color differences. Sai knocked the book down as well before standing. He calmly exited the room, locking the door behind himself. He made his way to his room carefully. He smiled and nodded to a random servant on his way. The servant bowed low until he had passed. Sai entered his room and began removing his clothes for bed. He stared at his hands after removing his shirt. The greens and reds were still there. The paints set his pale flesh ablaze with colour. He felt the heat rise to his cheeks. He imagined Gaara’s skin must be pale under those clothes. He smiled and finished undressing. He was in his bed, staring at the ceiling, waiting for sleep to claim him. He would never be so stupid as to leave any traces for someone to find. Bathrooms only, he reminded himself.


******

Gaara was adorable. He held onto his pillow for dear life. The goofy grin on his face was most out-of-character. Too bad, no one was around to see Gaara in the cutest state possible. His normally messy hair was even worse than usual, and his sheets were bunched around his waist. He snuggled into the pillow, the grin widening. He muttered as he rolled over and repositioned himself.

"Oneesan, more," he groaned.

Gaara opened his mouth wide and chomped down on the corner of the pillow and chewed. His nose scrunched upon tasting the material.

"No, not those…. Oneesan… the marshmallows…."

Gaara bit down on the pillow again and hugged it tighter. Seriously, had anyone been there, he would have been pounced on. No joke.