Notes: So, after months of being madly in love with the anime Naruto I decided to finally write my own fanfiction instead of just browsing. I was originally a Kakuhida supporter (still am, to the very core) but after a while found out that I absolutely adore Deidara and Sasori, especially together! And so I wrote a Sasodei fic and after finishing the first chapter decided to put it up. I'm also writing a Kakuhida story on the side, but that won't appear for a while considering I have no time to do anything fun anymore.

This story will consist of about three chapters and is Sasodei with hints of Kakuhida.

Summary: AU. Against his better judgment, Sasori cares for an injured Deidara, all the while convincing himself that it was only to satisfy his own curiosity as to why he was hurt in the first place. SasoDei, slight Kakuhida.

Rating: T for swearing and hints of violence.

Disclaimer: I don't own Naruto characters. Naruto and its characters belong to Masashi Kishimoto

Eternity Ends With An Explosion

"Would you spare some change, ma'am, for someone who desperately needs it?"

A stunned silence. The sound of coins clinking together and being dropped into a cup. A mumbled 'thank you' followed by 'no problem' before an uncomfortable silence.

The cup shakes and the loud tinkle of coins indicates it's nearly empty. "What's a pretty thing like you doin' all alone this time o' night? And in this part of town?"

"Oh, I think I'm lost. I looking for my friend's apartment, but I've been searching for the past half hour and I can't find it." Looks around, eyebrows pulled together in desperation. The sun has set and the only light left is the street lamps. "Could you help me?"

"Ayuh. I know this place like the back o' my hand. Where you headed?"

"Here's the address. She wrote it down, but I'm new to this place so…"

Ruffle of papers. He glances down, then nods. "Ah, I know this place. Yeah, it's very far from here, it is. About two hours walk." She groans in frustration, burying her face in her hands.

Thirty seconds pass. He knows when to be silent.

"I'm going to call my friend."

-0-

The only thing recognizable about the boy was the long, blond hair that cascaded over his face. In a very familiar style, some of it had been pulled back into a messy ponytail while the rest hung down to below his shoulders. The left side of his face was completely covered by his long fringe, which was not unusual. What was unusual was that this time his hair was an attempt to shield stranger's eyes from the numerous bruises covering his face and the ring of purple around his swollen left eye. It was a face that radiated no emotion and was completely expressionless but underneath, he could see the small flicker of fear when he glanced towards him.

The second of recognition had sparked when he'd caught sight of his hair, but he approached cautiously. There was nothing familiar about the blond man's face, as it was in a complete state of disarray and as he watched a stray droplet of blood dripped onto the man's lap. Only when he was close enough for the streetlight to cast a garish color over the figure did he realize who had caught his attention.

Tentatively, with a shyness uncommon to his personality, he reached out and tapped the younger man's shoulder. "Deidara? Is that you?"

His response was only a slow nod. He glanced up, mumbled, "Sasori…" before glancing back down at his hands. In the harsh light Sasori could see the two scars on the palms of his hands. Jagged, straight lines through the middle of his hands were the product of a combination of drunken stupor and a bout of depression, or so Sasori had heard. The scars had been split open again and were bleeding, but he didn't know if they were from self-harm or if someone else had done it.

"Yes, that's right. We've met a few times. You remember."

When Deidara spoke, his voice was blurry and distant. Every word seemed to be dragged from his lips with Herculean effort and his eyelids drooped tiredly. "Yeah, I remember, un. How could I forget?"

Sasori chose to ignore that strangely obscure comment. He watched as Deidara picked at the scarred bumps, tracing a blood crusted nail across his skin gently. His one good eye was narrowed with deep concentration.

"Deidara, what happened to you? What happened to your face?" he asked bluntly. He had never been one for tact or consideration of other people's feelings. There was no awkward situation he couldn't sit through, uncaring of how others were currently suffering.

"Nothing happened to my face, un. Do you not think I'm beautiful?"

"Why are you changing the subject?" he demanded, frustration tainting his voice.

"Am not. You brought up the subject of my face, un. I'm simply asking you if my features please you."

Sasori shook his head, confused, but he refused to show it. A few shockingly red hairs fell into his eyes and he brushed them away with impatience, reflecting his current feelings towards the direction of this conversation. Coldly he said, "Why does it matter? Why are you asking something so irrelevant?"

Deidara lifted his eyes to the streetlight, letting the light wash over him. Sasori noticed the busted lip and shallow scratches on his once smooth cheeks and frowned, curiosity growing.

"I guess you are right. Beauty is…only fleeting after all," the blond whispered, lifting up his hands to admire his fingers. His eyes were glazed, hazy and Sasori immediately identified why Deidara's voice was so slurred. He was simply surprised that he hadn't seen the younger man's blatant drunken state before now.

"You're drunk."

"You're unhappy."

Sasori's eyes widened for a fraction of a second. Deidara's eyes dragged towards him, a cocky smirk gracing his features for a few seconds before falling away. The comment had not been made teasingly, but with every ounce of seriousness that he could possibly possess. At least, that was Sasori's impression of what he'd just said. It didn't matter.

"Impudent little…" he struggled to find a word but gave up when Deidara's eyes closed, a pained expression on his face. He reached up, slightly less sympathetic than before, and grabbed his chin, forcing him to look into his eyes. Blue met grey in an intense conflict and it was only his natural strength that forced Deidara to be still as he mentally took note of Deidara's injuries. Impatiently he brushed Deidara's fringe to stop it from obstructing his face.

Almost no part of his face had been left unmarred by whatever it was that had caused these wounds. The right side of his face, although subject to a swelling cheek and four scratches, was still nothing serious and could have been passed off as a slap from a scorned lover. Even the bruising on his forehead was barely noticeable in the dark. But his left side…oh, his left side was a mess. Deidara whimpered as Sasori brushed his fingers over the split lip, which had crusted over with dried blood, then the ring of dark purple bruising around a puffy eye that had suffered a vicious hit from a well-aimed fist. His cheek was dark and bruised and he didn't dare even brush against it with the lightest of touches.

"What happened, Deidara?"

"Nothing happened."

"You're hurt." Deidara pushed Sasori's hand away roughly, a glimmer of anger expressing itself for a second before fading. He made to turn away, grimacing. "Don't look away from me." His voice was cold, furious at the other's blatant lack of respect. The sharpness seemed to cut straight through Deidara and he winced. His eyes were focused somewhere on the ground, ignoring Sasori's orders.

"Poison…you're poisoning me with your words," he mumbled. Reaching next to him he picked up the bottle of Jack Daniels next to him and took a gulp before Sasori could stop him. The redhead took the bottle, tugging it from reluctant hands and tossed it at the wall casually. He tried not to show the anger bubbling inside of him, not wanting Deidara to be even less communicative than he was at the moment. "Poison can kill me. But it doesn't matter…life is transient. That's what makes it beautiful. That's what makes it art."

He was nothing like the arrogant, smirking young man that Sasori had met briefly before. They had only encountered due to their mutual friends – Sasori being close to Kakuzu, Kakuzu living with Hidan, Hidan being best friends with Deidara – but had barely exchanged any words between them. But Sasori had already gotten a solid impression from the way Deidara spoke with his foul-mouthed friend. He was smug and sure of himself, confident in his opinions and outwardly disrespectful to those who pissed him off. He wasn't weak-willed, that was for certain, and his opinions had some ground to them and at no point did the words 'boastful' pass through Sasori's mind, but he had been completely aware of the confidence that the younger man radiated.

"Since when did you care about art?"

"I don't know…but I was just thinking about it and then I realized…true art is something that is fleeting, transient. Art can only be appreciated if it's brief. Don't you think?" Deidara asked, swaying forward. He leaned forward on the bench he was sitting on and for a moment Sasori was worried he was going to vomit. He certainly looked ill – his skin had turned pale and the bruises darkened in contrast to the pallor. He stopped, clenching his eyes shut. When he spoke, his voice sounded tight and forced. "Don't you think art is transitory?"

Sasori thought for a second, just to amuse Deidara. "I don't know. I've never really thought about art." It was true. Sasori, although he greatly appreciated art and would enjoy devoting some time to it, had never had enough time to really consider his perspective on it. His life was currently too busy for him to ponder such things. Now that he thought about it, his initial reaction was to completely disagree with Deidara. "I prefer to think that art is something eternal. How can you appreciate art if it lasts for so little time? A memory can't do art any justice. Memories fade over time, therefore if art were fleeting, then it would fade into nothingness. True art would be…well, in my opinion, it would be eternal – something that lasts forever."

"That's crap. How can you appreciate something when it's there all the time? Life is only precious because it's so short…" His voice was tinted with morbidity and Sasori felt a chill run down his spine.

"What happened to you? Why are you being like this? Tell me who did this to you."

"Who did what to me? You're not making any sense."

"Don't give me that!" Sasori had finally reached the end of his patience, but his voice, although sharp, remained at the same volume. Deidara flinched, then reached next to him for a small flask that had been hidden from Sasori's view. The redhead snatched it and threw it onto the ground. His movements were controlled and not even bordering on dramatic, but the irritation was still palpable. He watched as the toxic liquid dribbled out of the flask, slithering onto the pavement and becoming a stain on the cement. "Don't make me wait for an answer. I detest waiting and I won't hesitate to use force if that's what it takes to get you to answer my question."

Deidara visibly caved under his stern words and he looked completely vulnerable under the merciless spotlight. He sighed, reaching up and brushing his lip with the most careful fingers. Sasori noticed that he had a deep cut through the middle of the palm of his hand, and when he looked down he realized that Deidara's other hand had also almost been sliced open. Frowning, he deduced that Deidara might need stitches and wondered how he hadn't noticed the blood on his shirt and pants.

"You're not going to tell me, are you?"

"I still don't understand what you're asking of me."

"How did you get these bruises? Who sliced your hand open? Were you attacked? I doubt you did this to yourself – the angle wouldn't have allowed you to cause this much damage. Do you have more injuries?" His eyes traveled lower and Deidara shifted under his gaze. "Did they do more than just beat you?" The implication hung in the air, as clear as a bright neon sign flashing in the darkness. He received no answer but from the way Deidara twitched he knew that the blond was only pretending to be oblivious.

"I don't want to talk about it," he said. His voice was a poor attempt at being firm, but it wavered, thick with emotion and as Sasori watched he squeezed his eyes shut, looking miserable at the situation. "I just want to go home."

"Where do you live?"

"A few blocks away from here." He stood up from the bench, touching the metal pole supporting the bus stop he was standing in. "I always come here to take the bus to work, because I don't have a car." He looked around helplessly, suddenly unsure of what he was doing. "I don't know what I'm doing here. I don't know why…I'm here…"

Sasori shrugged, done with the situation. Deidara didn't want to tell him what had happened so he obviously didn't want his help, and Sasori wasn't the sort of person who'd extend his help to those who didn't want it. He didn't care enough to make an extra effort, so instead he turned to leave, already wondering what food he could conjure up from the meager supplies in his fridge.

When Deidara spoke, he stopped.

"Could you please…stay with me?"

-0-

She walks back to the spot she'd been before. Sits down. "She said she's coming to pick me up by car. She told me to stay where I am."

"Awright…"

"Mind if I sit here for a while? I don't want to intrude."

Shrugs, indifferent. "Makes no difference to me."

"Right…thank you." She glances at her watch.

-0-

"You can sleep in the guest room. It's that door, un," Deidara said, motioning towards it with a bleeding hand. His knuckles were split open and Sasori could see a burn on his wrist. His other hand quickly covered it up, which was also dripping with blood. The cuts had split open during their silent walk back to his apartment. He had been nervously flexing his hands and Sasori had not bothered to advise him against it. "Don't worry; it's not too messy."

Sasori nodded. "Thank you."

Deidara's apartment was neither large nor small and as Sasori had suspected, it was in disarray. His furniture was old and broken and there were books and stationery scattered everywhere. The walls had hundreds of photos scattered all over of Deidara with his friends. His garbage can was almost overflowing with paper and empty wrappers and when Sasori took a step forward broken glass crunched under his feet. He closed his eyes, silently wondering why the hell he had agreed to this. He was starting to regret this decision to stay for the night.

"Ah, sorry about that. I promise I'll clean up…tomorrow. Yeah. Tomorrow, un," Deidara mumbled. He rubbed his cheek, leaving behind a smear of blood.

"You should go take a bath," Sasori said. It was less of a suggestion and more of an order. He didn't want to spend another second looking at the bloodstains on Deidara's shirt. The younger boy didn't seem to care that his hair was sticky with his own blood, or that he was completely barefoot. His feet were scratched and filthy and Sasori winced as the boy shrugged and began to walk towards the bathroom, dirtying the wooden floor. He loathed mess and unfortunately, Deidara's apartment was one big garbage can that he would be sleeping in for the night.

"Make yourself at home. I think there's food in the fridge, which you can have if you want, un. Some of it's expired, so look at the labels before you help yourself," Deidara said before disappearing behind the door.

For the next hour Sasori managed to find a plastic trash bag and collected the empty cans and wrappers around the apartment. He steered clear of Deidara's room and managed to clear up as much as he possibly could. He was not obsessive compulsive, but it bothered him too much to simply let go and after taking out the trash he stood and surveyed the room with a critical eye.

He hadn't wanted to go back to his own apartment. Deidara's invitation had forced him to face the truth – he was lonely.

Sasori was not a social person, but he did not deliberately shy away from all human contact. The loss of his parents had created a divide between him and the rest of his peers at a young age and he'd gotten used to being alone. Growing up he'd gained a few close friends, but he still lived alone and did not have anyone to return to when work was over.

He'd almost automatically turned Deidara down when he'd stopped and realized that he really had nothing else to do and wasn't looking forward to return to his empty apartment. Maybe tonight he could stay at another person's place, wake up and be able to feel someone else's presence nearby. It was a sad and desperate thought, in his opinion, which is why he would never mention it to anyone, but he craved human contact. And unfortunately, Deidara's offer was the only way he could quench his loneliness for the time being.

Glancing around, he decided that maybe he could tolerate this dump for a night. Somehow, although he refused to ever tell Deidara, this place seemed much more homely than his own and he felt comfortable, albeit a little out-of-place as he wasn't used to sleeping anywhere except for his own home.

The sound of water running stopped and almost immediately after Deidara walked out, clad in only a white towel. He exited the bathroom before stopping, looking around in surprise. "Did you clean up, un?" He didn't give Sasori any time to answer. "You can use the green toothbrush – don't worry, it's new. And I have some spare clothes in the closet. I'll go get them, un." He turned and walked to his bedroom.

Sasori could see that the bruises covered the rest of his body as well. Someone really did a number on him and seeing the injuries only peaked his curiosity even more. He wasn't the type of person to make assumptions without reasoning and therefore he decided to keep his mind open until Deidara was ready to tell him what happened.

"Did you eat anything, un?" Deidara asked, returning fully clothed and holding a spare set of pajamas. Sasori shook his head and followed him into the kitchen, which was relatively clean compared to the rest of the apartment. He sensed that this was not a place that Deidara spent a lot of time in, considering how bare it was. "I don't think I really have anything left. I haven't been grocery shopping in a while. Too lazy, I guess…"

The fridge door was opened to reveal a can of tomato sauce, a few random assortments of food and an apple, which rolled onto the ground and came to a stop at Sasori's feet. He stared at it silently while Deidara muttered a few curses, searching through the cans and packets for something that wasn't expired. "Expired, expired, expired, un, gross, expired." He sighed, running a hand through his long hair before pulling out a jar of olives. "This is the only thing that isn't expired, un."

"I think I'll just go to bed now," Sasori said politely. Deidara nodded, looking apologetic before moving back to his room. He stopped at the door, clearing his throat uncomfortable.

"Uh…thank you for staying over, un."

"Don't worry about it." He could see that Deidara wanted to say more, but stopped himself and closed the door to his room. Sasori was relieved, not enjoying the strangeness of the situation. He had to admit that neither of them were much more than acquaintances and they had both acted very strangely – Deidara by inviting him over spontaneously and Sasori by agreeing. He didn't need this to be acknowledged.

He left the kitchen, dropping the apple into the trashcan and entered the guest bedroom, closing the door quietly behind him. He was convinced that he wouldn't be able to sleep easily in a stranger's bed.

Surprisingly, he blacked out the moment his head hit the pillow and the next second he woke up with sunlight streaming through the open curtains and a killer headache. He groaned, covering his eyes and cursing himself for not closing the curtains.

Sasori had always preferred waking up in the dark and this hatred for morning sunshine seemed to induce painful headaches. Grumbling, he stood up and reached for the curtains, pulling them to a close and blocking out the sun's rays. The darkness was a gentle relief and the throbbing subsided almost immediately.

With a twinge of annoyance he realized that he was going to have to wear the clothes he wore yesterday to work. He pulled on his shirt and pants, frowning at the wrinkles in the material, knowing that his boss was going to be surprised by his appearance. Sasori never got in trouble – he was always on time, looking completely pristine and did his work at the best of his ability. There was really nothing to complain about, and therefore although his boss was not a patient man with others, he tended to allow Sasori a little more freedom than the others.

He tried to smooth out his shirt as much as possible and when he was finally satisfied he picked up the briefcase he'd left by the door and walked out, shutting the door silently in case Deidara had not woken up.

He was greeted by a trembling young man slumped over the kitchen table, skin shining with sweat and eyes clenched shut. Deidara had not noticed his presence and from what Sasori could tell, he was suffering from a mild fever. He sighed, putting down his briefcase with an audible thud, causing the other man to look up.

"H-hey, you're awake, un," he said, his voice shaking. He tried to smile, but it was a weak attempt and instead he watched as Sasori approached him. The older man felt his forehead, noting the slightly raised temperature and sighed. He didn't know much about treating sick people, but it was pretty obvious that Deidara wasn't well and considering the state of his apartment and fridge, he couldn't very well leave him all alone. "F-fuck I'm tired. My hands won't st-stop shaking, un."

"Did you get any sleep last night?"

"Nope, un. I couldn't get comfortable." Considering his injures, it was easy to see why. "F-felt sick this morning and tried to make myself s-something to eat, but then I remembered th-that there was nothing in the fridge, un."

Sasori rubbed his forehead as Deidara slouched over the table, resting his forehead against the wood. The redhead was torn between leaving for work and staying to make sure Deidara was okay.

If he left, then he would be fulfilling the rules of their silent agreement. He had walked Deidara home, stayed for the night and then left in the morning without any obligation to return or see Deidara again. This was what the man had, in essence, asked of him the other night when inviting him over. Now he was supposed to bid Deidara goodbye and leave for work and forget about what had happened.

The other option would be that he remained with the blond to make sure he was okay, skipped work and went out to buy resources to make sure the blond didn't starve to death during his illness. But, then this would require him staying for longer. It would silently imply that he was taking responsibility for the younger man and tied him down to a person that he barely knew.

He sighed, making his decision within a split second and took out his cell phone. Deidara watched with wide eyes as he lied to his boss about being sick and apologized profusely for missing a day at work. He was sure that Pein suspected he might be lying – it wasn't like Sasori to miss work simply because of illness – but since he wouldn't do something like this without good reason the man said nothing and simply wished him well.

Once he slipped his phone back into his pocket Deidara asked, "What are you doing, un?" He looked thoroughly confused by this sudden turn of events.

"I'm not going to leave you by yourself in this state. You can barely stand and there's nothing for you to eat here that won't send you to the hospital with food poisoning," he said sternly. "I'm going to go grocery shopping."

"But I don't have any money, un," Deidara said hoarsely. There was no reply from Sasori, who simply turned, heading to the front door. He didn't stay to hear Deidara protest and left the apartment, heading to the elevator.

As he made his way to the supermarket he wondered what kind of idiotic move he'd just made. Sasori Akasuna was not a kind, selfless person who offered to take care of people he barely knew. He had no reason to want to help Deidara, much less spend money on him, go grocery shopping for him and stay with him for another day. He wouldn't even do that for his friends, so why had he offered to do it for some random guy who was stubbornly insistent on keeping him in the dark?

He eventually decided that his curiosity was keeping him rooted to Deidara's apartment. He still had no idea why Deidara had been alone at night, bruised, drunk and talking about art.

He walked around the supermarket, picking out some food that would be easy to make and not too expensive. He had a feeling that Deidara didn't exactly spend much time cooking and concluded that ready-made foods would probably have the best results. He didn't want to extend his generosity any more than necessary, but he also wasn't a stingy miser like his friend Kakuzu. Handing over the money to the cashier didn't cause him physical or mental pain.

Once he had finished his shopping he decided to take a taxi back to his apartment to collect some of the things he needed if he was going to stay for a few more nights. Somehow, without realizing it, he had already planned that he was going to stay until Deidara was better.

He collected some clothes and toiletries as well as some medicine he had packed into a cabinet. He assumed that Deidara hadn't bought any and stuffed them into his bag.

Sasori's apartment was large and spacious with minimal furniture and bare walls. Unlike Deidara, he had no pictures on his wall and there was nothing to indicate that he was living there. This could have been absolutely anyone's apart considering its complete lack of personality. He stared at his living room for a second, feeling slightly disappointed with how empty his apartment seemed. This was preferable to Deidara's junkyard, but still cold and unwelcoming. It was practically a reflection of his own personality. Maybe when he returned he would buy a nice painting or a carpet to make the place a little more aesthetically pleasing.

Upon his return he noticed that Deidara had moved from the kitchen chair to the couch and was splayed on it limply, one arm covering his face. He didn't acknowledge Sasori's entrance except to grunt.

"I bought you some food," his guest stated, heading towards the kitchen.

"You didn't have to. I can't pay you back, un," was the bitter reply. He ignored the tone of Deidara's voice, chalking it up to bratty insolence, and began to put the food into the fridge. "You should have gone to work."

"I already called in sick. It would have looked imbecilic if I'd gone to work half an hour later."

"Why did you come back?"

Sasori stopped what he was doing, feeling a slight burst of annoyance with Deidara. "Do you want me to leave, you ungrateful brat?" His outburst, though completely calm and collected, made Deidara lift his arm and look at him with slight shock. The reaction made Sasori's anger diminish slightly and he returned to what he was doing.

"No…" Sasori almost didn't hear the mumbled reply. He ignored it and placed a can of soup onto the table, suddenly aware that he hadn't bought a can opener.

"Then stop complaining," he said.

Deidara was silent as Sasori prepared chicken soup for him. Oftentimes he noticed Deidara watching him with his good eye. His left eye was no longer as puffy as before but he had gotten an icepack while Sasori was out and was currently pressing it down to diminish the rest of the swelling.

Sasori had nothing to say to the young man, and realized that he really knew nothing about the person whose house he'd slept in last night. Deidara wasn't even a friend of his, or a friend of his friend. Deidara was Hidan's friend, whom Sasori knew only through Kakuzu. He barely knew Hidan and although they weren't hostile, they weren't the most compatible and therefore wouldn't get along if Kakuzu weren't there with them. Then again, he'd never have imagined that the short-tempered, greedy Kakuzu would be friends with a loud and vulgar Jashinist.

Deidara and Hidan were best friends, which was all Sasori knew about their relationship. They were both young, arrogant and confident. He had dismissed Deidara so easily under the assumption that if he wasn't able to form a friendship with Hidan, he wouldn't be able to form one with Hidan's best friend.

So why had he agreed to stay at Deidara's?

"Why would you think art is eternal, un? There's nothing beautiful about something that's always the same, never-changing and never-fading. What would be the value of life if it couldn't be taken away at any moment?"

He was jolted back into reality by Deidara's sudden questions. They were back to this again. "How can you appreciate something if it disappears the moment you make it? Art should be something that's doesn't fade or rot, that can be admired for eternity. Your views on art reflect you immaturity; you only see what's happening right now. People like you never look to the future. You're so caught up in the present you never realize the consequences of your actions."

Deidara scoffed, his features twisting into distaste. His opinion of what Sasori had just said couldn't have been any clearer. He sat up, no longer hindered by his fever.

"Your views just reflect how old you are. You refuse to seize the moment and desperately trying to grasp an eternity that you'll never be able to hold onto. You fear the end and that makes you weak, un."

"Of course you would say that. The moment I met you I knew you were the foolish type who dies young. You don't understand the beauty of something lasting. Your art can only be a vague memory because it disappears before anyone can truly appreciate it," Sasori retorted. He'd never found himself so caught up in a discussion about…well, anything. He was not an argumentative person by nature, since not many people tended to contradict someone so intelligent and silently confident. "You're not experienced or mature enough to understand why my perspective on art is right and yours is wrong."

"Fuck you," Deidara snapped.

"What a witty comeback," Sasori drawled. "You certainly proved me wrong." The blond man shot him a glare but didn't continue, allowing Sasori to continue organizing the groceries until he was finished. He had finished preparing the soup as well and although Deidara tried to hide it, he was obviously tempted by the delicious smell. Sasori smirked as the blond reluctantly trudged into the kitchen and slumped into the chair, staring at the soup.

"I'm not hungry, un."

"Stop being a child and eat."

"I'm not a child!" Deidara retorted, but he picked up a spoon began to eat, forgetting that it was steaming hot. Sasori watched him swallow painfully, suppressing the urge to roll his eyes. "I'm twenty-one, un."

"You certainly don't act like it. I've never met anyone as immature as you. You're almost worse than your rude friend, Hidan."

Deidara pointed a spoon at him. "Hey! No one is worse than Hidan! And anyway, you're worse than I am. You're just like your asshead of a friend, Kakuzu. You guys think you're all that and you look down on everyone you meet just 'cause you're richer and have jobs where you can fucking boss everyone around, un. Well, you can just fuck off!" Exhausted by his outburst, he collapsed, breathing heavily. He seemed to have forgotten that he had a fever.

Sasori wasn't sure whether he was amused by someone referring to Kakuzu as 'asshead' or insulted because Deidara had implied he was egotistical and condescending. He chose to be insulted and decided that he had had enough to taking verbal abuse. Sasori wasn't a patient man. He refused to sit down and be insulted by some ignorant little brat who he had helped for no reason whatsoever.

"Perhaps I should leave. I see no reason to remain with someone who shows no gratitude for everything I have done, despite receiving nothing in return except for insults and disrespect." He stood up, impassive eyes lingering on Deidara's surprised face. He walked silently to the door, stopping as his hand grasped the doorknob. "I'll be back for my things tonight. Don't go through my belongings. Believe me, I'll know about it if you have."

He glanced behind, not really sure why he was looking back. Deidara had risen from his seat, looking hesitant as if he were about to say something. His eyes locked onto Sasori's and he closed his mouth, setting his jaw stubbornly. The hurt look remained under the mask of determination and for a second Sasori's resolve flickered and he wondered if he was being reasonable. The man was feverish after all, and probably not feeling at his best.

"Get the fuck out of my apartment."

Never mind.

He slammed the door behind him, storming down the hall with as much dignity as he could. He had never been the type of person to throw tantrums or make a scene. His anger was much more quiet and collected, usually intimidating people by implying threats or simply narrowing his eyes which, despite his young-looking face, was incredibly effective.

His mind was currently whirling with too many thoughts, most of them questioning his lapse of sanity the previous night. Not only that, but it had continued up until now.

He had spoken to someone he barely knew, agreed to stay the night, skipped work to take care of him, bought him a variety of food and drinks and even cooked for him. Perhaps this would be the actions that a kind and caring person would do in order to help a stranger in need, but Sasori had never been associated with the words 'kind' or 'caring'.

Cold, distant, quiet, arrogant, impatient and the list was nearly endless. Even his own friends had difficulties coming up with virtues for his that described his personality rather than his intelligence.

But there was no way that the person he'd just gone out of his way to help was just allowed to be rude and ill-mannered to him. If this was the treatment he received for reaching out to help someone, perhaps it would be better to ignore the next victim that stumbled along his path. Maybe he should even be unnecessarily cruel – if there was a possibility it would produce the opposite results to what this momentary lapse of judgment had produced.

He spent the next few hours wandering the streets, heading towards his apartment but taking the long way home. Somehow, returning to his place seemed to be a move that he dreaded and he decided to procrastinate and instead just walk to as many places that he knew. He didn't have enough money for a taxi as most of it was in his briefcase and the little he did have had been spent on groceries for Deidara.

Ungrateful little bastard, he thought, a slight frown gracing his face.

Then again…he still hadn't found out how Deidara had gotten injured. And unfortunately for Sasori, he didn't like being curious. He liked knowing things.

Once the sun had begun to set and the cold settled in, he decided to make his way back to Deidara's apartment, not really looking forward to seeing the blond once again. Ideally he would go in, grab his things and leave immediately without even having to say anything to Deidara. He would leave the medication – he himself rarely fell ill and he wasn't petty enough to want to prolong Deidara's suffering – and wouldn't insist on being paid back for the groceries, but that was it.

He found himself facing Deidara's front door hours after leaving, his hand poised to knock politely. On a whim, he dropped his hand and instead just turned the doorknob and entered. As suspected, Deidara hadn't locked the door.

He also hadn't improved as Sasori could hear the distinct sounds of retching coming from the bathroom. He paused, feeling a slight temptation to go make sure Deidara was all right before changing his mind.

"Hidan? Is that y–oh…it's you."

So much for leaving without being seen.

"I came back for my stuff," he said flatly. Deidara looked terrible; his hair was plastered to the sides of his face, which was covered in a sheen of sweat and his skin was paler than before. Somehow the cuts on his palms had split open again and were bleeding slightly. Sasori watched as Deidara clenched and unclenched his fists nervously. Well that solved the matter of the reopened injuries…

"Your stuff, un. Right…yeah…" Deidara mumbled, leaning against the doorframe. Neither of them moved. "How are you getting home, un?"

Sasori shrugged. "Probably a taxi. I have enough to take me home. It's only a little more than half an hour away." Deidara's eyes were fixated on the ground between them. He looked sheepish and slightly reluctant to speak, but when he did finally say something it didn't sound as forced as Sasori had expected.

"It's pretty late, un. You should…you should probably just stay another night and leave tomorrow," he said, so quietly that Sasori wouldn't have heard him if he hadn't been listening intently for him to speak. "I mean, you know, if you're okay with that, un. It's just that you've already brought some of your stuff over…so you might as well…" He trailed off weakly, discouraged by Sasori's silence.

Sasori surveyed the anxious looking blond for a few seconds without saying anything. Then he nodded, his features remaining expressionless.

"Yes, it is late. It would probably be more sensible to leave tomorrow considering it's cold outside and I don't have my coat," he stated finally. Deidara's lips twitched and he nodded, looking considerably happier.

The next day Sasori went to work. Once he left, he returned to Deidara's apartment solely because he believed it would be unfair to leave while the blond was sick.

The next week he went to his apartment and brought back more of his things. He rationalized that since Deidara was terrible at dressing his wounds and unable to cook anything except for cup noodle he would leave after his injures were healed.

Once he came to the realization that he'd stayed at Deidara's for almost three months he decided that he had subconsciously been making up excuses to stay when truthfully, he was there because of his curiosity concerning the reason as to why Deidara had been hurt, drunk and alone the night he had first stayed over.

He also convinced himself that the growing friendship between them was just his way to become closer to Deidara, therefore earning his trust and eventually being a good enough friend to be told the truth of what happened.

-0-

She glances at her watch for the fifth time. "What's taking her so long?"

She's not talking to him. She's talking to herself, or the air. He speaks.

"Where d'ya live? You must live quite far from 'ere."

It takes a few seconds for her to realize that there's no one else around.

"Oh, well, I just moved here a few days ago. I was supposed to move into my apartment but it flooded so I'm staying with a friend for a few days."

He nods.

She politely asks, "Do you stay around here?"

"Uh-yeah."

-0-

The first thing he had noted was that Deidara had painted over the walls again. He had splashed black paint over the artistic 'Red Forest' and had begun with a silver and black vortex in the bottom corner of the living room wall, completely obscuring the old painting. The couches had been moved away from the wall to the middle of the room in order to make space for the newspapers on the ground. The rest of the furniture had been cramped together or thrown out – not that Sasori really cared.

In his opinion, the living room was much nicer without the useless junk strewn about that Deidara had never bothered throwing out. The room was still much messier than his apartment, but at least it was more bearable.

He crossed the living room, setting his briefcase next to the couch and surveying the wall. The jagged, clawed branches of the trees were now being smeared over by careless black spirals – another disturbing product of Deidara's imagination. The dark images were accompanied by silver spirits being swept in a hurricane of color that was spreading from the corner outwards. Soon the vortex would completely cover the old painting until it was nothing but a memory. Once Deidara had finished this painting, inspiration would strike him and he would begin to paint over it again in a completely new design.

Sasori admired the artistic talent that Deidara had been repressing for years, but made it clear to the young artist that he would appreciate it much more if he didn't paint something new over the old art, erasing it forever.

He nearly called out to Deidara to make his presence known but stopped when he heard the distinct sound of Deidara's voice. He neared the kitchen door, which was closed, and pressed his ear to the wood, listening intently.

"…you been painting on the fucking wall?" That voice was familiar and Sasori wouldn't have immediately been able to place it if it weren't for the swear word, immediately identifying the speaker as Hidan.

"It's an expression of my art, un"

"I swear there was another fucking picture on there last week. And another one the week before that. And anoth-"

Deidara interrupted. "Once I've finished, I paint over it again."

"Why the fuck would you do that?"

"To make it art…if I left it on the wall, it wouldn't be art. The artistic value of the painting would be next to nothing, because it's not fleeting, un. Now, it's art because it was so temporary," he explained. Sasori felt the slight temptation to roll his eyes. The words were so familiar he had mouthed along to them mockingly without even realizing it. He heard Hidan snort in contempt.

"Whatever. If I started talking about shit like that Kakuzu would call me a dumbass," Hidan exclaimed, a hint of amusement in his voice. He also sounded bitter and Sasori immediately guessed that he wasn't very happy with the miser at the moment. Kakuzu had mentioned something, but he couldn't remember what. The friendship between the two was somewhat of a mystery to Sasori as he didn't understand how Kakuzu could stand the overbearing albino and he had often heard Deidara ask Hidan why the hell he wanted to "hang out with an ancient, sadistic, miserly bastard." Unlike Sasori and Deidara, the two had not been forced together under strange circumstances and somehow voluntarily spent time together.

Then again, Sasori refused to admit to himself that he could have left Deidara's apartment at any point during the past few months and instead had chosen to stay. In his opinion, the situation was completely different.

"You should go talk to him, un. Maybe apologize?"

"Ehh? Fuck, no! It isn't my fucking fault he's such a clueless asshole. I'm sick of his bullshit and his greed and his complaining about how all I ever do is annoy the living crap out of him." He heard the scraping of a chair and envisioned Hidan standing up and pacing, wild gestures accompanying his angry tirade. "I fucking show him how I feel and all he can do is just stand there and…and…then fucking leave! Without fucking saying anything!"

Sasori suddenly remembered Kakuzu mentioning an incident the other day that had left him baffled and confused. He hadn't said much and all Sasori had managed to deduce was that it involved Hidan. Hearing this, he chuckled, suddenly knowing why the miser had been so out of it.

"Why should I fucking say sorry? I didn't do anything wrong. He's the one who should fucking apologize!"

"I'm sure he's just a bit surprised, un. He probably didn't expect you to jump him like that," Deidara reasoned. Hidan made a skeptical noise and Sasori heard him sit down heavily onto the kitchen chair.

There was a long silence and he weighed he options of walking in now and pretending he hadn't heard anything or just going to his room and waiting for Hidan to leave. He stood to leave when Hidan spoke:

"So uh…have you told him what happened yet?"

The question was met with a pained laugh and Sasori stiffened, immediately crouching down again.

"Sasori no Danna?" Deidara had, for some odd reason, begun referring to him as 'Danna' as of late. He wasn't sure why, but he simply accepted it and allowed him to continue with that name. "No, un. He's curious, but I haven't told him. And neither can you, un." This last one was said harshly, as if he suspected that Hidan was going to spill the secret.

"Okay, okay, I fucking promise, don't have a fit. You should tell him though, he deserves to know about-"

"Yeah, yeah, I'll tell him one day, un. Just…not now…" Deidara said tiredly. "I don't want him to know."

For a few seconds it didn't hit him properly, then the realization grew. Deidara had told Hidan what had happened. He had told him about the incident and made him promise not to tell Sasori, the man who had been living with him for four months and taking care of him and being there for him during the hardship and paid for almost everything. He had told Hidan the truth, but for some goddamn reason he refused to tell Sasori. He didn't care that Hidan was Deidara's best friend. He deserved to know what had happened, and for some frustrating reason the youth kept his mouth shut.

A bubble of hot rage nearly burst forth from him. He stood up, hand clenching the doorknob until his knuckles turned paper white. For a second he fancied he was seeing red from anger and shakily he forced himself to calm down. His breath caught in his throat as he turned the doorknob, opening the door with an unnecessary amount of force. The wood slammed against the wall and jolted, almost cracking from the impact.

The two men looked up from where they were sitting in surprise. Hidan was holding a beer loosely in one hand whereas Deidara had slumped forward with his chin on his crossed arms, head tilted so he could see Sasori. Upon realizing who it was, he straightened slowly, looking slightly guilty about the previous conversation. A pink tint appeared on his cheeks and he immediately looked away, letting his fringe cover most of his face.

"Hidan. Leave."

"Won't fucking argue with that," Hidan said nervously, jumping up and running out of the kitchen. "See you, Dei. Good luck." And then he was gone.

"Traitor," Deidara called out, half-joking, half-irritated. He sighed, standing up and putting his hands up in defeat. "Look, I know what you're about to say-"

"Perhaps I should return to my own apartment," Sasori said, his voice mild at the surface but with a current of ferocity just beneath. No matter what, Sasori Akasuna did not raise his voice, and he did not cause a scene. He found that his coldly calm voice had been a lot more effective than shouting in the past.

Deidara blinked, taken aback. "Oh, maybe not, un."

"It's obvious that even after four months, you still do not trust me enough to reveal what happened. It's either that or you enjoy stringing me along like some dog," he stated. Deidara opened his mouth to protest but the redhead put up his hand to stop him, sure that if he was interrupted he wouldn't be able to stop himself from exploding. He didn't understand why this was affecting him so much. "It doesn't matter. All it means is that nothing's changed from day one and I've just wasted my time here. I think it would be best if I just left."

"No!"

The sudden outburst surprised him and he stopped, staring at the younger man who had jumped up, fists clenched at his side. Deidara was scowling, no longer amused, and there was a hint of desperation to his stance that made Sasori stumble over what he was going to say. The blond shook his head violently, flyaway blond hair falling into his eyes. His skin, now fully healed with only fading scars as a memory, was paler than usual and his jaw was set stubbornly in a manner that Sasori was quite used to by now.

"You can't leave! I won't let you, un."

"And how do you think a brat like you can stop me? If I wish to leave, I don't see how you can do anything about it," Sasori scoffed, irritated by Deidara's childish arrogance. Does he really think he can force me to stay? He turned to go but stopped when he heard Deidara speak.

"I do trust you," he insisted. "I do, un."

"Then why won't you tell me what happened?" Sasori snapped. Deidara wilted under his fierce expression. "For four months I've kept silent, never pushing you to tell although I'm sure you could sense that I was curious. Every theory I could think of has crossed my mind, but you've never even hinted as to what happened."

"I need more time…"

"Were you attacked? Is that was happened? Did some one beat you up in an alleyway while you were drunk and you're too ashamed to tell me? Or was it rape? Is that it Deidara, did someone rape you? Is that why you won't tell me? No, maybe you were mugged. But even so, four months is apparently not long enough for you to trust me. I'm still just a stranger to you, and I've decided that I'm not interested in living here anymore." By this time he had crossed the room to the door. He looked around, noticing that some of the things strewn around belonged to him. He didn't want to return, knowing that if he did he would be tempted to stay. "I'll send Kakuzu here to pick up my things."

He paused for a second, suddenly hesitant to leave the comfort of this new home. If he hadn't been so proud, he would have regretted his outburst and maybe even apologized for what he had said. But instead he turned the doorknob and opened the door with a controlled amount of force and made to walk into the hallway when he heard a strangled whisper.

"Please…stay, un…"

Sasori stopped.

"I don't want to be alone," Deidara admitted, his voice catching in his throat as if it physically hurt to say this. His voice was desperate and vulnerable, but the pout on his face made him look sullen and sulky at having to resort to begging. "I want you to stay here…in this apartment, un."

Sasori opened his mouth to interrupt but Deidara plowed on, looking vaguely uncomfortable by his admittance.

"I know I haven't told you, but it's not because I don't trust you. It's because…I'm scared that you'll leave when you find out," he mumbled. His voice was so low that Sasori almost couldn't hear him. "The only reason I've felt safe these past few months is because you're living here. If you go I…I don't know what I'll do." His face flushed and he looked away, rubbing the back of his neck. "So please just…just stay for a little longer, un.

The next few seconds were filled with an awkward, pained silence as the older of the two simply stared in complete shock, uncertain of how to respond to the plea.

He watched as Deidara hunched over, looking defeated under Sasori's cold glare. He had obviously taken the silence as a refusal to stay and turned around. The movement spurred Sasori into speech:

"What makes you think that's a good enough reason for me to stay?" he said. Deidara's head snapped around, eyes wide and stunned. His mouth formed a surprised 'o' as Sasori approached him, his face no longer cold but instead twisted with malice. He reached up and gripped Deidara's collar, pulling him forward until their noses were almost touching. "Why should I care if you feel safe? How does any of this benefit me? All this time it's been you, you, you. And I'm not a patient man, Deidara. I don't like waiting for answers and I despise selfish brats. And you, boy, are one of the most selfish little bastards I've ever met." To emphasize his point he gripped the collar tighter, watching as the blond twitched in discomfort.

He pushed the young man down, watching as he fell back onto the couch with a pained yelp. Deidara's expression was torn between livid and resentful as he struggled to stand, fixing his collar in an attempt to remain dignified and calm. His eyes were watering, whether from hurt or from pain, Sasori wasn't sure but he was near certain that this last move had eliminated all chance of him remaining in what had been his home for the past few months.

"You feeling safe isn't a good enough reason for me to give up my life and comfort. Are you ever going to tell me what happened?" It was one last chance for the man to redeem himself. It was more than Sasori had ever given anyone – a second chance. He surprised himself at the moment, almost eagerly waiting for Deidara to break down and reveal all in a desperate attempt to keep him here.

Deidara stood up, looking decidedly bitter and shot him a glare:

"I'll tell you what happened the day you genuinely think that art is fleeting and not eternal, you decrepit bastard! So you can just get the fuck out and return to your shit hole because I don't need you and your fucking superior attitude!"

For a split second Sasori noted that Deidara's hands were shaking violently. His hair was covering most of his face, shadowing his eyes and he was biting his lip until it bled. There was no hint of the young arrogance and confidence usually expressed on his features and to Sasori he looked strangely unfamiliar. He was someone completely different to the man he had lived with so many months, someone vulnerable and hurt. He'd seen Deidara angry so many times, even sat through a few childish tantrums that had been spawned from some careless insult but he'd never seen him so close to breaking like now.

That revelation more than anything caused him to soften and sigh, running a hand through his hair.

"You are such a child at times…and your views on art are repulsive," he mumbled, just loud enough for Deidara to hear. He chuckled, shaking his head in amusement. The tension seemed to melt away within seconds and they relaxed in each other's presence.

"You like to think that art is eternal only because you're an old bag who's close to death."

"You're cocky and smug."

"You have a superiority complex."

"You look like a woman."

"You…" Deidara faltered, his hand reaching up subconsciously to his hair. "Fuck, everyone keeps saying that! Is it the hair?" He tugged at it miserably. It was true that so many people mistook him as a woman, but Sasori knew that nothing would ever force him to cut that precious hair of his.

He laughed softly and moved away from the doorknob, clearly showing that he had changed his mind. Deidara slumped down in relief, his lips twisted into a crooked smile that radiated exhaustion.

Sasori took off his coat, placing it neatly onto the couch. He suddenly felt quite embarrassed about his outburst, never having reacted like that before. Even as a child he had always been controlled, his voice never being raised to more than its normal volume. He wasn't an idiot. He knew why he had reacted in such a way. He just didn't want to think about it.

Leaving Deidara alone in the living room he went to take a shower, deliberately stretching out the time he took in the bathroom. He stood in front of the mirror, arranging the toiletries on the shelf, first in alphabetical order then by size. He decided that the latter looked more organized and kept it that way, noting that he had spent about twenty minutes carefully placing all the objects next to each other. He then dried his hair, combed through it with his fingers, scrubbed the sink and hung up a new towel on the rack.

He moved himself to his bedroom, picking up his clothes and folding them. His objective was to clean up his room, but it was a short-lived mission as he was naturally organized and there was very little that needed cleaning.

Finally his need for food won out in the end and he reluctantly left the safe borders of his room. Upon stepping into the kitchen he met Deidara cheerfully eating sushi that he had bought. Looking back, he realized that he had been the one forking over money to pay for everything, and the blond had not even taken out his wallet once in the past four months. Taking a seat he reached for the chopsticks, plucked them out of Deidara's hand and pulled the plate towards himself.

He waited for him to protest or gesture at him rudely but when he looked up the blond was staring at him with an indescribable expression.

"Why are you staring at me like that?"

"Just wondering…" he smirked teasingly. "Why did you react so badly to me telling Hidan? I know that you've been dying to find out what happened, but why did this exact moment trigger such anger, un? I've been wondering, and I formed some of my own theories, but I want you to tell me."

Sasori raised an eyebrow. "Your own theories? Please, elaborate. I'm quite curious to hear what half-assed stories you've conjured to explain the incident that just occurred."

The smug grin widened.

"My first theory is that you're insanely jealous that I told Hidan what happened and not you-"

"Correct."

His response was met with a completely stunned silence that lasted until he finished the very last sushi. Once done, he placed the chopsticks side by side next to the plate, wiped his mouth with a tissue and then lifted his gaze expectantly. Grey eyes locked onto blue ones and for a moment there was a spark of something that was almost otherworldly, unexplainable and it ripped into his very core without him even realizing it.

He spoke without being able to stop himself. "I was – no, I am jealous. Insanely jealous that you told your lousy bastard of a friend but never even once hinted to me what happened. But we just went through this and I'm not about to bring it up again. You'll tell me when you're ready."

His friend put up both his hands and Sasori was exposed to the jagged scars running down both his palms. They were hideous scars, and Deidara often liked to draw over them to cover them up. Today he had transformed them into mouths with tongues poking out mockingly at him, which was the most common drawing he did on the scars. Sasori thought they were vulgar, but Deidara would just stick his tongue out and tell him to deal with it or stop looking at it.

He often chose to just leave the room.

"I can't believe a cold-hearted egotist like you just admitted that you're jealous, un," he said. He shook his head, standing up. "I think I'll just leave it at that. Wouldn't want you to start feeling human emotions now, would we? That would be fucking chaos, un." His voice sounded strained and as he dumped the plate into the sink he refused to meet Sasori's stare. "I'm going to sleep. Goodnight, un."

Sasori remained in the kitchen alone for about half an hour before he decided that it was probably a good time for him to go to sleep. He washed the dishes, turned off the lights and collapsed on his bed, feeling strangely tired despite the fact that he usually slept later than this time. He pulled the covers to his chin and fell into a dreamless sleep within minutes, unaware that on the other side of the apartment his roommate would remain wide awake for the whole night.

-0-

And that ends the first chapter! This took me ages and now I'm hoping to start the second chapter soon, so hopefully it won't be too long until I update again.

Please review!