To be loved is to be seen - Gaara x Hinata
It is not unusual to find the Kazekage at the Hyuuga residence, drinking tea. The Hyuuga are a noble Clan, their quiet demeanor well fitting to grant their visitor some respite from endless meetings and diplomacy.
Kankuro thinks nothing of it until Gaara starts staring.
His little brother has always had a strange habit of blinking less than others, a trait he's heard people comment on a little too much for his liking. Gaara knows about it. Has worked on it.
And how he's staring. At the Hyuuga Clan's heiress, no less.
Maybe Gaara has fallen asleep, Kankuro muses. With his eyes open. It has certainly happened before. Scared the living daylights out of the elders, too.
Hinata doesn't seem to be scared, at least. She drinks her tea like she always does, her movements slow and steady.
Temari would call her boring, maybe. Kankuro thinks she's a little too plain for his liking, like a porcelain figure without any paint. And what worth is in that when you have to fear breaking her any second?
Gaara blinks, finally, and empties his cup.
"I have to take my leave now," he excuses himself. He doesn't make many words, and Kankuro is grateful for that. Although it would make their visit a lot more interesting, Gaara never draws out the goodbyes. Soon, they're on their way again, past the blooming plum trees, the wind ripping blossoms from the branches until it looks like it's snowing.
Gaara stops to catch a blossom, the pink petals a stark contrast against his pink skin. He smiles, and Kankuro watches, a little disturbed, a little afraid to ask. Whatever it is that made his brother happy, he's not sure he wants to know.
-x-
"The Kazekage has been visiting a lot lately," Father points out as soon as their guests have left.
Hinata nods, not making a sound. She's never quite sure who he's addressing, and she doesn't want to assume.
Hanabi has already left, eager to get back to training and certainly glad to have an excuse so as not to clean up after their little tea ceremony. Neji had gone a little further than that, leaving the village for a training week in the mountains at the Kazekage's arrival.
Hinata's sure Neji has nothing against the other man. They're all civil, now. But as he's not part of the main branch, Neji dislikes gatherings like official tea ceremonies where his status is put on display. She can't fault him for that. She dislikes it, too. Sitting on her father's right like she's meant to inherit the Clan one day, when everyone knows Hanabi should be sitting there instead.
"He might be planning an arrangement," Father concludes, and Hinata's heart squeezes at his words, half hopeful, half anxious.
Gaara is beautiful, like she thinks a sunset in the desert must be. Violent red hair frames his face like a wildfire, his sage green eyes wide as they take everything in. He's quiet and gentle, determined to help those in need and carrying the responsibility of a Kage at such a young age, successfully too.
Gaara is everything she'd want to be and everything she could want in a man. But she's still Hinata, and it would be presumptuous to think he could want her the same way.
"He might just like the quiet," she offers, but Father ignores her.
"I heard his sister has taken a liking to the Nara boy. Surely she'd move to Konoha after the wedding. It would only be fitting to find someone worthy to take her place. I surely think Hanabi would be a great fit," he grumbles something, though Hinata doesn't catch it, her heart stumbling painfully at the implications.
She loves her sister, she really does, but she can't lose this to her, not after everything she's already lost.
"Are you sure Hanabi-"
"No, no, you're right," Father shakes his head. "We need her here. Besides, the age difference would be too great, with him being seven years her senior."
Hinata stops. She can't help but correct. "Gaara is my age. It would be a five-year difference."
"Who said anything about the Kazekage?" Father asks brusquely. "Surely he's not picking a Hyuuga for himself, though I believe he'd pick right. No, the elders will pick a suitable wife for him. He's looking for a wife for his brother." Father eyes her sceptically. "I suppose you wouldn't mind marrying the puppeteer for the benefit of your Clan and your village."
Hinata's mouth runs dry. She can't bring herself to move. If only she could shake her head as violently as she wants to. But her Father soon loses interest in her frozen figure, turning away again.
"Much to think about," he says, leaving her behind. "Make sure not to tell Hanabi. We don't want her to get her hopes up."
-x-
Gaara is restless. The day has trickled away like the sand in an hourglass, grain after grain after grain, until he could physically feel it drag on. He's spent it well, the time between meetings filled with amicable company.
But the desk in his temporary residence remains empty. No sharp claws tap at the glass of his window, signaling an incoming message.
"What's wrong?" Temari asks when they gather at dinner, just the three of them this time.
"What do you mean, what's wrong?" Kankuro asks, ladling Curry into her bowl. "You know very well how hard it is to get decent spices around here."
"I'm not talking to you, dickhead," Temari scoffs, turning to send Gaara a questioning look, eyebrows raised. "You seem upset."
Kankuro mutters something under his breath, but Gaara doesn’t listen to him, pushing the words around in his mouth. It’s not that he’s afraid of opening up, least of all to them. But this is a sensitive topic, one he’s not quite familiar with yet.
“I’m awaiting an answer,” he admits then, quietly, gaze locked onto the table. “To a proposal. And I haven’t gotten any news yet.”
“A proposal?” Temari asks, her tone unsure. “Like, a business proposal?”
Gaara hesitates, drags his spoon through the thick curry in his bowl. He swallows a sigh. “A wedding proposal.”
Temari’s spoon clatters into her bowl, Curry splattering the table. Kankuro curses, spilling his own meal as he moves erratically at the news.
Gaara watches them, a little surprised by their shock. “Why are you reacting like this?” He asks. “I’m at an appropriate age. Am I not supposed to act this way?”
“Well, yes,” Temari catches herself. “You just seemed so… disinterested in that topic. I thought you didn’t like marriage.”
“I don’t like the thought of tying someone to me who’s unwilling. But I like her, greatly so, and I feel like she’s reciprocating my feelings. At least I thought so until today. Maybe she’s not free to marry.”
“So it’s not Lee?” Kankuro asks, licking Curry from his fingers.
Temari sends him a glare as Gaara furrows his brows. “Why would I want to marry Lee?”
“I dunno, you guys seemed close. Certainly closer than with any girl I know. Wait. Do I know her?”
“Of course you do.” Gaara sends his siblings a look. “Is it not clear who I’m talking about? I thought I was very bold with my affections.”
They both stare back silently until Temari clears her throat. “Maybe you could tell us?”
Gaara sighs. Takes a spoonful of Curry to soothe his nerves.
“It’s Hinata Hyuuga.”
Quiet answers him. Kankuro’s mouth hangs open as he stares back at him, while Temari seems to be thinking it through.
“I can see the two of you together,” she agrees. “She’s a gentle, caring soul. But, and please do not take this the wrong way, I heard she had a crush on Naruto for a long time.”
“I’m aware of that,” Gaara nods. “We talked about it.”
“When?” Kankuro asks, coming back to his senses. “Because I usually accompany you to the Hyuuga Estate. When did you ever talk about that?”
“You were there with me,” Gaara reminds him politely. “But I have noticed that your thoughts have a tendency to wander in their quiet halls.”
“So you didn’t listen,” Temari concludes, sending Kankuro another glare. “Typical. When did you propose to her? Or did you propose to her father instead?”
“Wait!” Kankuro interrupts. “Was that why you were staring so much today?” His brother grimaces. “Don’t tell me that was your proposal.”
“I was very forward in my advances, I see, if you noticed.”
His siblings share a look. Kankuro groans, and Temari’s lips form a pained smile.
“Gaara,” she says, “why don’t you tell us how you proposed exactly. There might be some misunderstanding, considering Konoha’s customs are different from ours.”
-x-
“Why not?” Kiba asks, wiping Ramen broth from his cheek. “Kankuro is a nice guy. I like him.”
“I’m not insinuating,” Hinata panics, unsure how much of her feelings she should reveal, “I just-”
“You’re in love with someone else,” Shino points out quietly, setting the cup of tea in his hands down like a judge would his gavel. They all fall quiet to listen to him. “Isn’t that so, Hinata?”
She sighs. Fiddles with the napkin in her lap.
“Yes.”
Kiba watches her, unusually quiet for a second. “It’s not Naruto, is it?” He asks then, worry clouding his voice.
“No,” Hinata shakes her head, swallowing. “No, I got over him a while ago. I mean, we’re good friends, but I realized… I realized that he’s a person with strengths and weaknesses, and as much as I admire him, I don’t think we’d…” She sighs again. “I’m happy for him. I don’t think we would be as happy as he is with Sakura.”
Kiba shrugs. “You probably would have been just as happy, but love is love, right?” He shrugs awkwardly. “It finds some, and it misses others. Nothing wrong with that.” He sounds a little sorry for himself, and Hinata can’t help but think that he’s single, too. That he had a crush on Sakura, too.
“This isn’t about us,” Shino calls him back to attention, his glasses reflecting the light as he looks at Hinata again. “This is about you. Have you thought about confessing?”
Her pulse spikes. She groans.
“Oh, come on,” Kiba argues. “It’s not that bad. Sure, you might get punched in the stomach, but surely no one punches as hard as Sakura.”
“I can’t tell him!” Hinata shakes her head, her hands gripping the table. “He’s… No. I can’t.”
“Tell us, then,” Kiba offers. “We can tell him.”
“That’s not how this is supposed to go,” Shino disagrees, but Kiba’s stoked by his own idea. “No, no, it’s great. You tell us, we go and get intel on the situation, and report back to you. We’re subtle, real spies. And when you know that he loves you back, you can go and tell him for real. Easy-peasy!”
Shino disagrees. Hinata watches them bicker through the gaps between her fingers. Akamaru whines low in his throat, and she turns to look at him, down by her feet. He looks up at her, huffs, and looks out onto the street. She can’t see much; the curtains a little lower for privacy, but she recognizes the color and the fabric immediately, slipping from her chair without a second thought.
Neither of the boys follows her, and she’s glad when she finds Gaara waiting on the other side of the street, watching her as if he’d known she’d come out to see him.
-x-
Konoha might not have Suna’s vivid sunsets or the deep, unclouded night skies that reveal stars twinkling like diamonds in a bed of ink-black velvet, but its nightfall certainly has its own beauty, the sky turning from the pale lavender Hinata often wears into the deep blue shade of her hair.
They walk in silence for a while, content to share the same space.
No, Gaara reminds himself, he is content.
He clears his throat awkwardly, and Hinata turns, her eyes wide as she watches him. He falters.
There is something in her eyes, a quiet strength he’s always admired, one that still catches him off-guard in moments like this.
The silence stretches between them, fragile like gossamer. He’s usually not one to break it, has learned to revel in it long ago. He likes to watch her bathe in it, has done so for the past few months. But this is not a time for silence.
“I quite enjoy visiting your home,” he starts, not quite sure where his words will lead him.
“Thank you,” Hinata answers politely, her mouth opening as if to add a word or two. She doesn’t.
“Please,” he asks, “continue. I want to know.”
“Oh, I shouldn’t,” she blushes faintly and averts her eyes for a second, misses the twitch in his fingertips as he longs to touch the warmed skin. “It’s just- We enjoy having you as well.”
“We?”
They’re quiet, just the sound of their feet on the gravelly ground, the wind in the trees, faint laughter from a bar down the road.
“I,” Hinata corrects herself, her voice so quiet he can barely hear her. She licks her lips, starts again. “Father-”
“Would you-,” Gaara interrupts her by accident, or maybe not, his fingers aching again. “Would you want to see Suna?”
Her eyes are wide and full of wonder, pale as the moon slowly rising above them.
“Yes, but-” She’s stuttering now. “I can’t- not without a reason, and Father-”
“I would be your reason,” Gaara argues, something like a fire lighting in his chest. He feels small again, too small for a situation like this, for his age, his title. He feels like the kid again who asked others to play with him, hoping against hope that this time someone would hear him out. “I’m asking you- I’m asking you to come. And see me.”
Quiet settles again, their eyes wide as they watch each other, drink each other in.
Gaara has never felt seen like this before, not once in all the times he’s had to deal with the Byakugan or even the Sharingan.
But Hinata’s eyes drop to the ground eventually, and his heart sinks, heavy with regret. She’s not going to choose him. He swallows against a bout of tears, surprised by their strength. He hasn’t cried in a long time.
“Father-” she mumbles, and her voice pulls him to the surface of his mind again, to the moment happening. “Father thinks you’re looking for a strong Kunoichi. To replace… Temari-sama.”
Gaara blinks. There’s a message in these words, like there usually is when Hinata speaks.
“I am looking for no one,” he admits, because it’s the truth. “I met you, and I knew.”
She blushes a feverish red at that, sucking in a breath. “Don’t say- Don’t say things like that!”
“I mean it,” he insists. “I have been trying- Well, I thought I made myself clear with my visits. Temari has pointed out that I wasn’t as clear as I thought.”
Hinata watches him for a while, the red in her cheeks deepening from time to time, as she grapples with what he’s told her, what he’s hinted at, too.
“Me?” She asks then, quietly, her voice soft. “Really?”
“If you want me,” Gaara offers her his heart again. “Have me, please.”
-x-
The next morning finds her unsettled and restless, the night blurry in her mind, yet her memories are crystal clear. The deep red of his hair and the soft pink of his blush, the warmth in his eyes as he wished her goodnight.
She’s not had any chance to sleep, what with her heart racing like that.
She’d scribbled a note to Kiba, and written a longer letter to Shino, trying to put her feelings, her doubts, her worries into words.
But morning comes, and she fears it might bring disappointment. Most things look lovelier in the night.
A knock on her door. She rises, dresses herself in the plain white cloth she had laid yesterday, way before anything exciting had happened. The white isn’t unusual for her, but today she thinks about a different white cloth.
What kind of wedding attire would be appropriate for Sunagakure, she wonders, swallowing the hope before it can blossom. It’s dangerous to hope.
Downstairs, their servants are in a frenzy.
“The Kazekage is here,” one of the younger ones whispers in passing. “Hyuuga-sama demands to be served a proper breakfast at once.”
Hinata swallows another seed of hope. Surely, he hasn’t come for her.
But when she enters, Gaara sends her a smile, the pull of his lips transforming his usually serious face. Her breath hitches, and Father glares, but she cannot care about him now, not when her heart is souring with the clouds.
Hanabi’s already seated, curious eyes watching the scene unfold.
“It is very unusual to visit this early.”
“I apologize,” Gaara doesn’t sound at all apologetic. “But this matter is important to me. I fear I haven’t made myself clear during my last visits. I ask for the hand of your daughter.”
Hanabi swallows her tea wrong. Hinata reaches over to rub her back as she coughs, her heart squeezing with conflicting feelings. There is still a chance-
“For yourself?” Father asks, his voice cautious. “Or for someone else.”
“For myself,” Gaara clarifies, his voice steady. “And to make myself clear, I want to marry Hinata. I will not accept ‘No’ as an answer.”
Silence grows between the cracks in the floorboards, grows between them as they wait for an answer.
Finally, Father speaks, and when he does, he does so with a sigh.
“Will it make you happy?” He asks, and even though he’s not looking at her, Hinata believes that he’s addressing her.
“Very much so, Father.”
“Then it shall be.”
It is only later, just hours before his departure, that Hinata realizes she’s never told him of her own feelings. Not explicitly, at least. Not like he did.
She will marry him in two months time, if everything goes right, but she doesn’t want to wait until then, doesn’t want him to leave this village without knowing the extent of her feelings.
Unsurprisingly, Gaara waits outside the Hyuuga residence as if he knew already. His hand takes hers, the shield of sand slowly trickling away as they walk until she can feel his skin against hers.
Silence stretches around them like a blanket of snow, her favorite kind. Words are hard to come by in a place this comfortable. She squeezes his hand instead, smiles up at him when he turns to look. His gaze is fond, and so is hers.
“I see you,” she says then, because she does, always has, in a way. “Always.”
-
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