Chapter Text
Gaara didn’t know whether hearing voices in his head meant he was getting better or worse. After all, those intrusive thoughts were telling him positive things for the first time in a while. Instead of being self-deprecating and accusatory, they were encouraging him to dance with the handsome stranger by the bonfire.
On the other hand, the main voice, the one that mostly controlled him and was the loudest of all, did the opposite. Consciously, it fed his insecurities, as if putting himself down were some kind of coping mechanism. It was insistent on pointing out flaws, considering it safer and more prudent to understand his own limitations and defects than to trust in the possibility that everything might turn out fine.
The voices echoed and had a higher pitch than the one that normally came from his vocal cords. In that chaos, he recognized his therapist’s voice, guiding his inner speech with the positive affirmations from their sessions. More than just familiar, they came out automatically, in contrast to the excessive effort Gaara had had to exert during the first few months of therapy.
There was a bitter irony in that. Generally, people who suffer from anxious and involuntary thoughts of self-sabotage actively try to fight them. However, Gaara was so peculiarly resistant to self-love that apparently his unconscious needed to undergo a metaphorical hypnosis, triggered by any behavior “forbidden” by Shizune.
He wasn’t allowed to feed negative thoughts. He wasn’t allowed to drink alcohol, especially excessively. And it was definitely not a good idea for him to be alone if he failed to avoid the first two. Ignoring that advice in favor of following just one (getting out of the house more), he was now trying to drown out the incessant chatter in his head with the last few sips of some random liquor.
His hands were numb, perhaps because of the absurd amount of ice in the drink he was holding (it’s cold!), or perhaps his body was giving up on functioning properly. He wasn’t used to parties, but that night he decided to go. Alone, without telling anyone. For no reason, just an impulse of unknown origin. He was already quite tipsy when he began the internal debate about whether to act or stay leaning against that brick wall for the rest of the night.
He swallowed the watered-down drink and crushed the plastic cup between his fingers, sending ice cubes flying. Gaara felt confident and discouraged at the same time. He leaned his head back against the wall with deliberate force, hoping it would knock some of the thoughts out so that only one would remain.
His gaze shifted between the ground and the face of that smiling boy. He had a wide, genuine smile. Orange eyeshadow framed his large blue eyes, forming a line at the outer corners. His face glowed as much naturally as it did from the firelight. He wore a black windbreaker, and the fully unzipped front revealed a white shirt underneath. Almost hidden by his baggy jeans were sneakers that matched the color of his makeup.
It had been a good ten minutes since he had stopped dancing, now chatting with a couple of friends. That guy seemed to find everything amusing, and the laugh that rose above the music was what had caught Gaara’s attention.
He doesn’t need you bothering him.
The crushed cup was already hurting his hand. Even though it was still damp, he stuffed it into his jacket pocket. He’d considered tossing it onto the lawn, but the hosts were just a few meters away, and it seemed rude to blatantly trash the garden.
"You look like a suspicious guy standing there in the corner. Stop being a weirdo."
That voice didn’t seem to come from inside.
"It’s creepy, Gaara."
"Hm." He stepped away from the wall. "What are you doing here?"
"Damn, can’t a guy graduate without being banned from having fun?" He threw his hands up in mock surrender. "Do I really have to explain myself to my little brother?"
Gaara rolled his eyes, though a restrained smile tugged at his lips.
"No. You’re a grown man already, despite everything."
"Despite everything, huh…" He snorted, slipping his hands into his pockets. "Got a light?"
"I don’t. Is Shikamaru here?"
"Haven’t seen him yet."
There was silence for a moment.
"What about Temari?"
How is she?
"She barely replies to my messages. Too much work."
Gaara just nodded, crossing his arms.
"So what are you doing here? Did someone manage to drag you out of the house before I did? Damn, I’m impressed."
No answer. Kankurou usually enjoyed silence (music didn’t count), but he soon sensed his younger brother’s inner conflict. He recognized that tension as a passive and often unconscious overture, as if to say, ‘I’m willing to open up if you insist.’
"Stuck in your own head again?"
"Yeah, something like that."
Kankurou sighed. He ruffled Gaara’s hair in an awkward gesture of affection before giving the back of his neck a light smack.
"Snap out of it. Have some fun tonight and we’ll talk about it tomorrow, okay?" He looked for a sign of agreement in his brother’s expression, and Gaara nodded. "Alright then."
"Give me one?" Gaara pointed with his chin at the pack sticking out of Kankurou’s pocket.
“Sure, but you’ll have to figure out how to light it.”
Gaara shrugged, holding out his hand.
With the cigarette clenched between his fingers, he walked toward the bonfire. Through the translucent flames, he saw that the couple who had been with the smiling boy were now making out passionately. Uncomfortable, but still with an adorable little smile, he now sat on top of a large cooler. He held a plastic cup with both hands on his lap as he watched the high flames illuminate the garden.
Something in Gaara’s chest pressed, growing and demanding more space.
He glanced at his brother in the distance, who stared back, confused, waiting for him to act. Finally, he carefully brought the cigarette closer to the fire. His original plan was to light it like a cool guy and walk away, but a shove caused him to set the entire cigarette ablaze at once, burning his fingers in the process.
In that awful cold, he wasn’t the only one wanting to get closer to the fire. Small groups gathered around it, some dancing dangerously near. In the heat of the moment, he couldn’t even tell which direction the contact had come from, so he cursed loudly just to make sure the message reached whoever had caused the accident.
Gaara heard someone speak to him, but couldn’t make out what had been said. His eyes watered heavily, and the pain shot up through his head, leaving him suddenly more awake. Almost sober.
When he realized what was happening, he had been pulled down to sit somewhere solid, while someone held his injured hand.
It was the smiling boy, though not so smiley now. He looked worried.
"You okay?"
"I… think so." Gaara shifted on the seat, recognizing it as the cooler the other had been sitting on earlier. A wave of humiliation warmed his cheeks.
A chorus out of sync (his voice and a thousand others) hurled multiple insults at himself.
The duplicated voice of his therapist, disguised as his own, countered: “Progress over perfection.”
He felt an icy touch where an almost unbearable burning had once pulsed.
"It’s ice," the smiling boy said, placing Gaara’s hand inside his cup. "You know, if you wanted a lighter, you could’ve just asked…"
Gaara swallowed hard, unsure what to do. The voices in his head clashed again. The loudest one screamed for him to throw himself into the fire out of sheer humiliation. The others, however, urged him to stay.
He squeezed his eyes shut before looking over at his brother. He was with Shikamaru, holding a cigarette undoubtedly lit in a much safer way. Both of them were looking back at him, laughing. One of them even gestured, signaling for him to turn his attention back to his 'rescuer', who he realized was still holding the cup of ice for him.
"Sorry," Gaara said too quickly, grabbing the cup with his uninjured hand.
"No problem." The smile returned, and Gaara felt strangely aware of how attractive his teeth were. His gaze dropped to the cup as his fingers nervously stirred the ice inside. "Still wanna smoke?" He moved as if to grab a lighter from a hidden inner pocket of his jacket.
Oh, right. That was why he was there. Sort of.
"That was my only cigarette…"
"I’ve got one here. It’s stolen," he laughed, showing it. "And it's a bit squished from being in my pocket for so long, but I think you can still smoke it. Do you care about flavor? It’s cherry."
"Uh…"
"You burned yourself just to light one. I think you deserve it just for the effort."
Gaara laughed awkwardly.
"Your effort to steal it counts too."
"It’d be embarrassing to brag about something like that," he joked. "Besides, the victim was a friend." He gestured with his thumb toward the couple, still kissing, now more subtly.
"I’m sure she won’t miss it."
"She won’t." The guy laughed pleasantly before sitting beside him and introducing himself. "My name’s Naruto. What’s yours?"
Gaara could barely contain his excitement upon hearing that name. He felt proud of himself for not having ruined the conversation and, on top of that, managing to get to the point of introductions.
"Gaara."
"So, Gaara," an intense look, "Do ya want it?"
If those blue irises shone any brighter, Gaara might go blind. They were asking him if he wanted it, perhaps more clearly than Naruto’s voice. His attention shifted from the celestial headlights to the boy’s lips. Slightly parted, teeth visible. Yes, he wanted it. More intensely than ever before. Perhaps it was the loneliness; he hadn’t had human company since moving out of the family house, now occupied only by Kankurou. Perhaps it was the sudden sensitivity that had arisen that night, for no reason. Perhaps it was his superficial nature, which, in contrast, made him deeply admire everything that was beautiful.
Even though Gaara was drunk in so many ways, he knew the offer was something else. Right in front of him was Naruto’s crumpled cigarette between his index and middle fingers. Not his mouth, not his sky-like eyes, not his gentle aura that seemed to seethe and evaporate, warming Gaara’s body like that damned bonfire.
It would be a terrible idea to smoke now. He’d have to turn his face to blow the smoke away from Naruto, and he didn’t want to break the closeness. Besides, one of his hands held the cup of ice, and the other was stuck inside it.
He gestured, trying to explain his situation. It felt wrong to refuse out loud. Naruto understood and nodded. He twirled the cigarette between his fingers before tucking it behind Gaara’s ear.
"For later, then."
Gaara let out a shaky sigh, which could easily be mistaken for a reaction to the cold. He didn’t know what to make of Naruto’s spontaneous kindness. He seemed to be the very definition of charisma personified. No nervousness, no hesitation, no trace of ulterior motives. Hoping to return all that warmth, Gaara shaped the most sincere smile he could manage.
Wanting to change the subject so his accident by the fire would be forgotten as soon as possible, he forced himself to speak:
"Are you a freshman? I don’t remember seeing you before."
"Transfer, actually. I’m from here, so it was easier to come back than to keep living away."
Gaara nodded.
"What are you studying?"
"Education, but it hasn’t made much sense for a while." He shrugged. "Just doing it for the sake of it. What about you?"
"Economics, senior year. You could say it’s a family thing."
It was more complicated than that, actually. But Gaara figured the full explanation would be too much to dump on someone he’d just met. He had enough experience to know his blunt honesty made people uncomfortable. Not that he was an open book, just always willing to be direct.
"Senior year, huh? Lucky you! I still have one more to go."
"I’ve never been so grateful." And unhappy, at the same time. One cycle of suffering ends so another can begin. "You’re almost there too."
"So close they might as well give me the diploma already!" Gaara was watching his expressions and didn’t have a response ready yet. "Just kidding. I’m actually really excited about the internship. Finally getting out of theory."
"So it’ll be your first time?"
"Mm… Technically, yeah. But I’ve been around kids my whole life. I’m the oldest cousin in a big family. I think I’ve probably taken care of the little brats more than their parents." He laughed. "And I was a monitor in a social development program. For two different years. We organized recreational activities for kids during school breaks. It was a really cool experience. The little ones called me ‘uncle,’ and the scavenger hunts were my favorite part. It didn’t even feel like work! It’s nowhere near what it’s like to be a teacher, but it really motivated me to keep going, ya know? It feels like there’s no evil in the world when it’s just kids around. They say silly things that can hurt sometimes, but I can’t lose hope in them."
Gaara smiled without noticing. He never thought he’d feel even more attracted to someone after learning they were good with children. Not that he disliked them. He just didn’t think about them. Gaara had always been the youngest in his family, with no close relatives besides his siblings and father. He also rarely participated in social events, and his interests and hobbies were solitary. There was no room for that kind of interaction.
Naruto seemed especially attractive because he overflowed with passion while speaking. Gaara thought he’d probably feel the same way if he heard him talk about how much he liked drinking water or some mundane activity like that. It was strange Naruto mentioned he was taking the course just for the sake of it.
"You—"
"Naruto!"
A curtain of light blonde hair appeared over Naruto’s shoulders. It was the friend with the cherry cigarettes. Her lips were the same color as them, a slightly pinkish dark red. The culprit stood behind her, bearing the same marks of a good kiss, staring at his phone. Both seemed immune to the cold, their waists exposed down to the top of their hips.
"We’re heading out, you coming? Sorry about—hey, are you okay?" The question was directed at Gaara, and the concern in her tone made it clear it wasn’t just a greeting.
"Uh…"
"Ino, he—"
"Your makeup smudged a bit." With her index finger, she traced a circle in the air in front of her eyes. "I have a mirror if you want—Sai, pocket!"
Still focused on his phone, he simply turned around silently. Ino slipped her hand into one of his back pockets and pulled out a compact mirror.
"Here."
With no other choice, Gaara adjusted the cup of ice between his legs and used his free hand to take the mirror. He thanked her with a nod and, upon checking his reflection, noticed the earlier tears had left faint black streaks beneath his eyes. Had he looked like that the whole time while talking to Naruto?
"Sorry I didn’t say anything. I thought it might’ve been on purpose—uh, I mean, it actually looks cool on you," Naruto nudged his knee against Gaara’s.
"It’s fine."
Gaara resisted the urge to move his knee closer, afraid of spilling the contents of the cup. He awkwardly raised his arm to wipe the makeup off with his jacket sleeve and checked the mirror one last time before handing it back to Ino.
During the interaction, Ino’s attention shifted to Gaara’s other hand, still inside the cup. To his relief, Naruto noticed and intervened before she could ask, answering her earlier question:
"Ino, I’m still going to wait."
"Naruto…"
"Let him," Sai said calmly.
She raised an eyebrow, looking at her partner, then at Naruto, Gaara, and back at Naruto. He stood up, whispered ‘just a minute’ to Gaara, and stepped between Ino and Sai, starting a hushed conversation.