SN

Sasuke is in a daze for the rest of the night, and by the time the sun peeks over the horizon, he is certain he hasn’t slept a wink. School is a hazy blur at first, the only defining moment being during his fourth period Lit class when the teacher announces they need to find a partner to work on their oral poetry assignments. Sasuke is still while the room erupts into chaos, everyone scrambling to find their friends. Sasuke is used to being matched with the leftovers, used to doing all the work himself, so he’s startled when a boy slides into the chair next to him.

“Oh.” Sasuke blinks. “Um, Gaara, right?”

The redhead nods. “You need a partner, don’t you?” he says in a surprisingly husky voice, and Sasuke realizes that he has never heard this boy speak before.

“Yeah. I mean, are you… ” Sasuke isn’t sure what to say, but Gaara offers him a small smile.

“People tend to avoid me. I had some… anger issues in freshman year.” His voice is flat and unemotional. Sasuke can’t tell if he’s kidding or not. He opens his mouth to ask just what, exactly, he means by “issues,” but the teacher interrupts him.

“All right! For tomorrow, please look over a few examples of oral poetry and bring in a theme or two you’d like to deal with. Class dismissed!” The tidal wave of students that rushes towards the door nearly knocks Sasuke off his chair as he struggles to shove his notes in his backpack.

“Hey.” Sasuke glances up at Gaara, who is now standing beside him. “Would you like to come over to my house after school? We could work there. That is,” he bites his lip, “if you don’t mind getting the third degree from my stupid siblings.”

Sasuke is about to say no, just like he has every other time this year, but then -- for whatever reason -- he pictures Naruto’s face, open and grinning, and Neji’s eyes, somehow endless and yet full of life -- and he nods, once. “Sure. That would be cool.”

Gaara smiles again, this time more easily. “Great. I’ll see you later, then.”

Funny, thinks Sasuke as he strolls to his next class. It’s been a while since he looked forward to the end of the school day.

. . .

Lunch is its usual hectic affair: Naruto and Sakura have gotten into some argument by the time Sasuke arrives, and they are shouting at each other, oblivious to the stares they are receiving from the rest of the cafeteria, while Gaara quietly does his math homework at the end of the table.

“Don’t be stupid!” Naruto yells. “He has the Kamehameha. He would destroy anyone in his way, given the proper motivation!”

Sakura slams her fists down on the table hard enough that Gaara’s pencil snaps. “You’re the idiot,” she thunders. “Saitama can literally not lose. If he manages to punch Goku even once--”

“A-HA!” Naruto leaps up. “Goku is too fast for him! He’ll never land a hit!”

Sakura scoffs in disbelief. “Are you kidding? One Punch Man traveled from the moon to earth in like, five seconds. That’s almost as fast as the freaking speed of light!”

Naruto reciprocated her scoff. “Goku can punch at Mach 30. That’s fast enough to kill Koro-sensei.”

“Um.” Sasuke slides into a seat next to Gaara. “What are they talking about?”

Gaara rolls his eyes. “The same thing as always. Some heated fictional debate.” He erases a smudge on his paper. “Now, if they were talking about Yuri on Ice…”

Sasuke glances over at Sakura and Naruto, who are both red in the face. “Will they be okay, or…?”

Gaara shrugs. “Yeah. This will probably end the same way it always does.” He slides his homework into his bag, and gives Sasuke a once-over. “Hope you don’t like that shirt too much.”

Sasuke frowns, and is about to ask what on earth he’s talking about, when a splash comes from the direction of the debaters. Sasuke whirls around, and his mouth drops open.

Naruto has upended a carton of milk over Sakura’s head. Milk trickles down her pink hairdo, over her eyelashes, and drips onto her shirt. She is frozen in shock.

Naruto’s victory grin is slowly sliding off his face. “Ha, Sakura… you should see the look on your…” he trails off as slowly, deliberately, Sakura reaches over, picks up his half-eaten cup of ramen, and throws it in his face.

“FOOD FIGHT!” someone yells, and suddenly the air is filled with flying projectiles in the form of various lunch components. Sasuke gets pegged with a ham sandwich, a plate of lasagna and two tomatoes before someone drags him to safety under the table.

“What the…” Sasuke can’t think of anything else to say. Whoever rescued him is laughing. Sasuke wipes enough tomato gunk out of his eyes to catch a flash of whiskered cheeks and spiky blonde hair.

“Have you ever been in a food fight, Sasuke?” Sasuke feels a sudden, hot flash of irritation.

“No,” he snaps, “and I never intended to.” He swipes away the last few chunks, and find himself staring at Naruto’s shining blue eyes, crinkled with laughter.

Naruto is sopping wet -- from the ramen, Sasuke supposes -- and there are pieces of what looks like pickle in his hair. Something green and relish-y stains the front of his shirt. And he’s laughing. Hard. The kind of laugh that makes other people want to laugh too. Sasuke can feel his anger dissipating, a smile stretching his mouth up, and then a laugh escapes his own lips. Naruto’s eyes widen, and the two of them stare at each other for a moment, grinning like crazy people.

And then -- for the first time in a long, long while -- Sasuke begins to laugh. Naruto joins in, the two of them cracking up so hard Sasuke could swear he felt abs forming. Tears prick his eyes, wildly different than the tears of last night, and Sasuke is gasping for air in a way that feels less like drowning and far more like the first breath of clean air after a long darkness, and Naruto’s hand is on his arm. “This is living, Sasuke,” he gasps, and Sasuke has never agreed with anything more in his whole life.

. . .

Sasuke is expecting the walk home from school with Gaara to be awkward, but he is surprised when Naruto follows them down the street, waving goodbye to Sakura over his shoulder. “Hey guys! Gaara, what kind of snacks do you have at your house?”

Gaara notices Sasuke’s surprise. “He also has to do his oral poetry assignment, but --

“-- But Kabuto is a dick and always does all the work himself without telling his partners,” interjects Naruto. “I’m not complaining or anything, but I might as well prepare something extra in case he doesn’t come through.” Then he grins. “Besides -- Gaara’s siblings are cute.”

Gaara’s face goes red. “Don’t say anything to get them riled up,” he warns. “They’ll pounce, and we’ll never get any work done.”

Sasuke feels the strong urge to ask what, exactly, would he say to rile them up, but Naruto has already moved on to the next topic of conversation. “So you know how Ebisu-sensei is like, a secret pervert? Well, today, Konohamaru caught him reading porn magazines in the teacher’s lounge…”

As Naruto chatters, Sasuke glances around at the passing scenery. Something about this route looks a little familiar. The similarity hits him when Gaara leads them up the front steps of a large brown house, with a bright purple door. This is Neji’s neighborhood. Sasuke is so startled that he misses the beginning of Gaara’s next words.

“.-- was Kankuro’s idea. I hate the color purple.” Gaara takes a deep breath. “Here we go. Remember, don’t indulge them.” He pulls out a set of keys and lets the three of them in.

At first, all Sasuke can do is stare. Wow -- Gaara is rich. His house is well-decorated and tastefully furnished. His eyes sweep over the expensive couches and land on the two figures in the center of the living room floor, and now he is really staring, because there is a boy kneeling there over a giant wooden doll.

“Ah. Gaara. Good.” The boy doesn’t look up as the door swings shut. He raises his hand up, and Sasuke can see it is splotched with purple paint. “Can you hand me the varnish on the counter?”

Gaara brushes past him without answering, something Sasuke gets a feeling he is used to doing. The boy scowls and looks up from his work. “Thanks a lot, dic--” he catches sight of Sasuke and Naruto, and his face goes through an extremely rapid change from pissed off to overjoyed. “No. No way. Gaara, you didn’t say you were bringing your boyfriends.”

“Piss off.” Gaara looks annoyed, now, standing in the kitchen entrance clutching a bag of chips. “For real. Go screw your puppet or whatever. We’re going upstairs.”

Sasuke is surprised by this outburst from Gaara -- he has been largely timid and polite so far -- but this boy seems not to hear him. He crosses the rug, abandoning his project, to scrutinize the visitors, and up close Sasuke sees he is older than he originally thought -- maybe seventeen or eighteen. And he’s wearing purple eyeshadow. This must be Kankuro, he thinks, remembering the door.

“Temari!” Kankuro hollers. “Come see who Gaara brought home!” He leans forward, and Sasuke catches a whiff of sawdust. “What might your name be?” Kankuro bats his eyelashes, and Sasuke is at a loss for words. Luckily, Naruto jumps in before Sasuke begins his awkward sputtering.

“Hey, Kankuro!” He bats his eyelashes right back. “Don’t tell me you don’t remember me.”  

Kankuro stares for a moment, and then throws his head back and laughs. “I remember you, of course!” He reaches out and pinches Naruto’s whiskered cheek. “Temari! Come downstairs!”

“I’m in my underwear!” comes the indignant response from someone upstairs. “Can you not have a conniption??”

Kankuro rolls his eyes. “Gaara brought visitors!”

There is the sound of thumping upstairs, followed by the skidding sound of someone sliding over wooden floors. The next thing Sasuke knows, a girl with poofy puffballs of blonde hair exploding in every direction is barrelling down the stairs towards him, wearing nothing but a black bra, underwear, fishnet stockings and a pair of fuzzy socks.

“Gaara!” she squeals, slamming into Sasuke and Naruto in a very squishy, painful hug. “They’re so cute!”

“Oh my God!” From Sasuke’s positioning (right in the girl’s cleavage), he can’t see Gaara, but he can hear his exasperated shout. “Let them go, Temari, you animal. Jesus!”

The girl releases Sasuke long enough to squish his cheeks between her hands. “Aww,” she coos. “You have such nice eyes.” She boops him on the nose. “And a lovely complexion!”

Sasuke is sure his face is bright red, judging by the way Naruto is smirking. “What about me?” he asks Temari, all wide-eyed innocence.

Temari studies Naruto for a moment. “The whiskers ruin it,” she says dismissively. “The hair, too. How much hair gel can one boy need?”

Naruto visibly deflates. “It’s bedhead,” he says moodily, and glares when Kankuro rustles his hair.

“Leave. NOW.” Gaara’s face has crossed over from tomato to danger warning-sign red, and his hands are clenched in fists. “I’m not kidding.”

Sasuke resists the urge to flinch. Reminder: do NOT make Gaara angry. The redhead looks ready to kill someone, so Sasuke cannot believe when Kankuro gives Temari a look, and all at once, they charge over and sweep a shocked Gaara up into a hug.

“Let -- go --” Gaara is obviously struggling, but his siblings are both older (and taller) than he is. Sasuke hears a snort from behind him. and he glances over to see Naruto doubled over with laughter. The sight makes Sasuke grin. Poor Gaara.

“Put me down!” thunders Gaara, and for a moment, it seems like they will -- and then Temari begins to tickle him.

. . .

It’s a good twenty minutes before Naruto and Sasuke can rescue Gaara from the grasp of his siblings. Gaara alternately looks like he’s going to pass out from laughter and like he’s going to murder his brother and sister in cold blood, and it isn’t until they haul him up the stairs to his room (Naruto knows where it is) and slam the door that he stops fighting to go back downstairs and decapitate them.

“Sorry about that,” Gaara mumbles as soon as the door is shut and he’s has a few moments to take a deep breath. “They’re idiots.” He shoots a look at Naruto, who is doubled over still, weak from laughing, and scowls, a flush spreading across his nose and cheeks. “It’s not that funny.”

“Yes it is,” gasps Naruto. “Your face when you were being tickled -- I didn’t even know you were ticklish --” he dissolves into another fit of laughter, and Sasuke can’t help but grin.

Gaara is busying himself with his backpack, his ears still bright red. “Yeah, yeah,” he grumbles. “Laugh it up, only child.” He pulls an enormous binder out of his strangely-shaped backpack -- it almost looks like a gourd, Sasuke thinks -- and plops it on his bed. “Now, we’ve got work to do.”

As Naruto tries (and fails) to calm down and Gaara flips through his notes, Sasuke takes a moment to look around the room. Gaara’s room is surprisingly empty, like his. The walls are painted sand-dune yellow, and the carpet is a dull beige. Aside from a row of bookshelves filled with various colorful books, a bed and a small desk, the room is empty. Some might call it ugly, but Sasuke appreciates the simplicity.

“Uggggg.” Sasuke’s attention is drawn back to the bed, where Naruto and Gaara are poring over Gaara’s notes. Well, Gaara is poring over them. Naruto has draped himself across the bed dramatically and is dangling upside-down off the side. “Homework sucksssss,” he groans. “Kill me now.”

“As you command.” Gaara snatches up a pillow and smacks Naruto with it. “Be quiet. Some of us --” he shoots Sasuke a smile “-- want to get our work done.” He turns back to his notes. “So, for a theme, how about…” he slides out a piece of paper. “Oh, here’s a good one.” He clears his throat. “‘Loss is not / a heavy, cold thing / but a lone blackbird / who refuses to sing.’” He lowers the paper. “Loss might be good.”

Naruto sits up. “Teachers love that angsty stuff, like you’re opening up to them.”

Gaara shrugs. “What do you think, Sasuke?”

Sasuke curls his legs into his chest, suddenly cold. “I don’t know,” he mumbles. The mention of loss, of a black bird, has suddenly sent his thoughts down the inevitable spiral to Itachi.

Gaara looks at him for a moment -- Sasuke feels his gaze -- before turning back to his paper. “We could always do something else,” he offers, and Sasuke nods, grateful.

Naruto reaches over Gaara’s shoulder and picks up another paper. “Ooh, what about this one? ‘Your little death was not / a quiet story’s ending / but rather / the first pages rustling.’” He grins at the boys, proud. “That’s like the opposite of loss.”

Gaara shakes his head. “That’s about an orgasm, Naruto.”

“What?” Naruto lets the paper slip from his fingers. “No it’s not! It says ‘death’!”

Gaara bites his lip -- out of embarrassment, Sasuke thinks, until he sees the boy’s shoulders shake as he tries to hold back laughter. “An orgasm is known as a little death,’” he explains.

Naruto howls in frustration and dives for Gaara’s laptop. “No way!” As he frantically Googles, Gaara goes back to searching through the papers.

“Ah. What about this? ‘Day begets day / as night begets dawn / the softest beginnings / are the most smiled upon.’” He holds the paper out to Sasuke. “New beginnings?”

Sasuke looks, then, at this red-haired boy before him, offering him a fresh start -- a new beginning. This boy, like Neji, seems to look right at him and see him, down to the core -- see everything Sasuke is and does not want to be, and still accepts him for it. So Sasuke smiles and reaches out to take the paper. “Sure. New beginnings. That sounds pretty good.”

Gaara smiles back, and opens his mouth to say something -- but the moment is interrupted by a horrible, anguished wail from Naruto, hunched over the computer. “You’re right!” he moans. “It was about an orgasm!”