Infatuated. That word seemed to explain my feelings for him. That was until the next year, then the next when I couldn't seem to get over him. Infatuation. No. This was so much deeper.

Affection. This action always did seem to make up the fibers of my emotion when I was around him. I always showed it in unnoticed ways. Affectionate? Definitely described me.

Admiration. Oh so much! His art was beautiful almost as beautiful as he himself, not that I'd ever vocalize this, I knew if I told him he'd just 'tsk' and work more, throwing poison tipped daggers straight at my heart, not realizing the damage done. All of this metaphorically of course. Admirer. Yes, I suppose I was.

Respect. I never dared not be. All the things I felt towards him, respect was a given. Respectful? Always.

Jealousy. Amazing… how much hate and envy you feel towards one person, even when you deny feelings toward the one said person is courting. As I'm always seen as the irresponsible adolescent. How wrong they are. They're lucky I didn't rip out her throat and hang her from it. Jealous? Extremely.

Joy. How much of this I felt when she broke his heart, letting me put the pieces back. How he always sought consolation in my arms, and no one else's. Joyous? How could I not be?

Sorrow. Once. For a day or so, he never looked at me. Didn't speak to me, blushed when I was around. I, being all too ignorant at the time to realize his hidden feelings as well. Sorrowful? Not for very long.

Care. I never cared for anyone or any thing after my parents died. Well, except my art, but hell, I blew it up. What was to be expected? That cheery young boy couldn't last in the cold desolate world that was my heart at the time. I never cared, not until I met him. He had changed my mind on so much; he made me care, for him. He needed me, and that's the only reason I cared about what happened to me, because I cared for him. Caring? Only for him.

Realization. I had finally accepted I was in love. It had been going on for four years now, and I doubt it was going away. And it never did. One night, I was driving him home from school, we being very good friends, I'd even say best friends at that, I was very upset about a event that occurred earlier that day, I didn't realize his blushing, and stuttering when he spoke, nor his avoidance toward my eyes. Well, one visible eye, the other covered by a strip of golden locks. When we got to his house he invited me in. I knowing my love in full acceptance, of course obliged. As we sat on his couch, he began to speak.

"Deidara, I-I know w-we've been friends for a long time, a-and I-I just…I-I think I-I'm I-in l-l-love with you, but I u-" I had to cut him off. After hearing that, I came to one realization. He could and would be mine. He was surprised I kissed him at first, but thank God in heaven, he kissed back. I must say, he was a much better kisser than I had originally imagined.

"Does that mean you love me too?" he asked with a smile on his face.

"Sasori no danna, I've loved you forever, and I always will, un." This time he leaned over and kissed me. Of course this meant I was going to marry him. Realizing? The greatest feeling in the world. Well, next to love.

Forever. This one word, I never thought to truly exist. Not in art, not in life, not in love, not in faith. Everything was transient. He changed my mind on that one though. It's been years, and I still love that stoic pompous ass. And I truly believe I always will. Forever? And always.