you are home

MONDAY, NOVEMBER 20

Sasuke raised his fist, knocking twice on the closed door to his homeroom. The wooden frame was cold against his knuckles. Rubbing the back of his hand to warm it, he waited in silence until someone in the classroom told him to—

"Come in," he heard, to which he complied.

The boy stepped into the classroom; his eyes wandered straight to the front of the classroom—where his homeroom teacher sat with his feet on his desk. The man had his eyes fixated on his book (most likely a romance selection from the cover), seemingly uninterested in whatever was going on around him.

Sasuke walked towards his homeroom teacher, keeping watch of the man. He was determined to get the information he came for.

"Mr. Hatake—"

"Oh, please," the man interrupted him in a jovial tone, not once looking up from his book. "Just call me Kakashi. No need to be so formal. I'm only your homeroom teacher, after all."

"I was looking for extracurriculars and was hoping you could help," Sasuke said, completely skipping over what he was told.

He just needed answers; then he'd leave. He honestly didn't want this interaction to take too long anyway.

Kakashi looked up from his book, eyeing Sasuke for a few moments. He lowered his feet off his desk and grabbed a bookmark, noting where he stopped reading before closing his book and setting it aside.

"How's Gaara doing?" Kakashi asked, sitting up straight as he waited for the boy to answer. "I heard from Mr. Sarutobi that you were late coming into your math class."

The change in topic threw him off, but Sasuke guessed it was warranted. After all, Kakashi did tell him to take the redhead to the front office.

"He went home," Sasuke answered after much reluctancy. "He said he was fine."

"I see," Kakashi muttered as he nodded. "That's good to hear."

"I had a note," Sasuke explained, thinking back to the comment made earlier. "I wasn't tardy for no reason. You know that."

The thought of his teachers talking behind his back didn't feel too good. The smallest pit in his stomach formed, but he forced it out of his conscious mind. Sasuke didn't want to have to experience that again, not after—

...not after what happened in his last school, he thought to himself. 

No, he couldn't have that. Not at this school. Not ever again.

"I do know that," Kakashi confirmed. "I never said you were in trouble, Sasuke. You seem like a responsible young man. Your teacher was just a little worried about you, that's all."

Sasuke looked away, staring at the door. He could leave now.

Maybe joining an extracurricular was a bad idea. There were plenty of other things he could do—to stay away from home, to stay away from Itachi. Interacting with his homeroom teacher was bad enough; he didn't want to interact with more people.

Joining an extracurricular would mean that he would be a part of something. Being a part of something, even by association, was never good. 

"After all," Kakashi continued, paying close attention to the way Sasuke's eyes wandered, "I am your homeroom teacher. People will come to me to ask about you. I’m practically supposed to care for you."

It didn't seem to faze Sasuke in any way. 

Kakashi knew how to change that.

"You wanted to know about extracurriculars, right?" he asked the teenager, gleaming when the boy's eyes met his again.

Gotcha, Kakashi thought to himself.

"Well, you came to the right person," the man sighed, reaching for a file on his desk. "I know just the thing. Pull up a chair; it might take a while."

Even if he could find other things to do, if his homeroom teacher was offering a solution, Sasuke would take it. The boy deliberated on the idea, thinking through his options as Kakashi flipped through the file.

He didn't have any other choice. This was as good as it was going to get.

Besides, Sasuke contemplated, how bad could it be?

Sasuke complied, reaching for the nearest chair and dragging it over. He sat facing Kakashi, sliding his backpack off until it laid by his feet.

"Though, keep in mind," Kakashi warned, "it's November. Clubs are pretty much filled up. If you want to join my club, it's going to take a lot."

Sasuke quirked an eyebrow at the man, demanding more information.

"My club asks for high involvement," Kakashi continued. "You may need to stay after school for a couple of hours, take time out of your day to practice and prepare for the club meetings, and show the coordinators why they should add you as a member."

"That sounds like a regular club," Sasuke insisted. "Every extracurricular asks for time and effort."

"And commitment," Kakashi added, closing the binder in his hands. "A lot of commitment."

"Okay, so what is it? What's the club?"

Kakashi laughed, setting the file down and sliding it over to Sasuke. The bolded words on the front of the binder caught his attention rather quickly—a little too quickly, in fact. With hesitance, Sasuke opened it to the first page, struggling to place how he felt.

"Go on," Kakashi encouraged, smiling somewhat expectantly (yet tired?). "We've got a lot of debriefing to do."

The bed was uncomfortable. His room was too bright. The sunlight coming through the window was dulling as the day grew closer to sunset, but it was still too warm and too bright and—

Ugh. His head.

Gaara laid under his covers, avoiding the light. The blanket on top of him wasn't thick, but it suffocated him. It was heavy, and he was sweating. He was sinking into the firm mattress of his bed. It hurt; everything hurt—

His head. His hands. His chest. His arms. His head. His legs. His ears. His eyes. His head. His head. His head.

His fucking head.

He screamed. Even he knew his voice was raw.

Gaara clawed at his temples, scratching deep into the sides of his head in order to lessen the pain. The pain, unsurprisingly, didn't simmer; instead, it traveled behind his eyes and into his jaw. The hinges of his mouth burned at the need to open wider.

The weight of his covers suddenly felt too light. He wanted something heavier—no, he wanted something that can hold him down and stop him from screaming. His once-firm bed was now too soft. It swallowed him in a way that didn't feel right. 

Gaara didn't feel right. He didn't know what would make it right for him. Everything kept changing its pace. He just wanted everything to stop: time, space, the world around him, and the pain in his head.

"—aara! Gaara! GAARA!"

All too suddenly, the brightness of his room filtered into his eyes. He felt himself being grabbed and turned onto his back. Firm restraints held his hands and arms away from him, keeping them pressed at his sides against the too-soft mattress. 

He couldn't breathe.

Whether it was from shock and utter pain, his vision blurred from either darkness or tears. Ironically enough, he would rather want to cry than to pass out. Going unconscious meant going to sleep. Going to sleep meant nightmares.

"—here!"

The redhead looked for the source of the ruckus around him. There was something else in the background; he didn't know who or what—

"Open your mouth."

There was a rattle near his ear; he knew what it was. Gaara shook, starting to thrash. He knew where this was leading him to.

"Gaara, it's just medici—"

Kankuro. His older brother was here.

That couldn't be good. Kankuro rarely wanted anything to do with him.

Gaara forced himself to look around, trying to get up. He frantically eyed his room, taking note of his arms being held down at his sides with heavy hands. He tried to break free, only to realize that Kankuro did not plan to let him go.

The distinctly familiar rattle came back. Gaara turned and saw bottles of medication opening one by one. He tried to look away—to get up and run—but Kankuro's weight stopped him from moving too much.

"I don't want—" Gaara's voice cracked as he screamed, "Leave me alone! Leave me the hell alone!"

He felt Kankuro maneuver him into a sitting position, with his back pressed against his older brother's chest. His arms were crossed and tucked into his own chest, constricting him from breathing, yet Gaara knew it was to stop him from thrashing. 

"NO! NO, GET AWAY!" Gaara struggled against Kankuro's hold, watching as the pills he was going to be made to take start to pile. "GET AWAY FROM ME OR I SWEAR TO GOD I WILL KILL YOU! I SWEAR I'LL KILL YOU! I SAID LET ME GO!"

"Not the first time I've heard that," Kankuro scoffed, tightening his hold on Gaara.

The redhead kicked in any direction he could, trying to get away—trying to breathe. He couldn't breathe. The hold Kankuro had on him was too tight and it left him gasping for air.

Gaara looked around for something—anything—to help him. He wanted to flee.

In the corner of his eye, he saw a hand inching towards him, only to back away when Gaara's foot flew too close. He heard someone (Kankuro) curse in his ear before another leg hooked in front of him. It held his left leg down from thrashing, giving his right leg the last amount of autonomy he had.

"Give them to me," he heard Kankuro demand, removing one hand away from his hold. 

This was his chance.

Gaara swung violently, elbowing the body he was pressed against. He clawed towards the end of his bed, fighting against the too-soft mattress as it swallowed him, slowing him down. He almost made it, until a hand grabbed his ankle and pulled him back, flipping him over.

Gaara screamed in fear, forced down on his back. Kankuro's full body weight was on him—sitting directly on his legs and holding his arms above his head. All too quickly, something was forced into his mouth before a hand clamped over the bottom half of his face—preventing him from spitting out what it was.

It didn't take long for Gaara to realize it was a pill.

"Swallow it," Kankuro hissed from above, glaring down at him.

Gaara heard the malice in his older brother's voice. He heard the annoyance, the anger, and the fatigue.

...Kankuro? 

He felt the hand on his mouth press against him harder. The pressure against his teeth ached. Everything hurt more than it should.

No. No, this wasn't Kankuro.

"Stop acting like a fucking child," Kankuro emphasized, "for once."

"Kankuro," Temari said. "Stop. That's enough."

"No, it's not enough! It's never enough! Is it, Gaara?!"

"Get out," Temari demanded, pulling Kankuro off of her younger brother. "Now."

Gaara felt the restricting weight come off of him, but the pain of being held down was still there. The pill that was forced in his mouth rested halfway on his tongue. There was a phantom burn spreading across his mouth.

Kankuro. It was just Kankuro. 

His arms and legs ached. They would probably bruise from the force Kankuro used to restrain him. Gaara knew he'd have to make sure the bruises remained unseen. It was already hard enough to hide the scars; thankfully enough, the sleeves of his school uniform were long enough.

Otherwise, they'd make it seem like he was being hurt. Gaara knew he wasn't being abused. Temari and Kankuro wouldn't hurt him unless they had to. It was all his fault for not listening in the first place.

God, this was all his fault.

Gaara sobbed. He didn't want Kankuro to get in trouble over his wrongdoings.

"Oh, look," Kankuro gestured, exasperated, "Now he's crying! Is that my fault too?!"

Temari pointed at the door, yelling, "Get out!"

"You're the one that asked for my help!"

"I didn't mean that you could go in and hurt him!"

It was all his fault.

Gaara tried to keep his composure, but heavy sobs slipped out unwarranted. He felt himself being raised and maneuvered into a sitting position, resting against a stack of pillows. There came a hand, smoothing over his hair and resting steadily at his chin.

"Spit it out," Temari gently ordered. "You don't have to take that one."

Feeling freed by the constraints of swallowing the pill in his mouth, Gaara spit out the medication into Temari's hand. The action itself made him feel like a child, but the act was comforting. 

"Tem—" Gaara sobbed, breathing in deeply to catch his breath. "T-Temari, I don't... I-I don't want to take them..."

Temari stayed by his side, discarding the spit-up pill into a napkin paper. She reached for the other pills she pulled out. Gaara saw them—his eyes darting to and from Temari's face and the pills in her hand. Hopelessness crawled into him again.

"Temari, please," Gaara begged. "Please, please don't make me..."

Temari stared at him blankly. She always did when she was tired.

"Take these," she said monotonously. "It'll make you feel better."

"No, no, please, Temari, I don't want to take them,” Gaara tried to reason, wanting to explain why so she could care enough to understand. "They make it worse, I swear. The pills make me tired and I end up falling asleep and—"

"Yeah, well," she shrugged, a faint smile catching on her lips. "When was the last time you fell asleep?"

"I can't...! I-I can't— The voices keep coming back and—"

"I'll be right here. They won't hurt you if I'm here."

Gaara wanted to believe her. He sat there, leaned against pillows that supported him, waiting for Temari to understand his perspective.

"Do it for me, please, Gaara?" Temari begged, and Gaara swore he saw a gloss shine over her eyes. "For your older sister? Please?"

Reluctantly, Gaara held out his hand. His older sister plopped eight different pills into his palm. She grabbed a glass of water, bringing it closer for him to take ahold of.

He didn't have the energy to take the glass. He didn't have the energy for anything, really. 

But Temari deserved a break from him, didn't she?

Gaara could take eight pills if it meant keeping his family happy. 

Sasuke looked through the file, flipping each page with more hesitation than before. His eyebrows furrowed in utter disbelief. He forced himself to close the file and scoot it back to his homeroom teacher.

"This," Sasuke started, before pausing, pointing at the file, and then continuing, "You expect me to—"

"Look, it wasn't my first choice either," Kakashi interrupted, scooting the file back to the boy. "You wanted an extracurricular. This is one."

"The school play?!" Sasuke exclaimed. 

"You can do tech work. We need sound check and special effects team members. You don't have to perform."

Sasuke got up from his seat, grabbing his backpack. Kakashi got up with him, watching as the boy started heading for the door.

This was a stupid idea, Sasuke realized. His gut was telling him to leave from the very start. 

There would always be other things to do. He could find something else to keep him occupied. Hell, he'd rather stay out wandering the streets than going home to face Itachi.

Joining the school play? How ridiculous. 

"We still didn't debrief," Kakashi called out as a reminder.

"Forget it," Sasuke dismissed.

"Don't you want to know more about it?"

"No," Sasuke said, opening the door and stepping into the hallway. "I'm good. Thanks."

Kakashi sighed, muttering to himself, "And here I was thinking you were a theater kid..."

"What?"

"Oh, nothing."

"No. You said something," Sasuke hissed, stepping back into the classroom. "I heard you, Kakashi."

Kakashi placed his hands on his desk, leaning forward as he stood. He looked upon the raven and smiled.

"Let's say I did say something," Kakashi said cooly, obviously joking (because messing with children would never not be funny). "What exactly are you going to do about it?"

Sasuke dropped his backpack.

This was just like his old school—all over again. He was a fool to think things would change in Konoha High. Everything always followed him. He'd deal with it the same way.

He'd show the man exactly what he was going to do. His pace gradually quickened as he strode back to the teacher's desk, fists clenched.

He'd had it. 

He'd seriously had it.

Sasuke rounded the desk, standing merely half-an-arm's length away from the man. With a final step, he raised his right fist, winding it up to meet the smug look on the man's face—

Only for the smug look to remain on Kakashi's face.

There was an unusual calmness in his face—no fear, no resentment, no annoyance.

Sasuke felt the anger in him leave almost instantly. The pit in his stomach returned, growing larger by the second. He looked in the direction of his raised fist, seeing it caught and being held back so effortlessly by his homeroom teacher. The smug look didn't leave Kakashi's face, but the next words he uttered—so icily and cold—left Sasuke feeling numb.

"Why did you transfer schools, Sasuke Uchiha?"

The events leading up to that point flashed in Sasuke's mind.

He dropped his fist to his side, not caring how heavy it felt in that moment. Slowly, he backed away, step by step.

Kakashi started saying more, but the words didn't filter into Sasuke's mind. He turned around, lugging himself back to the door. The raven numbly picked up his backpack, not bothering to sling it over his shoulders. He could still hear Kakashi speaking to him, just as icily and cold as he did before.

Or, maybe, the words weren't icy and cold. Maybe it was just his mind playing tricks with him. Maybe it was...

Nevermind.

Dragging his backpack behind him, he stepped into the hallway. The words he was asked before echoed in his head on repeat.

Quietly, he closed the door behind him. It didn't stop the words from repeating.

It wasn't always so stressful. Only the days that Gaara spiraled were tough to handle. After she brought him home from school, he pushed past Kankuro and ran right into his bedroom, shutting the door to avoid anyone from disturbing him.

The last thing she expected was to rush in during one of his breakdowns.

But today drained everyone. It wasn't supposed to be a bad day.

Temari brought an empty glass out from Gaara's room. After every choked down pill, she helped him take a sip of water, just to have him repeat the process until all of his daily doses were complete. 

The woman went to the kitchen, setting down the glass in the sink. She could wash it later; all she wanted to do was lie down and rewind. She had put away Gaara's medication, tucked him in, and told him that she'd be there for him in case he had a nightmare.

She lied; she wasn't afraid to admit it (at least, not out loud). She couldn't stay in the boy's room forever. She had other obligations. 

Surely, Gaara wouldn't have a nightmare or two in this sleep cycle.

Temari reassured herself that it was fine—that she had little to worry about.

Standing at the sink, she heard footsteps nearing her. She worried that Gaara was out of bed already until she heard—

"Well?" Kankuro asked sarcastically. "Is he done with his temper tantrum?"

Temari sighed. "Kankuro. Enough."

"What?! He's acting like a child at his age—"

"He is a child at his age!" Temari slammed her hand on the kitchen counter, itching to throw something at the man. "He's sixteen, Kankuro! Don't you think you should be a little kinder to him?!"

"Look who's talking!" Kankuro laughed, growing louder as he made his next point, "If it isn't the same person that blamed him for killing mom!"

"At least I grew up! I realized that blaming a baby for my mother's death wasn't the right thing to do!"

"Oh?!" Kankuro scoffed. "Then what about Uncle Yashamaru?!"

Temari grew quiet. She could defend one aspect, but not this one. Not even she knew how to make sense of what happened that night.

She turned around, facing the sink and picking up the glass she put down. She thought about washing it later, but she needed a distraction.

"Well?!" Kankuro encouraged her to explain herself, rather angrily.

"I'm done having this conversation," Temari informed him, not daring to take her eyes off of the glass she was washing. 

"How convenient."

"I said I'm done, Kankuro!" she repeated a little louder. "The conversation is over! End of story! Move on!"

She heard her brother huff in annoyance, muttering to himself as a means to retaliate. She didn't think he meant for her to hear him, but she did—

"Like how you moved on from mom?"

—and she grew livid.

Temari put the glass in the sink, aggressively turning off the faucet and turned towards Kankuro. She needed to put the glass down, or else she would have thrown it at him.

"What did you say?" she demanded to know.

Her voice, low and menacing, was waved off with an equally menacing glare. She never got a reply back to her question.

Instead, Kankuro turned to the front door of their home and walked away.

"I'm headed out," he told her, brushing her off. "Don't wait up."

"Don't you dare leave," Temari threatened, wishing she didn't put down the glass.

At least it could've given her an advantage in stopping the man from leaving. 

"I thought the conversation was over," Kankuro retaliated, barely looking back at her as he muttered again. "And besides, why should I listen to you? It's not like you're mom."

This time, he did make sure to have her hear him. 

Sasuke didn't bother going into the library. He just wanted to go back home.

What a strange thought to have, especially for himself. 

He didn't think he could stay in school any longer. He didn't want to go to school tomorrow either. He just wanted to go back to his room, crawl into bed, and have the mattress swallow him whole. Simply existing was too overwhelming.

Why did he have to exist? Why him?

Why me, Sasuke thought grimly. Why am I still alive? Why did they let me go?

He knew the answer. In the back of his mind, he always knew the answer.

Itachi. His older brother was the reason he was still breathing. A part of Sasuke wished the older Uchiha didn't exist, simply because Itachi's existence proved Sasuke's own. 

The raven continued dragging his backpack behind him, barely aware that one of his zippers was coming undone. The pavement below him scratched the soles of his shoes as he pulled one foot in front of the other just to move. Kakashi's words rang vigorously in his head—

Why did you transfer schools, Sasuke Uchiha?

That icy cold voice, paired with a smile that Sasuke just started to realize was forced...

It didn't scare him. There was a threat behind the man's voice, but it wasn't scary. It was just so numbing—

Why did you transfer schools, Sasuke Uchiha?

Should he have stayed in the same school? There were consequences to his actions at his previous school. Itachi took him out and put him in Konoha High just to get away from every rumor, every phone call home, every mental breakdown—

Why did you transfer schools, Sasuke Uchiha?

Sasuke looked up at the sky. The sun was lowering itself by the minute. It was so sunny out when Gaara left. The sky opposed him, darkening when he wanted so desperately to go home.

A part of him didn't even care that Itachi would be home. He just wanted to collapse in bed. He wanted a dreamless night, one where his mind would be allowed to go blank—

Why did you transfer schools, Sasuke Uchiha?

The raven looked down at the back of his right hand, curling it into a loose fist. He almost punched his homeroom teacher over a stupid comment. Had the man not caught his fist...

Was he really that weak? To become so aggressive over a lighthearted comment? 

So much had changed since that day. There was so much of himself he would never be able to get back.

He knew it would only get worse from here. The dooming epiphany shadowed over him like a cloud, and suddenly, he was so grateful to be numb. It hurt much less as he began to process why—

Why did you transfer schools, Sasuke Uchiha?

Why did you transfer schools, Sasuke Uchiha?

Why did you transfer schools, Sasuke Uchiha?

Why did you transfer schools?

Why?

Why?

Why?

"—ey! Hey! Hey, you!" A voice shook him back to the present. Just barely, yes, but enough for Sasuke to pause and listen for the source of the voice. "Your backpack is open!"

Sasuke looked down at the pavement. Behind him, one of his notebooks had laid stretched out on the ground, merely a few steps away. He was lucky that nothing else fell out. The raven silently went back to retrieve his notebook, putting it back into his backpack carefully. Thoughts of copying down notes for Gaara entered his head, slowly filtering out the numbness that clouded him.

"Are you alright?" the voice called out again.

Sasuke turned towards the direction of the voice without answering the question. He saw a figure with a black hoodie and a mask, concealing any identifying features of the person. The figure stood in a shadowy part near the school, too wary to reveal who they were. Sasuke had a hard time making out what the person was doing.

"You should go home," the person told him.

Sasuke didn't respond. He watched as the person turned back around, leaving him be. There was no possible way to know who the person was in the first place. 

He did in fact want to go home. Sasuke threw his backpack over his shoulders, securing it to ensure that nothing else fell out. If he wanted to go home, he had to go now. There was no use stalling. It was getting darker by the minute.

As Sasuke started to walk again, he heard a small sound that caught his attention. He lightened his footsteps, listening to the sound to make sure he heard right. It sounded familiar—very familiar.

It was a light shushing sound, turning on and off at the pattern of strokes. He heard the sound of liquid swishing in a can before the shushing sound started up again. It was barely noticeable, unless he was paying all of his attention into his background.

Slowly, he followed the sound. He wanted to confirm what he heard.

In the shadows, where the figure dressed in black stood, he saw the outline of a cylinder being shaken. The shushing sound started up again. Sasuke found himself drawing closer to the figure, keeping his steps light as to avoid being caught. 

He remembered doing this back in his old school—back with his old friends.

He took another step closer. Then another. And another.

Sasuke stepped into a grassy area, barely taking note that he was off the pavement ground leading to the exit of the school. Mesmerized, he wanted a feel of the cylinder the figure was holding.

All it took was the snap of a twig for the figure to turn around rather quickly. Sasuke cursed at himself internally, not wanting to have interrupted the stranger.

He expected anger, maybe even fear, from the person he snuck up behind. No doubt, using spray paint to graffiti a school building was a count for vandalism. Even the worst student wouldn't want to be charged with a crime.

Instead, all Sasuke was met with was curiosity from the stranger.

The person wore all black to conceal their identity, going so far as to wear a black mask to hide the lower half of their face. Yet Sasuke couldn't help but notice the deep blue eyes that stared back at him in wonder. The blue was an odd hue, at best; it reminded him of the darkening sky before night fell, or the dawn before the sun rose at the start of each day.

He's seen them before—somewhere, at some point in the past. 

The person turned back to the wall they were painting. Sasuke grew disappointed with the fact that the stranger was no longer looking at him. 

The raven took in the sight of the wall, watching as the can of spray paint worked through strokes of orange and red. It didn't take a genius to find out that the person was painting some sort of fox. 

"Do you think it needs any details?" the person asked him, taking a step back to admire their work. "I don't know. I think I like it. It'll look good with another tail though, don't you think? More tails will make it unique."

The person's voice, scratchy and raspy, ingrained itself into Sasuke's mind. It sounded familiar; it sounded like something he's heard before. He wanted to remember, but his mind couldn't help but block out the memory he desperately wanted to remember. 

He was still so numb, but for some reason, Kakashi's voice and words from earlier had dimmed in his head.

All that existed was the sound of a can of spray paint being used and later discarded.