Title: Pure As Snow.
Summary: Is the beautiful white snow really that pure? Or does it just cover the painful memories we no longer wish to remember?
Full Summary: Sakura was the little girl that nobody ever took notice of. She has no parents, no one to love her. She doesn't even know how to love. Gaara was the 'evil' insane boy everybody stayed away from. He watched her from a distance. And one snowy day, he found the pure, white snow stained with crimson blood.
Setting: High School.
Genre: Angst, Tragedy.
Pure as Snow
Just another second to pass. Just another minute to fly. Just another hour to run from her. Just another day that didn't want her.
Oh sure, people knew who she was.
("Oh, her? That's Sakura Haruno. Her parents were murdered when she was five. That's why she's like that. Anti-social I mean.")
She was the orphaned girl. Nothing special.
But there was this one thing she could do really well.
She was known to do an awesome ghost impression.
Even the teachers didn't bother calling her name in register anymore.
("But you know. She has no parents. It's no wonder she turned out that way.")
She plastered a fake smile on her face and took her seat at the back of the class.
Time never passed him quickly. Every minute dragged on and on for him to savour. That sweet taste of emptiness. Don't we all just love it?
Teal eyes rimmed in thick black, he was everyone's worst nightmare.
He walked the halls of the school, striking fear into the hearts of his 'peers'.
("That's Gaara. He's - Oh my! He heard us talking! Run, he'll kill us!")
He watched the invisible girl.
She would disappear to everyone but him. His eyes would find her.
She never ran away like all the others. He felt some sort of connection to her.
Maybe it was because they were both outcasts. Maybe it's because they both could relate to the lonliness life threw at them.
("Don't talk loudly. He might.. hear us. I don't want to die. He is a killer, you know. He's done it before.")
Got to love them, right?
It never snowed in Konoha.
But today... Today it snowed.
The world around was so oblivious to the white sheet, falling from the sky in graceful specks.
White was the color of purity.
Snow was a sign of purity.
(Or so he thought.)
Piece of Paper.
It's not that this is a diary entry or some fucking bullshit like that. You are just a piece of paper. A stupid little note that nobody will ever find.
It's just to ease my thoughts. Put my mind at rest.
Today I learnt something.
Snow... I always thought it was beautiful. The sign of purity.
But it's not.
It's all just one big lie, drenched in white to look beautiful and fool all of those moronic minds.
You really want to know why snow is created?
Here's the real reason;
Snow is created, not out of purity, but to cover all those painful little cracks in our memories no one wants to remember.
He folded the paper messily, throwing it on the gasoline drenched desk he was previously writing at.
He realised, after seeing her blood spilled across that snow, that no matter how many emotions you faked in this world; you were either loved or hated.
(Seeing her body, lifeless, cold. Something in him snapped. The connection to life itself, severed.)
Some people can make it.
(He struck the match, dropping it carelessly to the ground, watching the blaze crawl over the walls. He lay on his bed, accepting his fate.)
They were the people who couldn't.