Kankurou hates the fact that he wants to touch his brother, to run his hand down the curve of his cheek and through his soft red hair, and then feel his neck. He hates it, because it is wrong, because it is what he should not be thinking.

Yet, the wanting to be a brother makes it worse. The feeling to protect, to wrap his arms around him, to have Gaara bury his face into his chest, all mixed together, makes him realize something: he is in love with his brother and there is nothing he can do about it.

When he meets Gaara in the hall this time, Kankurou doesn’t hold back. Trembling, he places his hand on the side of Gaara’s face and nervously brushes his neck. Kankurou desperately wants to do more, yet he knows that Temari is watching with her cat-glance. So Kankurou does nothing.

“What is it?” Gaara asks, unemotionally.

“N-nothing.” Kankurou stares at the ground. “You just had something on your face.”

Without talking, the younger boy walks away.

Perhaps it was better when Kankurou was scared of him, because now he knows he can never have him.

(But is your knowledge always reality?)