HEY you thought i forgot to post the rest of this fic but I DIDN'T! "Your Wholeness..." Part 3/4(?)
HI! It's finals week, which means Lute is ready to procrastinate with some fic!
Sorry it took me forever to get back to you guys, (anyone out there still?) who might want to read the rest of my long-ass Naruto/Gaara fic, "Your Wholeness Cascades into So Many Shapes" on LJ. I wish LJ didn't have such issues with length, but such is life, I suppose.
If you do want to read the rest of this monster fic instead of waitng for my lazy bum self to get up the motivation to post it here, it is availalbe in full on Ao3 HERE and on ff net HERE! Hooray for multi-platforms.
Have any of you (if there are any of you out there) followed me on tumblr? Tell me tell me tell me, and I shall follow you back! :D
Without furthur ado, here is part 3 of my lovely, painful, sad, twisted, overly-dramatic Naru/Gaa:
Title: your wholeness cascades into so many shapes: PART 3/4(?)
Fandom: Naruto
Warning: M (hella)
Paring: Naruto/Gaara, Naruto/Sasuke
Warnings: long-ass fic, sexual situations, alternate universe-Suna City, pyschological issues, drug usage, attempted suicide, mention of child abuse, mention of sexual assault, slight blood warning. (Dang..I've got to start writing less depressing stuff)
Continued from Part 2:
Gaara stays unsettled for a while.
Sasuke is with them often now. Gaaa gets increasingly more possessive and snappish--snide remarks and sarcastic comments are a special talent of his--until he realizes Sasuke doesn’t seem to give two fucks about what he thinks. After that, it is more a matter of Gaara nursing his wounded pride rather than actually repairing their interactions.
Sasuke and Naruto are never more than friendly, but it is a friendly that tickles Gaara, slips its fingers over the knobs of his spine like it’s meticulously testing the strength of each vertebra.
It’s a childhood-friend-forever friendly, mixed with hints of the lingering intimacy of past lovers. Sasuke knows how to move around Naruto, the way they weave on the sidewalk together and take up space together unthinkingly, even with Naruto’s fingers interlocked in Gaara’s, drawing stares from the passer-by.
Gaara takes the time he has with Naruto when Sasuke isn’t around feverishly, gobbles it up and demands more of it, all of it, all Naruto has to give. He grabs Naruto’s chin between his fingers, jerks the other man’s head up forcefully to lock onto his gaze and bathe himself in all the love he knows Naruto keeps for him there, shining from his eyes with touching sincerity.
Naruto is insufferably oblivious as usual, someone who can easily balance so many people in his heart at once that the idea of someone being selfish with love isn’t one he can really quite wrap his head around, although he tries, for Gaara’s sake.
Sasuke stays an impenetrable, unerringly diplomatic enigma, managing to project a slightly snobbish air of confidence even while kicked up out of his mind on drugs, even when caught being fucked on his hands and knees on the floor by someone who makes Naruto curl his lip in vague disapproval. He is devastatingly attractive, all cold angles and dark eyes, licking his lips nonchalantly whenever he catches Gaara staring at him.
Gaara tried to not look too hard, or for too long.
X
Their bedroom is slow and silent, as if holding it’s breath under the heaviness of the air. Gaara feels like he is waiting desperately for something. His tongue is dry and papery in his mouth, a clump of sand. He can’t move fast enough-
He held Naruto’s face in his hands; stroking his cheeks, kissing his eyelids, his chin, his scars with lips that trembled with anticipation. Naruto tenses, his muscles seizing up, and then hisses under his breath and relaxes, lids sliding open.
His eyes are blown out and beautiful, dilated until the blue was only visible in thin shining rings. A little groan escapes his lips as the burn of the drug pushes through his system, cheeks hollowing at the sting, and then he sighs deeply, tongue poking between his teeth.
He runs his hands up Gaara’s neck, clutches handfuls of his hair.
“Ahh yeah. Niiice.” The words rumbled under his breath.
Gaara’s throat is like padded cotton. The bedroom is so heavy, so silent, its colors muted in shades of blue and black he can hardly see through. He whines a little as Naruto mouths at his neck.
“C’mon Naruto…”
Naruto laughs. He flicks the needle out of his skin, grabs a clean one. Gaara sighs at the sting of it sliding into his arm. “C’mon, come on…”
It hits like a live wire heat in his veins, like popping in his skull, wetness in his mouth. He stumbles forward to chase his hands down the sparkles that appear blinking along Naruto’s bare chest, threading his stomach. Lightheaded, Gaara’s feet and arms tumble over themselves, landing him breathless and laughing with Naruto on the unmade bed. They push their lips together messily, wrestling on the sheets, until Gaara’s head suddenly lolls loosely on his neck like a lifeless, useless doll.
Naruto pulls away, his eyebrows coming together in a slow furrow of concern.
“You alright?” He sounds worried. Gaara vaguely thinks he’s being silly. Stupid Naruto.
“Is that too much? Gaara…” Naruto reaches for the needle but Gaara slaps his hand away, kissing him instead. He rolls himself over the warmth of Naruto’s stomach, presses his forehead into Naruto’s track-marked arm.
“Its okay, its okay…I’m okay…”
X
Naruto didn’t often talk about his past. Gaara only knew the basics; that Naruto was an orphan since a young age, lived with a stream of relatives until around the time he was 11, until he stuck with one guardian who seemed to be a family friend.
He knew Naruto came from the other continent and was here to study at University. But that was it. And that wasn’t much to know really, when you lived with a person, knew them so well that you finished their sentences and bought the 2% milk without needing to be told, knew their skin like a well-read book and trusted them implicitly.
That fact that Naruto was rather tight-lipped about his past in a way he wasn’t at all tight-lipped with literally anything else would have bothered Gaara more, but he didn’t especially get a huge kick out of reminiscing his own childhood.
He didn’t press the issue very often, because Naruto was terribly blasé about prying into every other aspect of Gaara’s business, but he rarely asked Gaara questions about his past, out of some sort of unspoken understanding. Gaara felt it was only fair to return the favor.
This must be the reason why, after Sasuke’s unprecedented emergence with his startling familiarity with Naruto, Gaara felt a little blown away. Naruto knew everybody, knew them extremely well. He knew everybody’s hopes and aspirations and friends and fathers and sisters, but not many knew him especially well in return.
Sasuke was like the appearance of a specter, a sudden tangible fragment of Naruto’s past, his childhood, that Gaara hadn’t expected to exist. (Why hadn’t he expected it? Gaara didn’t like to think about it, but this pocket of rebellious existence with Naruto, with all of its gritty anti-glamour and flashing strobe-light beauty, was like a soap bubble Gaara didn’t know could be popped from the outside.)
Sasuke aside, Gaara could count on one hand the number of times Naruto talked openly with him about his childhood, his family, and once and only once, the scars on his face. It usually happened when they were really a bit too high, so tripped out that Gaara rarely remembered everything that was said; sentences and secrets lost in the moments between moments where time lost her footholds and fell blankly through space.
Naruto talked to himself more than Gaara ever noticed. Mostly, he muttered giggling conversations where he would convince himself to actually attend a class seminar, and then talk himself out of it again. Reminders to pick up food, mumbled bits of music, criticisms of his hazy artwork and tattoo designs. Gaara often answered the questions Naruto asked himself just to remind Naruto he was there. The other man would blink, pause for what always seemed like a second too long, and then laugh and continue on. When Gaara teased him about it, he would blush a little, scratch his head in abashed embarrassment.
“Ehh, it got lonely as a kid y’know? I was always by myself. What’s a guy to do?” The pout on his face was like a child caught raiding the sweet drawer.
Sometimes though, Naruto’s inner conversations were darker, more intense, almost violent.
He would murmur unintelligible words to himself that slipped up in the stream of his sentences, shuttered the vibrancy of his smile.
“--Don’t, don’t please…Kyuubi!…I’ll fuck you, I’ll fuck you up so hard…I don’t know…little baby crying like a stuck pig…Don’t!...”
Naruto would scratch at his face when this happened, punch walls and knock over chairs, scream at Gaara with a hoarse, guttural voice, leaking from bloodshot eyes tears he didn’t even seem to know he was crying.
Gaara didn’t really know how to act when Naruto got like that, but from the beginning Naruto had utterly accepted Gaara’s own idiosyncrasies, and so Gaara did the same. When Gaara’s insomnia came, Naruto would follow him about as he wandered the tiny apartment late into the night, keep him safe on the streets. When Gaara had periodic bouts of fragile, moody silence that lasted for up to days at a time, Naruto chattered enough for the both of them, uncaring of the lack of response.
They were both messed up, but Gaara felt stupidly more safe with Naruto than he’d felt with anyone else in his entire life ever, a blanket sort of safety that stayed firmly anchored, despite what they did and didn’t know about one another.
End Part 3