Insomnia

VIII

Neji knew he’d been tricked when he woke one morning and found himself alone in the house. Kankurou and Shikamaru must have skipped out around midnight- that was the only time Momogi was guaranteed to be dead asleep. So now Neji was stuck in Sunagakure, with Gaara, unable to tell which way was home. For however long, he was essentially a prisoner. When he found out who’s bright idea this was, he was going to kill that person in a very horrible ways. He crawled out of bed and made for the bathroom for a shower. He took a cold one, if only because he knew the day was going to be horribly warm. Dry, Neji stood naked in his room, feeling the warmth of the sun on his skin already, and slowly move to dress in the clothes provided to him, more suited to Suna’s environment. Ready, Neji felt his way from the bedroom, counting the steps to the kitchen He’d memorized where the food was placed and so sought out his meager breakfaster of an orange and water.

“That’s not very healthy, you now.”

On instinct, Neji chucked the orange at Gaara’s head and backpedaled, putting distance between them. Gaara only tilted his head to the side to allow the citrus fruit to fly harmlessly by, letting out scathing laughter.

“You need practice, Neji. Or you’ll be dead.”

“One of us will,” Neji ground out, tensing as he felt Gaara approaching him.

“Is that a threat?” Gaara whispered, so close to Neji now the Hyuuga could feel his breath.

Neji bared his teeth. “A promise.”

Gaara laughed again and turned away, turned back and left the room, leaving Neji aloe. The brunette shivered and felt for another orange, managing to find one that wasn’t too rotten. He sighed, deciding if he was going to live here for god knows how long, he might as well do some shopping.

“Don’t bother,” Gaara said upon his return. He moved over to Neji, grabbed his wrist and tugged to upset his balance, earning a gasp and retaliatory punch in his kidney for it. Gaara growled and shook his guest, frowning as he remembered Neji’s handicap and the that the shake would probably disorient him. He finally shrugged and let go of the Hyuuga who gracelessly stumbled back into the counter and clung to it as a drowning man clings to floated debris.

“Why not?” Neji bit out, still reeling from the latest abuse.

Again the pointless gesture of eye rolling. “Because you aren’t living –here– . This is Kankurou’s place, not mine.”

“So I can’t remain where everything is familiar?”

“Well, when you put it that way, no.” Gaara replied before his first short out to grab a handful of the brunette’s long hair. “Our first order of business today is your hair.”

Neji winced at the tugging and promptly kicked Gaara’s chest. The redhead grunted and partially loosened his grip on the brunette’s hair. That grip soon tightened and jerked, bringing Neji against Gaara and forcing his head back. Gaara was studying those blank eyes still glaring ineffectively, head tilting. He sighed softly.

“I can do it or Temari can do it. Either way, it’s getting out.”

“Don’t I get a say in this!?” Neji shouted in a low growl, hands on Gaara’s wrist to try and get him to let go. Even fingers in pressure points weren’t working!

“Yeah,” Gaara replied somewhat snidely, “you get to choose who cuts your hair.”

“Bastard.”

“Sticks and stones, Neji. Let’s go.” Without releasing his grip, Gaara pulled Neji from the kitchen by his hair, and dragged him out of the apartment. Neji thought he heard snickers and felt shame colour his cheeks. He thought getting away from his family would’ve been a good thing. Now he wasn’t so sure. At least his clan wasn’t abusive. He jerked his head from Gaara’s grip and felt a clump of his hair rip form his scalp. Ignoring the pain, he stalked past Gaara and promptly tumbled down a set of stairs. Suddenly he was lifted, held close and tight and again he scented blood and wind and sand – that gentle presence from before – and so he clung. When the pair landed, that person helped him stand and checked him for injury. Neji recoiled when a bruise was brushed and got shushed at.

“Let me see,” Gaara said in his Kazekage voice, watching Neji’s face as his brain connected one memory with another. Still, Gaara took the opportunity to check Neji’s wounds, satisfied when the brunette wasn’t showing signs of a concussion.

Neji jerked away from him a little. “I cried in front of you,”

“You cried on me,” Gaara corrected. “Look, it doesn’t matter, okay? You needed it.”

Gaara moved then and took Neji’s hand, pulling him along, away from the apartment toward his office where Temari was waiting. Neji was silent through their trip, no doubt thinking of the implications of his earlier actions. Gaara just rolled his eyes for the third time and led Neji along. He didn’t even bother to explain to Temari why Neji was so sullen and confirmed her suspicions of his bad mood when he promptly sat behind his desk and buried himself in his work. The blonde woman glared at her brother before she took Neji’s hand and led him to the balcony.

“Sit here.” She said, moving from the Hyuuga to get a sheet, wrapped that around him like a blanket. She picked up a brush and paid careful attention to that mass.

“Why does it have to be cut?” Neji asked quietly.

“Because it’ll weigh you down, plus it’s really hot.” Temari replied. “Unless you want pigtails.

“Why not a bun?”

“You wanna deal with a bun every day? I can see it now. Neji Hyuuga blind and a woman.”

“Fuck you,” Neji said heatedly. Temari giggled as she picked up a comb and scissors.

“Good boy Neji. You’ll survive after all.”

Neji fought the trembling as he listened to the snip of scissors in his hair. He’d liked it long because his father’s hand been that way, and so he had never changed it. He stared ahead into the black distance and decided maybe it was time to change now. After all, he had a new challenge to win now, and someone new to prove himself to. He closed his eyes and listened to Temari hum as she worked and trusted himself to her hands.