Hiraeth

Oh fuck. Oh fuck oh fuck oh fuck.

Shukaku’s laughter echoed around in Gaara’s head, the start of another skull-splitting headache creeping up

‘Isn’t this just perfect? Imagine how pissed he is after you left him all alone. He’ll probably beat the shit out of you.’

’If someone else doesn’t first that is.’

“Shut up, Shukaku,” Gaara hissed quietly, hands reaching up to grip at his hair and scratch at his skull once again, Maybe if he dug deep enough into his head Shukaku would be quiet, maybe he wouldn’t have to hear him anymore, see all of it anymore, maybe people wouldn’t-

He was ripped out of his thoughts by the first voice, the bored one. “I’ve gotta take a piss.”

He heard the rest of the group laughing and telling him to shut up goodnaturedley, and Gaara stilled, confused as to why they weren’t berating the male for saying something so tasteless and inappropriate. He was so absorbed in confusion that he didn’t even register the sound of footsteps approaching his stall, only going rigid when the footsteps suddenly stopped.

Right outside of his stall.

But it was okay, he had locked the stall so no one could get in, he had-

He hadn’t locked the stall.

A panic, a type of panic Gaara didn’t feel often gripped him
as the door began to open almost like it was moving in slow motion but he couldn’t move, couldn’t bring his now bloodstained hands from his matted hair, couldn’t lower his head, couldn’t do anything as the a tanned face pushed open the door completely, eyes widening in surprise and- and disgust?- as he took in the sight of the small, huddled boy curled up on the dirty floor, wedged between the wall and the toilet, sleep deprived eyes gazing up at him like a deer caught in headlights.

“What the fuck?” The boy bit out, clearly unable to fully process the sight in front of him. “What the actual fuck?”

The other boys heard him and quickly gathered around the entrance of the stall, eyes widening as they took in Gaara’s pitiful form. A boy with sharp teeth suddenly let out a howl of laughter, something almost animalistic as he doubled over in mirth. It was like a chain reaction, immediately all of the other boys began laughing too, like it was the funniest thing they’d ever seen. All except two boys, a blond one whose face showed concern as he chuckled nervously and another boy, the boy Gaara had been dreading to see ever since he heard his name called out by who he assumed was the blond with the high pitched laughter. Sasuke didn’t laugh at Gaara, he just stared at him in shock and disbelief. Until his face distorted into a mask of pure unadulterated disgust, and Gaara felt his whole world cave in on him.

He was startled back into reality when a bored voice addressed him. “Oi, what’re you doing down there? You like getting other people’s filth on you or something?”

Gaara didn’t reply, eyes widening as he realized he was sitting on a dirty bathroom floor. He immediately attempted to stand up, going slower than normal due to his aching joints, before being pushed back down to the ground again, letting out a hiss as his elbow hit the side of the metal toilet. He looked up and narrowed his eyes as he saw the dog-like boy who started the laughter smirking down at him, most of the boys boys behind him beginning to laugh loudly again.

“You didn’t answer Shikamaru, that’s not a very smart thing to do,” He opened his mouth as if to speak again and only belatedly did Gaara realize he just got spat on.

He sat there in shock, hand reaching up to wipe away the spit on his cheek only to smear blood from his head on there in replacement.

The boy standing over Gaara eye’s widened before he cackled. “How’d you get that blood all over you? You jacking off on your period or something?”

Gaara sat there numbly as Shukaku whispered threats and suggestions to him, but even the voice in his head was drowned out by the new cacophony of laughter coursing through his ears.

“Kiba you idiot,” the one apparently named Shikamaru said, “Look at his head. Sliced his head open with his own nails.”

Kiba, the dog boy (no a wolf, definitely more predatory like a goddamn wolf) glanced at Gaara’s head, red hair now matted with dark blood, and guffawed.

“Oh yeah, you’re right!” He grabbed Gaara’s shirt collar and dragged him from the stall, the smaller boy’s hands coming up to weakly scrabble at Kiba’s shirt, not able to do much more as the suffocation caused his mind to grow hazier. He foggily realized he was being situated on the counter where the sinks are, toes just skimming the ground as he was too short to reach it completely.

‘Look at you, look how weak you are. You’re letting this kid beat you up? You could take them, take all of them, break their fucking bones in a heartbeat. You can’t breathe kid, you’re dying.’

Gaara felt fear overtake him because he couldn’t die, not yet, he needed to live, and barely even noticed himself drawing his arm back and slamming it into Kiba’s face so hard he heard the other boy’s nose crack.

A general cry of shock and anger rang out as the force of the punch was so great Kiba fell backwards onto the floor, a string of curse words leaving his mouth as he grabbed his heavily bleeding and now probably badly broken nose.

“He broke my fucking nose!” He shouted, crawling away from the shaking boy on the counter. Immediately the small blond yet out an indignant yell and charged towards Gaara, but Gaara caught his fist easily and held it in a crushing grip, body moving on autopilot, just listening to Shukaku, and brought his free hand to the boy’s captured wrist, ready to break it like he had broken so many other’s before-

“What the fuck is your problem, Gaara?’

Gaara immediately let go of the boy’s wrist and released his fist as well, staring up at the voice of the boy he once knew.

Sasuke stared at Gaara with nothing but hatred, voice dripping with pure malice. The loathsome way he said Gaara’s name pierced through his heart like a sharp metal rod. Nothing like how he used to say it over their all night video chats so long ago.

All of the boys (except Kiba who was still nursing his broken nose) looked up at Sasuke in question.

A relatively silent boy wearing dark glasses and a high collar broke the stunned silence and asked the question they were all wondering. “Sasuke, how do you know his name?”

The Uchiha’s eyes widened a fraction before he relaxed his facial features into one of disinterest.

“I met him when we were kids. I felt bad for him so I talked to him
for a while out of pity. Now I guess I can see why I was his only friend.”

Gaara stopped shaking and stared at Sasuke with his mouth slightly opened. It was pity?

The blond who had been rubbing his bruising hand and wrist looked up at Sasuke in disbelief. “You were friends with him?”

Sasuke looked at Gaara and sighed. “Not really,” He turned away, face hidden as he continued. “I’d call it a charity case. He meant nothing to me.”

Gaara slumped back against the mirror behind him, vision blurring and headache raging with full force as Shukaku shrieked in laughter. So it was true. He never had a friend, not even one. Sasuke had hated him just like the rest all along.

‘Oh, now this is rich. See, what did I tell you? What did Raza tell you? You’re unlovable, who would ever want someone like you? He never loved you, it was all a lie, and I was right again. You should trust me more kid, when have I ever led you astray? You won’t get by in this world without me, without me you’re useless, worthless, a pathetic-’

“SHUT UP! SHUT UP SHUT UP SHUT UP!” Gaara screamed, hands clawing at his head as the rest of his body contorted, legs thrashing and chest heaving. Everyone looked at Gaara in shock before someone let out a gasp. Gaara didn’t hear the scramble to get out of the bathroom, didn’t feel someone shoving him so hard into the mirror that it shattered in an attempt to get him to shut up, didn’t see Sasuke grab the blond’s uninjured hand, pulling him out of the room with a hushed “Naruto, come on!”, didn’t hear their rushed heavy footsteps outside in the hall, didn’t hear the bell for class ring, and didn’t even notice Shukaku had stopped speaking until he found himself curled in on himself again, wet and shaky sobs making their way past his mouth and the skin under his nails encrusted with dry blood.