Disclaimer: I do not own naruto, I do not own Deidara and Sasori.

Warning: This story contains Yaoi/shounen-ai!

AN: For my Tomo. I love you too. I really really do. (Why do we keep writing from each others characters POV's?)

Jambi

I'm here, sitting amidst the mess that is my room, sitting like I have been, for days, weeks, I don't even know anymore, time lost all meaning to me what seems like an eternity ago. I can't tell, I lost full control over my mind eons ago too. I can't make my brain form a single coherent thought that isn't about you.

As much as I struggle to keep myself occupied, one thing is constantly pulling at my thoughts, making my soul burn and ache with confusion, and longing, all these fucking emotions I told myself I was above, I told myself I was void of, you blew my calm exterior to shreds awakening my long dormant emotions with an atomic blast, and proving me wrong.

How could such a brat be the one to break down all my walls and make me feel again?

Here, in my mess of a room, alone in my bed, I'm wracking my brain, beating my head into walls, to try and tell you, tell you how I feel. How you're the only person that's made this heart feel a god damned thing in what seems like a thousand years of solitude and loneliness, how you're my sunshine in this darkened world.

How I feel that somehow, in some life, I must have done something amazing to deserve a gift from the heavens like you, the only one in this world who knows who I really am, and accepts me anyways.

It flows so perfectly, so smoothly in my mind, but can I verbalize this? No I can't, every time I try my mind goes blank, and I return momentarily to that emotionless mask I slip on so casually, just for comfort, to protect my own selfish heart.

I shake my head as small streams of tears begin to make their way down my face, rolling off of my chin and hitting the paper as I write.

"Stupid, Brat" I whisper shakily, even to me I sound pathetic

I've grown to almost despise it when my I pod decides to play this song, It hasn't stopped making me cry in god knows how long. Though Ironically I never seem to have the willpower to change it when it comes on.

I smile through my small cloud of tears and sing softly along with the crashing melody

"The devil and his had me down
in love with the dark side I'd found
dabbling all the way down
Up to my neck soon to drown
but you changed that all for me
Lifted me up turned me round
so I.. I.. I.. I... "

"I would wish it all away"

I chuckle softly as the tears come harder and the music doesn't wait for me, it crashes on without so much as pausing. That's the difference between Maynard and I, he knows what he's doing, he knows how to tell this person what he feels so freely, without even thinking about it, like it's not a terrifying experience, like he fears nothing, not even rejection.

This is how Maynard and I are different. I can't say what I feel, I can't express it through any other means than my art.

Art is the only thing in this poisoned world that never changes, its the only thing that makes any sense in my mind, my only form of release from the confines of my withering body, in my art I will be eternal. If I didn't have it, I fear everyone, even you would forget me.

I bring the cigarette shakily to my lips, unable to hold my hands steady as my body convulses against my own will, flicking the lighter a few times before I actually manage to get the damn thing lit. Inhaling deeply I feel the serene poisonous sensation burn through my veins like a fire, consuming my whole being with momentary comfort.

Once this little stick of death is gone, I won't be okay anymore, and inevitably, another one will follow only minutes later, killing myself slowly to numb the pain.

With all this smoke clouding my lungs, I don't have to feel anything else, I can pretend that I don't exist in this cold reality, I can pretend that I'm nothing but a figment of someone else's fucked up imagination.

The only thing that keeps me a part of this world that I despise, is the hope that someday, maybe I'll get over all of this and tell you how I feel. I'm such a scorned and sour person, I'm surprised you've put up with me this long. I know in the past every time you mention love, I scoffed, called you a brat, and dropped the subject. Back then, I just didn't want to admit to myself that I was capable of feeling.

I wanted to remain boxed within my concrete walls, away from the pain I knew to be the word everyone called love.

That was a nice dream while it lasted, you proved to me that I couldn't keep my heart locked in a cage forever, that everyone feels, everyone loves, everyone craves these emotions, even if they deny them.

In a way, you taught me to feel again, you taught me that not everyone in this rotten world is the poisonous filth I see them as, that their are angels in this flesh. You taught me to look for the small beauties of this world, the beauty in all of this dissonance.

I reach to my side and pull out the bottle that has been my best friend in your absence, slamming down another shot of whiskey, I can't even taste the amber liquid as it rolls down my throat, the tight burning in my chest the only thing that lets me know I've consumed it at all.

Small pleasurable waves of disassociation wash over my body, slowly I'm escaping all of this.

Trying to escape the tormenting thoughts of you.

I've know for awhile that you loved me, I just didn't want to see it, I didn't want to admit to myself that someone in could really love such a bitter person.

I know you've been sleeping with other men, I know you fear my judgment, I know.

Really, what hurts me the most, is my jealousy, seeing you in another mans arms makes my blood boil, and my chest ache. Seeing you snuggled so peacefully in arms that don't love you, that don't care about you, that only use you for your beauty.
It makes me sick with anger. I don't see you as a whore, I'm just angry because you aren't mine.

I guess that's what this all ultimately boils down to.

I want you to be only mine.

I want to be the one you hold, I want to be the one you whisper sweet nonsense too.

I want to be the one who makes you feel that you are not alone.

That wide eyed and hopefully wild body, I want it to be you.

I want you to remind me that my pain is an illusion.

I bite down on the metal bar of my tongue stud, as I start to shake again, why? Why the fuck can't I just say it? Why can't i just tell you how I feel?

Why do I have to cover my feelings by hurting yours?

All those things I say, I don't mean them, again I'm just selfishly protecting my own heart.

Why can't I be the man I told myself I was?

Void of emotions, it was blissful, it was ignorant, it was all a lie I so desperately wanted to be the truth.

I can't hide it anymore, I can't keep it all bottled up inside and waiting to explode turning my heart into a nuclear waste zone after the mushroom cloud evaporates leaving no life in its wake.

I slam my cigarette down into the ashtray by my bed, I can't even feel the hot coals as they undoubtedly burn into the calloused flesh of my fingers, I'm not real anymore, imaginary beings don't feel pain.

Flicking my lighter until I get a solid flame again, I light up yet another cigarette, I don't even know I'm doing it anymore, its all routine for me now, smoke has become the only thing I need to breathe, its my oxygen, it gives me existence, it gives me life.

I inhale the deadly toxin deep into my lungs, and the tears stop, if only for a moment, the only way I can tell they've come back, the hiss of the cherry as the salty liquid falls from my eyes like a thunder storm, the wails and sobs that escape my lips crashes of lightning in this otherwise, silent existence.

I can't stop the impending flood.

"FUCK!"

I wail, my screams drown out by the loud music that fills my small living space.

"FUCK! FUCK! FUCK!"

The song swimming through the small bedroom is perfect for my breakdown, and somehow this is comforting, keeping me holding on, just for a moment longer.

Water's rising up on me.
The water is rising up on me.
Thought the sun would come deliver me,
but the truth has come to punish me instead.
Grounds break down right under me.
Cleanse and purge me
in the water.

I don't know why I find the irony so entertaining.

I'm laughing hysterically as tears flood down my face, threatening to drown me in the flood of my own emotions, and I remember, the first time I saw those perfect sparkling blue eyes full of tears, the first time I kissed those rosy lips, I remember holding that trembling form and running my hands through that long golden hair, wiping the tears away.

I remember pushing that all away.

I dig my hands furiously into my scalp, tugging at my hair, at my sanity, as th flood is washing over me, I can't stop it, this ground below my feet is not the rock I thought it to be, it's crumbling all around me, and I can't find higher ground, the flood is sweeping me away.

And I think I'm finaly ready to let it carry my to you.

Three little words I've been dreading to say, three little poisonous words, I can't keep the flood from freeing them from their prison.

"I love you"

I laugh, it feels so liberating to finally say it out loud

"I love you!"

I throw myself backwards onto the softness of my futon, laughing, crying, and smiling wider than I have in years, all these new and wonderful feelings washing over and drowning my soul, awakening the heart I wanted to stay dead. And I decided, right then and there, that the next time I saw you Deidara.

I was going to say it.

I no longer fear your rejection, I no longer fear loneliness, I'm not afraid to feel anymore.

I'm going to kiss those perfect lips, and hold you close.

And tell you finally, like I've wanted to for so long.

Deidara, I love you.