#hinagaara

She kept being forgotten. Her body kept folding onto itself in the shadows of those she loved and admired. She wanted pink hair that grazed her shoulders in the summery heat, green eyes that shone with happiness and confidence and a voice that could yell beyond words. Hinata sat down, holding herself like she had been taught to; like a Hyuuga. She paled, her hair falling softly around her. She didn't know what it meant anymore to be a Hyuuga when hearts didn't burst open under her palms, when it didn't fill her thirst for recognition.

Gaara wished he could point at the stars above their heads and chant to her that Naruto used to be one of the stars until he died. He vanished. He gave up. He was just one of them, now deprived of his light and soul. How could she have set her eyes on him and never let go? He didn't shine, he wasn't human. And why not Gaara? Why couldn't she see him the way she saw him?

"And you told me nothing could come off a demon showing too much interest in a human! What is this, Kyuubi? Why did you tell me I was wrong in looking at her when you are..." He couldn't say it. Love. His roar faded in the memory fo puppets holding his hands and an uncle showing him that he could never love anyone but himself. The room swayed, his chest dulled in the emptiness that inhabited him. The void. Always, the void in the prison of his mind.

"Do you have money?" Hinata hesitated, looking at her rigid hand on him. She blushed, retreating it slowly. He laughed darkly and crossed his arms over his chest. The wind ruffled his hair, his tattoo appearing. "People don't say no to me." he said coldly. Except you.