Naruto Fan Fiction ❯ A Beautiful Day in the Neighborhood ❯ Chapter 4

[ T - Teen: Not suitable for readers under 13 ]

A Beautiful Day in the Neighborhood

By: emeraldoni

CHAPTER IV

Disclaimer: Naruto belongs to Masashi Kishimoto, not me.

Sakura flipped the blinds closed with a snap she hoped no passerby noticed. Feeling like some type of detective, or more aptly, a criminal, she stumbled around her apartment with the lights out, only the filtered glow of streetlamps casting odd shadows on the laminated floor. Cursing as she stubbed her toe against a foreign object, probably that new brick she had gotten to help support the coffee table, Sakura collapsed against the couch as she rubbed her foot.

“Dammit…”

How could she have forgotten? Was she just stupid, or just mentally insane? Really, who forgot these things?

Sakura flinched as another knock came to her door and once again she thanked Kami the fact that she lived in an apartment, rather than a house that could easily be Toilet Papered. Heaven forbid she should have to clean up such a mess during her vacation, or at any time, for that matter.

Yes, she was glad she didn't have a house. Really, she was. Especially considering the fact that she had forgotten it was Halloween; The time when nasty little chitlins ran about in devilish costumes and stole money from your pockets.

Damn, she already felt like a horrible old hag. For some reason though, Sakura didn't feel so guilty; probably had to do with the fact that, as a child, she never had the chance to go Trick-or-Treating. Never had she dressed as a witch or a bride—and oh, she would definitely not go there—and never did she have a pumpkin-head pail filled with sticky sweets that would be stashed away and not found until a year later.

Sakura sighed as she struggled with a puffy coat, hopefully enough to protect against the cold.

She shouldn't feel regret though, because she had some much more than other kids, what with her… family. Oh, maybe in the traditional sense, people would fill pity, but she knew, though it once was hard, she was loved.

Peeking out of her door, making sure there were no little goblins about with grasping, pudgy fingers, Sakura stepped out, wallet in hand.

It was tough, very tough. Her family had been so…odd. Different in a sense that made her a bit of an outcast with her schools mates, though it was the same for the others in her family as well (kind of, two out of three, at least). Yet when she went home, greeted by an annoying—secretly welcomed—hug, a laid-back “Yo,” and a dark, superficial glare… well, all was put right.

Nipping wind caught at her sleeves as Sakura wrapped her arms about herself, shoving the nostalgic thoughts away. Giggles came from waist tall, little people in a variety of costumes. A smile graced the nurses lips as she watched them, turning away to speed up her step to gain some warmth in her stiffening muscles. She probably should have put something warmer than sweat pants on (was that all she going to wear on her vacation? How pitiful…) but she wanted to make this as quick as possible.

Shadows cast about in abstract angles, a painting of yellow, brown, and blue tones that whispered of subtle text completely ignored by many, Sakura a part of the mass. With a relieved sigh, Sakura jogged up to the pale blue glow of the convenience store. Wrappers littered the ground, glittering with a deceiving brightness under the stores flickering neon signs.

Sakura let loose a gust of held breath as she stepped into the warm, blinding space which was nearly deserted. The older man at the counter completely ignored her, Sakura returning the favor as she headed strait for the candy section. Greeting her was a wide array of various chocolates and other imaginative concoctions that were sweet in fat.

Sakura wished she didn't undeniably love them. Maybe she needed candy rehab, too get rid of the sweet tooth and the extra flab that had accumulated around her waist. Sakura was certainly no stick, and she easily admitted that. She couldn't be anorexic if she tried (and believe it, she had tried).

With a glimmer in her eye, Sakura fingered an exaggerated amount of mini-sized candies that would most likely end up in her cupboard, or closet…or bedside table.

Sakura refrained from asking the checker to double bag the unneeded food—though the bag looked way overstuffed, especially considering she had added Cheesy Poofs to the list and some soda: diet, she tried to reassure herself—the man looked as though ready to snap someone's head off with pinky toe, or something equally awful.

Sakura regretted her choice though as soon as she walked out of the little, bedraggled store, because she swore her arms were going to snap off. What with all she had bought, cramped into only two bags—and not double bagged, she reminded herself—Sakura knew something would go flying into a gutter before she got home. At least, with her luck something of that sort would happen.

So preoccupied with her thoughts, Sakura paid no heed to the looming figure walking the opposite direction as she, strait towards her. She cursed under her breath as she tried to stop the plastic form cutting off the circulation in her digits, only to shriek as she collided with a very solid figure.

Candy and junk food scattered (as she predicted) and Sakura let loose some more colorful language as she turned to glare at the offending person… who had just so happened to completely ignore the accident and just walk away.

“Hey!” Cried Sakura, fuming cheeks pinker than her concealed hair, hidden under the hood of her jacket.

“Hey, Buddy!”

With a furious twist in her gut, and a thoughtless action, Sakura reached out to grab the man with numb fingers…

And was met with ebony eyes, a pair she hadn't seen in years.

“Sasuke…?”

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Gaara growled at the three-millionth knock his door had received, along with the whispered giggles from midget sized annoyances who he would most certainly not participate in this damnable holiday with.

Fuck Halloween.

Relaxing as the small patter of disappointed feet faded away, Gaara turned back to staring raptly at the swirling, grainy surface of his table. Well, he had been focused on shining an already too clean of dagger (which he wasn't allowed to have, but did anyway) but for some reason that had quickly lost his participation, only to lie in glittering, alluring malice on the table he was currently lost in.

With a sigh, Gaara leaned back in the darkness (for his lights had been turned off to deter unwanted visitors) arms crossed as he tore his gaze away from the wood to face the ceiling, eyes closed as he tried to calm his mind like the Shrink had taught him.

Oh, he could do it his way, like he did every night, but the Shrink didn't like that way, and so he was supposed to meditate that way.

For all it was worth, he tried, but it was too below him to pursue, so he just went back to his normal form of self-calming meditation.

Gaara tensed though, as a clatter sounded in the hallway. Dark eyes flickered to the doorway, suspecting another masquerade of toddlers, only to be shocked with a different sound.

Getting up carefully, as though broken glass protruded from the floor, he walked over to his door, curious eyes in an uncharacteristic show of wideness. Callused hand slowly gripped the icy doorknob, bare feet widening slightly.

Was that really…?

Was that crying?

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A violent motion, a rush of shock and Sakura was sent stumbling back to the ground. Wide green eyes stared up at the shadowed man as he stared down at her impassively, his eyes glinting coldly.

“Don't touch me.” He said, and with a hole in her chest, Sakura realized that she was unrecognized. It was Sasuke, her Sasuke, their Sasuke: the Sasuke that had left them those years ago, his location foreign and wrapped in mystery, completely unknown.

“Sasuke…” she whispered again, face prickling, eyes feeling as though thousands of tiny needles were poking into them. Her rear was cold and damp from being shoved unto the unyielding cement. Sasuke didn't hear her voice either, instead, with another sharp glare, he turned his back, walking away with that all too familiar proud gate and strait set of shoulders.

Staggering up, Sakura reached a hand out, “Sasuke!” she cried, tears falling.

Once, when she was young, too you to clearly remember, someone told Sakura that there were two different sets of tears: Hot and cold. Hot tears were ones of passion, pain, and recovery, of hurt, injured hope.

Cold tears were different. They were of those truly despairing, of those bereft of hope and moving on and healing. They froze on warm cheeks and called only sadness and pity to them. Cold tears never screamed, always silent, lost in shadow.

Sakura's tears felt cold.

She had thought she had gotten over this before, but seeing him again had ripped the scar right off, leaving only a bleeding wound, pumping out her life fluids, unrecoverable. How could she be subjected to this more than once? Family disappearing had to be one of the hardest tragedies a person could go through, but then having them return, in the most unexpected places, and have them not recognize you…

A despairing sob wracked her frame as she fell back in a slump on the icy sidewalk.

He had ignored her.

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Gaara found a hunched over, bundled up figure curled up against his neighbor's door, shuddering with stifled sobs and heaving sides. He stared, as though willing the person to stop, get up and walk away, all better, without having to force him self to help them. There was something about crying that got to them, especially when it was as pitiful as this.

With a sigh, Gaara reached out to touch the person lightly on the shoulder.

Sakura twitched violently as her head jerked up to stare at the offender, only to reveal tattooed eyes staring down at her, blank but a little wider than usual. Something about seeing Gaara's face just made her cry all the harder, though she hated it and wished to stop, it just kept coming.

Something about people being around her when she was so vulnerable just made it all the worse. She desperately hoped that maybe he would just walk away.

He didn't, instead grabbing the collar of her jacked and hauling her up to her feet.

Sakura was completely silent, mouth agape as blotchy eyes widened with shock and outrage and a million other swirling emotions that she was just too stunned to express.

“Sakura.” He said, gripping her upper arm as he steered her—still too shocked to do much—into his own apartment. A dreary darkness met her eyes, blinded by shadow, until a flick met her ears, along with bright flooding of light into the small space, almost identical to her own abode.

“Sit.” He said stoically as he gently pressured her into a chair, next to a table littered with weapons. In some vague, distant part of her mind she realized that she was supposed to be disturbed by that, but, somehow, it didn't bother her at all. In all reality, she was too dazed to be disturbed by anything.

(Though she had noticed that Gaara wasn't wearing a shirt and, well, he didn't look half bad: Especially with the sweats riding a bit low.)

Eyes following the redhead around the small kitchen space, Sakura snuffled, and as the shock wore of, the hurt hit her again and the crying started once again. Gaara glance her way, his movements becoming more hurried in the hope of making her stop. Soon.

What could make the normally jovial girl so upset was beyond him, and he hoped—not that he would ever admit it—that it wasn't because of his outburst the a few nights ago. In some corner of his mind, one that was, on average, ignored, he had felt a bit guilty for yelling at her, and the fact that he had found her balling her eyes out just a few days later didn't help assuage the nagging feeling at all.

He sighed as finally the telltale whistle of the teapot went off, and quickly poured the steaming water into a chipped mug with a soothing teabag. He hoped the package was right, and that it really was calming. Gaara, for one, had never drunk it. He hadn't even bought it; it was a gift from Temari, kind of a joke, and kind of not.

Sakura blinked up at the cup held before her, “Take it.” Said Gaara, setting it on the table before her, before seating himself in a chair as well, the only other chair she noticed. She assumed the third one was the broken pile of sticks in the corner, though how it had ended up that way she didn't want to learn.

Finally calming, tears staunched, Sakura offered a wilted smile, “Thanks…” She sniffed the tea, wrapping cold finger around the flowered porcelain, which only made her smile widen just a bit more.

Gaara stared at her, arms crossed, muscles taught, revealing how tense he was. Sakura noted the lithe way his body slumped into the chair; how he was thin but muscled at the same time, how his body was… really nice.

Shifting her eyes, Sakura focused her attention on the little whorls flowing across the table's surface.

Gaara felt like groaning. Was she being purposely difficult, or was she just stupid? Couldn't she just spill her problem, get better, then leave? Apparently he would have to—he felt disgusted with himself—probe.

“Sakura.” He said, feeling even more uncomfortable by the second, especially when she looked up at him. He made sure his expression was one that would urge her to speak, thus he wouldn't have to.

Sakura caught the hint.

“Sorry,” she muttered into her tea, “I'm really sorry…”

She heaved a sort of dry sob, a shaky breath meant to calm her self into speaking without tears.

“I just… I saw someone who has been…gone…for a long time.”

Gaara leveled his gaze back to her, “Hm.”

Sakura sighed, finally feeling stable enough to start into a normal conversation. With a minute laugh, she completely turned the conversation.

“So, how have you been doing, Gaara?”

He blinked, taking more than a moment to answer, “Fine.”

“Good, good…Ah! Shit!”

Gaara jumped just a second after Sakura did, a woody clatter filling the small space, “I left my bags on the street!” she exclaimed. Gaara, raising a brow, lowered himself back into his seat, arms crossing once more.

“Hey! What kind of reaction is that?”

Gaara resisted the urge to role his eyes, “They're gone by now.”

Sakura puffed in an offended matter, huffing until the outrage depleted out of her, hot air near tangible in the hanging silence. With a dramatized sigh, Sakura collapsed in her chair, slumping even more than Gaara.

“You're right. There's no way they're still there. If the little mini monsters didn't get them, some bum did.”

“Mini monsters?”

Sakura laughed out loud, “Yeah, the little kids running around in costumes. They're cute and all, but, well… you know.”

Gaara did indeed know, and he gave a little nod to agree with her. A small silence ensued, not uncomfortable, not comfortable, but just there.

“You know,” Sakura finally said, softly, eyes directed at him, “some say that only a small percentage has to do with actually talking, and that most of it is body language.” Her small hands plucked on a loose string attached to her puffy coat.

“You're not that hard to read.”

Gaara stayed silent, slightly offended at her blatant comment and the rest shocked at her observation. Most of his life he had been repeatedly told how hard it was to read him. Then, there was this girl, crying just a few minutes ago, making a theory on him that was, well…

He was left speechless, for lack of a better comparison.

Sakura's lips tilted upward, “I've had practice with impassive boys,”

`Boys?' Was Sakura calling him a boy? He was in his mid twenties.

She went on, ignorant of his indignation, “I used to live with one, you know. Two, really, the other wore more of mask—literally and figuratively—while Sas—”

She paused, lips quivering, drawing in a trembling breath, and moving on, “He was really quiet, didn't like people so much, and had an absolutely horrible superiority complex. Yet…he was in pain. We weren't really related, none of us, but we still were together. I probably had the happiest past out of them all.”

“Naruto… Naruto lived on the streets all his life. He was abandoned, you know. He's like my brother. He can make friends with anyone; really loud, obnoxious, annoying, but can make anyone feel better, no matter what.”

Gaara watched as Sakura's eyes faded in and out, not seeing anything in front of her, but something long gone, something he would never see.

“I just saw him a couple days ago. I think even you would like him.”

Gaara snorted silently.

“Then there's Kakashi. He took us all in. he was kind of forced to, actually, but I think he loved us all the same.”

Gaara wondered why she was telling him all this. Then again, he had wanted her to get this off her chest so she could leave with out tears (and him without guilt). Yet somehow, even though his reasons for hearing her out were rude and insensitive, he still found himself riveted upon her words.

“And, guess what,” Gaara didn't respond, but Sakura rambled on anyway, like a broken record, “I haven't once seen his face. I've known him for over a decade and I've only seen his eyes—they're mismatched, by the way. He always keeps one of them covered. And he's pretty young, not even forty, I think, but his hair his silver. Different, huh?”

Gaara didn't comment on the fact that pink locks were far more different that a premature gray mop.

“I love him very much too.”

Sakura sighed, “I haven't talked to him in weeks.” She laughed, a pitiful, broken thing, more like the sob of an animal wounded and infected, “I never return his calls. I don't know why.

“And then…then…” Sakura stumbled, “Then there's Sasuke—I haven't seen him in…years. Girls really like him. He was very popular in high school, even if he did act like a brat…

“He disappeared…

“At least, until tonight.”

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Gaara sighed as he stared up at the ceiling, lying on top of a made bed with slightly rumbled sheets.

Maybe he had misjudged Sakura. She had just left a little while ago, a small smile with a thank you to along with it. Her empty mug still sat on the table, untouched, ignored, and abandoned, yet still in his mind, just like her.

It seemed as though maybe the girl next door was not as innocent and naïve as he had first thought. Sakura was no bubble of joy and happiness; she struggled to live, just like many others. She had troubles, she had pain; she even had tears. Thinking back, he thought her every bit superficial, shower, a Barbie doll with a permanent grin and tears of sugar.

Gaara sighed as he put his hands behind his head, readying himself to meditate, and keep sleep at bay for as long as possible.

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A/N: I am so sorry about the wait. I really am. I've had to work and study and fill out college applications and I am every bit as overwhelmed as I sound. I will try to get the next one out as soon as possible, but I've got to work all weekend, etc…

Please review. I was so disappointed in the number of reviews I received last time. It kind of put me into a bit of a funk, accompanying my busy schedule. I know it's shallow, but please help me out here, with a critique of some sort. Anything, really.

On a better note. I just found out that I am the science student of the month at my school. Where the fuck that came from, I have no idea, but it's kind of cool. I guess…

Anyways, until next time…

emeraldoni