Chapter Text
Thwack! Thud.
A grunt escaped the young man as he landed on the ground, clutching at his face as he glared up at his attackers with vengeful dark-lined, mint green eyes. Blood dripped from his now bruised nose, leaving a stark red trail on his pale skin.
“I’m gonna give you a shiner so dark you won’t be able to see your shitty eyeliner, ya fucking freak!” The person who punched him, a girl with a spiky, dirt-colored ponytail yelled. She clenches her fist and reels her hand back, and attempts to charge at him again, not giving him enough time to stand up, Gaara rolls out of the way into the shins of a boy with a bushy brunette mop atop his head.
“Shit!” The boy swings at him with a switchblade, cutting his arm whilst he falls to the ground, only the hard concrete to catch his fall. The boy wielding a knife attempts to shank him in the thigh, and Gaara’s just the slightest bit too slow and gets stabbed in the back of the knee instead. Gritting his teeth, he stands up on wobbling legs, only for another unknown assailant to cover his mouth and wrap an arm around his neck, choking him.
Gaara opens his mouth and bites as hard as he can into the muscle, elbowing the man behind him in the gut in the process.
It hurts it hurts it hurts, the normal, humane side of his brain screams in response to the knife currently sticking out of the back of his leg, in tandem with the other, more monstrous side, telling him to kill kill kill. As usual, it’s easy to ignore the former as he bends down and grabs a handful of sand, chucking it as hard as he can into one of the boy’s eyes. He thinks it may be the one who stabbed him earlier, but he can never remember such trivial details when he lets himself get like this. Just then, like he was playing host to a bloodthirsty beast, Gaara yanks the knife out of his leg and slices it across one of their necks, crimson blood splattering his cheeks. That’s what you get for trying to hold me down, bastard, he thinks victoriously as his two friends stare on in horror; the dying hunk of flesh that was their former friend falling to the ground.
“H-He fucking killed Daiki! Let’s get out of here!” The other boy screams, grabbing his female companion by the arm and pulling her frantically away from the bloody scene.
Damn it. Slowly but surely, the bloodlust exits his mind, and the boy drenched in red is brought back to the present. I can’t stay here. Looking around frantically, Gaara assesses his surroundings. Nothing but stone buildings surrounded him, corridor-like alleyways forming a maze back into the streets. Fleetingly, he thinks about hiding in one of the dumpsters, but quickly discards that idea, no doubt the police and their dogs would sniff him out in seconds. The only way out is through the seemingly endless alleyways.
Picking one at random, Gaara trudges his way towards the alleyway to his right, bad leg behind him. He doesn’t know how long he manages to keep moving, but it’s just long enough to avoid collapsing as he sees a door to an old warehouse up ahead. He knows for a fact that it’s unlocked, the hinges were too rusty to be useful anyway. Vision going blurry and his knees about to buckle, Gaara makes his way inside, ignoring the ominous creak the door makes in the process, leaning against the walls for support. He exhales heavily, clutching his leg with as much strength as he can muster. His efforts to stop the bleeding are futile, he knows in the back of his mind. But he’s never been a quitter, why the hell should he stop now? A few seconds later he hears the door beside him let out another creak signaling the arrival of another party.
Shit, that was fast. Usually, it takes them twice as long to find me. The last thing Gaara sees before blacking out is a mysterious, well-dressed figure staring down at him with a blank, emotionless smile.
“Ah. An uninvited visitor. Let’s get you fixed up.”
~oOo~
Fuck… my head’s killing me, Gaara thought, wincing at the throbbing pain in his head. He opened his eyes, glancing at his surroundings. He raises a non-existent eyebrow, sitting up straight as he gazes around the unfamiliar bedroom. Wait… where the hell am I? I don’t remember getting here…
“So, you’re finally awake, are you?” an unfamiliar voice asked, their tone pleasant. Immediately, Gaara flinched, ignoring the pain in his leg as he reached for the knife that was not there. The figure in the doorway smiled emotionlessly, stepping into the light of the room as they bowed their head apologetically. “My apologies, stranger, but I took your knife from your person. Didn’t want you to wake so violently. You might have slit my throat if I were not careful.”
“Where am I? Who are you?” the young man demanded, ignoring the pain as he swung his legs off of the bed.
The paler, dark-haired man tilted his head, raising an eyebrow. “You are in my apartment, which I thought you knew after breaking in. As for me… let’s just say, I’m the person who fixed your leg. You could have bled to death without me.”
Gaara glances down at his injured knee, frowning when he sees that it was covered in bandages. He glared up at the stranger, suspicion evident in his eyes. “Why?”
“Why what?”
“Why did you help me?”
“Well, I couldn’t just let you bleed out, could I?” the stranger mused. “Too troublesome to deal with a body, especially in the middle of the city. Plus, your blood trail leads here. It would look rather suspicious to the police, wouldn’t it?”
On the outside, the redhead scowled at him. Inwardly, he grudgingly agreed that it made sense since he vaguely remembered leaving a long trail of red behind him. However, this left him with another problem…
“I guess I’m in your debt now… since you saved my life,” he reluctantly admitted. Damn it, I hate this, he growled in his head, disliking the situation he put himself in. The stranger raised an eyebrow, amusement evident. “Oh? That’s a big thing to say, browless. Are you so sure about that decision?”
Gaara scowled at the nickname, glaring darkly. “It’s not too late for me to spill blood, you know.” More blood, that is.
The stranger raised his hands, not appearing the slightest bit worried despite being threatened. “Now, now, calm down. No need to get so violent.”
“Oh yeah? Give me a reason why I shouldn’t get up and wring your neck,” Gaara threatened, already getting up from the bed despite his still-injured knee. Anger clouded his thinking as it had before, focusing all his attention on his bloodlust. Now the dark-haired man appeared worried, stepping back.
“Ah - W-Wait! Didn’t you say you were indebted to me? For saving your life?”
“… That is true. I did say that,” Gaara grouched, calming himself. “So what the hell do you want?”
A sigh of relief escaped the other’s mouth, and he ran a nervous hand through his hair as he composed himself. “Just one thing. I just need you to do one thing, and then you are out of my debt… We will never have to cross paths again after.”
“Well? Hurry up and tell me already.”
The suit-clad man reaches into his blazer and pulls out a card. It was solid black, except for a bright red cloud outlined in white emblazoned in the middle. He handed it to Gaara, who studied it with narrowed eyes before taking it. His rescuer released a relieved sigh and began walking out of the room. “You’re free to go now. Call the number on the back of the card when you get to your house. Do as the person says, and the debt will be fulfilled.”
Gaara grunted. “Fine. Know how to get to the Suna district from this dump?”
“When you leave the apartment, go down the first alley to your right. Then the left one and you can get into the street. You could probably figure it out from then. Bye!”
“Tch…” Fucking jerk. Might as well do what he wants.
What’s the worse that could happen?
~oOo~
Four crows flew above the city, perching on the edge of the apartment complex. Nothing out of the ordinary, besides the fact that they seemed to be focused on a redhead leaving the building. He limped, dragging his foot slightly behind him as he studied the card in his hands.
“843-252-87854,” he read aloud from the back of the card. He pulls his phone out of his back pocket, debating whether or not he should just call the number and get it over with. Turning on his phone, he’s immediately bombarded with notifications.
You have 17 missed calls from Temari. You have 17 unread messages from Temari. You have 1 unread message from Kankuro.
“I’m so fucked when I get home,” Gaara mutters.
To Be Continued...