Return
There was a tenseness that came with seeing Temari and Kankuro’s faces for the first time in three months, especially when the last time that the three of them had all been together was taken into account. It was fair to say that Gaara tried his best not to take it into account though. Instead, he thought about how he hadn’t worn shoelaces since the day before that night, or how he would finally be allowed back in his own room where he could lock the door and lay in bed all day, or how he would be able to have his phone, though it wasn’t like he’d done much anything on it before it had been taken away from him.
The car ride was quiet, Kankuro playing some stupid rock song that he was sure he had been blasting until before he got into the car. Temari was picking at the hole in her jeans and occasionally looking in the rearview mirror to make sure that-well, Gaara wasn’t actually sure of what she was looking for. He watched as they went through the drive-thru of the pharmacy, picking up the medication he’d been prescribed. Gaara had expected himself to be a lot more excited than he had felt in that moment. After all, he was finally out, he ought to be celebrating, but instead all he really wanted was a nap in a bed with comfortable sheets and a shower where the door wasn’t required to be open, and that was just what he got.
Dinner with Temari and Kankuro was less awkward than the car, Temari being the one to break the awkward silence by saying she and Shikamaru had gone out on a date the week before and Gaara saying he had no idea who the hell Shikamaru was. It made Temari laugh, and Gaara found himself surprised by the fact that he was smiling, though only faintly.
After that, dinner was the most pleasant it had ever been for Gaara, rather than sulking quietly and listening to Kankuro and Temari interact, he managed to inject himself a few times into the conversation. Though he wouldn’t admit it out loud, it felt good, surprisingly so.
Gaara found his shower more enjoyable than anything else, locking the creaky door in their old house felt like second nature even if it had been months since he had had the chance to do so.
He stood there for a long time, beneath piping hot water that occasionally shot out in an extra spurt. He took his time washing his hair, lathering it in his old cinnamon and mint shampoo that seemingly hadn’t been touched since the last time he used it. The smell wafted through the bathroom and somehow Gaara felt whatever tenseness that had been with him finally dissipate. Hell, he practically fell into bed after his shower, sleeping until late morning.
It was only after sleeping that Gaara remembered what he had said to Kankuro and Temari while he was…..away. He had made a promise to them, a promise that he would be better because he had realized that he wanted to finally care and be cared for. It had been a plea to them then, a plea for them to love him even after all the shit he had done, which really had been quite a lot.
Temari had cried when she heard it, Kankuro had hid the fact that he did it once he was out of Gaara’s line of sight. It was the only visit Gaara had let them have, every other one he rejected. He knew that it seemed counterproductive, but he also knew that if he didn’t make sure that he really could be the kind of person others would deem important enough to care about he would end up living in a house where everyone was still just as terrified to set off the ticking time bomb that was Gaara Before.
Gaara looked at his dresser, everything was just as it had been except for a new addition. Either Temari or Kankuro had put the bag from the pharmacy in his room. In the bag was a small, cylindrical, orange bottle full of pills. He sighed, the directions already playing through his head on loop.
Two every morning, make sure not to drink with them, and if you’re feeling like they aren’t working you can always call. Here’s my card.
Gaara took the pills dry, they tasted like chalky shit.
He picked up his phone, which was on the floor next to his dresser, the screen cracked as all hell and battery dead.
He spent the day charging his phone and listening to his old music in his room, the door locked and shut just by the virtue of knowing that he could do so. He looked for any sort of new hobby to pick up that interested him and was met with nothing.
That was sort of how Gaara spent his first two months at home, doing nothing.
He spent much of his time accompanying his siblings places, he once saw the mysterious Shikamaru from the window near the door when he picked up Temari for a date, but outside of that there really wasn’t anything Gaara found himself participating in. He was nineteen, he very well could enroll in school, though he was sure that that would only end in him dropping out, or being sent back. Which was the last thing that he wanted. He considered a part-time job, which seemed more reasonable, save for the part that involved having to speak with anyone outside of his direct family.
Then, he was presented with what he was going to do to get him out of the house, once a week on Fridays at 6pm to be more exact, was group therapy. It was at the community center on the farther end of the city, which really sounded like a pain in the ass seeing as Gaara had no clue how to drive, but Temari was insisting and he didn’t actually have it in him to turn her down.
That was how he ended up here, sitting in a room, in a circle of chairs, with a bunch of strangers who made him just want to curl up in the ground and sleep forever. He knew how dramatic he seemed, but the idea of having to come here every week and actually talk to these people was just-before Gaara had the chance to finish the thought, he was met by the group leader talking.
He was saying something about this being a safe place for everyone to talk about their feelings and other bullshit Gaara had tuned out. He tuned out most of the meeting actually. Right until the end when the group leader said something about having sponsors.
Think of it as someone who’ll help you get through those times when things seem darkest. All you’ve gotta do is call them, and they’ll be there to help.
The sentiment sounded sweet enough, but Gaara couldn’t imagine putting his trust into someone who he would have just met tonight, it was ridiculous, and it only became more ridiculous when he saw who his sponsor was supposed to be.
He was in an old, deep green t-shirt with some sort of faded logo for some athletic competition from the 80s, it would’ve been nice if it hadn’t been on a guy with the worst haircut and bushiest eyebrows Gaara had ever seen.
He looked like a joke, and talked like one too, though Gaara wasn’t actually much one to talk on either front.
I am Rock Lee, and as your sponsor I am prepared to drop everything if you ever need me. I promise. I hope you will think of me as a friend and comrade rather than just some sort of strange guy.
His smile was endearing in a way that made Gaara nervous, like he was dealing with someone who had never felt hatred before, it almost scared him if he were to be honest.
All Gaara managed out was his own name and a nod.
He and Lee exchanged numbers and his only thoughts during the train ride home was what Lee had said to him.
A friend, what a joke.
Like he would ever let someone like that into his life.