I never stop to consider the consequences of my actions until it is already too late to prevent them from happening. It's almost a curse, because I can't seem to help myself. When I see an opportunity to say or do something, I usually do it willy-nilly, not at all caring what can occur as a result.

It's a foolish endeavor, and yet it is an inescapable one. I can't stop myself; I have to act.

And, more often than not, I pay for it. Dearly.

Just today, I made yet another mistake. How could I have been so tactless? It's almost in my nature to be that way, but must I always act like that? My actions frustrate me sometimes, all because I don't think twice about them before I do them. As soon as they enter my mind, I go with it.

But today... Today was just dumb. Plain retarded. I bet he hates me now. And I don't blame him.

But why me? Why did I have to bring this on myself, and involving him of all people?

It hurts. It seriously hurts, a physical wound that I can't heal in a day like all of my other wounds. This isn't like a slash from falling off my motorbike, or a cut from a hard punch; this is internal, something aching and strong and impossible to ignore.

"Naruto-kun, I need you to take out the trash!" a voice hollers from below the boy's room.

"Uhg, stupid man! And right when I'm in the middle of writing, too," the blond sighs to himself. He grumpily stands, lazily lifting himself out of his desk chair. He pushes in the sliding metal shelf of his desk where his computer keyboard rests. Naruto then trudges downstairs, sticking his tongue out at Kyuubi, his adoptive father, before heading for the garbage can.

The blogger yanks out the bag, drags it outside, and does away with it. Finally, he's free to return to his room! Damn, do I hate wasting my free time, he thinks to himself. Now that I'm going to community college, I don't have it that often any more. I actually want to graduate, so I have to do my homework, and it just takes such a large chunk out of my day.…


It started this morning, after breakfast. I was cheerful (I had enough money to spare to treat myself to Ichiraku's ramen for breakfast, which always gets me in a happy mood), and taking a walk around downtown before I had to go to my morning classes. My bike (motorcycle, not bicycle) was parked at the end of the street, and as I neared it, I tripped and fell (clumsy me) on top of someone.

I rarely watch where I'm going; it's somewhat of a fact. Sakura-chan and Sasuke-teme tease me about it all the time, and once or twice, it's gotten me into some pickles. But I usually find a way to worm my way out of them. I have charm, Kyuubi says. The same charm my parents possessed. Not that I knew them and can make the connection, but whatever. I believe him.

So, naturally, tripping and landing on someone comes as no surprise to me. I apologize repeatedly and remove myself hastily like I normally do.

Except… as I stand up, I figure out two things: one, that I had tripped on the untied lace of my Converse, and two, that I had run into this guy I've known since high school who happens to attend college with me.

Yup, you guessed it.


Now, for those of you who know me and read this blog regularly, you know how he is by now. He's this stubborn (like me), grumpy (like Sasuke), artistic (like Sai), slightly bipolar (like Sakura-chan), and quiet (like Hinata) guy that I've had a sick fascination with since sophomore year. And I'm a freshman in college now. So that's, what… four years? Ages fourteen to eighteen? Yeah. I'm pretty weird.

It's not a crush, though! I know that much. I've just been… watching him every now and then, when I see him around. And I've been listening to when he speaks to people, since he rarely does, but when he does, he has some… extremely interesting things to say. (And by 'interesting,' I really mean, 'bizarre.')

But it's not a crush. You guys have commented before, trying to convince me that it is one, but I assure you, it's not! My feelings for this guy are strictly platonic!

I won't name names… #crosses fingers behind back# …but some of you have tried to:

A) talk me into asking him out (cough,Ino,cough)

B) get me to have a "real" conversation with him (cough,Neji,cough)

C) confess my (nonexistent!) feelings to him (cough,Lee,cough)

D) make me befriend him (which is practically as impossible as searching for the Holy Grail, by-the-way) (cough,TenTen,cough)

E) have me flirt with him to get to know him better (cough,Temari,cough; and he's your BROTHER! How could you try to sell him out to someone like that? What if he's not even gay? You can't know!)

F) convince me to have him as a guest on my radio show at school (cough,Shikamaru,cough)

Some Internet-pals you guys are. Psh.

But, admittedly, I did mess up today. Coming full-circle back to what I originally saying at the beginning of this post, I'm in a little bit of a self-hatred mood at the moment. Any chances I had with this guy to be his friend or otherwise (NOT THAT I WOULD), it's all been blown out of the water now.

#sigh# Stupid me. I should have never opened my big, fat mouth.

See, this is what happened after I ran into the redhead:

I apologized and all that, like I said earlier, but then I proceeded to try and dust him off, since he had some dead leaves on his grey pea coat, and on his black jeans. And I proceeded to (foolishly) ruffle his hair to get out an empty gum wrapper that had been on the ground and got in it. And (stupid me!), I just had to say stuff while I did so.

I ranted, "Oh Kami, Gaara, I'm so sorry! I'm such a fuckhead! Here, lemme get that for you, since – it' all my fault! – I always run into people. Did I hurt you? Are you okay? Let me see your face –" And I grabbed his cheeks in my hands and turned his head this way and that to find any scrapes. I even grabbed his shoulders and glanced down at his body, looking for scuffmarks on his arms or legs, since I know I probably weight more than him, and must have squished him. I continued, "Do you have any scratches? Bruises? Kami, I wouldn't forgive myself if I hurt you, man! I'm so sorry! I didn't even see you there, you're just so short! What are you, like, 161 centimeters? 162? – Which isn't bad, but I'm 170 centimeters, so I feel a lot taller than you, haha. – Oh wait! I hope that doesn't offend you! I don't mean to, it's just…"

"How do you know my name?" he suddenly said in a really flat voice, and it threw me off-guard.

I replied with something along the ever-so-intelligent lines of, "Huh?"

"My name," he stressed, clearly irritated, although his face didn't show it. "How do you know it?"

"Uh," I stuttered, "We went to high school together. And right now we're in the same college."

He stared at me as if I had grown another head. I winced, blushed, faltered. I scratched my cheek above the topmost of three scars that adorn my cheeks (as you all know by my profile pic). I didn't like the awkward tension. He said next: "You shouldn't touch me."

"I'm sorry, you're right. I hardly know you, it was wrong of me to –"

But he cut me off. Gaara uttered lowly, almost darkly, "No one should ever touch me."

I was confused by this. I still am, actually. Just what did he mean by that? But before I could say anything further, he turned sharply on the heels of his Airwalks and stormed off in the direction he had originally been going before I landed on his back. I stared after him for a while, still dazed.

I swear: Worst. Moment. Ever.

Naruto clicks the "post now!" button located below the white text box. As the page is redirected to his profile, he leans back in his reclining swivel chair to admire his newest work. He initially hadn't meant to get addicted to blogging, but as it happens, he is utterly addicted.

Shutting off his monitor, the blond launches himself across the room on the rollers of his chair, using his feet against his desk as propulsion. He grins to himself, spins twice, and then kicks his feet up onto the edge of his bed. Reclining back again, he laces his hands behind his head.

Shaking his head, the teen's smile fades. It is replaced with a frown and pouting lips. "Jeez. I wonder what they're going to say this time." He sighs to himself. "Probably will insist now more than ever that I like Gaara. But that's just a misconception."

Naruto twists in his chair for a moment prior to standing and heading over to his backpack in the corner. He digs out his yearbook; he recently went back to his high school to pick it up, since they issue each yearbook the following year it's made of in order to get pictures of prom and graduation in it. It's a lame tradition, and gives a whole new meaning to the phrase 'Homecoming,' but that's just how things work.

The blond flips through the yearbook, not even realizing that he's searching for pictures of Gaara until he comes across one and pauses. The picture is of the redhead during their school's rendition of Bram Stoker's Dracula. Gaara had been Renfield last year, and what a terribly amazing Renfield did he make.

The photo looks a little odd because of the pose Gaara is caught in: hand outstretched, eyes cast upward from a hunched-over body, seeking acceptance from his 'master.' The expression on his face is haunting; it's a perfect example of pure longing. What for, Naruto doesn't know since he didn't see the play, but it haunts him nonetheless.

Not wanting to be caught staring (By who? he asks himself), Naruto hastily flips the page. On the next glossy, colorful page, there lies another picture of Gaara: amidst the sea of drama club students, the boy sticks out like a sore thumb with his blood red spikes.

Naruto turns the page again. This time, it's of the school choir, and Gaara is nowhere in sight. Thank Kami.

After a few more casual flips through the chunky hardcover, Naruto slams it shut and stores it in a bin under his bed, along with the rest of his yearbooks. Idly, the blond wanders over to his Xbox and turns it on. He decided to play a round of Assassin's Creed II before going to bed. It's late, but not too late just yet, and he wants to get to the next part in the storyline.…

I think I blew it again today.

It's been a little over a week since my last post (which I know worried some of you, seeing as how you all know that I like to blog at least every other day or two), and for some reason, Fate likes to play games with me.

Yes, that means that I ran into Gaara. Again.

Only this time… he ran into me. Which is weird, since I'm supposed to be the clumsy one.

Anyhow. As I was saying.

Fate is a cruel bitch. Seriously. Sometimes Fate is alright with me; moving from Japan to America, okay. Kyuubi landing a job at a place with awesome benefits, okay. Making friends with all of you guys on the 'Net, okay. Fine. But all this crap with Gaara? Please, Fate, let me do without it, thank you! Sheesh!

But you people… I swear. You encourage Fate. Last week, I had THREE of you tell me that I was, "in denial about my feelings." Psh, yeah, riiight. And you are all purple hippos with wings.

It happened during my math class (as many of you already know, I'm currently taking my general education, "intro-credit" classes). I got up to go to the bathroom. I left the classroom. I walked down the hall, and for a split second as a rounded a corner, I saw Gaara reading a book while walking (which takes talent, I'll admit). But the second wasn't long enough to get out of the way.

SO, for once, I saw where I was going, and he hadn't. And he ended up on top of me. But this time, since we weren't going in the same direction, we ended up face-to-face, stomach-to-stomach, pelvis-to-pelvis.

(And yeah, I blushed when I realized how close we were, but hey! That's not grounds for any of you to say that I like him, 'cause I don't! Really! It's just… what would you do, if your body was suddenly flush up against a stranger's? You'd blush, too, I bet.)

Gaara's book was lying somewhere on the floor, and he had his hands on either side of my head, holding up his upper body from touching mine. But he was staring directly into my eyes, aquamarine into cerulean blue. It was freaky.

The first thing he says to me is: "Not you again." Just like that, too; an irritated stress on the word, 'you,' meaning specifically me, Naruto Uzumaki.

I twitched one eye. "I could say the same to you, bub!" I retorted. I wriggled underneath him, but his body was tense and frozen in place. For a little guy, he was heavy. And strong. But the heaviness was probably in his gigantic backpack, most likely full of textbooks. And he was probably only strong because he had to carry such a huge weight on his back.

I glared at the sand-colored fabric with hatred. Gaara probably wouldn't have lost his balance and fell on top of me if not for that thing. Stupid backpacks; how I curse them all, but especially his.

"Remove yourself from me," the redhead demanded sharply.

"Me?" I shrieked, still wriggling to move. "You're the one who's on top of me! You move!"

"I can't," he ground out between clenched teeth, and he shifted slightly, but his backpack was too heavy. It must be hurting his spine, I realized. So I did what any person would do in my situation: I gripped his shoulders and rolled us over. Then, none-too-gently, I shoved myself off of him and started to walk away.

Under his breath, I heard him say, "You touched me again," in a tone that made me think of someone seething where they stood, grinding their teeth and clenching their fists.

But my damn impulsiveness (as complained about in my previous entry) nagged at me to turn back and help the poor guy back on his feet. I groaned at myself, but obeyed. Soon I was back at his side, and without looking at him (I was more or less rolling my eyes at this point), I offered a hand to help him up.

At first, he didn't take it. I sense him hesitating, as if debating with himself. But in the end, he slapped my hand away, shrugged his arms out of his backpack straps, and stood by himself. A bit angrily, he grabbed the weight and his fallen book and continued on his way as if the whole thing had never happened.

Dammit, does that guy piss me off! I tried to be nice and help him, and he just slaps my hand away! What a dick! And I didn't have to help him, you know. I should have just left, since it was his fault we collided (again) in the first place! But nooo, I had to be the good guy. I had to offer my hand to him. Damn him.

(And before any of you comment with a teasing, "Aww, did Gaawa hurt wittle Naru's feelings~?" I'm going to tell you straight up that I'm not hurt or disappointed or anything. Sheer anger is all that is bubbling in my veins, thankyouverymuch.)

So. That's what happened today. Once again, stupid me thought wrong, and poor be got a rejected slap on the hand.

Fate is a sadistic, icy-hearted bitchhh.

[Comment on this post!] [Current comment count: 6]

Haha Naruto, what did I tell ya? Didn't I say that something like this would happen again? You doubted me, but I'm telling you, there is something between Gaara and you. And it's going to show itself sooner or later. But please don't hate me for saying so; I'm just trying to be honest here.

OMG. This is priceless. I laughed when I read this, I'm sorry. But it's just too funny! I don't care how many times you say it. I think you're falling for this guy, Naru. Sasuke-kun thinks so, too. He told me so. ;)

Ino's right. I did say that. And I'm telling you, Dobe, this is only going to keep happening unless you man up and confess to somebody – to yourself, to us, to Gaara; it doesn't matter who – that you like this guy. If you don't, mark my words: karma will keep catching up to you.

Yosh! I was hoping for another encounter between the two of you! This is wonderful. But ahh, I must admit it: I'm jealous that you are budding into the sweet blossom of youthful love! Please, don't be blind to it, Naruto-kun! You must embrace it for what it is! :D

You idiot. You should have kissed him when he was laying on top of you. It would have made things a lot simpler for you in the long run.

HAHAHAHAA. Oh, my foolish baby brother. How I wish I went to school with you two, if only to watch him mess up like that. Kankurou's no fun, but Gaara? So amusing. He acts like he isn't, since he's so serious all the time, but his angsty-teenage-seriousness is half of what makes him so amusing. XD

Naruto paces over to the quiet redhead at the end of Writing and Composition class. He's determined to clarify a few things with this guy, once and for all.

"Can I talk to you?" the blond says firmly. "Outside, in private?"

Gaara's black-ringed eyes pan over to the blond with indifference in their aqua depths. "Fine," he agrees with a grunt. He gathers up his things and follows Naruto out the door, into the courtyard nearby.

Naruto doesn't stop until he's beside his favorite cherry blossom tree. It reminds him of his childhood, back in Japan. The tree isn't blossoming because it's fall, but even it's almost-naked branches offer a level of comfort to him.

The blogger turns and faces the shorter boy. He begins, "I want to make something very clear: I don't mean to keep running into you. And I'm sorry if you don't like to be touched or whatever, but sometimes that's something that can't be helped. And another thing: I. Don't. Like. You. I'll admit that I've written about you a few times in my blog because you keep popping up in my life, but that doesn't mean I have a crush on you! 'Cause I don't, not in the least!"

Gaara blinks once or twice. Then, slowly, he says, "I know."

"Know? What do you know?" Naruto snaps.

"That you have a blog. That you've mentioned me in it." He pauses, his eyes glancing around the courtyard at its dying landscaping. "And that you don't like me."

Naruto stops dead, and stares. "Wait. Then why did you ask how I knew your name three weeks ago? If you knew about –"

"I wasn't aware of your blog or who you were until Temari showed me your webpage when she visited last," Gaara states simply. He shoves his hands into the pockets of his pea coat and hunches his shoulders to warm his neck. "Now, is that all? I'm cold. I want to get to my car."

"But –!" Naruto starts, not sure how he's going to finish. He grabs the sleeve of Gaara's coat as the redhead turns to leave. "Wait. Okay? Just… wait a second."

Gaara stills his movements. "I'm waiting."

"You…" Naruto starts, frustration seeping into his voice, "I don't…!" He lets out a breath and releases his grip on Gaara's sleeve. "I don't even know what to say to you. You're… an enigma to me."

Something changes in Gaara's stance. He partially turns in Naruto's direction. "I am?" he murmurs, his voice lower and softer than usual.

Naruto nods. "Yeah. I've been trying to dissect you for years, trying to understand you… but I can't. You're just this face and name and being that is just out of my level of understanding. I mean, you're pretty bizarre, man," he adds with a half-hearted chuckle. "I wish I knew you better, I really do. But part of me…" and he pauses, unsure of himself. "Part of me is terrified of you."

"Why?" Gaara asks, fully facing Naruto now, his eyes peering curiously up into the blond's. "Why do I terrify you?"

"Well, it's not your height," Naruto jokes, skiming a flat hand across the air from the top of his head to just above Gaara's head. "And it's not even your voice, although your tone can get a little scary at times. It's just… I dunno, your aura. There's something about how you carry yourself that frightens me. I'm afraid of…" He drifts off, the words dying on his tongue. He doesn't want to voice his true thoughts and feelings, because he knows that Sasuke, in that bastard's last comment on Naruto's blog, is correct.

"You're afraid of my aura," Gaara repeats for clarification. "I think I know why. I push others away, and intimidate people. My siblings say so quite often." He shrugs nonchalantly. "It's self-defense, I suppose."

"But why?" Naruto wonders aloud. "What are you protecting yourself from?"

And this is a secret, because Gaara refuses to answer. Instead, he stands there, looking at the black buttons on his coat and creating silence to act as a veil between them.

Naruto clicks his tongue. "This conversation is over, isn't it?"

The redhead doesn't reply, but the way he tilts his head and glances up at Naruto, the blond takes this as confirmation that yes, it is over.

The blond exhales slowly and runs his hand through yellow strands. "Alright. Fine. But riddle me this, paprika-head: do you think we're fated to keep coming into contact with each other against our will?"

And to this, the shorter male responds with a solid, "Yes."

Then he walks away.

As Naruto is left standing in the shadow of the cherry blossom tree, he thinks just one thing: This moment is not going in a blog.

He walks back to his car, biting his tongue.

Stupid me. Why did I even confront him like that? What good did it do?