A/N: I'm tired, homesick, more than a little crazy, and feeling depressed and morbid. Rated T because I feel like it. I don't own Naruto.

He's a monster.

It's a simple fact.

Love is a web ready to be woven, ready to trap him. It's a hindrance; a pitiful sentimentality.

A weakness.

A monster doesn't need those things.

…I don't need those things.

"It's good to see you again." He turned his head to the stutter. Glossy black hair, full pink lips, the largest eyes he had ever seen in his life, pigmented the color of innocence.

The Hyuuga. He remembered her. From the exams, from his visits to Konoha, from her visits to Suna. He wondered if she had changed, aside from her lack of a stutter.

Even so, he hardly knew her, aside from her name.

He said nothing, aquamarine eyes probing into hers, full of annoyance and slighted anger. Did she know what kind of duties she was interrupting?

No girl had ever spoken so freely to him, aside from his apprentice and sister.

Her eyes widened, sufficiently intimidated by him. "F-forgive m-m-my rudeness. I d-didn't mean to p-p-prod you, Kazekage-sama." There it was; that horrendous stutter. She bowed on her way out, her visit to the tower seemingly pointless.

He raised an eyebrow, calming his eyes until they seemed simply curious. "Why did you come here?" he asked pointedly, not caring for formalities.

She glanced over her shoulder. "We know each other, yes?" she said slowly, stutter disappearing again. "I-I just thought I could come by to say hi." She finished, smiling awkwardly at him.

He blinked. "Don't you have an official reason? A mission, of some sort, perhaps?"

She turned around to face him fully, gently clasping her hands one in front of the other.

"Well, I do, but those details were sorted out earlier by my teammates. I just wanted to say…hi, I suppose." She shrugged, blinking at him cutely.

Disgusting.

"I don't suppose you get many visitors here, do you?" she asked curiously, prodding her fingers together habitually.

Weak.

He stared at her, heard himself say, "No, I don't. I'm sorry, but unless you have some sort of official-"

"Wait!" she called, holding up her hand to stop him, walking towards. Gaara was aware of the closed space between them, his thin desk being the only barrier between them. "Would you come to lunch with me, today? My teammates are out and people say you always eat alone and I thought it would be a good idea to accompany you for once, but if you don't that's totally understandable because who doesn't want their space but it's just a thought and-" she babbled.

Annoying.

He rubbed his temple and sighed through his teeth. The action caused her to freeze and retract considerably. At least she wasn't always stuttering, although he wasn't sure he entirely liked this new chattering persona much either.

He was about to open his mouth, to tell her to get out, when his lips seemed to move of their own accord. "Alright."

He was sufficiently horrified.

It was an empty room, with nothing but a long table and chairs all around it, one at each end. They sat as far away as possible from each other, each of them eating as quickly as possible to avoid talking.

Why did he agree to this again?

When she finished, she sat there, unsure of what to do, as Gaara stared at her, curiously again.

What kind of girl would want to eat lunch with him?

Maybe she had a mental disorder? Maybe she was dared? Maybe she was-

"I know you think this strange of me." She whispered down into her empty bowl. "You can tell me to leave at any time."

His mouth tightened grimly.

"But…I know what it's like to be alone. Our Hokage is often alone…Naruto, you know…and he often asks for company."

Gaara raised any eyebrow, suspicion piqued.

"I mean, sometimes he gets bored, so-"

"Naruto sent you here."

She froze, eyes wide in horror. "I b-beg your pardon?" she murmured, seemingly having not heard him.

Gaara refused to repeat himself. "This is some sort of joke, isn't it? A joke, from Naruto? You don't even have teammates here?" he stated more than asked, in the flattest monotone possible. "What does he want?"

Hinata was still frozen, lips parted, pearl eyes wide in shock at how he managed to catch it.

Did she think him stupid or something?

He didn't wait for an answer, merely standing. She meekly muttered, "What do I tell him?"

He stared at her as if she were intensely dull. "You'll complete your mission, of course."

She looked at him in confusion.

He walked closer to her, sat down in his chair, leaned back as far as possible, and propped his feet up on the table, right in front of her empty plates. Where was this sudden bravery, sudden cheekiness, coming from?

Vessels aren't cheeky.

"Your mission to entertain me; and you will rightly do so."

She nodded very slowly, before a flitting rose powdered across her unmarred skin.

For some reason, he smiled.

Men can be, though.

Why did he put up with her?

He didn't know; he supposed he never would.

Her time with him increased. She was to never leave his side during the whole day, until night, when he'd walk her to her quarters in the tower.

Of course, women in Suna had nothing better to do, and consistently giggled and/or glared at Hinata whenever she came across them. The shame and blushing that spread through her when she stated her presence with Gaara was a mission was enough to earn her even more fiery glares and a few speechless, sputtering, indignantly spitting girls.

Her mission time was two weeks, and Gaara extended it, although he still wasn't sure why. She was what a kunoichi shouldn't be.

Weak. Annoying. Afraid.

And above all else, above all sense, inhibition and inner thought, out-of-this-world, ungodly, so perfectly, beautiful.

It had been 8 months. 8 months of confusion, 8 months of too many what-ifs, 8 months of nauseating, smothering, and maddening femininity.

It pleased him, in some sick sense, to see Hinata, and her lean, creamy, iridescent body splayed across his stark white sheets. Perfectly straight, thick hair fanned across his pillows, tickling him.

Her face was calm, her eyes loving, the corners of her mouth upturned. He was on all fours above her, panting for breath.

…What had he just done?

A monster, a living, bloodthirsty, murderous, guilty monster, had just touched, desecrated, the most innocent of all beings.

The thought disgusted him to his inner core.

How could he give into…a stupid desire like that? He need always remember, never forget, always hold fast and true, that he was a monster, first and foremost.

He couldn't be a man for Hinata.

If he wasn't a man…then why did his heart hurt so to hear himself admit that?

Her hand ran over his kanji, and he shivered to the touch.

"I love you." she stated simply. It was full of emotion, bursting with color and life, yet as if it were a fact of life, as if it were so concrete it could be written in a textbook.

She grinned widely, flashing teeth the same hue as her eyes, and wound her thin, dancing fingers around his waist, pulling him closer to her.

She was his master, but the guilt could never leave him.

I've just destroyed an angel.

He couldn't give into desires. It's not the way life worked.

Life could be simply stated.

You must do what you do not want to do, restrain yourself, to stay strong. You must feel pain, to become strong.

And when he did just that, it made him cripplingly, pitifully, pathetically weak.

How could he be weak, both with her, and without her?

What the hell had he gotten himself into?

Weakness.

He could not allow himself weakness. No matter who it was, not matter how much it hurt. He had to push away. This time was no different.

He hadn't realized he'd been sobbing in his empty bed that night, hand limply raised to the midnight air swirling around him, waiting for familiar skin to brush his fingertips and save him again after time.

But...it was different.

"I have to go home."

He paused in his work, unable to meet her eyes. The fight had lasted two weeks, where they hadn't spoken, where he hadn't given into desire. He hadn't admitted to her he'd started to sleep when she was by his side, and fell into insomnia and crying, crying of all things, when she left.

"The mission," she sniffed, eyes red and chest heaving. "Has passed maximum deadline. I have to go home now."

He stood quickly, some sort of strange emotion filling him. His monstrosity, the one that ate at his heart and humanity, screamed for him to push it out. But he didn't.

He was in front of her, looking down at her upturned face, her upturned face full of fear, but trust in him.

"No." he whispered softly, running gentle fingers down the side of her cheek.

She hugged his chest, calming her weeping, knowing all would be right.

That night, he kept her caged in his arms the entire time. He dreaded the morning to come, but that was only morning. For now, it was night.

Because today, he wasn't a monster.

He was just a man, who was unbelievably, unwittingly, tangled in love's web, and he liked it.

It was a hindrance, but this time, and this time only, he'd allow himself a weakness, and he'd forever call it Hinata.

Weakness.

The battle raged on around them.

He was thankful he hadn't let Hinata return to Konoha. The argument with Naruto had been nothing, compared to the tearing, burning sensation that ripped across his chest every time he thought of her leaving.

But then…Konoha was attacked. And being allies, they had to respond.

She was an idiot for not listening to him.

How dare she, step in front of him, and, of all the nerve, try to protect him when he was clearly so much stronger. How dare she interrupt his fight and try to fight his fights for him.

She was maddeningly cute like that.

But this was no cute situation.

The chakra, the weapons, the straight out attack, flew towards her, and she opened her arms as if to greet it, pausing to give a fleeting, loving look at Gaara.

Her blood spattered across his face, his robes, and the next thing he knew, he was kneeling in the dirt, completely drenched in her essence.

His eyes were wide, and for the first time, he felt despair.

So this is what it feels like.

Sakura sobbed over Hinata, clutching her hand and whispering a million apologies into her childhood friend's hand.

Hinata squeezed the hand gently to tell her it was inevitable, and her own fault, and to not blame herself.

His heart sprinted the line between death and life, pumping erratically but then stopping, unmoving and without breath, waiting for her move.

Pearl met aquamarine, and his heart fell out of his chest.

…The foolishness, how could she do this to him? He could've held them off. It was nothing to him.

And her, she just had to give in to her desperate love, and just jump in front.

Something wet was cascading down his cheeks, but he ignored it.

"How could you do this to me!" he screamed at her, shaking her unmoving body. Her skin, translucent and covered in red, as her eyes saddened in understanding. She smiled very softly at him. "Why!" he shrieked at her, before averting his eyes to the sky. "Why!" he pleaded to the sky.

"Gaara…" she croaked, phantom-like fingers caressing his cheek, pulling him closer. "I love you. Please don't forget." She murmured.

He leaned down to stare at her desperately, before leaning down and crashing his lips upon her bloody ones, mad to taste her for the last time, trying to cram a lifetime into the last moments.

She was gone.

Taste of blood on my tongue, feel of hate in my heart, sight of death all around, sound of screams in my soul…

Weakness.

A/N: ...No flames please.

-silver