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gaasaku-fanfests · 5 years

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Misfits (part 9 & 10)

Title: Misfits Author: clem-chan Rating: T Word Count: 27 388 Summary: Marrying a CEO in the midst of a romantic scandal to pay for med school is not the happy ending Sakura imagined for herself. The arrangement that started as constant bickering soon becomes so much more… If only her husband was hers to fall in love with. GaaSaku. Modern!AU Warnings: There is a light make-out session hence the T rating. There’s also mention of child abuse and childhood trauma. Minor ships: light KankuKiba, very light ShikaTema, mention of NejiTen.

Author’s Note(s): Two little things to mention: First, I wanted to keep this accessible to all, so I have cut out more raunchy scenes which will be posted in the AO3 version of this fic soon. Second, I have this headcannon where Gaara and Sakura are just two misfits. :P So, that’s what this story is about: two misfits forced together. XD Hope you enjoy it! ^_^

Trope: Arranged Marriage

. [warnings are for overall fanfic, not individual parts.]

PART 9

'Fundraiser?' Gaara texted her later during the day.

Sakura sighed, tapping her pen on the textbook opened in front of her. She scratched her leg, letting the phone drift away from her as she slowly made her through the page. The description of a tracheotomy blurred in front of her.

Sighing, she slammed her textbook shut and reached for her phone.

She jumped to her feet, and paced in the kitchen, staring at his text.

She wanted to lie.

She wanted to avoid him.

'Can't sorry,' Sakura typed, then erased it and wrote: "Yes." She hesitated before adding an emoji. She shook her head. They had barely seen each other since they had kissed. She added a smiley emoji. Neutral. Without teeth.

'Kankuro can help with shopping,' he answered immediately.

'What about you?' Sakura typed, then hesitated again. She didn't want to sound needy. She erased the message. 'Fine.'

She grunted.

Her phone buzzed again.

'7 PM, good?'

'Yes.'

Sakura stared at the screen of her phone until it went dark. She bit her below lip. She didn't know what she had wanted from him. 'More,' she shouted inwardly. If in their marriage she was the rag doll, he was missing puzzle pieces. He was pieces forced together after a child's tantrum. He was rough edges and sleeplessness that slowed him down, slow reactions, even slower answers.

'Don't ask please.'

She opened her textbook again, blowing locks of hair out of her face. She had three hours to study before Kankuro showed up.

-X-

Kankuro arrived late.

Like Temari, he didn't drive. A sleek limousine quietly parked in front of their drive-away, and a silent man got out to open the door for her.

Sakura bowed her head in quiet thanks, clutching her bag to her side, and entered the car.

"Hello, little sis," Kankuro smiled.

His hair was combed back, his suit crimson, and opened over a black turtleneck.

"We could've met there, oniisan," Sakura said, and her gaze shifted around the back of the limousine. "There was no need for the car and everything."

He huffed and waved her concerns away.

"Well, first Gaara asked me to pick you up, and he was actually polite for once. Two, Kiba hates this car and being driven around, so any excuse to get it out is a good day for me," Kankuro said quickly holding up his fingers to her, and he reached across from him to open a water bottle. He took a sip, smacked his lips together, and added holding another finger up: "and two, we aren't going to the mall. We are going directly to the designers I like. You can't get there by yourself, now that wouldn't be fun."

"Thank you," Sakura bowed her hand, her hands curling into fists on her lap.

"Why so formal?" Kankuro laughed broadly, and nudged her. He held out an opened water bottle to her, but she shook her head. Shrugging, he dropped it back in the mini refrigerator. "Oi, what the hell is going on? Gaara is polite, and you aren't smiling."

"I-I..." Sakura blushed.

"You weren't that formal when you barged into that directors' meeting."

Sakura whirled her head toward him, her eyes widened.

"You know about that?" she asked thinly.

"I know everything," Kankuro winked. "Well, there's that and there's the fact gossip travels fast in this small world of old money and new brides. I think even Temari was a little impressed."

"I would have expected Temari-san to be mad," Sakura grimaced.

"Temari-neesan..." Kankuro articulated slowly, his gaze turning to steel. "She's your sister too now."

Sakura pinched her lips and nodded stiffly.

Kankuro laughed, and nudged her again, slapping her lap. Sakura yelped at the sheer brute of his mood swings and touch.

"I suppose Temari gave you a hard time?"

"No," Sakura said quickly, blushing hard.

"Liar," Kankuro chuckled, and glanced out the window.

"Unlike me, Temari used to be part of the company, but now she's a diplomat. Not for long though," Kankuro waved his hand around, and shrugged.

"Gaara hates that she's leaving," Sakura said carefully.

"I hate it too..." Kankuro groaned. "She was a diplomat in Konoha, met that Nara boy, and now she's going to move there."

"The Nara is an old family," Sakura muttered, and pinched her lips to keep from tumbling over words, and how she truly felt about Temari.

"Yeah, they're old-fashioned alright," Kankuro snorted. "They breed deer for Pete's sakes."

"The Inuzuka family also comes from Konoha..." Sakura said carefully.

"Strange, isn't it? We all ended up with people from Konoha." Kankuro smirked. "Actually, Kiba was raised here and in Konoha after his parents' divorce. His dad still lives downtown. Kiba did most of his schooling here."

"I see," Sakura smiled thinly.

Everyone had more roots than her here. Unshakeable, deep roots that circled back into who they were. What they wanted to be. She wanted nothing from the land, nothing from anyone, but everything from her future. And she was reckless, ruthless about what she wanted, selfishly. Not for the land. Not for Suna and its population. She had married Gaara because Suna had one of the best medical program on the continent.

And what did she have?

Nothing.

A drunk benefactor that called at odd hours asking for money, then gambling it away. Friends, she now lied to because she was too ashamed of whom Chiyo-sama had painted her to be. Too ashamed to admit she was right; she had no regrets about the money, the university, her future.

"Ahh, we are here. Let's have fun now!" Kankuro smirked wickedly, and Sakura forced herself to smile back at him.

Like a good doll.

Like a ruthless woman.

Like Gaara's wife.

They got out of the car when the driver opens the door for them. Sakura looked around her. She didn't recognize where they were, but from the absence of tall buildings she knew they were in the outskirts of Suna. The wind hurled, whipping sand unstopped by towers and abrupt walls in the city. Sakura squinted, and Kankuro walked ahead of her, undisturbed.

Sakura let out a shuddering breath, unclenching her jaw when they stepped into the shop. It was silent, their steps muffled by thick rugs that absorbed sand and dust. The clothes were displayed both on simple racks and through elaborate designs.

Sakura stepped closer to Kankuro, who flicked through clothes carelessly, snorting noisily. She reddened, looking furtively around the shop for a clerk to pinch their lips and throw them out. 'Why is this whole family so rude?' she yelled inwardly.

"Ano, Kankuro-niisan..." she hissed, but Kankuro winked at her again.

"Kankuro-sama," a man dressed in a suit bowed down deeply, undisturbed by Kankuro's antics. "It has been a while."

"That's because you keep driving up your prices, Yuto," Kankuro snorted and Sakura coughed violently, embarrassed, hoping the man hadn't heard.

"I would never dare-"

"We'll see," Kankuro sniffed, and he turned toward Sakura. "This is Sakura, my brother's wife."

Designer Yuto Saito bowed his head at her, his eyes scanning over her clothes. Feeling self-conscious, Sakura turned her head, her heart throbbing, and pretended to look at the clothes hung on the rack on her right. Her fingers shook over the tags.

"I suppose she needs clothes," Yuto sneered.

'Not at that price, I don't!' Sakura thought, scandalized.

"I need a gown, actually," she said with fake cheerfulness.

"You would think so, wouldn't you?" he sniffed again, not bothering to mask his disgust.

Sakura's head whirled toward him, her eyes flashing with anger, but before she could snap something back, Kankuro stepped in front of her.

"Just a gown for today, please," he said.

Kankuro then turned toward her, hiding Yuto from her view. She pursued her lips, and stepped away from him, pretending to explore other racks of clothes.

"Are you going back to the hospital?" Kankuro asked following her breezily.

"No, I'm starting a new rotation next week."

"Good!" he clapped his hands together. "Get us some champagne here."

"Very well, Kankuro-sama," Yuto said and snapped his fingers at his assistants.

They hurried off behind heavy curtains brought back a bottle and two champagne flutes on a tray of crystal.

"Kankuro-niisan!" Sakura said. "There's no need-"

"Of course, there's a need for champagne," Kankuro interrupted, his voice booming. "You never drank the bottle I brought to your wedding. Now, stop arguing with your big brother, and walk over to that rack."

Sakura approached the rack, unsure and uncomfortable. Over her shoulder, she watched Kankuro flop on one of the couch. Immediately, an assistant hurried around him to serve him a glass of champagne.

"Those aren't my style," Sakura whispered, gesturing frantically.

She meant the price tags. She meant the absurdity of opening a shop for one of two client per day. She meant vibrant colours for her pale skin and pink hair.

It was convoluted.

It was fake.

She didn't belong here.

"Oniisan, could we go elsewhere?" Sakura asked tentatively.

Kankuro took a sip from his glass, then snapped his fingers at Yuto.

"Oi, you heard the lady. This is all shit! Bring us the good stuff you hide behind the curtains."

"Kankuro-sama, your eye is keen as always," Yuto said with a stiff smile, still ignoring Sakura. "Of course, of course, we'll bring out the new collection for you."

He gestured fast at his assistants, and they opened the violet curtains by the dressing rooms.

Sakura let herself fall on a plush couch next to Kankuro. Winking, he handed her a champagne flute. Sakura bowed her head and took the glass gratefully. They clicked their glasses. He surveyed the clothes, then leaned over her.

"Now, play Gaara," he whispered.

"What?" Sakura whispered back, and quickly glanced up at the designer.

Yuto was still standing near them, creaseless, immobile, a perfect model.

"Playing Gaara means stay silent and sullen at everything he shows you."

"But why?"

"Because that's how this world works," Kankuro said simply, his eyes darkening with a malicious glint and a sternness that never truly parted from his character. "Never let on what you truly want. That's how you get what you want. At a reduced price," he winked at her.

Sakura took another sip of her champagne. The bubbles rolled on her tongue, brisk, numbing, like the rest of the decor. She hesitated then drowned the glass.

Before Sakura could even blink, her glass was filled once more by one of Yuto's assistants.

They showed her gowns of silky fabric, soft colours that she knew would look horrible on her. She stayed silent, immutable, as Yuto explained in his drowsy tone the fabric, its cut and the sewing technique.

"I don't like these colours," Sakura blurted out after a while, her body loose and flushed from the alcohol.

Kankuro stiffed a laugh and patted her briefly on the back— to stop her or to encourage her— she didn't know.

Yuto flushed crimson, his mouth twisted and plucked.

"The colours are in line with the fundraiser's etiquette," he flustered angrily, shock condensing his words together, and Sakura winced. "Soft beige and whites. Of course, you would need jewelry that brings some colour... Do you have something like that?" he asked pointedly as if he knew she couldn't possibly own anything like that.

"Hn." Sakura said and narrowed her eyes at him.

They glared at each other.

"Silver," Yuko bellowed and snapped his fingers at his assistants. "Let's see some silver gowns."

-X-

The door knob rattled, the key lock grinding unpleasantly.

Frowning, Gaara sat up on the couch, his body tensing. He cursed loudly when the door burst open.

"Gaara!" Sakura slurred in surprise, and hiccuped.

Red-faced, she kicked off her shoes. Gaara stood up slowly, watching her dropped her shopping bags by the door before making her way clumsily in the kitchen. She turned on herself, squinting.

"I was looking for something," she muttered, and scratched her head.

"Are you... Are you drunk?" Gaara narrowed his eyes at her.

"It was champagne," Sakura whispered and weakly batted his chest. His mouth twisted and he looked down on the spot she had touched. She leaned closer a finger pressed to her lips. "Kankuro-niisan said it doesn't count."

"Of course, he would say that," Gaara growled, and opened the refrigerator for a water bottle. "Here. Did you find a gown?"

"Hai!" Sakura gave him a salute and then, giggled.

Quickly, Gaara caught the bottle she had accidentally knocked off the counter. Breathing sharply, he opened it for her and handed it back to her.

"Drink. You need to sober up a bit."

Sakura hummed, and shook her head.

"I don't need sobering up! Kankuro-niisan says we can't get drunk on champagne."

"Fine. I'll get you to bed then."

"I'm not a child."

"Sakura..."

"I'm not going to bed," Sakura insisted in a high-pitched voice.

Wobbly, she walked to the couch.

Sakura flopped on her stomach, pushing Gaara's book on the floor. He pinched the bridge of his nose, as she slurred words in her native language.

"This is the worst couch," she said slowly switching back to his language, and she roughly patted the pillow. Grunting, she threw it behind the couch. From her swooping unstable motions, her foot hit the coffee table.

Gaara narrowed his eyes at the loose sheets and diagrams spilling on the floor.

"Ooopsie doopsie," Sakura sing-sang and settled once more on the couch.

"Come on, I'm putting you to bed," Gaara said and bent over her.

"Noooo!" Sakura drawled out, shaking her head quickly, but she let him pick her up bridal style.

Her arms automatically circled his neck. Sakura squinted at him, scrutinizing him, and her fingers tensed around his neck. She pouted.

"What?" he asked, confused.

"Are we kissing again?" she slurred and blinked rapidly at his annoyed face.

"No, I'm getting you to bed," Gaara repeated and climbed up the stairs carefully.

"Does the world spin in bed?" she asked childishly, with widened eyes.

"Hn."

With his foot, Gaara pushed the door of their bedroom open.

"Gaara-kun!" Sakura exclaimed, and clung to him when he tried to lower her to the bed.

His eyebrow twitched, his face darkening.

She was heavy. He stiffly readjusted her in his arms, but she wriggled in his embrace.

"Sakura, you're being difficult," he gritted his teeth.

"But I wanna say we played Gaara with Kankuro!"

"What?" he snapped, and he sat on the bed with Sakura with in his arms.

She nodded fast, her eyes fluttering close, then open wide.

"We glared and stayed silent," Sakura explained and giggled, her head rolling back on his shoulder. "But I couldn't stay silent. Kankuro-niisan says it takes practice to perfect the Gaara game."

"I'll kill him," Gaara muttered to himself.

"Oh no, don't! We had fun! And I almost felt like I belonged, y'know?"

"What?"

"There's my gutter," Sakura bobbed her head, pushing away his hands that tried to lower her to the bed. "And there's your castle."

"My castle?" Gaara repeated slowly, and she slipped out of his arms clawing at the bed sheets.

She clumsily untucked them, and patted the pillows, burying her whole fists in them.

"Mhm," she muttered and wrapped herself in the covers, swiftly rolling away from the side of the bed. "I feel like a misfit whenever I'm with you or your family... Especially Temari," she drawled out, and she switched position. She pressed a pillow to her chest. "Y'all say you're my family, but you aren't. My family is dead."

Gaara watched her, frozen.

"But you said you had fun with Kankuro," he said weakly.

"Oh, the world is spinning. Can you make it stop?" Sakura held up a hand to him, gesturing frantically.

His fingers tingling, his fist clenching to his sides, Gaara hesitated. Then, he nodded, and turned back toward the door.

"I'll get you some water."

"Okie," Sakura muttered blankly and buried her face in the pillow she still held.

When Gaara came back with her glass of water, she was already asleep, restless, and jerking and grunting in her sleep.

He sighed, and set the glass on her bedside table.

Downstairs, he sat back on the couch and started tidying up.

His castle.

Her gutter.

This was how she felt about him? About his family?

Gaara evened the stacks of paper on the coffee table, his mouth twisted with displeasure. The paper hit the table more and more brutally, and he flung it entirely aside.

Paper flew everywhere, snapping, ripping.

Breathing hard, Gaara jumped to his feet.

Like Gaara did every night, he paced, praying for sleeplessness. Anguish. Terror. That was his castle, couldn't she see?

***

PART 10

The next day, Sakura awoke with a throbbing headache, her arms twisted underneath her. She stirred, wincing at the palish glow around the curtained windows. Her hair stuck to her sweaty neck as she tentatively moved her arms, her legs.

Sakura squinted at the light grey shadows, and the foot of the bed sank.

Wincing, she passed a hand over her forehead.

She ached all over.

"It's me," Gaara muttered.

Sakura grunted in reply, and pulled the covers over her head. She felt him shift slowly as if not to disturb her. He put on his socks, then buttoned his shirt.

"I put some painkillers on the bedside table and a glass of water," he mentioned after a tensed silence.

"Thanks." Sakura said, her voice muffled.

She tried to collect herself, assemble thoughts, and words she may have said. She still wore her clothes from yesterday.

"You're unhappy with me, aren't you?"

Sakura opened her mouth to reply, but her mouth was dry, all the words she could utter, bitter, weak. She meant to lie: "No, everything is fine." She meant to yell the truth: "You keep me at arm-length because of your back, and I'm tired. I'm so tired of yearning for more." She curled up, her body folded more tightly under the covers, rocking slightly.

If only the pain would ease.

In her head.

In her heart.

She pressed her eyelids tightly shut when Gaara sighed.

"I was a monster for most of my life," he said in a hushed voice, and she wondered if he had spoken at all. "I was never a child. I was born a monster. My mother died when she gave birth to me. My father couldn't get over his grief. He turned violent with Tem and Kankuro." His jaw clenched. "But mostly me, because I killed her. He gambled our entire family fortune away. My uncle took us in..." He pointed awkwardly at his back. "He carved my back when I was asleep, so I would never forget what I've done to our family by being born," Gaara turned his gaze toward her shapeless form, still angry and sad from the previous night.

He meant to reach for her, but his hand trembled on his lap.

She didn't move either.

"I don't always understand what you need or want from me, because no one has ever hold me, or loved me."

Gaara stood up abruptly, and turned away from her, just as her hand felt the mattress looking for his . Sakura gripped the bedsheets still warm, choking back on tears.

Slowly, she retreated, wounded, nauseous.

"I was always alone, that's why I agreed to an arranged marriage. I don't know if I live in a castle, but I know I lived in a prison," Gaara added his hand on the door knob.

The metal gritted violently as he opened the door.

All she heard was that he didn't choose her. He didn't care about choosing her. She could have been anyone, a nameless woman kissing him on a photograph.

She wanted more.

She didn't know why she was so emotional, why she was still looking for pieces of him that fitted with pieces of her. Where was the girl with her squared shoulders, straight back and chin-up?

"For the fundraiser, I'll pick you up at 8 tonight from here."

"Okay," Sakura managed to squeak, her tongue thick, her throat closing up.

Gaara didn't turn back toward her.

"I'll call to check up on you."

"Okay," she repeated softly and closed her eyes, shutting him out.

"Do you want me to stay?" Gaara whispered, and as always, his presence loomed over her.

Sakura shook her head, biting her trembling lip.

Maybe she had never terrified of him.

Maybe all along, she had been terrified of being erased, crushed by him.

Maybe she wasn't whole because she wasn't Sakura Haruno anymore.

"I left rice and stew in the fridge for breakfast."

Gaara quietly closed the door behind him.

Sakura counted to 100. Again, and again. Every time she reached 100, she told herself she would get up and take a shower and study for her next rotation and call her friends.

Squared shoulders, straight back, chin up, she would get up now. Now. Now. NOW!

The bed sank again to her left, and she startled, yelping loudly, before she felt his arms around her. Grunting, he shrugged off his jacket, and readjusted their positions.

"You came back," she muttered, and pressed her forehead to his neck, her hands curling over his shirt.

"It didn't feel right," Gaara replied gruffly and his palms soothed her back. "We should have hugged. Or I don't know..."

"I don't know either, but I reached for you," she mumbled and her lips brushed skin, up and up his neck, trailing closed-mouth kisses. She paused, one finger over his lip, her heart thundering. Her gaze flicked from his mouth to his eyes. He kissed her finger.

"I'm so sorry..." She lowered her head back to his chest, and her arms tightened around him.

She felt his fingers on her scalp, tilting her head back. He grunted against her lips, his mouth moving lightly across hers, nibbling slowly. She shuddered. The covers snapped off her, roughly disregarded on the floor. He filled the space between them once more, gently holding her back against him while he lied on his back.

"Where's your uncle now?" she whispered above his heart.

"Dead," he said quietly, and his hands left her back for a moment as he untied his watch from his wrist. "I don't remember much to be honest. I thought he was... I thought he was the best uncle. We all did. I never could sleep well after."

Sakura nodded silently against him, tears rolling down her cheeks, down his shirt. Her hands rubbed up and down his arms. Gaara put the watch on the bedside table, the metallic bracelet clicking piercingly on the wood.

"Are you staying? I don't work today..."

"I can stay this morning if you want."

Lazily, she nuzzled his bicep.

"We should be more open and honest about what we want from each other, or this won't ever work."

"I know," he said simply. "That's why I came back."

Sakura closed her eyes.

Maybe they did fit, frail, with the jagged broken pieces of themselves at once resting against each other and piling up awkwardly, their odd angles poking out.

Maybe...

Maybe they weren't meant to fit neatly, in an even polished piece the way Kankuro and Kiba did, or with soft complicity like Neji and Tenten did.

They were bossy and demanding, stubborn and walled-in.

This was them. Misfits.

-X-

The room was spacious, decorated with flowers and pictures of sick children smiling. And his world gleamed, pristine, each table with a different centre piece spelling out the names of its occupants.

Overwhelmed and awe-struck, Sakura tried not to stare too much.

Her silver dress bellowed around her, the silk cool against her skin, gliding and shimmering whenever she moved. Sakura held a wine glass she had barely touched.

Gaara kept touching her, his fingers grazing her exposed back, as he muttered the names and functions of people who approached them, his lips grazing her earlobe. She bowed and smiled and laughed, often leaning back against him.

"That's the head of Zhang Pharmaceutics, Zhang Liu."

One lone finger trailed down her back. Her elbow jerked back against his abdomen in a warning.

"We're in public," Sakura hissed from behind her glass.

Cameras snapped, flash momentarily blinding them.

Her cheeks hurt from smiling.

Her feet hurt from her high heels.

"I'm well aware," he admitted as they walked away. "You're the one reacting. That's Akimichi Chouza and his son, Akimichi Chouji from A Grain of Yum caterer. He's from Konoha, so if you could greet them in your language, it would be great."

Sakura smiled again and bowed her head. She spoke to them in her native language, Gaara standing by her side, nodding stiffly back.

They moved along again.

"Do you even speak my language?"

"Some," Gaara said, and guided her back toward their table, his hand on the small of her back.

The lights dimmed.

Her dress danced across her legs, the front of the dress rising up to her neck while her back was completely exposed. She wore heavy earrings she had borrowed from Tenten long ago. Their green gems sparkled and grazed her neck whenever she bowed.

"Like what can you say?" Sakura asked, raising a brow as they approached their table.

Gaara pulled the chair for her, and he brushed her loose hair aside, his fingers briefly lingering on her shoulder.

She looked up at him, breathless.

The tension between them sizzled, growing taut as he leaned toward her.

"I'll tell you later. We're in public."

"You're a pervert," she huffed, her skin flushed.

"They were just curse words actually," Gaara breathed as he kissed the side of her head.

He unbuttoned his tuxedo and sat down next to her.

"Ohhh! Look, Hina-chan, that's Gaara and his wife!" a voice shouted excitedly.

Gaara jumped back to his feet, and Sakura touched her throat surprised by his reaction. Nimbly, he buttoned his jacket again, and extended his hand.

"Naruto, how are you?"

"I'm fine," the blond man replied and his blue eyes sparkled with mischief. "She's so pretty. How did you get her to say yes to you?"

"She just did," Gaara said simply.

"Naruto-kun..." The woman next to Naruto breathed out, her voice quivering, and she turned red.

She was beautiful, softened features and pearl eyes veiled by heavy eyelashes. Her long dark hair cascaded down her back, and over her lilac dress.

'15 years from now, you'll still be the girl from the gutter,' Temari whispered in her ear, and Sakura understood what she meant. Hinata Hyuuga moved with elegance, her jewelry refined and complementing her dress. Sakura could see she had thought of every detail, assembling each piece of her outfit carefully.

Sakura looked down at her own gown.

She was made of borrowed pieces; earrings from Tenten, high heels from long ago that didn't fit as well, and a gown she would never have chosen for herself.

'Maybe, I'm wrong about Gaara... Maybe, I'm the only misfit here,' she thought bitterly.

"This is Sakura, my wife. Sakura, this is Uzumuka Naruto and Hinata Hyuuga," Gaara introduced. "Naruto owns the Whirl a charity for orphans and Hinata is his fiancé. You must know her from the Hyuuga family"

Slowly, Sakura rose to her feet, her face stiff, her smile an open wound. She bowed to Gaara's friends.

"Nice to meet you both, though I think we've briefly met through Neji, Hinata-sama."

"Oh, right," Hinata smiled politely, returning her bow.

Gaara didn't touch or guide her, his body turned toward his friends, his hands deep in his pockets.

She saw it then, in the smallest tic, the softest smile; her husband didn't belong to her.

She watched Hinata more carefully, an icy hand squeezing her heart painfully. It didn't beat anymore, it burst.

Hinata delicately brushed a strand of hair behind her ear, her cheeks pink as she spoke with Gaara. She wasn't loud or bossy or broke, like she was.

"Nice to meet you, Sakura-san," Hinata said, and she taped two fingers to her partner's elbow. "We should go, Naruto-kun."

"Oh, yeah, you're right!" he looked at her carefully, returning her touch with a softness that gutted Sakura. "It's about to start! Nice to meet you, Sakura-san!"

They walked away, their heads inclined toward each other, speaking to each other.

Sakura sat back on her chair. Gaara watched them for a while, before settling next to her.

"I think we'll need to meet two more directors after the speeches and the dinner."

"Okay," Sakura said and briefly dripped her lips in her wine.

"Are you upset?" Gaara asked frowning.

"I'm just tired," she replied flatly.

"Hn."

"It's the shoes," she added, her anger piercing through her voice.

Sakura was grateful when the speeches started. She glanced sideways once, expecting Gaara's pale gaze on her, scrutinizing her, as always, but he was staring at Naruto and Hinata. She didn't understand his expression. She didn't want to.

Was it longing?

Numb, Sakura clapped at the end of the first speech, and a second man saluted as he walked up the stairs. Distractedly, Gaara muttered his name to her.

She barely heard him.

-X-

Outside the venue, the breeze was cool, swirling dust and sand that brushed like sharp needles on her skin. It flattened his hair on his head. Behind them, the building was illuminated by soft lights, its front steps buzzing with people in tuxedos and long gowns.

Sakura carefully went down the stairs. Her feet ached, pain shooting sharply through her ankle every step she took.

A valet approached Gaara. He looked over his shoulder at her. He held up his hand. She grabbed it, gratefully, relief flooding through her. Maybe she was wrong, paranoid, maybe there was nothing about Hinata-

"I was asking for the car keys," Gaara said staring at her hand in his.

She dropped his hand, stung.

"Sakura, you look-"

"I'm fine," Sakura answered mechanically, her small purse flinging to her side as she looked for the keys. "Let's just go home." She handed the valet the keys, and he hurried off to the parking to get their car for them.

Moments later, their car stopped in front of them.

Sakura rushed to the passenger's seat while Gaara tipped the valet. He got in slowly, his eyes searching for hers.

Gaara sighed and readjusted his seat. He started the engine, his lips pursued.

They drove in silence, the static, the tension between them gone.

Sakura slipped out of her high heels, sucking in her breath, and wincing. She gently massaged her sore feet.

"Are you alright?"

"Yes, I told you," Sakura said evenly. "It's those shoes..."

Gaara exited the highway, slowing down, as he drove through the narrow streets of their neighbourhood.

"We agreed we wouldn't do this anymore," he said

"Was Hinata the woman you kissed?" Sakura blurted out, and her mouth trembled. "In the photo. Was that her?"

"No."

Sakura nodded stiffly.

She watched his profile, his permanently sunken eyes that looked bruised, the sharp lines of his face he shared with his siblings.

"The way, you looked at her... I'm sorry. It just seemed like you were close." Sakura rubbed her temples, glancing outside the window.

One day, they would stop clashing, she vowed. One day, it would be easier to stand by side, and not expect the whole world to swallow her. And she could be part of something other than her job.

Have a family. A place she had made for herself in society.

She squared her shoulders.

She straightened her back.

She raised her chin.

"I was jealous of Naruto most of my life," Gaara admitted softly, and Sakura faltered, then froze from the stabbing pain rippling through her.

Stop talking. Stop talking. Stop talking! she begged inwardly.

"Then, I was jealous of Hinata, and their relationship."

Sakura startled.

"What do you mean?" she managed to say with a quivering voice.

"It was always easy for them to trust others," Gaara explained, and his hands clenched around the steering wheel. "To love others. I got my tattoo as a token of good fortune. And because I didn't know what love was for a very long time."

"Gaara…" Sakura croaked, and shuddered.

"That woman was a dancer, I already told you. I did seek comfort and proximity with her that night, but there's you now, and it's different."

She thawed, distractedly playing with Tenten's earrings. Her heart rumbled low in her ears, slowing down.

"I've never been in a relationship before you," he said quietly when she didn't say anything. "Do you believe me?"

"Yes," she licked her lips. "I just can't believe I've this life sometimes or that I've you."

Gaara drove up their driveway, and turned off the engine.

"Then, this is settled," he cleared his throat, nodding to himself. "We've each other."

Sakura smiled. She stopped him from getting of the car, one hand on his sleeve. She tugged at it gently.

Gaara turned back toward her.

"What is it?"

"The family company you bought..."

Swiftly, he cupped her cheek, his eyes piercing in the darkness. Her heart quickened, growing loud, again. Hesitant, she leaned back against his palm.

"Don't worry about it," Gaara said. "You won't ever miss for anything."

"I'm not worried about that," Sakura shook her head, holding his hand to her cheek with both her own. "Being poor doesn't scare me. I just wanted to know why did you do it? Temari-neesan... She said it was a mistake."

"Because no one was willing to help them," Gaara said simply. "Family shouldn't be forced apart and left with nothing."

She kissed his cheek.

His turned his head to graze her lips.

"I don't always understand you," Sakura breathed, out of reach, and he growled, shifting in his seat, so he could unbuckle their seat belts, "and there are times I want to strangle you because you just say the wrong things... But you always, always do the right thing."

"You look beautiful, I should have said that, I know," Gaara murmured and grimaced.

Sakura nodded, laughing, and she slipped her arms around his neck. He held her waist.

"You helped me with my debts, and I was a perfect stranger," she said softly.

"You're not a stranger anymore," Gaara frowned. "Next time, get new shoes. Comfortable ones."

"We still have much to learn about each other." Sakura tilted her head, and he mirrored the gesture, his fingers still caressing her cheek.

"I'm a patient man," he smirked.

"Kiss me," Sakura whispered, her fingers slowly curling around his bow tie.

"I was about to, don't be so bossy."

She smiled against his lips.

They had finally found each other, clicked into place, two misfits who fitted nowhere else.

THE END

#GaaSaku #gaasaku-fanfests #GaaSaku Fic & Art Challenge #fanfic #clem-chan

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