Okay, I was really sad the night I decided to write this. I love Gaara, and I can't imagine how terrible it would be to have lived his life. This is my tribute to him! Wait wait wait-- first we have to get you in the mood. Picture a cute little unicorn with a pink mane and big brown eyes and little fluffy wings picking flowers with its teeth. BOOM! It just got hit by a semi. Therrreeee ya go, now you're in the mood! Read away!!
I gazed at him sadly. His red hair hung around his face in tangled knots, and the circles were dark under his eyes. His lower lip was crumpled in a soundless sob, two tiny pools of moonlight dancing as they formed before the first fell onto the grass and the second trickled down his nose. I let my fingers find their way onto his cheek, that ivory that only he was. It didn't feel like normal skin; it was like sand paper under my palm. I should've guessed. He lacks that soft pink tint that depicts a person's life and warmth. He lacks life and warmth itself. Others see this young shinobi as a bloodthirsty killer, as a cold and heartless creature to be hated and feared. That's all he is, just a nameless drop of blood as it flickers in the moonlight and hits the rock below. He's an excuse for the world's shortcomings and sins.
I jumped a bit, startled out of my thoughts. Looking down, I blinked in surprise. His hand was slipping shakily out, his long and slender fingers searching in the shadows before finding my own. He felt them for a moment, drawing in a shaky breath, before grasping them tightly. A tiny sound escaped his lips. It was the sound of a frightened child who had just found his mother through the overwhelming crowd surrounding him. The meekness of his expression as he shifted against my body made me bite my lower lip. The innocence and fear that filled him hurt. I closed my eyes for a second, forcing in air and letting it back out to keep tears from coming to my eyes as well. With my free hand, I pushed the hair from his face. Even in his state, he was beautiful. I gazed at him, gently running my finger down the bridge of his nose. When my hand came to his lips, however, it began to shake. I sniffed, pursing my lips and fighting the lump climbing up my throat. My whole body went into a spasm as I choked out a muffled sob. It rang out in the empty night before the darkness hesitantly responded with a cool wind that blew my hair into my face and plastered it against my now tear - stained cheeks.
"Keata?"
I bit my lip again, sniffing pathetically. His soft, raspy voice brought me warmth. A tear fell on his cheek as I shook, and he flinched and grunted softly.
"Is everything all right?"
I opened my lips, words coming out as detached murmurs as I tried to find my voice. "I'm okay. Just sleep, Gaara." I stroked the side of his face gently for a long moment. When I finally stopped, the boy shifted again, lifting his head and letting his beautiful ruby - colored hair sway in the breeze. He rested his face in my lap, nestling it into the soft folds of my robes. His hand still held mine.
"Keata?" He murmured quietly through the gentle veil of sleep that covered him, the soft words reaching out directly from his unguarded thoughts.
"Yes, Gaara?"
For a moment, the fear on his face vanished and he almost seemed to smile. "I love you."
I sobbed again, a fresh stream of tears streaking down my neck. "Oh, Gaara…" I wrapped my free hand around his free hand. "…I love you too."