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Description
Madness

Warning: Contains shonenai/yaoi (relationship between men), gore, insanity.

The dim, crackling neon strips flooded the tiny room with unnatural, almost alien white light. The walls were whitewashed, immaculate, reeking of strong disinfectant, almost as someone was desperate to scrub it clean of some terrible sin.
Because however abnormally clean it was, it couldn’t disguise the fact it was once splattered with something revolting.
The eerie silence was only broken by the occasional sobs and hiccoughs, coming from the hunched figure lying on the bare floor.
Sitting, carelessly hunched, his face half covered by his long blonde hair, the small room’s prisoner stared at the walls, his stormy sapphire eyes unfocused. Tears bubbled out of them constantly, streaming down his cheeks, the harsh light reflecting off the rapidly flowing wet streaks. They slipped down his curved, handsome face to mingle with the blood trickling down his chin. His bruised lips were pulled into a maniacal grin, as he continued to stare at the walls, silent sobs wrenching his immobilized body.
“Danna…” he hiccoughed, briefly shutting his eyes, shutting out the living nightmare as he felt memories engulf his clouded mind.

Soft notes seeped out from behind a mahogany door, filling the otherwise silent air with a sweet, soothing melody. The rhythmic sounds entwined in a slow-paced yet enchanting song, the soft clunks of the piano pedal echoing each strike of the puppet master’s wooden fingers.
Deidara crouched behind the door, eyes and ears never missing a single detail. He leaned against the doorframe, hoping to absorb more of the music, his fingers tentatively brushing up against the smooth wood.
He was so absorbed in the melody he didn’t even notice Itachi coming up behind him.
The older Uchiha observed the crouching artist with a raised eyebrow before coughing quietly.
Deidara whirled around, his face panicky as he came face to face with the amused sharingan-user. He quickly raised his hands to his lips, his pose reminding Itachi of a child caught sticking his hand in the cookie jar.
“This seems to be his favourite. He’s playing it for the fifth time now…and he’s very good at it too.” The Uchiha remarked, nodding towards the door. Although no particular signs of enjoyment showed on his face, he actually quite liked the soft music.
“What is the name of this piece? And…did you say…he’s…”
“Yes, Sasori is playing. Haven’t you noticed the piano before?” Itachi remarked, an eyebrow raised. Judging from the confused look on Deidara’s face, he guessed his answer was negative.
A smile creeping up on his lips, Itachi mentally shook his head. It was so amusing to see the young blonde so scared to admit he enjoyed his partner’s music. Perhaps held back by pride, by fear. Or the fact music somehow clashed with his artistic views, and admitting it would be somehow degrading to the explosive expert.
Whatever the reason, Itachi decided to push things a little.
“Well, to answer your question…” he replied, pushing the door open, “I think I will turn this over to the artist himself.” He stepped inside the room, beckoning for the blonde to follow.
Deidara opened his mouth to protest, only to find the wide door open staring at him. He muttered a few things to  before following the Uchiha.

Sasori was too lost in the steady clunking of the keys to notice the door opening. It was only when he heard footsteps and voices was when he looked up from the music, eyebrows slightly raised. When lost in the trance of his music, he didn’t appreciate being snapped out of it – just like when he was perfecting his puppets.
Trying to catch snippets of the conversation, he leaned to the side.
“…un?” a bodiless voice questioned at Itachi leaning on the doorway.
Mahogany eyes widened at the all-too-familiar catchphrase of his partner. So it was him standing outside…

A forced, joyless laugh left the lips of the blonde man as the soft clunking of the piano echoed in his fuzzy memory, sending more images into his distorted inner eye.

Shaking his head, the puppet master scowled.
You’re such an idiot, Sasori…he scolded himself. He’s probably too afraid to ask. For God’s sake, he’s only seventeen. And it doesn’t exactly help that you always wear that tough and ruthless cover when you’re with him, so he has no idea how…emotional you really are…  he shook his head in shame and slight self-disgust, his fingers idly plucking at random keys.
He raised his head when he heard Itachi and Deidara enter the room. He frowned at the Uchiha’s smile, something as rare as Kakuzu lending you money without interest. His gaze swept over his partner, standing between the two older members, his visible blue eye wide with confusion, darting between the redhead and the Sharingan user.
Taking a breath, the puppet master stepped up to his partner. “Deidara, can I speak with you for a moment?”
Glancing sideways, he added “Preferably privately, if we may, Itachi.”
Raising his slender coal eyebrows, Itachi turned to exit without a second glance. As he passed the artistic duo, he smirked. Looks like he got things rolling along the way. His work was done. The rest was up to the stoic puppet master…
With a satisfied smile ghosting around his lips, Itachi set out to find his partner.

The eye behind the cover of his scope and butter-blonde bangs widening, Deidara watched the retreating back of the Uchiha with slight alarm. He glanced at Sasori.
The redhead simply stared back, his face unreadable.
Oh great. Trust the ex-Konoha nin to abandon him when he most needed someone else in the room. Although he still held an unfading grudge against the illusion mater after beating him to shamefully and forcing him to join Akatsuki, right now he felt like running after Itachi – or screaming ‘GAAAAH DON’T LEAVE ME HERE ALONE, UN!!”
Glancing back at Sasori, Deidara swallowed uneasily.
The puppet master, however, sat back to his previous seat, sighing quietly. The Iwa nin lowered his body down on the bed, fingers subconsciously sliding over his newly-acquired ring on his finger.
Sasori placed his wooden fingers on the keys once again, trying to put his scattered thoughts into words. He wasn’t sure whether it was his disbelief, his sympathy or the unknown caring he wanted to voice out loud.
“Why Deidara?” he asked quietly. “Why didn’t you tell me you liked this piece?”
The explosive expert opened is mouth, words stuck in his throat.
“I…” he hesitated before lowering his head in shame, hiding behind the large lock falling over his face. “II thought that if I did, you would think poorly of me.” He painstakingly admitted, feeling slightly crushed.
What?! Sasori thought, bewildered, breath catching in his throat, unable to believe his ears.
…I knew I put on a tough front, but he makes me sound worse than Chiyo-ba…
Silence descended on both of them once again, Deidara fiddling with the bedcovers uncomfortably, the redhead struggling to get his limp tongue to form words that made sense.
“Deidara…” he began, trying to pick his words carefully, gaze fixed on the shiny mahogany of the piano. “If you are interested in music, please tell me. I really do want you to be happy, and if classical music is what makes you happy…I will play it all day for you.” He paused slightly, debating for a moment before continuing. “You are my precious friend…my partner.”
Glancing up from the toothy grin implanted across his palm, Deidara allowed his hopeful expression to absorb into a heartfelt smile.
“Then…what’s the name of this piece?” he grinned, the longed question slipping off his tongue.
Sasori smiled knowingly, reassured. “This is called Nocturne no. 2 in E-flat major Op. q-2.” Smiling at his partner who sat down next to him hesitatingly through half-lidded eyes, he began playing where he first left off.
Soon, the entire room was enveloped in the same bubble of melody – accompanied by budding seeds of trust.

Long fingers dancing across over the keyboard, his stormy blue eye glancing occasionally at the paper score, intent gaze scanning the inked notes before returning to the ebony and ivory keys.
Giving himself into the soft tempo, Deidara drifted into the score the enchantment of the notes too hard to resist. They made him feel so calm, so inspired…and capable, competent. After all, he could at least create a fraction of the magic his Danna could.
As the last note rung out in the silent room, a satisfied sigh left the blonde’s lips.
“That was lovely, Deidara.”
Eyes widening, said artist slowly lifted his head and turned around to face Sasori. The redhead was leaning against the doorframe, a satisfied smile adorning his features.
“Danna, un!” Deidara managed to choke out, his mind completely blank. The puppet master’s sudden appearance made him unsure of anything to say, all intelligent thoughts escaping him.
Forget intelligent thoughts.
ALL thoughts, period.
Blinking, Sasori broke the silence.
“Can I hear you again at the a tempo at twenty one?” he asked, moving to stand behind him.
“Hai, un!” Deidara replied hastily. Turning back to the piano with a determined gleam in his eye, he began pressing the keys down once more.

Blood slid down the invading blades, through the torn tissue. Slowly seeping through the ivory fangs, scarring the unmarred body. Ripped through all defenses. Bleeding slowly, fists slowly clenching and unclenching. Pain…blood…tears.

“Steady, Dei… “ Sasori warned him softly as the tune’s pace began to scatter. “Keep it even, graceful…”
Deidara ran his fingers through the ivory keys hesitatingly, biting his lip. He let his arms fall limp.
Suddenly, Sasori’s arms sneaked from behind him. Gently, he placed his hands on top of the sculptor’s unresisting ones, guiding them to the right keys.
“Like this, Dei…follow my lead.” The redhead instructed quietly, his breath brushing against the blonde’s ear, pressing his partner’s fingers down with his own.
“…Un?” Deidara breathed. He felt heat creep into his cheeks, blood flooding his skin. He could feel his heartbeat in his ears, insides invaded by an unnaturally pleasant feeling, caused by the sudden closeness of his partner.
“Tale the trill at twenty three easy and slow…” the redhead hummed into the crook of the blonde’s neck, fingers slowly manipulating his partners’, mahogany gaze fixed on the score sheet.
“Hai…D-danna, un…” the sculptor muttered, his denied feelings resurfacing with vengeance. Praying Sasori wouldn’t look at his face (now reassembling a ripe tomato) and figure out the obvious.

Sharp laughter rang through the small room. He laughed with vengeance, smirking manically, as if in attempt to defy his tear-stained cheeks and sniffing.
Hanging his head, he continued to cry silently, blood and tears steadily dripping on his tight, deformed coat.
The stumps that were left of his arms were bandaged and wound close to his body, the metal buckles securing the straps clacking menacingly every time he tested their steely strength.
There truly was no escape from this nightmare.
He glanced at his torn limbs, arranged carefully at the other side of the room, returned to him by some kind unknown soul. He eyed the clenched fingers, the gaping little hand-mouths, choking on their own blood. More tears slid out of his eye at the sight.
The ones who shoved food down his resisting throat everyday had said something about sewing his arms back later this week.
What did it matter?
Somehow, that just seemed insignificant now.

As the other called his name, the blonde reached the end of his silent debate. He faced the redhead with crimson cheeks and determined eyes.
His heart skipped a beat when he saw the same determination and feelings reflected in the ash rose orbs.
Words weren’t needed. They understood each other’s thoughts perfectly.
A small movement. A brush of lips. Eyes slipped shut as pure instinct took over. Breathing in the other’s scent, they let their desire run free.
And when they broke apart at last, Deidara felt like he could fly. He buried his blushing face in his Danna’s shoulder, feeling the puppet master’s arms wrap around him.
It was forbidden. It was wrong. But it was so ideal.
Nothing could go wrong now.

Glassy eyes stared ahead at his doubled-over attacker. Blood steadily dripped off the twin blades piercing through his chest – through his only vulnerable point.
Dirt and crimson drops mingling on his cracked wooden cheek, he allowed himself to smile, eyes wide and empty.
The form of his grandmother, slowly growing fuzzy and distorted in his mahogany gaze, was saying something, but the puppet master didn’t pay any attention. He felt strength and life slowly seep out of him with every drop of ruby fluid.
And he had planned to live forever…
Withholding his bitter laughter, Sasori simply stared ahead, hazy thoughts flashing through his clouded mind. Things he planned. Memories he held close…
People he held close…

“Deidara…” the redhead groaned through gritted teeth, steadily moving in and out of the other male. Their bodies rocking against each other, the younger one’s glistening with sweat. The blonde threw his head back, hands gripping the puppet master’s wrists.
“Sasori-danna, un!!” he moaned, white hot pleasure coursing through his body with every thrust. He held back a whimper, chest heaving heavily as he felt himself draw closer and closer…

“LET GO!” the sculptor screamed, struggling frantically against the cannibal’s strong grip. He was battle-worn, bloodied and deathly tired after facing those persistent Konoha squads (without the aid of his arms).
Yet he couldn’t possibly accept what Zetsu had just calmly told him. “HE CAN’T BE DEAD!!”
Zetsu frowned, trying to hold him back. “You can’t go back there, Deidara.” He reasoned in his dry voice, attempting to put some sympathy into it. “It would be utter suicide, especially in your case. Please, just accept it.”
Yet logic washed off the frenzied sculptor like water off a duck’s feathers. With an enormous last heave, he broke free of the schizophrenic’s hold.
“SASORI!” he cried out breathlessly, his torn coat trailing behind him as he rushed off. With an aggravated and somehow confused sigh, Zetsu bounded after the blonde.
He reached the cave a little after the agitated blonde. His steps echoed off the bare rock, now mostly smashed from the previous attacks. He scowled distastefully at the hundreds of puppets scattered all over the floor. Time consuming and overly fancy method of attacking in his eyes. And you couldn’t even
At the faint sobbing, he turned his amber eyes towards the hunched armless figure of Deidara, huddling the limp form of his former Danna close to him.
“Danna…please…speak…” he begged in a cracked voice, burying his nose in the soft red locks. Tears seeped out of his stormy blue eyes, his bruised and bloody lips quivering with suppressed emotion.
Upon not receiving an answer, clammy hands closed around his throat.
“You c-can’t be…” he hiccoughed in a cracked voice, staring incredulously at the rigid corpse laying in his arms. “Y-you promised, un…”
Zetsu turned to fix his confused gaze on the blonde. “What?” his black side voiced aloud, frowning.
Deidara simply shook his head, his voice dying away. He pulled the other as close as he could, fresh tears flowing with new-found strength. He breathed in the other’s faint scent, his insides twisting painfully.

The night was only broken by the soft panting of the two figures entwined in each other’s arms. Sasori broke the embrace to lean above the blonde, their foreheads touching. Deidara blinked, a little taken aback by the gesture.
“Because I’m immortal like my art…” the redhead whispered, dipping his head down to meet the blonde’s lips in a tender kiss, “I’ll always be there for you…and…” The puppet master paused slightly, laying back next to his partner. Nuzzling him close, he murmured “…I’ll always love you…”
Eyes widening, Deidara pulled the other closer subconsciously. Coming from the stoic puppeteer, that was about the sweetest, most reassuring comment he ever heard.
“So you don’t have to feel alone…” the redhead added in a soft voice, hands tracing patterns lazily on the blonde’s bare back.
Shivering slightly, the other buried himself in the other. “Thank you, Danna…” he murmured.

“You promised…” Deidara muttered, half-accusingly, half heartbroken, to the whitewashed walls. His arms sewn back, they were still bound to his body by the straightjacket. Stretching on his side, he sighed, closing his eyes miserably.

Cold, clipped blue bored into flamboyant red. With his signature smirk and clenched hands, Deidara glared at the battle-beaten Sasuke, and those damn Sharingans.
“It’s about time those eyes showed FEAR!” he yelled, his exposed chest-mouth growling beneath the stitches keeping it shut.
“What the hell?” the Uchiha muttered, screwing his eyes up in frustration. “Those eyes…my Sharingan can’t read them…”
They bore no emotion save for a blank fury.
The younger Uchiha’s crimson eyes widened in disbelief as realization struck him.
“You’re insane!” he spat.
Instead of denial or anger at the hurtful words, realization flooded Deidara. His insides were suddenly stuck by a strange trickling feeling, studded with cold, icy reality
Almost as if his chest was ripped open exposing his organs, his insanely beating heart, the scarlet muscles contracting rapidly, damp with boiling blood. His chest mouth snarled hungrily, the sharp fangs gaping into the cold air, tongue lapping at his owner’s blood. He drew a sharp breath, the veins on his lungs expanding panickingly, spilling more blood down.
Although he couldn’t see it, he was certain his heart was torn open by the pain, the loss, the bitter breaking of his beloved’s promise.
Broken, scarred, beyond repair.
Just like the sculptor’s mind.
His sanity was nonexistent anymore.
He smiled when the realization finally hit him, allowing the steely fact to sink in.
He wasn’t shocked not even remotely surprised.
He embraced this something he, deep down, always knew.
Opening his eyes, he allowed a maniacal smile to creep onto his bruised lips.
“So finally you noticed, un. Took you long enough!” he spat back, voice dripping with sarcasm, cocky superiority as his eyes bore into the startled red Sharingans.
The stormy faded sapphire orbs, now both uncovered. The eyes Sasori loved so much, often whispering how they were like bottomless mountain lakes, their colour and depth mixing with the endless summer sky.
Only now they were laced with the choking sheen of insanity, veins pronounced like fine, dark spider webs spun across the white muscle.
His inner turmoil, painful madness, strangled and murdered any soft or innocent sparks in Deidara’s gaze, leaving it steely.
The old, carefree Deidara was gone, broken with despair, utterly beyond repair.
A new demon took over, bounding his mortal and broken body in it’s vicious grip.
Smile still plastered over his features, he scooped a handful of clay with an experienced move. He raised to his now uncovered chest mouth, grin widening as he felt the sharp teeth devour the substance experimentally. He was using it for the first time after all, a secret weapon he had saved for the very end as a last resort.
His hidden, morbid discovery.
His ultimate masterpiece.
To show this Uchiha bastard that art truly was a bang, a temporary, fragile beauty.
Just like life.
Just like love.
…Just like sanity.
Closing his eyes, he felt the chakra rush to his chest, power pulsing underneath his skin. His morbid grin grew wider as he saw the chakra channels, usually hidden from the naked eye, flood his pale skin with their dark lines, giving his body a crumbling look.
With a sharp intake of breath, Tobi’s eyes grew wide with horror behind the mask.
“Sempai!” he cried. “NOO!”
“Shit!” Sasuke swore, his limbs going numb.
When the chakra lines were creeping up his neck, Deidara placed his hands together for one last time.
“I’m coming, Sasori…” he grinned before he was completely engulfed in pulsating chakra lines. One last breath, one last look at his panicking new partner. One last word to leave to this superficial, cruel world.
“Art’s a bang!” he screeched before focusing the enormous power gathered beneath his skin. “Katsu!!”
The ground shook with an ear-shattering bang. An enormous tower of light stood up against the sky, its firey arms reaching towards the clouds. Smoke enveloped the forest, a heat wave tearing through the cool air, engulfing everything in its path.
The power of the explosion twisted all the trees within a ten kilometer diameter out of the soil, tossing them on each other, blackened roots dangling towards the sky. They lay charred on the burnt-out ground, the smoke swirling around the destruction.
And among the ruins, a tiny butterfly with charred wings sailed down on a piece of semi-charred driftwood. Resting its tiny legs on the bumpy surface, it lay down its frayed wings.
The wind swept through the devastation, replacing the charred, spicy smoke with a breath of cold air. The butterfly quivered in the sudden chill, crawling under the driftwood, pulling itself tight.
A stray nightingale’s voice joined the howl of the wind. Together they cried for the fall of a broken child, striving for immortality and the loss of a reckless artist, who drowned in sorrow and insanity.
The butterfly paid no heed. It was safe from more harm and destruction.
The promise was kept after all.

Description
Madness

Warning: Contains shonenai/yaoi (relationship between men), gore, insanity.

The dim, crackling neon strips flooded the tiny room with unnatural, almost alien white light. The walls were whitewashed, immaculate, reeking of strong disinfectant, almost as someone was desperate to scrub it clean of some terrible sin.
Because however abnormally clean it was, it couldn’t disguise the fact it was once splattered with something revolting.
The eerie silence was only broken by the occasional sobs and hiccoughs, coming from the hunched figure lying on the bare floor.
Sitting, carelessly hunched, his face half covered by his long blonde hair, the small room’s prisoner stared at the walls, his stormy sapphire eyes unfocused. Tears bubbled out of them constantly, streaming down his cheeks, the harsh light reflecting off the rapidly flowing wet streaks. They slipped down his curved, handsome face to mingle with the blood trickling down his chin. His bruised lips were pulled into a maniacal grin, as he continued to stare at the walls, silent sobs wrenching his immobilized body.
“Danna…” he hiccoughed, briefly shutting his eyes, shutting out the living nightmare as he felt memories engulf his clouded mind.

Soft notes seeped out from behind a mahogany door, filling the otherwise silent air with a sweet, soothing melody. The rhythmic sounds entwined in a slow-paced yet enchanting song, the soft clunks of the piano pedal echoing each strike of the puppet master’s wooden fingers.
Deidara crouched behind the door, eyes and ears never missing a single detail. He leaned against the doorframe, hoping to absorb more of the music, his fingers tentatively brushing up against the smooth wood.
He was so absorbed in the melody he didn’t even notice Itachi coming up behind him.
The older Uchiha observed the crouching artist with a raised eyebrow before coughing quietly.
Deidara whirled around, his face panicky as he came face to face with the amused sharingan-user. He quickly raised his hands to his lips, his pose reminding Itachi of a child caught sticking his hand in the cookie jar.
“This seems to be his favourite. He’s playing it for the fifth time now…and he’s very good at it too.” The Uchiha remarked, nodding towards the door. Although no particular signs of enjoyment showed on his face, he actually quite liked the soft music.
“What is the name of this piece? And…did you say…he’s…”
“Yes, Sasori is playing. Haven’t you noticed the piano before?” Itachi remarked, an eyebrow raised. Judging from the confused look on Deidara’s face, he guessed his answer was negative.
A smile creeping up on his lips, Itachi mentally shook his head. It was so amusing to see the young blonde so scared to admit he enjoyed his partner’s music. Perhaps held back by pride, by fear. Or the fact music somehow clashed with his artistic views, and admitting it would be somehow degrading to the explosive expert.
Whatever the reason, Itachi decided to push things a little.
“Well, to answer your question…” he replied, pushing the door open, “I think I will turn this over to the artist himself.” He stepped inside the room, beckoning for the blonde to follow.
Deidara opened his mouth to protest, only to find the wide door open staring at him. He muttered a few things to  before following the Uchiha.

Sasori was too lost in the steady clunking of the keys to notice the door opening. It was only when he heard footsteps and voices was when he looked up from the music, eyebrows slightly raised. When lost in the trance of his music, he didn’t appreciate being snapped out of it – just like when he was perfecting his puppets.
Trying to catch snippets of the conversation, he leaned to the side.
“…un?” a bodiless voice questioned at Itachi leaning on the doorway.
Mahogany eyes widened at the all-too-familiar catchphrase of his partner. So it was him standing outside…

A forced, joyless laugh left the lips of the blonde man as the soft clunking of the piano echoed in his fuzzy memory, sending more images into his distorted inner eye.

Shaking his head, the puppet master scowled.
You’re such an idiot, Sasori…he scolded himself. He’s probably too afraid to ask. For God’s sake, he’s only seventeen. And it doesn’t exactly help that you always wear that tough and ruthless cover when you’re with him, so he has no idea how…emotional you really are…  he shook his head in shame and slight self-disgust, his fingers idly plucking at random keys.
He raised his head when he heard Itachi and Deidara enter the room. He frowned at the Uchiha’s smile, something as rare as Kakuzu lending you money without interest. His gaze swept over his partner, standing between the two older members, his visible blue eye wide with confusion, darting between the redhead and the Sharingan user.
Taking a breath, the puppet master stepped up to his partner. “Deidara, can I speak with you for a moment?”
Glancing sideways, he added “Preferably privately, if we may, Itachi.”
Raising his slender coal eyebrows, Itachi turned to exit without a second glance. As he passed the artistic duo, he smirked. Looks like he got things rolling along the way. His work was done. The rest was up to the stoic puppet master…
With a satisfied smile ghosting around his lips, Itachi set out to find his partner.

The eye behind the cover of his scope and butter-blonde bangs widening, Deidara watched the retreating back of the Uchiha with slight alarm. He glanced at Sasori.
The redhead simply stared back, his face unreadable.
Oh great. Trust the ex-Konoha nin to abandon him when he most needed someone else in the room. Although he still held an unfading grudge against the illusion mater after beating him to shamefully and forcing him to join Akatsuki, right now he felt like running after Itachi – or screaming ‘GAAAAH DON’T LEAVE ME HERE ALONE, UN!!”
Glancing back at Sasori, Deidara swallowed uneasily.
The puppet master, however, sat back to his previous seat, sighing quietly. The Iwa nin lowered his body down on the bed, fingers subconsciously sliding over his newly-acquired ring on his finger.
Sasori placed his wooden fingers on the keys once again, trying to put his scattered thoughts into words. He wasn’t sure whether it was his disbelief, his sympathy or the unknown caring he wanted to voice out loud.
“Why Deidara?” he asked quietly. “Why didn’t you tell me you liked this piece?”
The explosive expert opened is mouth, words stuck in his throat.
“I…” he hesitated before lowering his head in shame, hiding behind the large lock falling over his face. “II thought that if I did, you would think poorly of me.” He painstakingly admitted, feeling slightly crushed.
What?! Sasori thought, bewildered, breath catching in his throat, unable to believe his ears.
…I knew I put on a tough front, but he makes me sound worse than Chiyo-ba…
Silence descended on both of them once again, Deidara fiddling with the bedcovers uncomfortably, the redhead struggling to get his limp tongue to form words that made sense.
“Deidara…” he began, trying to pick his words carefully, gaze fixed on the shiny mahogany of the piano. “If you are interested in music, please tell me. I really do want you to be happy, and if classical music is what makes you happy…I will play it all day for you.” He paused slightly, debating for a moment before continuing. “You are my precious friend…my partner.”
Glancing up from the toothy grin implanted across his palm, Deidara allowed his hopeful expression to absorb into a heartfelt smile.
“Then…what’s the name of this piece?” he grinned, the longed question slipping off his tongue.
Sasori smiled knowingly, reassured. “This is called Nocturne no. 2 in E-flat major Op. q-2.” Smiling at his partner who sat down next to him hesitatingly through half-lidded eyes, he began playing where he first left off.
Soon, the entire room was enveloped in the same bubble of melody – accompanied by budding seeds of trust.

Long fingers dancing across over the keyboard, his stormy blue eye glancing occasionally at the paper score, intent gaze scanning the inked notes before returning to the ebony and ivory keys.
Giving himself into the soft tempo, Deidara drifted into the score the enchantment of the notes too hard to resist. They made him feel so calm, so inspired…and capable, competent. After all, he could at least create a fraction of the magic his Danna could.
As the last note rung out in the silent room, a satisfied sigh left the blonde’s lips.
“That was lovely, Deidara.”
Eyes widening, said artist slowly lifted his head and turned around to face Sasori. The redhead was leaning against the doorframe, a satisfied smile adorning his features.
“Danna, un!” Deidara managed to choke out, his mind completely blank. The puppet master’s sudden appearance made him unsure of anything to say, all intelligent thoughts escaping him.
Forget intelligent thoughts.
ALL thoughts, period.
Blinking, Sasori broke the silence.
“Can I hear you again at the a tempo at twenty one?” he asked, moving to stand behind him.
“Hai, un!” Deidara replied hastily. Turning back to the piano with a determined gleam in his eye, he began pressing the keys down once more.

Blood slid down the invading blades, through the torn tissue. Slowly seeping through the ivory fangs, scarring the unmarred body. Ripped through all defenses. Bleeding slowly, fists slowly clenching and unclenching. Pain…blood…tears.

“Steady, Dei… “ Sasori warned him softly as the tune’s pace began to scatter. “Keep it even, graceful…”
Deidara ran his fingers through the ivory keys hesitatingly, biting his lip. He let his arms fall limp.
Suddenly, Sasori’s arms sneaked from behind him. Gently, he placed his hands on top of the sculptor’s unresisting ones, guiding them to the right keys.
“Like this, Dei…follow my lead.” The redhead instructed quietly, his breath brushing against the blonde’s ear, pressing his partner’s fingers down with his own.
“…Un?” Deidara breathed. He felt heat creep into his cheeks, blood flooding his skin. He could feel his heartbeat in his ears, insides invaded by an unnaturally pleasant feeling, caused by the sudden closeness of his partner.
“Tale the trill at twenty three easy and slow…” the redhead hummed into the crook of the blonde’s neck, fingers slowly manipulating his partners’, mahogany gaze fixed on the score sheet.
“Hai…D-danna, un…” the sculptor muttered, his denied feelings resurfacing with vengeance. Praying Sasori wouldn’t look at his face (now reassembling a ripe tomato) and figure out the obvious.

Sharp laughter rang through the small room. He laughed with vengeance, smirking manically, as if in attempt to defy his tear-stained cheeks and sniffing.
Hanging his head, he continued to cry silently, blood and tears steadily dripping on his tight, deformed coat.
The stumps that were left of his arms were bandaged and wound close to his body, the metal buckles securing the straps clacking menacingly every time he tested their steely strength.
There truly was no escape from this nightmare.
He glanced at his torn limbs, arranged carefully at the other side of the room, returned to him by some kind unknown soul. He eyed the clenched fingers, the gaping little hand-mouths, choking on their own blood. More tears slid out of his eye at the sight.
The ones who shoved food down his resisting throat everyday had said something about sewing his arms back later this week.
What did it matter?
Somehow, that just seemed insignificant now.

As the other called his name, the blonde reached the end of his silent debate. He faced the redhead with crimson cheeks and determined eyes.
His heart skipped a beat when he saw the same determination and feelings reflected in the ash rose orbs.
Words weren’t needed. They understood each other’s thoughts perfectly.
A small movement. A brush of lips. Eyes slipped shut as pure instinct took over. Breathing in the other’s scent, they let their desire run free.
And when they broke apart at last, Deidara felt like he could fly. He buried his blushing face in his Danna’s shoulder, feeling the puppet master’s arms wrap around him.
It was forbidden. It was wrong. But it was so ideal.
Nothing could go wrong now.

Glassy eyes stared ahead at his doubled-over attacker. Blood steadily dripped off the twin blades piercing through his chest – through his only vulnerable point.
Dirt and crimson drops mingling on his cracked wooden cheek, he allowed himself to smile, eyes wide and empty.
The form of his grandmother, slowly growing fuzzy and distorted in his mahogany gaze, was saying something, but the puppet master didn’t pay any attention. He felt strength and life slowly seep out of him with every drop of ruby fluid.
And he had planned to live forever…
Withholding his bitter laughter, Sasori simply stared ahead, hazy thoughts flashing through his clouded mind. Things he planned. Memories he held close…
People he held close…

“Deidara…” the redhead groaned through gritted teeth, steadily moving in and out of the other male. Their bodies rocking against each other, the younger one’s glistening with sweat. The blonde threw his head back, hands gripping the puppet master’s wrists.
“Sasori-danna, un!!” he moaned, white hot pleasure coursing through his body with every thrust. He held back a whimper, chest heaving heavily as he felt himself draw closer and closer…

“LET GO!” the sculptor screamed, struggling frantically against the cannibal’s strong grip. He was battle-worn, bloodied and deathly tired after facing those persistent Konoha squads (without the aid of his arms).
Yet he couldn’t possibly accept what Zetsu had just calmly told him. “HE CAN’T BE DEAD!!”
Zetsu frowned, trying to hold him back. “You can’t go back there, Deidara.” He reasoned in his dry voice, attempting to put some sympathy into it. “It would be utter suicide, especially in your case. Please, just accept it.”
Yet logic washed off the frenzied sculptor like water off a duck’s feathers. With an enormous last heave, he broke free of the schizophrenic’s hold.
“SASORI!” he cried out breathlessly, his torn coat trailing behind him as he rushed off. With an aggravated and somehow confused sigh, Zetsu bounded after the blonde.
He reached the cave a little after the agitated blonde. His steps echoed off the bare rock, now mostly smashed from the previous attacks. He scowled distastefully at the hundreds of puppets scattered all over the floor. Time consuming and overly fancy method of attacking in his eyes. And you couldn’t even
At the faint sobbing, he turned his amber eyes towards the hunched armless figure of Deidara, huddling the limp form of his former Danna close to him.
“Danna…please…speak…” he begged in a cracked voice, burying his nose in the soft red locks. Tears seeped out of his stormy blue eyes, his bruised and bloody lips quivering with suppressed emotion.
Upon not receiving an answer, clammy hands closed around his throat.
“You c-can’t be…” he hiccoughed in a cracked voice, staring incredulously at the rigid corpse laying in his arms. “Y-you promised, un…”
Zetsu turned to fix his confused gaze on the blonde. “What?” his black side voiced aloud, frowning.
Deidara simply shook his head, his voice dying away. He pulled the other as close as he could, fresh tears flowing with new-found strength. He breathed in the other’s faint scent, his insides twisting painfully.

The night was only broken by the soft panting of the two figures entwined in each other’s arms. Sasori broke the embrace to lean above the blonde, their foreheads touching. Deidara blinked, a little taken aback by the gesture.
“Because I’m immortal like my art…” the redhead whispered, dipping his head down to meet the blonde’s lips in a tender kiss, “I’ll always be there for you…and…” The puppet master paused slightly, laying back next to his partner. Nuzzling him close, he murmured “…I’ll always love you…”
Eyes widening, Deidara pulled the other closer subconsciously. Coming from the stoic puppeteer, that was about the sweetest, most reassuring comment he ever heard.
“So you don’t have to feel alone…” the redhead added in a soft voice, hands tracing patterns lazily on the blonde’s bare back.
Shivering slightly, the other buried himself in the other. “Thank you, Danna…” he murmured.

“You promised…” Deidara muttered, half-accusingly, half heartbroken, to the whitewashed walls. His arms sewn back, they were still bound to his body by the straightjacket. Stretching on his side, he sighed, closing his eyes miserably.

Cold, clipped blue bored into flamboyant red. With his signature smirk and clenched hands, Deidara glared at the battle-beaten Sasuke, and those damn Sharingans.
“It’s about time those eyes showed FEAR!” he yelled, his exposed chest-mouth growling beneath the stitches keeping it shut.
“What the hell?” the Uchiha muttered, screwing his eyes up in frustration. “Those eyes…my Sharingan can’t read them…”
They bore no emotion save for a blank fury.
The younger Uchiha’s crimson eyes widened in disbelief as realization struck him.
“You’re insane!” he spat.
Instead of denial or anger at the hurtful words, realization flooded Deidara. His insides were suddenly stuck by a strange trickling feeling, studded with cold, icy reality
Almost as if his chest was ripped open exposing his organs, his insanely beating heart, the scarlet muscles contracting rapidly, damp with boiling blood. His chest mouth snarled hungrily, the sharp fangs gaping into the cold air, tongue lapping at his owner’s blood. He drew a sharp breath, the veins on his lungs expanding panickingly, spilling more blood down.
Although he couldn’t see it, he was certain his heart was torn open by the pain, the loss, the bitter breaking of his beloved’s promise.
Broken, scarred, beyond repair.
Just like the sculptor’s mind.
His sanity was nonexistent anymore.
He smiled when the realization finally hit him, allowing the steely fact to sink in.
He wasn’t shocked not even remotely surprised.
He embraced this something he, deep down, always knew.
Opening his eyes, he allowed a maniacal smile to creep onto his bruised lips.
“So finally you noticed, un. Took you long enough!” he spat back, voice dripping with sarcasm, cocky superiority as his eyes bore into the startled red Sharingans.
The stormy faded sapphire orbs, now both uncovered. The eyes Sasori loved so much, often whispering how they were like bottomless mountain lakes, their colour and depth mixing with the endless summer sky.
Only now they were laced with the choking sheen of insanity, veins pronounced like fine, dark spider webs spun across the white muscle.
His inner turmoil, painful madness, strangled and murdered any soft or innocent sparks in Deidara’s gaze, leaving it steely.
The old, carefree Deidara was gone, broken with despair, utterly beyond repair.
A new demon took over, bounding his mortal and broken body in it’s vicious grip.
Smile still plastered over his features, he scooped a handful of clay with an experienced move. He raised to his now uncovered chest mouth, grin widening as he felt the sharp teeth devour the substance experimentally. He was using it for the first time after all, a secret weapon he had saved for the very end as a last resort.
His hidden, morbid discovery.
His ultimate masterpiece.
To show this Uchiha bastard that art truly was a bang, a temporary, fragile beauty.
Just like life.
Just like love.
…Just like sanity.
Closing his eyes, he felt the chakra rush to his chest, power pulsing underneath his skin. His morbid grin grew wider as he saw the chakra channels, usually hidden from the naked eye, flood his pale skin with their dark lines, giving his body a crumbling look.
With a sharp intake of breath, Tobi’s eyes grew wide with horror behind the mask.
“Sempai!” he cried. “NOO!”
“Shit!” Sasuke swore, his limbs going numb.
When the chakra lines were creeping up his neck, Deidara placed his hands together for one last time.
“I’m coming, Sasori…” he grinned before he was completely engulfed in pulsating chakra lines. One last breath, one last look at his panicking new partner. One last word to leave to this superficial, cruel world.
“Art’s a bang!” he screeched before focusing the enormous power gathered beneath his skin. “Katsu!!”
The ground shook with an ear-shattering bang. An enormous tower of light stood up against the sky, its firey arms reaching towards the clouds. Smoke enveloped the forest, a heat wave tearing through the cool air, engulfing everything in its path.
The power of the explosion twisted all the trees within a ten kilometer diameter out of the soil, tossing them on each other, blackened roots dangling towards the sky. They lay charred on the burnt-out ground, the smoke swirling around the destruction.
And among the ruins, a tiny butterfly with charred wings sailed down on a piece of semi-charred driftwood. Resting its tiny legs on the bumpy surface, it lay down its frayed wings.
The wind swept through the devastation, replacing the charred, spicy smoke with a breath of cold air. The butterfly quivered in the sudden chill, crawling under the driftwood, pulling itself tight.
A stray nightingale’s voice joined the howl of the wind. Together they cried for the fall of a broken child, striving for immortality and the loss of a reckless artist, who drowned in sorrow and insanity.
The butterfly paid no heed. It was safe from more harm and destruction.
The promise was kept after all.