FicWad

Cruel Summer- Bananarama

Gravity of Love- Enigma

How to fight loneliness- Wilco

Wish you were here- Pink Floyd

Shiver

Fish in a Bowl

"I'm always careful, you old pervert."

"I really wish you would stop calling me that in public, brat."

"Yeah, well, I wish you hadn't chosen me to dress up as a girl that time in the role play, and then flirted with me when you didn't recogniseme."

"Hey, it's not my fault you look like a chick when you put a skirt on, shorty."

"Piss off. I'm not the one who looks like a drooling dumbass every time a skirt's in sight. You would get a sex change just to fondle breasts when you want to."

"Ha, at least I get to fondle breasts,"

"What the hell are you two talking about?"

It was the last day in the summer holidays and the air was heavy and hot, wavering on the street as if the paint were melting off the world. The sweet scent of dying plants and acrid smell of fuel mixed together like a duet in the air. Itried to imagine the day's soundtrack and it came out in slow strings interwoven with cheerful bells and airy flutes to represent the sunshine being caught by my eyelashes to ring my sight in rainbows, light jumping of the flashing hoods of cars and making everything brighter.

I jumped to look at Tsunade as she suddenly appeared beside Jiraiya and me from where we had been waiting for her. She was tall and curvy and had the biggest breasts I had ever seen, cleavage on display as she wore a low-cut, summery top and some loose three-quarter lengths. Her long, soft blond hair was caught loosely in two pony-tails which made her look younger but not childish as her narrowed, Asiatic looking eyes glared at us. I had met her two months ago, introduced through Jiraiya, who had been the one to decide my move to the bolstering city of Konoha.

"Don't look so worried Tsunade, no one was talking about you XXLmelons," Jiraiya leered, being as vulgar as he possibly could. Tsunade's eyes were hazel slits as she hit Jiraiya over the head, his white hair that stuck out extraordinarily from the back of his head and then hung down his back flying forwards by the force of it. As he closed his eyes the two red lines scratched down from them across his cheeks looked like scars or tears.

"Ouch!Take a joke," the old man whined. Looking at him, with his face already starting to wrinkle and weathered eyes, I guessed Jiraiya must have been in his early 50s even though he acted like a horny teenager much of the time, despite being captain of the police force. I sighed at the two adults as they bickered.

Jiraiya had been something of a mentor for the last two years of my life. He was the head of the police in my old town and had, for some reason, made himself responsible for my well-being after the incident that had taken place a pair of years ago.

-

Red hair red eyes red skin red teeth red words.

-

Maybe it had something to do with the fact that my dad had also been a police captain, back when he was alive.

Now that I was 16 he had decided it was time he sent me to Tsunade's school. I had gotten the impression that they were old friends, almost family, but the first meeting with Tsunade had hinted at something more. Something in the softening of their expressions, in their easy nature for each other as if they could do nothing the other wouldn't forgive.

Jiraiya had taken me to her home, a pleasant apartment near the school, in a nice area of Konoha where graffiti was in danger of extinction and trees abound. I hadn't been exactly nervous, used to having people assimilate and judge me after orphanages and foster homes and those few red years of my life my mind skated around, so I was surprised when Jiraiya had parked the car and told me to wait.

"It'll be ok, brat. Don't get worked up, Tsunade is strict as she is fair," he had said. I had shrugged, looking at the neighbourhoodthrough the window.

"I know," I had responded casually, pulling at my sleeveless orange T-shirt to settle it in place and had been surprised to see Jiraiya still looking at me not with his usual comic, guarded look in his eye but with concern.

"Don't lie to me, brat," he had growled. I was taken aback, startled by the conviction that I wasn't ok when I had felt fine.

"What are you talking about? I'm not lying, I'm fine," I had insisted, smiling at him in assurance. He hadn't been impressed.

"Whatever you say, Naruto. But I know when you're upset. You do that weird thing under your breath. But if you don't want to talk- lets go," And his door had been pushed open, letting a wash of hot air enter the air-conditioned car. I sat there, stunned. I hadn't even noticed Ihad slipped into the nervous habit of singing under my breath which, if you didn't know me, sounded more like whispers and whines.

But it had been true. Deep down, I had truly wanted the set-up in Konoha to work. Iwas running away, taking a chance, leaving my home behind for a city I had abandoned four years ago, where Jiraiya would not be present to protect me. If it ended up being for nothing; if I simply found that the new school was filled with the same type of people under the influence of the adults weary of my past, then I didn't know what I would do. There were only so many corners in the world I could tuck myself into.

But it had turned out alright. Something in me had obviously struck Tsunade as true, for her attitude, so rough around the edges, had gradually calmed towards me until she seemed to regard me with some kind of affection. I suspected she knew all about my past, which was partly a comfort as long as she didn't expect it to be open for discussion.

"Are we going to eat or what?" I whined at the two adults. Who looked at me and rolled their eyes.

"What's with the brat? He seems moody," Tsunade asked as we crossed the street to walk towards the cafe Tsunade hadn't known how to find.

"He's nervous about tomorrow," Jiraiya snorted, settling his sunglasses on the bridge of his nose. I glared at both of them.

"I'm not nervous. I'm fine," I retorted. If it were up to Jiraiya I would be adepressed neurotic, it seemed.

"So you say, kid."

The streets were filled with the noises of people blabbering past. Their footsteps were the roll of drums, a constant background to the storm of summer as acouple of vendors which could stand the sunshine shouted out praise to their stock. I had spent most of the summer looking around the city I now belonged to in order to familiarise myself once again with my new surroundings before school started, so I knew where we were. I had left Konoha when I was 12 years old, having previously lived there with my parents before their death, the deepest scar in my mind, and then in the local orphanage. Ihad thrown myself at the re-discovery of the place and seen it was varied in culture and financial status like any other city. There were a couple of theatres and museums, mostly off to one side. The school had a really nice cafe, and a park nearby with a mall not too far off. There was a plaza 20 minutes walk away from my apartment which I had come to live with quirky cafes and shops as well as one of those fountains people throw pennies in to make wishes. The first day I went there I threw a two-penny coin in and tried to make a wish. But when I tried to blank my mind in order for it to come out, astring of music had infiltrated instead, preventing thought. I had found the experience strange, as if something that ought to have been in my control wasn't. I hadn't tried to do it since.

The door opening caused a little bell to ring as we finally escaped the heat's attack. One summer in Konoha and the freckles on my shoulders and nose had sprung to life against my tanned skin.

"This one of your choices, Jiraiya?" Tsunade asked, looking around the place, which was playing some 60s tune as background music. It was old-fashioned and slightly worn looking, though clean, with booths and bar-stools and a typical menu filled with fast-foods made with real ingredients instead of canned ones.

"No, actually, Naruto discovered it. Can't keep the kid still for a second," Jiraiya responded, interrupted as a good-looking woman passed by. "I like it."

Tsunade scowled. I sighed.

"Pervert."

Jiraiya shrugged as we slid into the booth. I settled on the opposite side of the adults, wanting the space. I grinned at the two of them as I looked up from the menu I had been checking out, fully expecting them to pay. Tsunade cut Jiraiya a look.

"You better have brought your wallet this time," she glared. Jiraiya sighed.

"I only forgot it once..."

After ordering lunch, Jiraiya unabashedly staring at the woman's 'melons' throughout the conversation until Tsunade kicked him under the table, Tsunade started explaining a few things about what was going to happen the next day at school. She confirmed my knowledge of how to get there since I had turned down her offer of driving me there. I actually liked the process of getting to school; Minutes of respite when I could think and listen to some music without question or interruption.

"And you still have your sheet with your locker number and your timetable right?"the headmistress asked for the zillionth time. I rolled my eyes and assented, digging into my hamburger and fries. I knew the only thing I needed to do first thing in the morning was go to the office where I would meet someone to show me around. Then I would have to fight the sole battle of high school.

In one of the speakers an upbeat song played.

Strange voices are saying (what did they say?)

"You listening, Naruto?"

It's a cruel, cruel summer.

"Yep. And yes, I know where the office is. I'll be fine,it's not the first time I've done this. Is it, pervy?"I turned to Jiraiya. His eyes rolled against my wide smile.

"Unfortunately,"and his expression was guarded and loose.

O

I was back in the heat of the day, having left Tsunade and Jiraiya to discuss their own personal matters. We had parted with both of them once again instructing me to be careful. I'd grinned at them, said, when am I not careful? Though maybe all those times showed in my eyes because they both looked sceptical.

I had decided to walk all the way home, wearing out my chunky black trainers even further. I had opted for some shorts and wore a cap on my head so I didn't overheat on my way back. The sun had gone down slightly, and the breeze alleviated the atmosphere from suffocation as the temperature dropped. The summer had improved since September was introduced to the calendar.

The truth was I was a little apprehensive about the next day. Not enough to bring me down, for I was always eager to meet new people and experience new things. But sometimes I got...tired. I looked back at my past and it seemed as if I had been moving down step by step instead of going forward.

I waited as a couple of cars passed before I crossed the street into my neighbourhood, looking at the people behind the wheel like I so liked doing.

Vroom a concentrated granny. Vroom a fat man with giant sunglasses. Vroom a lady with one hand on her steering wheel and the other picking her teeth.

The apartment I was staying in was on a worse side of Konoha, though not a terrible one. There were large green bins outside each crowded apartment where we were supposed to leave the bags of trash though some overflowed to the ground. There were a few, spaced-out trees trying to alleviate the depressing state of the place, though their scratched and even painted-on trunks failed to serve their purpose. I, however, still admired the splashes of colourbetween the bland bricks and mortar. I looked away from the trees and around. There was a large lady jogging on the opposite sidewalk. Her skin was covered in sweat and flushed a violent red. I watched as her legs made everything go up and down and up and down, wobbling incredibly, and there were drums playing to the rhythm of her feet,

Bom Bom Bom Bom BomBom-

"Oi Naruto! What are you, deaf?" I heard someone call and I turned sharply, coming to a surprised halt.

I looked at the girl that had called to me. She looked to be around her twenties, dirty blond hair caught up in four bunches at the back of her head to keep it from her face. She was slim and tall, chin like the bottom of a heart as she looked at me with her dark blue eyes.

"Hey, Temari. Sorry, must of spaced out," I shrugged, grinning, a hand to the back of my neck. I had met her a couple of days after arriving to Konoha since she lived a few apartments away from me and was the sister of an odd, quiet boy I had befriended. Temari rolled her eyes as she drawled a /right/, hand snapping backwards and forwards as she aired herself with a fan, making the bangs of hair at the side of her face dance.

"Whatever,"she said offhandedly. "I just wanted you to know that I saw Gaara looking through some old CDs, and I know you two were talking about music the other day so maybe you want to come in and check what he's found out," she suggested in atone which hinted that she didn't care either way, though I knew better. Kankuro, the third and final sibling, and Temari couldn't have been more protective of their little brother in their own way. I had actually met Gaara in the plaza I liked so much, sitting on one side of a round, stone bench that held a large tree in the middle, huddled in its shade with a sketchbook across his crossed legs. One thing I dedicate myself to doing when I meet a new place is picking out interesting faces and placing instruments to their mood or characteristics. Gaara had stood out at once with his spiky red hair and maroon and black clothes, even in the heat. He didn't seem to be sweating or flushed or even tanned. He was like a painting himself.

I approached him and sat carefully beside him, not even triggering a flinch or raising of eyes. I stayed quiet a few minutes, observing him and my surroundings. I then peeked at what he was drawing, edging closer in my constant curiosity. It was the Victorian-looking outside of one of the shops warped by his imagination. The building stood alone, abandoned and weathered by scratches of the coloured pencil. Around it stood what looked like dessert scenery, coloured briefly in a dull orange that opposed the sun's intensity. In front of the building marched a line of dark-skinned women with large, curved jars like giant peanuts on their heads or shoulders. One of them was carrying a white flag, as if in surrender. The drawing struck me, almost finished except for the details in the housing he was adding then. It was complete and utter defeat.

I decided on guitars on his personality. Slow, threatening to become electric at any moment by the look of fierce concentration in his downturned expression. But then, inspired by the drawing I added a low ivory horn in the background with the soft beat of an armpit drum adding life to the show.

"Do you want something?" he asked suddenly and I jerked back guiltily, laughing nervously at his hard expression. I saw that he had a tattoo with some kind of symbol on his forehead and eyes rimmed in thick eyeliner. As soon as my eyes met his vibrant green ones the guitars disappeared, a cello springing to mind, the saddest, in my opinion, of instruments as it wailed slowly. I felt the same way looking into them as I did his picture.

"Can I see the rest of your pictures?" I asked, smiling at him. He looked faintly surprised at my question.

"No,"he replied simply, with no menace. I shrugged.

"Can I at least watch you draw?" I persisted. He looked at me for a moment before turning back to his picture.

"Do what you like."

From that consent forwards I had proceeded to bother Gaara as much as I could throughout my brief stay in Konoha, especially once I realisedwe were neighbours. Even though he could have come off as cold and aloof in our first meeting, he never denied me access to his house. I had learned a long time ago that simply because someone is quiet it does not mean they are shy or detached, but maybe simply reserved. Tired.

Gaara, I had discovered, lived only with his siblings which looked nothing alike between them, making me wonder if they had the same father or not. They never mentioned any parental influence at all, for that matter, and I didn't ask.

"Heask me to come over?" I grinned. Temari smirked.

"Yeah right, you know how he's like," she retorted and turned away from me and into the entrance of the apartment. I jogged after her, catching the door before it fell shut and following her up the narrow stairs to fourth and top floor.

"Gaara! Naruto's here!" Temari bellowed in her perpetual unlady-like fashion and motioned me to go into his room as we stood in the living room, filled with two dark green sofas, a low coffee table and an old looking TV. I left my shoes by the door and went briefly into the bathroom to wash my feet as they stank of sweat. I had become used and comfortable in their home and knew that if nothing else I would have friends there, giving me hope for the future of my stay in Konoha.

"Yo, Gaara," I greeted as I closed the door to his room behind me, like he liked it. I was always caught between whistling the cheesy theme-song of western movies or whipping out a lute and sanzaand start playing a native-african song because of the way the room was decorated.

Sunlight burst through the open window, coating all object with its vibrancy. It swept against the posers of deserts and dunes on the wall, bouncing off the wooden figurines that stood like silhouettes of people in the distance. The sheets on his bed were maroon, his curtains black, co-ordinatingwith a lot of his clothes. Jars of sand in different shades and shapes were scattered across the room, self-made. It all symphonisedtogether to create an arid image.

"Naruto,"he acknowledged, looking up from his computer. I threw myself on his bed, head in my hands.

"Temari said you had some music for me," I said. He assented, clicking something in the computer as I watched the back of his head.

"I have it here. I found some enigma, you said you wanted to listen to it. This is probably their most famous song, Gravity of Love." I was going to ask is it was his favourite but fell quiet as it started, an odd, echoing sounds like the slow pumping of a heart. Ilisten to the sound of the song, the heavy drums as the singer suggested,

Follow the trace for a new start

and then the woman reached out with her voice, a burst of rich noise, making me soar with her.

The experience of survival is the key...

as a low choir, reminiscent of a church one, echoed her voice. Ilistened to the ups and falls of the song as it ranged from whispers to explosions of sound until, with a final beat, the song stopped.

Gaara was looking at me as I opened my eyes, his looking dramatic under the frame of black.

"I love her voice," I said, smiling lazily, feeling content after the sound of it. Something was stirring inside me, the pleasure of having found a new noise.

"Let me play you something else. The lyrics may mean something to you," he said, his voice far more serious.

Hecli-clicked at something with his mouse and a passive guitar started in a repetitive tune, nothing out of the ordinary, until a male voice rung out, tired, a little rough around the edges as it played with the beat.

How to fight loneliness

Smile all the time

He sung. I looked at Gaara and he looked back. Throughout our two months I had tried almost unconsciously to egg him out of the shell he had created, as if he had captured the sand in his posters and made a fort around his mind. And maybe, at the same time, he was doing the same.

Drag your blanket blindly

Fill your heart with smoke

His eyes were greengreengreen and almost asking me questions in that piercing way he held.

And the first thing that you want

Is the last thing you'll ever need

I propped myself upwards so that I was directly facing Gaara who had swivelled around in his wheeled chair.

Just smile all the time

Just smile all the time

The music faded out of the room as if sucked away by the sunshine and slowly Ismiled.

"You think if I wasn't alone I would smile less? That's a bit of an oxymoron," I said casually. I didn't know what I was feeling. Slightly unsettled because it was partly true. I had been alone since I was seven, when my parents died, but as time passed I managed to dilute the sting of it with other truths, with other comforts, determined not to turn bitter with the taste of nostalgia and neglect. I was under the care of Jiraiya, and now Tsunade. I had found a friend in Gaara and his small family. That was enough for the moment. The want of a parent, or to have someone home with me, would never disappear, but that didn't mean I had to feed the feeling constantly. I had acknowledged it, letting it become part of me and yet not dependant on it.

"Maybe not. But wouldn't you smile for different reasons?" he asked in his deep voice that could lull me to sleep if it wanted.

"Maybe, but would it matter?" I shot back. Gaara looked at me silently."We're a lot alike, you know," I said and he leaned back.

"Yes."

My smile widened.

In that moment I remembered, and probably would for the rest of my life, the day alittle like that when something inside me seemed to confirm itself. I was 9, in a bus filled with orphans like a plate of mourning candles set to drift at sea stringlessly. It was night time and darkness rushed past the window as we drove back to the orphanage from a rare weekend out at the beach. Everybody was quiet, childish bodies leaning against each other in their seats, exhausted by the experience of freedom. From the radio played a song that seemed to have been made for the moment as it fulfilled it for me. There was aminimal use of instruments, just a quivering violin in the lowest octave and astrumming guitar like an after-thought as the sad voice sang through the confines of the rumbling bus. I learned my forehead against the cool glass, making it tremble against it as I closed my eyes and felt the moment as if Iwere evaporating into the air, into the sound, becoming such a part of it that I had no real identity, I was nothing but what I wanted to be, and I had thought,

This is me. Right here, right now...this is me.

OoO

I finally trudged up to my apartment after having dinner with Gaara et al. around sunset. My arrangement was shabbier and smaller than Gaara's, the front entrance leading to a living room with a sofa, a low table and a TV, attached to a kitchen with a counter, two stoves, a fridge and a sink. A small bathroom was on the opposite side, beside my bedroom where I headed to after locking the door and throwing the keys on the low table. I put some loud music on to rid of the stillness and took a shower, preparing myself for bed as Iwent around the house collecting the things I needed for school. A few years ago that was the routine I would have followed in the morning, making me late, but the last few years had forced me to become self-dependant on some measure oforganisation, however limited it could be with my carelessness in play.

By the time I had prepared everything and dawdled distractedly for half the time it was late enough to go to bed. I hesitated, however, making sure everything was in place. I looked around my room, which looked as if it had been lived in for far more than a pair of months. I had been desperate to make my house a home as soon as possible and scattered my trinkets around the surfaces, letting myself doodle on the desk and stick free posters of bands and ramen on the walls along with my photographs. One was of Jiraiya and me, on one of the shelves. In the living room was one of my parents when they were younger, dressed for a costume-party as ninjas and posing comically together through smiles pulled at their mouths slightly. There were others of them in different stages around the house, some with me with one or both of them, or of the children in the orphanage I had been sad to leave behind. On my bedside table was my favourite, beside a little figurine of a lucky Japanese cat, one paw raised, thathad belonged to my mother. It wasn't a posing picture; somebody at a barbeque had took it and later given it to us. It was of some summer when I was 6. My parents were jokingly fighting over a walkman on both sides of me whilst I held an earphone experimentally to one ear, an amazed look on my face.

Since my parents had died music had adapted a bittersweet quality that would never wear off. Every good song was masochism and relief, a memory of them. They created an overwhelming feeling I grew addicted to, for it never lost its edge. Years later, every time I found ashiver song I locked myself in a room and played it to myself until I could feel their breath in the drowning notes. Every night, every single night Iwould close my eyes and try to recall my mother's singing. And every night, every, single, night, I would forget a little more, become a fraction more afraid of erasing the sound from anybody's recollection. If I forgot those notes, then it would cease to exist completely.

I leaned out of the apartment window, crawling out of it to settle on the fire escape. The air was fresh and cool, stars invisible against the hard competition of light pollution. I remembered my first day back in Konoha. I had been filled with a scathing sort of nostalgia as I overlooked the city of my childhood. My past. I remembered sitting on that same fire escape, listening to music I had heard all my life in a place I no longer recognised. The two worlds joined to form the present.

I clicked on Pink Floyd, letting the guitar lull and control the breeze around me. I looked at the distant lights of the city, scattered carelessly like fake diamonds.

So. So you think you can tell,heaven from hell?

The rasping male voice asked me.

Can you tell a green field from a cold steel rail?
A smile from a veil?

I thought of Gaara and smiled softly. I was lucky to have met him. Someone who was not made of the artificial McDonalds' world with their McDoctorsand their McFears I seemed to be trapped in most of the time, where my past was worth more than my present.
Do you think you can tell?
And did they get you to trade your heroes for ghosts?

I sucked a breath in from the old, worn pain.
And did you exchange a walk on part in the war, for a lead role in a cage?

I sighed softly, drawing strength from my lack of doubts, I trusted Jiraiya. If under Tsunade's care I was supposed to be safe, if in her school I would make it, then it would be ok.

It would be ok. It had to be.
How I wish, how I wish you were here.

My eyes closed against the city but I was surrounded by the song as if it had always been part of me, my breath, my lungs, my blood.
We're just two lost souls swimming in a fish bowl, year after year,
Running over the same old ground.
What have you found? The same old fears.

My insides clenched and for a second something went /redblueredblu/-
Wish you were here...

OoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOo

A/N

Whoop, first chapter, how exciting. :D It's so sunny out today that I felt like posting this summer-chapter.

I actually pulled an all-nighter writing the prologue, this and the second chapter. I sat down at 12 and couldn't stop writing. I wrote, spending more time on looking for songs than anything, and then at seven closed Word, took ashower, had breakfast, walked the dog and went to school.

I was very, very tired. So please do review TT

Well, first day of school next chapter. Tell me whatcha think :D