A/N: Hey everyone! I'm so sorry for taking so long. Actually this was typed up along time ago, but I've rewritten it like 5 times. I think this is the best I could come up with. But at least here it is. Let me be honest to you my dear reader, I don't really have a direction of where I'm going with this. I just needed a break from calculus. Graduation this weekend, woot!

Halou - Honeythief

disclaimer: I don't own anything!

Sometimes I doubt the path I chose
Sometimes my dreams feel all on hold
There's no doubt that this will make me strong
Because it's the hardest thing I've ever done

It was the blood, he concluded. It had to be. But what he couldn't come to terms with was why it bothered him now. The stale iron taste and the red was a weapon in its own books.

Naruto had said that he could start over. But Gaara thought otherwise. How could he? How could he when already, he's being denied the most simple human pleasure: sleep. Sometimes when he closed his eyes, he could hear their plea for mercy. He could and should've stopped.

The redhead had taken Naruto's words to heart and began his search for redemption and acceptance. He understood he might never be forgiven but it is a gamble he's willing to make. Afterall, he did deserve that much at least.

Being so closely related to him and having that sister tuition, Temari could sense the tenseness around her baby brother. She had tried to lighten the spirits of her dear brother, but she saw the fear and defeat in his eyes. Was it control that he's afraid of losing?

Although with Naruto as the Hokage, the relationship between the sand and the leaf had been uplifted dramatically, no matter where the red head went, he still felt ill at ease and awkward.

"I-I'm sorry, I take it back! Just-please!" the man had screamed but it didn't faze the demon container.

He didn't deserve her. Something so full and beautiful -and everything- was too perfect for him. But he knew he would not let her go. Even If the jinchuuriki no longer controlled his hunger, its greed and selfishness still lingered. And he would embrace it wholeheartedly, as long as this feeling of warmth -this sense of security- remains.

He could smell the enemys blood lingering on his sand. The stale iron no longer gave him same satisfaction and hunger he had felt back during his teen years. No, this feeling was filled with an emptiness that is begging to be filled. Which confused him because it was too late to feel like a boy that had just hit puberty.

The voices of the leaf nin echoed behind him but he wasn't really paying attention, people would never stop gossiping. The mission was a success and he supposed thats all that matters for now. He knew it was only right that he talk to Naruto himself, but at this moment he was just not in the mood. They would understand.

It's times like these that he really depended on Temari -and on some occasions- Kankorou. But more on the fierce blonde for the latter is just... blatantly unreliable when estrogen is around. He much preferred flirting with the female nin rather than "making love with papers" as he so he eloquently put it.

The messy redhead walked pass the trees as his noisy siblings bickered at the back. They didn't ask because they just knew. Maybe it's the bond between siblings. They weren't always like this, but some how as things changed, some things just fell into place.

Before he realized where his feet was taking him, he found himself at her doorstep. It wouldn't hurt just to see if she's home, right?

He fumbled with the lock as he felt the restless butterflies in his stomach. Would she still see him? It seems awkward - was he always this nervous when it came to her?


"here," she had said. Instinctively he held out his and he felt cold metal on his palm.

"It's... A key?," he asked hesitantly.

"it's the key to my home." she responded.

"What for?"

"Well... You know... If you're ever bored of those stale rooms at the inn..." she paused, considering what to say next, "basically, a home away from home."

Maybe she didn't know, but coming from her, it meant a lot to him.


He thought it as a keepsake. Expecting that he'd never need it. There was no reason for it, he kept it with him because it bought him comfort. Somehow, he knew he was accepted there.

It was normal for him to drop by, so she wouldn't be surprised this time, right? Even if it had been awhile since he stopped by. But it shouldn't matter because she was always there -dare he say she was always waiting for him.

So it left him awfully surprised to find the flat lifeless.

Where could she have gone? He wondered. Her availability made him forget that she too was a ninja. A kunoichi too. One that had duties and reservations to her village just as he did for his own.

The way she called his name and the softness of her skin against his made him feel wanted, but it made him feel guilty. So he adamantly avoided it. It bothered him because he could see that she deserved so much more. He could see her value reflected in her companions' eyes. The way Shikamaru's scowl would soften ever so slightly whenever she waved at him and the way both Nara and Akimichi would defensively shift ever so slightly when ever Gaara appeared.

It made him feel dirty for taking advantage of her like that. He didn't have the right too. Yet he was a selfish man, too selfish to deny himself. It shouldn't hurt because he simply just wanted to be around her.

He breathed in the surroundings and took a forward step. Funny how he felt more at peace here than the confines of his own home. He could smell her and for a second, he could've sworn she was in the room -waiting for him.

He could feel her presence. It lingered on the vanity table, he thought, as his fingers gently glided over the white pearls and over the soft wood.

He could feel her in the soft laundry that she had left folded over by the bed. He could feel her presence in the way flowers decorated her windowsill.

But that was when he noticed the vase of daisies dying by the window. Suggesting that its owner had been gone for awhile. He didn't like death so close to her and he found himself biting back a scowl. He made his way over to the sink and filled a cup of water to quench the thirst of the neglected petals.

He laid himself down on the bed and rolled over. Maybe if he closed his eyes, she would appear and if he left them closed long enough, he might disappear. He could see her did but he could still feel the cotton sheets under him. Cerulean eyes bore into aquatic green. Platinum blonde spilt over the pillow. Porcelain hands slid over fleece and reached for him. He returned the gesture but only found fleece.

He grabbed the overthrow and threw it over his face. Maybe if he waited long enough, she'll appear. Hyacinths filled his senses.

Taking a deep breath, he closed his eyes and drifted.

And there was blood again. The safety of her room disappeared and what it became was a dry desert. The sky a blend of red and black.

His sand escaped his gourd and began to wound around his arm. Stretching his hands in front of him, he at looked at it in amazement. It wound around his hands, tracing its dirty stain. No matter how stubbornly he may scrub, his hands were still dirty.

Funny how these hands that ripped apart dreams and hopes is now desperately trying to mend back what it destroyed.

He scowled. He scooped a handful of sand and threw it, with as much power as he could but the dry winds always carried it back. The tiny grains scratched his face and his features darkened.

Closing his eyes, he could feel the sand beneath him give way. Maybe it is time that he too drown in this sand. Suddenly it felt so deep that maybe this was how it should end. She shall hone for his sins this way.

And when the tunnels started caving in, his heart raced. It was what he deserved but he didn't want it. So he began to dig. But sand had a way of getting you nowhere no matter how much you dig.

He could feel his lungs burning and he realized he forgot to breathe. He opened his mouth to scream, ready for the grains to rip and tear apart his lungs. But hyacinths filled his senses. A soft hum resonated in his ears and he could feel the weight and grain softening beneath him. He could feel cotton and fleece again.

HE could hear the lullaby that he'd grown accustom to and the voice that sounded like bells that he knew he was missing. Searching for confirmation and refusing to open his eyes, he reached towards the song and found skin in place of fleece.

I'm suppose to be
The stronger one
You always seem
To prove that theory wrong

A/N: Love you all.