A/N: Oh, I so don't own anything. Enjoy!

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~ CHAPTER 1 ~

Definition

Naruto, her dream, her first crush, and at least as she once thought—her first love. Hinata had admired him since they were both children. She had always known that there was "something" wrong with him. It was the way people acted around him, the way he got sidelong looks in the street, the way the other children wouldn't play with him.

It was whispered about him—bakemono, monster. But Hinata could see no monster. Only a child that was friendly, that always had a smile on his face and mischief in his mind, despite the way people treated him.

Hinata admired that most about him, his pluckiness, that stubborn cheerfulness and enthusiasm that he faced the world with. How she had hoped and wished so many times that she could have even one ounce of that confidence. But Hinata had none.

Growing up, Hinata had her own problems. People ignored her too. She received sidelong glances from her clansmen. She knew the feeling of disgust in their faces over the weak spawn of the clan's master.

But unlike Naruto, she folded under their gaze. Instead of pushing back, acting out like he did, she deflated. Which was why she latched on to Naruto. She could sense the similarities between them, born admittedly of different phenomenon but no less similar. She watched him and she began to change, to pattern herself after his example, and she did benefit very much from his tutelage from afar.

It was he who asked her on their first date. She sweaty palmed and fifteen standing in front of him, her back against the wall at Ino's house. She could still remember his sheepish grin, as if he were playing some joke on her as he asked her.

"Ah, Hinata-chan. Let's get some ramen, ne?"

It wasn't until later when she realized that this was his way of asking her on a date. It wasn't until later that she realized that Sakura had put him up to it, realizing Hinata's feelings whereas Naruto had still been so terribly clueless. That part had hurt, that it wasn't his idea.

For awhile Hinata had blossomed in the light of his attentions. It felt so good to be recognized by her crush, by the person that she admired the most. It boosted her confidence, and she would walk around with a dreamy smile and eyes that glowed. And when she was with him, being buoyed up by his warmth, by his words of praise for her, by his absolute confidence in her abilities, it was the best feeling in the world.

Her father cunningly chose to allow her this fling, knowing that to resist Hinata's wishes to be with the fox-boy would only encourage Hinata, who had developed a troubling rebellious streak after she was stripped of her title as heir.

So he let it pass, confident that it would fade in time. One day Hinata came to her father and told him, her voice shaky but her stance firm, that she loved Naruto. It was then that Hiashi told her of his theory, that her infatuation with this boy would fade. That they were "ill-suited." It only made Hinata more determined to make it work.

Perhaps that was why she had been so eager to accept Naruto's advances, to prove her father wrong, to prove to herself that this was what she wanted, that this was forever. Their love play began with awkward kisses, Naruto's hands squeezing her breasts roughly and artlessly, mumbled words about how beautiful she was. Words that always seemed to ring hollow with her while his hands caressed her greedily.

He asked her if he could have her and she let him, feeling his impossibly hot body break her, passing that line that would redefine her irreparably, and it was then, after he lay panting on top of her, that the insidious seed of doubt first blossomed in her mind. This is not what you want, it whispered, curling around her insides like choking ivy.

And she could not help but listen to it, suppressing the desperate urge to push Naruto from her body, and to run away and bathe the feeling of his sweat from her skin. She began to cry then, and Naruto had held her sweetly whispering apologies, not really understanding why she was crying, assuming that he had hurt her physically when really, she had only hurt herself inside because she had been dishonest with herself about what she wanted, about what she needed.

But even though Hinata was unhappy, she did not give up. She would not give up on her childhood friend and first love until she understood fully the dark thing nibbling at her heart like a hungry rodent. And so they continued as if nothing had changed, Hinata putting up the guise of happy girlfriend and ecstatic lover as she struggled to define, each time they touched, what it was about him that left her feeling—empty.

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Ironically perhaps, Gaara could blame his infatuation squarely on Naruto. It was true that it would probably never have come about if it were not for him. After all, it was because of Naruto that Gaara first ever noticed her, ever spent time with her. And as he fleshed out his understanding of the shy, stuttering girl with the ghostly pale eyes, he began to see more and more things that he found himself strangely attracted to.

It didn't help--the way Naruto spoke about her, the personal things that he would brag to Gaara about. The feeling of her small body underneath his, the things that you would never guess the modest once heiress would do with her beautiful perfect pair of lips…Gaara knew that if Hinata ever understood what Naruto had told Gaara about their sex life that she would never be able to look at him, never be able to be in the same room with him without dying of mortification.

Which was perhaps why it was so delicious to be around her, knowing that she would never even guess what he knew about her, thanks to Naruto's inability to keep his mouth shut.

Gaara remembered fondly and vividly the one time he joined them for tea at the Hyuuga compound. Naruto had canceled at the last minute, having been summoned by the Hokage on a special assignment. Disappointed, Gaara was certain that Hinata would surely call off their get together but to his pleasure she did not. She sent a servant to collect him and his entourage at 2 pm as originally agreed.

Once there, Gaara was ushered into a sitting room whose open screens abutted a beautiful water garden—the type you would never see in Suna where water was a commodity too precious to leave out for the sun.

Once he was seated, Hinata entered shortly after, wearing a bright white kimono with long sleeves and a design of a silvery forest covered in snow. She smiled at him and his pulse jumped. Swallowing uncomfortably against the feeling in his throat he greeted her and she thanked him for coming, admitting that she was afraid that he was going to cancel with her, knowing that Naruto had been called away.

They then sat in comfortable silence as he watched Hinata go through the rituals of making the tea, her graceful hands completing with poised ease the delicate scripted movements of the deeply symbolic ritual. As she moved Gaara watched her, admiring the paleness of her skin and thinking of what Naruto had said, about the way it had felt when they had made love for the first time—Hinata's warmth, her tightness, the small sounds that had escaped from her throat.

Naruto had left nothing out, and Gaara, curious and aroused had not stopped him. Left alone with her now he could not stop his mind from wandering, imagining what it would be like if he were to breach that invisible barrier between them, violate Naruto's trust in him and and persuade her to allow him to explore her body in front of the garden on the warm sun dappled mats of bamboo. As he watched the way her kimono revealed the back of her slender white neck, he had to admit that the idea was very appealing.

But it was stupid to entertain such thoughts. Gaara knew how Hinata felt about Naruto, and Gaara knew that his fantasies were damned to be left unrequited. He couldn't help but be angry with Naruto for awakening them in him. He tried his best to put her out of his mind. But in the wicked way that lust has, Gaara could not prevent it from infiltrating his mind at night.

When the dreams of her first started marching through his mind, Hinata and Naruto were featured together, Gaara watching them as Naruto's body bucked against her small hips in frantic rhythm. But then over time Gaara's perspective shifted, and it was him on her, in her, moving against Hinata's slick, tight body.

It was enough to make Gaara avoid her like a leper whenever he was in Konohagure. It was enough to make him stop Naruto every time his friend started to brag about his latest exploit with Hinata, causing his friend, after the third censure to ask Gaara if he were, "Gay or something?"

"It's okay…you know. If you are…" Naruto said to his friend, his eyes scrunched up in an awkward smile.

Gaara blinked at him owlishly, and then shrugged, reasoning that it was better that his best friend think that he were gay rather than the type of pervert who dreamt about fucking his best friend's girl like a dog on a daily basis.

"Ah!" Naruto laughed nervously. "That's fine. I guess that explains why you never go with any of those fan girls, huh? You know I used to be jealous of you when we were younger? That really sucks! Like some sort of torture, ne? Having all those hot girls go after you when you really like dudes?"

"Just shut up about it," was all Gaara could say.

It was true that Gaara as Kazekage had many admirers, both female and male. But if knowing both sides of fame and infamy had taught him anything, it was that those admirers weren't attracted to him, they were attracted to his power, his position, and the sense of mystique that surrounded him. That was all.

Gaara didn't brag about his sexual exploits with Naruto like Naruto did with him because Gaara's were desperately few. Not because Gaara particularly liked it that way, but because it was too hard for him to let others get near him, and he had too many bad experiences with his subordinates developing rivalries over his affections, whether or real or imagined, to encourage him to pursue sexual contact openly. As it was, Gaara defined sex as what happened to other people, other people like Naruto.

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It was on the training ground and not in the bedroom where Hinata was finally able to put to words the feeling of incompleteness between them.

Hinata had the morning off, and knowing that Naruto was with Konohamaru helping him train, she decided to make them lunch. She arrived at training ground 3 to find Naruto watching Moegi and Konohamaru spar.

Moegi was a mess, her frizzy hair, usually bound in two impossibly erect pigtails was loose, and there was dust and mud all over her clothing. Konohamaru did not look much better, but as she watched it became clear that Moegi was at the disadvantage, and Naruto, ever out for the underdog was cheering her on. Hinata smiled at the tableau at first, the familiarity of it reminding her of her match with Neji at the first Chuunin exam six years ago.

As she walked closer to them Naruto's words became intelligible—"Don't give up, Moegi… I believe in you." Hinata found the steady beat of her feet against the packed ground slow until they stopped completely. Hinata's face was hot, her breath coming short as if she had been running, a cold sweat broke out against her brow as she felt jealousy bloom in her chest for the girl.

As they sat down to lunch, Hinata offered Moegi her portion, lying and saying that she had already eaten, and as she watched them silently she listened to Naruto chatter about their match, peppering his words with praises for their hard work, for how much they had improved, particularly Moegi. As she listened Hinata's face grew hotter, realization dawning on her like a brief hard hit to the stomach, she stood abruptly excusing herself and ignoring Naruto's confused looked as she walked hurriedly away from them.

She had finally discovered it. She finally understood why she felt so unexpectedly cold when she was around Naruto. She was jealous—jealous of Moegi, jealous of Sakura, jealous of Sasuke, jealous of Konohamaru, jealous of everybody. Naruto liked Hinata. Naruto supported Hinata. Naruto believed in Hinata. Naruto praised Hinata. But Naruto believed in everyone. Naruto liked everyone. Naruto cheered for everyone.

And although they shared each others' bodies, there was nothing else of him that was really, truly hers. There was nothing special about the way he treated her. He was good to her, he was sweet, but he was just—Naruto being Naruto. And it made his praise; it made every sweet word that he had given her seem suddenly saccharine and cheap, unreal and false, worthless. Hinata felt expendable, like if you cut her out of his life, Naruto would keep on just the same, like she had never been around.

That night she came to him at his apartment. Hinata took Naruto to bed this time and opened herself to him in ways that she never had before. She was rough, she was demanding, and she let out all her anger at him, all of her disappointment at being just another "special" person to him with every ounce of passion and skill until she had him shaking beneath her touch, moaning her name—his oration of the unwitting swan song of their lust.

At dawn she put her shoes on and his eyes cracked open, he swung his arm lazily around her waist gently preventing her from leaving.

"Mmm…breakfast?" his scratchy voice rumbled.

She shook her head, smirking at him through the unshed tears in her eyes.

"Naruto…" her soft voice lilted. She couldn't believe that she was saying it… "Naruto, this is goodbye."

He sat up then, confusion clouding his beautiful blue eyes.

"What? What is it?" he asked, finally sensing the change in her like a sudden drop in pressure or the rumble of distant clouds.

She shook her head again.

"Naruto, I can't b…be with you…anymore."

He leaned into her, turning her to face him as his hand stroked her spine soothingly.

"Hinata…I love you," he said, his eyes sparkling with puzzled wetness of their own.

She looked into his eyes and smiled, "I know… I'm really sorry. But I just don't think I feel for you what you feel for me," she said.

To anyone else, including Naruto, it sounded like she was saying that she didn't love him.

Only she knew the truth, and that was that Naruto didn't know what love was, romantic love, anyway. Maybe Hinata didn't either, but she understood now what it wasn't. And much as she had tried to deny it, it wasn't this comfortable, friendly but casual feeling that he expressed for her, like the affection you might have for a warm old sweater or a doll you'd clung to for too long.

Hinata had matured. She had outgrown comfort and she knew that she needed something different, although what exactly "different" was she could not yet define.

Much to her frustration, Naruto did not disappoint Hinata's expectations of him. After they broke up, the whiskered blond rebounded like a rubber ball. As she withdrew into herself he became just as loud and cheerful, if not more so than he had ever been before, and Hinata knew with a sickening feeling that all her fears had come true. She was ancillary, their relationship was, had been apparently next to meaningless to him, and it hurt, it hurt more than she could express. Especially since they still hung around each other like "friends."

It was especially hurtful when he began to date Sakura two months after they had broken up. Watching them together, the way Naruto held Sakura when she saw them in the street when he thought no one was looking. It was letting him go again, and she wondered desperately if she had made the right decision, if she hadn't just pushed away the best thing that had ever happened to her. Depressed she consoled herself with dreams of escape, of namelessness, a place where she could be away from Naruto, and away from her father who had been right, right about nearly everything.

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"S…Sabaku-sama?"

Gaara jumped slightly when she greeted him, annoyed with himself that it looked like she had frightened him, but at the same time glad of his reaction, it gave her the impression that he had not been secretly watching her out of the corner of his eye like a hungry cat.

Gaara had successfully avoided contact with Hinata for the past six months, he having been in Konoha only twice during that time. Unfortunately this had meant avoiding Naruto as well, and he had frankly felt the mark of both of their absences, though for vastly different reasons. And now she stood in front of him, her glossy ink-blue hair reflecting the orange glow of the street lights outside the ambassador's lodgings in Konoha, wearing an impossibly short dress with a high collar, innocent fodder for more restless nights. It was unfortunate, he reflected that the consulate was in the best part of town—so close to the Hyuuga compound.

Gaara nodded his head stiffly in greeting and her smile deepened.

"It's been too long since I've seen you," Hinata said, her voice filled with something that sounded like longing, and Gaara's mind pounced on the emotion covetously.

"Have you all just arrived?" she asked nodding to the consulate and his guard standing discreetly at a distance.

Gaara nodded again.

"Will you…would you…" Hinata stuttered. "I mean. God I'm so sorry. Um…Would you like to have something to eat…with me?" Hinata asked, her blush spreading over her face and neck like an angry fever.

Gaara ignored the uncomfortable feeling that she has inspired in his stomach and stared at her stonily. The prospect both thrilled and annoyed him. If only she were aware of how difficult it was to be around her, she would have been kind enough not to even bring it up.

"I mean…Na…Naruto is going to be there, too," she said to entice him. "Uh, as well as…some other people," she said, distaste flickering over her face as she said the last.

"P…please?" she pleaded, giving him her most winsome, shy smile, the tips of her fingers automatically meeting in a gesture of anxiety.

"Yes," Gaara said, finally, regretting his choice even as he said it.

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Reposted! Thanks to Bob-Geko for the great advice. Exactly what I had been thinking. HEART.