Chapter Text
The resounding knock thudded in Lee's ears with the blood-chiling realization that he might have crossed a line. To worsen the sickening feeling, he noticed the voices on the other side of the door fell deathly silent. Lee was petrified. Half of him screamed to run far away, down the hall an out the building, but the stronger part of him was like stone. Now that he'd committed, there was no turning back. Fear flung itself at Lee's throat, wrapping like a boa constrictor, squeezing his courage away. He couldn't help but wonder what exactly he had stumbled into, but when he thought of Gaara's face wrought with self-disdain, he knew there was no turning back. The match had been struck, the fuse lit.
The door unlocked and opened just a sliver. There was a girl, only a single blue eye visible as she narrowed at Lee. He could tell that she had blonde hair and pale skin, but the door obstructe the rest of his vision.
"What do you want?" the girl asked in a flat uninviting voice, opening the door a hair wider. Her eyes gleamed hatefully like razors, and sleepless purple bags sagged under her eyes. She might be twelve or twenty, in the way girls look younger when they aren't wearing any makeup and have their hair hastily scrapped up in a haphazard attempt at cleanliness. A worn hoodie hung down to her thighs, and she was barefoot.
Rock Lee swallowed a nervous breath. "I, uh, I am sorry is this is a bad time? I'm a friend of Gaara's."
The girl wrinkled her nose, which Lee saw had a faint smatter of freckles. "Friend? Of Gaara's?"
"Yes, we had plans today. I tried to call...I'm so sorry." Lee bowed, cheeks burning red. "I just...wanted to know he was okay. If this is a bad time, please do not hesitate to tell me!"
"It's a bad time," the girl said flatly as the door started to close. Lee grew pale with defeat when suddenly a deafening voice roared from within the dank apartment. It was like a wounded animal crying out, speaking words to the barest distinction. There was a whistle of motion and suddenly-
CLANG
A metal pot bounced off the wall inches from the girl's head and rattled on the ground. Both the girl and Lee lept back. Suddenly the girl's face darkened and she stormed back into the dismal apartment.
"What is your issue you little FREAK?!"
Lee clung to the doorway frozen. Then suddenly there was a harsh crack of skin on skin, and every ounce of better judgement Lee had left vanished. He tore through the apartment room, knocking over boots and coats, racing over the matted carpet and making a sharp turn into the living room. When his eyes landed on what was happening, a sick feeling stabbed Lee and he stumbled back.
The living room itself was bare, a single sagging sofa facing such an ancient television set and little else. But Lee saw shards of broken ceramic scattered across the floor. A lampshade with one side caved in was discarded in the corner. Books with pages ripped out were scattered over the cheap corkwood flooring.
Gaara, on the floor flailing in a full a tantrum, and a heavy set boy pinning Gaara’s wrists to the floor, straddling his chest and screaming, “Don’t make me. Don’t fucking make me Gaara. Don’t make me,” spitting inches from Gaara’s face while Gaara roared back wordlessly. With the larger kid crushing him, Gaara looked small and helpless. His blue eyes were wild and bloodshot, searching for escape like a caged animal. It set Lee’s heart ablaze with outrage, and before he knew it Lee was acting on pure impulse.
“What are you doing!?”
Before the heavy set boy could look up, Lee was on him. He seized the larger boy by the wrists and squeezed hard, forcing him to let go of Gaara’s wrists. Then he jerked upright, lifting the boy into the air and swung him towards the sofa. The large boy stumbled on his feet like a confused bull, Lee could almost see the smoke blowing from the boy’s nostrils. Sensing the boy was about to charge, Lee lifted his arms to shield his face, going on the defensive. He realized his mistake, starting on the offensive. Now things were escalating far beyond what Lee was comfortable with. This wasn’t just harmless training.
“I do not wish to fight you! Please, listen!”
But the boy hurtled towards him, all power and no finesse. Lee sidestepped him easily, as if the boy had been charging in slow motion. He rushed passed the spot where Lee had been a millisecond ago and into the hardwall. There was a sick crunch as the boy’s head collided with the plaster. Despite all his muscles, the boy was no match for years of sweat, blood, and flawless technique. For a second Lee forgot about the brutal seen he’d just witnessed, and became worried the wall gave the boy brain damage.
The larger boy groaned and sank to the floor like putty. Then he turned and eyed Lee, scraggly brown hair falling over his eyes. He reminded Lee of some farmhand character he’d heard about from somewhere, some hulking, undereducated youth with jaded eyes and an ignorance that made him more easy to hate than love. Lee realized the boy’s nose was bleeding.
Lee heard an unpleasant noise in the corner and he realized the pale girl that had opened the door was laughing, in a high, scratchy way like her throat was stuffed with straw. Lee suddenly felt absurd and self-conscious, and the situation slowly sank into him. He was in a strange apartment, fighting a strange man, being laughed at by a strange woman. Anger rose into Lee’s throat.
“Why are you laughing?” he demanded.
The girl stopped laughing and stared at him. A smirk lingered on her face. “Are you kidding? This is fucking hilarious. Absolutely fucking hilarious. You’re a riot, kid”.
Lee took a deep breath, a vain effort to clear his mind. “I...I don’t understand what you mean. This is not a hilarious situation. There is no set up. No rule of three. No punch line.”
“There can be a punchline if ya really want it,” a low voice growled.
Lee turned and saw the heavy set boy glaring at him. He still appeared a little disoriented, hand against the wall for support to stand, but one look at the boy’s build told Lee it would take more than a couple of light punches to knock him out cold. Still, if it meant liberating Gaara from this disgusting, horrifying situation, Lee would fight until his knuckles bled.
“What were you doing to him? You are twice his size.” The anger made it hard for Lee to control his volume. “Why would you just...just beat him up like that? What could he have possibly done?”
The girl cackled even harder, and Lee whipped around in frustration.
“WHY ARE YOU LAUGHING? THERE IS NOTHING REMOTELY HUMOROUS ABOUT THIS SITUATION!”
“Wha’dya mean ‘beating him up’?” The heavy set boy was pinching his nose, pressing his eyes closed like he was having a migraine. “I don’t lay a hand on that kid for just no reason.” A thought flickered over the boys brown eyes, and he looked at Lee for the first time. “Wait, wait. Hold on. Who are you?”
Lee pressed a hand to his chest. “I am Rock Lee! I am a dear friend of Gaara’s, and I will not tolerate anyone acting out harm towards my friends.”
The heavy boy scratched his head. “You always break into your friend’s houses like this?”
“Funny, bro, I was just about to ask the same thing.” The girl’s voice was much closer than Lee anticipated, startling him. He turned around and saw the girl, still skinny and small in her oversized hoodie, now clutching a metal baseball bat in both hands. Dread filled Lee. The last thing he wanted to do was fight this girl. All sexism aside, she was far smaller than him, but also meaner and sharper. She might play dirty, and Lee didn’t know if he could risk playing it safe and going on the defensive if she was stashing a switchblade in one of those oversized pockets. Even the baseball bat already complicated things immensely.
Lee remembered the words of Guy-Sensei. If you’re ever in a sticky situation, change the situation.
He had to get out of the apartment. But he couldn’t do it without Gaara.
Lee cleared his throat. He tried to muster up all the authority he could. “This is what is happening. I am taking Gaara out of here. There is no need to fight. I just want to leave. I care about Gaara. I do not want him hurt, and you are hurting him.” Lee’s eyes flickered downward, and for the first time he saw Gaara clearly. The boy was wearing the same clothing he had on their date, looking small as ever, completely motionless on the floor. His body was limp as though asleep. But something struck Lee wrongly.
Gaara’s icy eyes were wide open.
“You wanna take him? Sure, please! Do us a favour!” The girl chuckled again, but this one sounded like it was running out of steam. “Get him out.”
“I wasn’t hurtin him.” The heavy set boy took a single step towards Lee, still groggy. “He goes crazy. He hurts himself, I don’t hurt him. I’d never.”
Lee paused. He didn’t know what to do. Nothing he had ever done in his life, no amount of training had prepared him for a moment like this. To be in a foreign apartment that was molding and decaying by the hour, caught in the crossfires of two white trash teenagers while the love of his life lay on the floor, mute but conscious, all appearances considered.
“Is…” Lee spoke softly. “Is he okay?”
The girl answered immediately.
“Never.”
At this, the boy gave the girl a grunting look of disapproval. He turned to Lee, the expression on his face one of honest unhappiness. “I don’t know. He’s never done this before. Usually he fights. Never seen him lay like this.”
“Gaara?” Lee extended a cautious hand, getting the creeping feeling he was sticking his hand into the mouth of a rabid dog. “Gaara, are you...okay?”
Gaara’s face twitched. His eyes found Lee’s, and they were empty and cold. Lee searched, but could not find the boy he’d fallen for in the cafe. A cold hand closed around Lee’s throat, and he suddenly had the horrible urge to cry.
“Why is he like this?” Lee’s voice was a whisper.
“You really love him or somethin, to not go running.” The girl lowered the baseball bat and ran a hand through her tangled blonde hair. “Who are you?”
“I am… his friend. He is very dear to me.”
The girl gestured to the sofa with the metal bat. “Sit. Talk.”
Lee sat. The girl went to stand beside the squat little television set, resting her elbow on the end of the baseball bat, facing Lee directly. The large boy, still clutching his head and blinking like there was sand in his eye, slowly made his way to the sofa. He heaved himself down, the air wheezing out of the seat cushions. Lee caught a sudden whiff of sour body odour and cigarettes. Gaara lay behind the sofa, still sprawled on the floor, out of sight. Lee wondered if he was listening, or if the boy’s mind was so far away there was no reaching it at the present moment.
“I, well, my name is Rock Lee. I am a student of Might Guy, training to be a powerful fighter. I compete in tai jutsu, and have been honoured with many trophies. My dream is to-”
The girl held up her hand. “You need to stop.”
Lee shut up.
“You know who I am?”
“Ah, no.”
“Temari. I’m the creep’s older sister. That,” she pointed to the boy on the sofa, still clutching his head, “is Kankuro. He’s my little bro, but Gaara’s older bro. He’s also crowd control when things get spicy, if ya know what I mean.”
“I, uh, do not.”
“You know, spicy. Muy caliente. When the creep gets hot in the head, he goes bananas. It’s pretty hilarious. ‘Specially when he gets hold of a knife.”
Lee’s blood went cold. The girl, Temari, noticed immediately, her eyes narrowing.
“You didn’t know. Of course ya didn’t. I don’t blame you. Walk out now, I won’t hold it against you.”
“That…” Lee’s voice rose suddenly, courage lifting through his throat with wings. “That is a terrible thing to say. He is your brother.”
Temari stared at him.
“You should be supporting him. Not calling him names.” Lee rose to his feet. “I cannot listen to this. Gaara is kind. Gaara is respectful. He makes the most amazing french roast and has a wonderful sense of humour. And now he is laying on the floor.” Tears threatened to well up, and Lee tried to blink them away. He knew that displays of emotion could be as manly as a punch, but he did not want Gaara to think he had upset him. He had to be strong. “He is laying on the floor, and you are doing nothing.”
The girl regarded Lee, thoughtful. Then she blew a strand of hair from off her face. “Yeah. You’re right.”
The words burst straight from Lee's chest. “You have no heart.”
Suddenly the girl threw the aluminum bat at the wall. It banged with such violence that Lee gave a small shout. He felt the reverberation in his bones.
“Get the fuck out.” Lee saw Temari was shaking. “You have no fucking clue. What we go though, in this house?” For the first time, something like emotion trembled in Temari’s words. “How hard it is? We don’t have anybody to help us. It’s just us. We don’t know what to do, we are fucking do the best we can. And you think you have a right to come in here and judge us for what we do and how we live? Fuck you. He’s my brother. I fucking love him.” Tears welled up in Temari’s eyes, and she groaned and wiped her face with the back of her sleeve. “Ugh, fuck. Ughhh, emotions are so gross,” She sniffed, regaining some composure. “We are doing the best we can.”
“Yeah,” Kankuro agreed from the sofa, unmoved by the sudden violence. He rubbed his temples in slow, circular motions. The gesture looked practiced to Lee. “He’s my little bro. We take care of him….we try. He gets into a mood and he can’t control himself. I gotta hold him down. He can really hurt himself.”
“And us.”
“And us,” Kankuro echoed Temari, not doing anything except stating a fact. “Til he calms down.”
Lee was without words. The fight was drained out of him. He sat back down.
“I’m sorry. I didn’t realize… I’m sorry.”
“Fuck, it’s fine,” said Temari. “I get it, I know what it looks like. We aren’t those kinds of people. We don’t do drugs. We don’t run with gangs. We smoke, but that’s it. Don’t even drink. I work, Kankuro works. Gaara gets sick. Makes it tough to move uphill.” Temari went to sit on the floor near the sofa so she was able to comfortably be in Lee’s company. “But we’d never leave him. I know some cruel sonsofbitches that left their kids or little siblings at the front doors of strangers before shootin off to some red light town to live out the rest of their strung out junkie life. Not me. I used to mess with that stuff, but I quit.” She nodded to herself. “I had to think hard about what I wanted.”
Lee felt himself softening towards Temari, this older sister, so frail and skinny and yet so incredibly strong.
“That’s amazing. Congratulations.”
“Hah. Thanks. You’re the first to say that.”
“Congratulations, Temari.”
“Kankuro, if you weren’t already concussed, I’d punch you.”
“I mean it.” Kankuro protested weakly, now slouched over. “You’re strong, sis. I never tell you that.”
“Ew, shut up.” But there was a smile on Temari’s face. She brushed loose blonde strands behind her hand. “This is to mushy. Subject change. Gaara, how’re you doing back there?”
There was a beat of silence. Then…-
“...my chest hurts.”
“Excellent.” Temari beamed. “He’s talking again.”