.

I remember that day as if it were yesterday. And sometimes, I think it could have been. I wish it were.

I lay in my hospital bed, staring out the window. I resented the sunshine and green grass. It seemed so pleasant, and here I was, stuck in a hospital bed, surrounded by nothing but white, white, and more white. Death seemed to hang in the air, death and no hope, the kind of no return, the kind you never recover from. As if to prove my point, someone had placed crutches near the door. In case I ever decided to overcome my paralysis, I would have to walk a good couple of meters to the door to retrieve them.

My bedside table was blank, despairingly so. When I was first admitted into the hospital, what few friends I had, left me flowers and cards. But that was over ten years ago. Now I had lost those friends, and my parents, leaving me alone in this empty void of a room. On visiting days I would see my grandmother. She was rich and paid all the hospital bills. And believe me, there were a lot. My immune system was weak because I never went outside, and I was continually ailing. So much so, in fact, I hadn't been permitted to leave the hospital. It was always some new drug, some new technique, and some new sickness.

So I lay there, resenting the sun I hadn't felt in months. Sometimes they would load me into a wheelchair and cart me into a courtyard, but courtyards are dull. Nature isn't meant to be conformed to the gardener's standards. My view of nature was everlasting, not lined up in cute little rows to be uprooted whenever the onlookers tired of them. But I'm getting off subject.

I realize now I was simply hating my life as I stared out that window. The sunshine was something I could never have on my own, so it was not worth having and should go away. And it was then, swirling in my mass of hate, when suddenly my window smashed open, seemingly of its own whim. I screamed, heart pounding wildly. "Shit!" I heard someone hiss. "You so totally broke it!"

"Did not, un!" someone whispered back.

"But you better get that ball back."

"Are you nuts, yeah? I heard someone scream, hmm!"

"So? Go get it, Blondie!" And like an angel to a dying man, his face appeared in the broken window.

He had striking blue eyes, tan skin, and long, luscious blond hair swept up into a ponytail on top of his head. His teeth were white, his lips plump and red, and he smiled so charmingly at me I almost wanted to smile back. Almost.

"Hello, yeah," he said casually. I did nothing. "Well, you see, me and my friend-"

"My friend and I," I corrected. The blond boy paused, blinking at me.

"Me and my friend-" he said pointedly, "were just tossing a baseball around a bit, yeah. But he insulted me, and I misjudged the distance to his head when I retaliated. It seems I have thrown my baseball through your window, yeah. Mind tossing it back out, un?" I sighed.

"I can't." A blond eyebrow raised skeptically.

"Oh?"

"I can't leave this bed."

"Oh. Actually, this ball is signed by-"

"I physically cannot stand up!" I cried. The boy sighed, much like a damsel in distress.

"What's your room number, yeah?"

"201."

"Good, I'll be coming around, then, yeah." And he was gone. I sighed. A person like that should be locked up. He was the image of vivacity and health, a poster boy for life if I had ever seen one. It was a few minutes later he appeared in my doorway, smirking slightly. He was garbed in a black tank top, camouflage shorts, a set of black boots, and a dog tag around his neck. "This won't be mentioned, will it, yeah?" he asked as he walked over to retrieve his ball.

"Why should I refrain from reporting this incident?" I snapped. He looked at me amusedly.

"I don't have the means to pay for this, and my friend doesn't neither."

"Neither I nor my friend-"

"Like I said, we both don't got the dosh." His smile was infectious. I felt his sheer presence infecting me, lending me a little bit of the life he seemed to thrive on. But his purposeful butchering of my respected tongue was inexcusable.

"And why should I defend you from owning up to your crime?" I asked curtly. The boy shrugged.

"I dunno, seems kinda ass-ish to tell them I did it, yeah."

"And how would I do that? I don't even know your name." The boy smirked, walking over to me and extending his hand.

"I'm Deidara, yeah," he said. That jerk. He knew I wasn't thinking of reporting this. "And how about yourself, un?"

"Sasori." I carefully raised my hand and shook his. I found mine wrapped in a firm, yet soft clutch that caressed my skin and made me never want to let go. But Deidara drew back his hand, giving me an equally warm smile.

"Well, Sasori, you seem like the chatty type, yeah," he said, walking over to the broken window. "Hey, dip shit! I got your stupid ball, yeah!" he called, tossing the ball out the window. I didn't see who picked it up. I only saw Deidara as he turned that gaze back to me. "Kind of drab in here, don't you think, un?" That bastard. It was all I thought about. "Ever think about sprucing it up a bit, yeah? Or are you not here for that long, hmm?"

"I've been here most of my life," I said. "But I don't see what it matters to you." Deidara shrugged, never once letting go of his smile.

"I'd better be getting out of here before anybody catches me holding the ball that did the deed, no?" He reached over and ruffled my hair. I could've slaughtered him.

A few days later, my nurse came in. "You've received a card," she said, handing me a card. I almost died. It was huge, and had all the colors in the color spectrum. Sparkles and glitter were falling off there were so many. It was the loudest, most obnoxious card I had ever seen, and believe me, I had seen many. The worst part was what it actually said. 'So you've got hemorrhoids…' I swear my face was about the color of my hair. The nurse had been trying not to laugh as she changed my IV. I don't know how I managed, through my embarrassment, to open it, but on the inside it read, in a scrawled hand, 'Well, didn't know what you were in for, so I just got this one. You wouldn't believe where I found it, though. -Deidara.' I died. Quickly, I threw the card as far away from me as could. The nurse chuckled, walking over and picking it up, and placing it on the bedside table.

"I think it's nice you've found a friend, Sasori-san," she said.

"He's not a friend."

"Oh?" The nurse cleaned up and finished her work. I looked back at the card and wished I could make it burst into flames just by glaring at it. No such luck.

.

About a week later I saw him again. My nurse had left my door open, and he sort of stumbled by, looking in and recognizing me. A smile lit up his whole face as he walked into my room. "Hey, Sasori! Long time no see, un!" He walked in as if we had been friends for life. I glared at him. "You're not displaying my fabulous card, I see, yeah," he said. "I spent hours searching for it, un. Sorry about the hemorrhoids thing, it was the most colorful one, yeah." He stood beside my bed, looking down at me as if it were merely a height difference separating us.

"Why did you send me a card?" I asked.

"I told you this room was too drab, un. I wanted to bring a bucket of paint, but they wouldn't let me in with it, yeah." My eyes widened in surprise. "I'm just kidding! Sheesh, kinda gullible, ain't ya?" He chuckled, pulling up a chair to sit beside me. "So how've you been, yeah?"

"Why do you talk funny?" I demanded. He blinked.

"Hmm?"

"You keep making noises at the end of your sentences."

"Speech impediment, yeah. Got hit in the back of the head when I was six, un," he said nonchalantly, waving it off. "I see they fixed the window, yeah."
"I had to tell them I was sleeping. I hope you give a shit that I saved your ass." Deidara brightened.

"Of course I do, yeah! It just might warrant another card, un!" He giggled maniacally as I glared at him.

"You're pushing it, you know," I muttered. Deidara only giggled in reply.

"So how've you been doing, un?" he asked.

"Usual."

"And how is that?"

"Bored, lethargic, listless… the list goes on."

"Why don't you get up and walk around, un?"

"I can't. I told you that before."

"Hmm. Why don't you watch the tele, un?"

"It's boring."

"Read a book, yeah?"

"Nothing interesting."

"I can recommend a few, if you want, yeah." I sighed. I didn't have anything to lose.

"Only if you buy them for me." He laughed then, a light, tinkling sound that made the world seem right.

"Ah, Sasori-san, I don't even have the money for the broken window. But tell ya what. I own a few good ones, and I can bring them by, yeah." I said nothing, but was secretly pleased he would give me his books. We talked a little more, and I told him just a few things about myself. Only the obvious, mind you, like that I couldn't walk, and was always sick. He didn't say a word about himself, and before I knew it, the sun was setting and he was leaving.

Another week passed. I started caring about what day it was. I asked my grandmother for a calendar, and as I figured, he returned the following Saturday. It was as casual as our first encounter. He sidled in, posture as bad as always, pulling up a chair and giving a simple "Hey, un," as if we had met forever.

I found myself telling him more. Not everything, but how all I had left was my grandmother. He was attentive and gave a few sarcastic remarks here and there. He didn't treat me like some cripple or anti-social freak. He talked to me as if I knew everything, as if I was just like him.

I waited for another week impatiently, and Saturday was like hell, just waiting for him to show. But eventually he sauntered into my room, a plastic bag full of books. There was no sappy apology for his lateness, he just grinned at me and started going through the books. He seemed to have a thing for classical literature and contemporary science-fiction. I had only read one of them, so I had a large stack to go through.

The day passed too quickly. We only talked about books before he had to leave. Next time I'd try and get him to stay longer, I resolved.

He didn't come the next week. Or the one after that. I found myself fretting needlessly, speculating on what had happened. I devoured two books in that time, anxiously awaiting his return. A month passed. I was scared he wasn't ever coming back. I devoured two more books. Having read four of the books read, I mindlessly picked up another and began to read.

That book changed my life. 'Fallen Angels', it was called, by Walter Dean Meyers. All about the Vietnam war. Being neither American nor Vietnamese, I felt no great attachment to either side. But by the end I was in tears at the sheer emotion of guerilla warfare. I had my grandmother bring me a laptop, and I began researching the Vietnam war. It was terrible. If you managed to survive physically, your mental state would be forever scarred. It was then I came across the parallel between the Vietnam war and the Iraq war. Outraged, I found myself glued to articles about the American president, George Bush.

I was thus engaged when Deidara reappeared. I was so enveloped in a particularly interesting development when he was suddenly at my side. "Looking in on American affairs, I see, un," he said. I just about jumped out of my skin.

"Yeah," I replied calmly. "Where have you been?" Deidara smiled and waved a hand.

"Around. I see you've made a dent in the reading I got you. Pity, I was hoping it would hold you for a while, un."

That day I convinced him to stay. We talked until when he usually went. I poured my heard out to him, telling everything I had ever felt. Deidara listened calmly, nodding and making stupid comments as usual. When he left, I knew a good listener was irreplaceable.

A year passed like this, I with my research and books, him with his sporadic appearances. I found a few news shows I enjoyed watching about the latest world updates. There were some authors I became hooked on, and requested the latest of their novels from my grandmother. She seemed delighted I was finally coming out of my world. Whenever Deidara bothered to show up he might bring a new book, but mostly he would sit and listen to me talk about what I had found about the world. Occasionally he brought lunch, and sometimes dinner. It seemed like my life was always either reading, researching, or talking to Deidara.

About a year after we met, Deidara finally poked a sore spot. "So you've never tried walking, un?" he asked casually.

"The doctors told me I couldn't," I replied sharply. Deidara shrugged.

"And?"

"It's pointless."

"Well, what if I told you that you couldn't breathe, un?"

"What? That's stupid."

"But how would you prove me wrong, yeah?" I rolled my eyes.

"I'd breathe, idiot."

"Exactly." He smiled, as if he'd made a point. "Why don't you give it a shot, un?" I glared at him, sitting up.

"Because it's stupid. If I can't, why should I bother?" Deidara sighed, standing up. He stretched, yawned, and turned his back on me. And he left. Just like that. I glared at my closed door. I lay back, and glared at the bar suspended above my head. Why had it been placed there in the first place? So I could help myself. Snarling, I grabbed it, hoisting myself up.

I worked endlessly to prove them wrong. Everyone said I was bound to hurt myself, and I did a few times, but I kept with it. There wasn't a day I didn't push my physical abilities till I had sweat pouring down. And even then I would merely rest, before I was at it again. The doctors tried not to get my hopes up. They said it would take years, if at all, for me to be able to walk. It took one year, exactly.

For the first time in almost twelve years, I supported my own weight on my own two feet. Everyone began cheering. I only managed a few steps before collapsing into a doctor's arms, but everyone said it was a miracle. Not only had I done the impossible, but I had completed such a task in such a short amount of time. I didn't think it was a miracle, it was just ten years late.

It wasn't long before I left the hospital, on my own feet. Deidara hadn't shown his face, the jerk. I felt kind of empty as I packed up my meager belongings. So much of what I owned was only there because of Deidara, and he wasn't even here to see me before I left. I cried and laughed at the same time when I found his card. The colour was fading, and the glitter had almost completely fallen off. I tucked it safely in my bag, before leaving the room that had been my home for the majority of my life.

Interviewers all wanted to get their hands on me. I found myself talking on some of the shows I had begun watching. I was pleased. People all wanted to know how I did it. I simply told them that it was to prove the doctors wrong. But, once, I was asked what I was going to do now that I had recovered.

"There was someone who helped me live and overcome my difficulties. I think I would like to find him." I received a lot of e-mials offering to help me find this mystery person. I was ashamed. I didn't even know Deidara had a last name. And so the search began.

Eventually, someone told me they had found his last name, and we were able to finally locate his address. It turns out he had moved. By now I was a young man, going through college. I took my car and drove all the way to Tokyo to find him. After hours of searching, I finally found his house. I nervously adjusted my tie as I knocked on the door. It was opened by a man with black hair, dark skin, and green eyes. "What do you want?" he asked gruffly.

"I'm here to see Deidara, is he in?" I said awkwardly. The man sighed.

"Here, you know St. Anne's Hospital? You passed it on the way here. He's in room 201." I gulped. Thanking the man, I turned around and went straight to the hospital.

I took a deep breath. Behind this door lay Deidara. What would he look like? What would he be like? He probably just had a broken leg or something. Something simple, that didn't really matter. He'd call it a 'temporary relocation'. Yeah, I knew he would. I opened the door, and stepped into the room.

The walls were blank. I knew I had stepped into the wrong room. No way Deidara would stand for that. But the body laying in the bed wasn't Deidara. It was some outer husk of what he had been. All that life and health, all of that personality, all of it was gone. His hair had grown thin and fallen out in places, looking deathly pale and thin. His eyes were weak and watery. But he smiled as I came in.

"Hey, un," he said hoarsely. I gulped.

"Hey," I replied, pulling up a chair next to his bed. "What's up?" Deidara chuckled.

"Bitch of a thing, AIDS is, un. It doesn't kill you, that's the terrible part, yeah."

"You have… AIDS?"

"Yup, un. Sorry I didn't get to congratulate you, you were all over the tele, hmm." I choked back my tears.

"So how long do you have?"

"The doctors gave me a week two months ago. Could be tomorrow, yeah." Deidara chuckled. "I heard what you said about me, un. How I helped you live, un."

"Really?"

"Yeah. I laughed so hard I coughed up blood." I cringed. "But you know something, un?"

"What?"

"I was dying back then, too, un. But you, you've helped me live with that, un. I'm ok with it, yeah. I just wanted to see you before I go, un." I let the tears slide down my cheeks. I reached out and held his hand, pressing it to my forehead. He died there, a soft smile on his lips. He died, right there next to me.

I hate to think about it. He gave me life, a hope for my own future. He gave me all that I had to live for. And what did I give him? I gave him death. That night I left a little bit of myself behind in room 201. On his bedside table, sat an offensively loud card, bright witb glitter and sparkles. It only seemed fitting to return the gesture.