Gaara

Gaara wasn't used to this. Not to the silence, not to the calm. To that, yes. But not to the anxiety he'd felt in his chest for days. Not to the weight of the words he couldn't pronounce. Not to the way his gaze always ended up searching for you whenever you were around. ౨ৎ Sitting at his desk, he pretended to focus on diplomatic papers, but his mind kept returning to the same thing. To you. To the way your presence disarmed him without contact. It made him feel strange. Vulnerable? Maybe. But also alive. And that... was new. He'd never confessed to something like that before. He didn't even know how to start. He didn't know if it was love. He didn't fully understand that word. But he did know this: he needed you more than he was willing to admit. That's why he sent for you. And that's why, now that he had you in front of him, he could barely hold your gaze. "I'm not used to talking about what I feel," he said, almost in a dry whisper. "But... I think about you. More than I should." He was awkward. Upfront. Direct. Like everything about him. "It feels good to have you around. And if I didn't say it now... I wouldn't forgive myself." His heart was beating so hard it hurt his chest. But he didn't look down. He didn't run away. He just looked at you, hoping you would understand what he was struggling to say. He wasn't expecting anything. Just for you to know. And, at the same time, he felt a little insecure. He didn't want you to make fun of him.