We Three

Chapter 4: The Spit

We Three

Zero weight. Zero mass. Zero existence.

Give it to me.

…

Neither Ino nor Gaara are in second block that day, but Naruto isn't discouraged because they are often absent, especially in the morning hours of the school day. When the bell rings at the end of Mythology, Gai Sensei dismissing them with an anecdote on his personal experiences with Cupid, the blonde bypasses the flow of teens headed to the cafeteria and works his way to the little spot between the Field House and dumpsters- attempting to not be seen by a teacher or anyone that sits at Sasuke and Sakura's lunch table (Not yours anymore, because you try with all your might to never be there). He knows he's found them when he sees a cloud of gray smoke drifting above the large, dark green garbage cans.

"Hey," he says loudly- too loudly, because his voice box is jittery with nerves-, to grab their attention when he rounds the corner of the dumpster, "Uh, Ino?"

The girl's sunken, glassy blue eyes stare into him, a chapped lipped smile directed towards somewhere above his head, and the earlier confidence (that was never really there before) seeps out of the soles of his snow boots, melting the hard snow into a circular puddle. He takes in her pale face and wonders if he isn't really looking at his own reflection.

"It's the glutton," she finally replies in the lilting tones of her always surprisingly rough tenor.

"Uh," is all the blonde can think to say. Gaara continues to work his cigarette for all it's worth- and Naruto can empathize, because Jiraiys is the same way with hoe expensive they are- without acknowledging the world around him. Not the smell of cheap menthol and trash, not the sharp gusts of early December wind. His sea green eyes bare into him like the day before, when Ino was throwing Deadly Sins at him (and she still is).

"Listen," he forces out, not sounding captivating at all and entirely unsure how he's supposed to ask Ino if she'll keep quiet about what she knows (if she even knows anything- You're so paranoid), "I don't know if you meant all that stuff. And I don't really know what you were trying to say... But about what you said yesterday-"

"It's not what I've said that you should be worried about," she interrupts with a coy sideways glance, "You should be watching your weight,"

My what?

"You'll blow up like a blimp if you're not careful. It's easy-" she emphasizes by jerkily flicking her hand to the side in a 'I'll show you' sort of way, "Just cut the calories, and you'll cut the pain. Look at it this way-" she takes one of Gaara's sticks from his new-looking cardboard box- a different type than Jiraiya smokes (It smells like cedar and comfort and cancer), "This is you," she holds each end in her sharp, long bright red nails- the same shade as her lipstick she wore the other day, "And inside is all these little grains on bottled up dreams, nightmares, hopes, hate- everything,"

He nods, totally not following, but going with it anyway.

She digs those scarlet razors into the soft paper and rips the cigarette in half, tobacco spilling out on her lap.

"See?" Ino smiles serenely, "So much lighter. Feels better, don't it?"

No. It doesn't. In fact, Naruto is quite fucking disturbed, imagining himself getting ripped in two (though he's been feeling like that for a while anyway). Naruto isn't sure what she's referring to, and positive he doesn't ever want to learn.

"I'll help you," she says.

"There's a party tonight at W8 that we're going to. You should come," she tosses the two white slips next to her burned out buds into the slush at her feet and takes Gaara by the hand, and "Ten o'clock" over her shoulder, as they stand and wrap their scarves around tighter. They slowly walk along the overhang where the school buses pull up in the mornings, and Naruto is too confused to chase them.