"Listen up; this is your art assignment of the week, punks!" The voice of Anko Mitarashi boomed throughout the entire class. And you'd wonder how the heck she was actually artistic when she practically scares the living shit out of her students. She's loud, the roughest, toughest female teacher in school (second to the principal, Tsunade and vice principal, Mei). But people were horribly surprised when she could paint the school crest blindfolded. And heck, she was a sharp one. Anko slammed her hand onto the table, making it crack a little as she sent a glare at a blonde-haired boy. "Uzumaki, shut the heck up when I'm talking!" She cleared her throat and turned to face the rest of the class. "As I was saying, you guys are going to sculpt, create, paint, and draw or…whatever… someone you love or care about."

And instantly, all the girls' eyes in the room snapped towards the dark-haired boy sitting next to the Uzumaki kid – Uchiha Sasuke. Deidara bit back a scowl, his bright blue eyes going in a huge circle before they rested on the boy sitting beside him. Akasuna no Sasori was a talented artist, with messy red hair that was spiked up in all the wrong places and a pair of honey-colored eyes that never seemed to look interested in anything. Though, as his best friend for three years, he could pick out the little sparkle in his eyes when it came to talking about art.

"You kids better hand up your assignment by next Friday or I'll fail you, get it?" Anko snapped, and the entire class nodded. "Good, you're dismissed." And within two minutes, the classroom was empty, the students running down the corridors for their lives and hurrying to their next lessons. It was a rare sight, really. But the art teacher was just so freaking scary. Sasori nodded at his blonde-haired partner and slung their backpacks over their shoulders. "Ah, Sasori, Deidara, can I have a word with you two?" Anko asked, her ruler tapping against the desk. Deidara visibly gulped while Sasori walked calmly up to the teacher.

"Look, punks, I know you're my best pupils in art, and you two are just Goddamn talented and all, but seriously, I've already assigned this to you two three times before. And what the heck did I get, huh?" She pointed an accusing finger at Deidara. "I got very well sculpted clay models…of spiders and birds for three times. Seriously, I don't even think you have an obsession with animals! If you were Inuzuka, I might have accepted that work. Give me something else! And you," She turned to Sasori. "I like your puppets, but you've given me the exact same model of both your parents for three times. I admit, that's kind of sweet, but give me something else, too, jeez! If you two don't give me something new by next Friday, I'll give you a zero, clear?"

"B-but, Mitarashi-sensei, I –" Deidara barely finished his sentence when Anko slammed a hand onto her desk.

"I said, clear?"

"Yes, yes, can we go now?" Sasori huffed, sounding ever so bored, as usual. Anko swore beneath her hand and waved a dismissive hand. The two artists took the signal to leave the classroom quickly, heading to their next lesson. He would have Chemistry next, while Deidara had Biology.

"What are you going to make, un, Sasori?" The blonde-haired boy asked, stretching his arms into the air and loosening the tie around his neck. "I know you love your parents…heck, that's pretty much the only thing you love, but Mitarashi's being a bitch and won't let you do it. Got any ideas?" Sasori simply shook his head. "Damn it, art shouldn't even be tested in the first place, yeah! My brain's been blasted empty."

"Hasn't it always been that way?" The redhead muttered. Deidara turned to send a glare at him, only to realize he was staring intently at his sketchbook, trying to figure out something. After a few moments, though, he snapped it shut. They had already reached the Biology classroom and they would be parting ways. "If there's nothing else you want to say, I'll see you tomorrow."

"Hey, I thought we'd meet after school, Sasori, un! Don't we do that all the time?" Deidara exclaimed, throwing his arms in the air. His partner didn't even bother turning back, but Deidara could almost picture the little sparkle in his eyes.

"Not today, Deidara," Sasori replied, walking off towards his Chemistry classroom. "I have an art assignment that I'm worried about. You should get to it, too. Judging by your empty brain, there's no telling when you'd be done." And with that, he walked up a flight of stairs and entered his classroom. Chemistry passed by pretty smoothly. Well, at least, he thought he was in a better class – more like better condition – than Deidara. His Chemistry teacher was Orochimaru, and he just so happened to be his favorite pupil, along with that Yakushi Kabuto guy and the Uchiha brothers. His teacher claimed he had knack in making rather poisonous chemicals. Well, he had been the only student in class to memorize the entire periodic table, aside from Itachi. And honestly, Sasori wasn't afraid to admit that his teacher might be gay, or a pedophile.

Orochimaru had to be better than Deidara's Biology teacher though, in some way. It was Shizune, the principal's apprentice, as his teacher, and you could only imagine the kind of temper and rage that had been passed down. Sighing, he continued to draw the seemingly endless number of particles in the empty box on his worksheet. The bell rang for the final time that day, and Sasori went straight home without saying a single word to any of his friends. "Grandma, I'm home," He called out as he took off his shoes. An old lady nearly half his height stepped out of the kitchen with an apron around her waist and a spatula in her hand.

"Sasori-chan, you're back early today." Chiyo exclaimed, looking over her grandson's shoulder. "Isn't Deidara with you?"

"No, I came home early to finish an assignment."

"Oh, well, give me another hour, lunch is still cooking. I'll tell you when I'm done." And with that, she spun around, hummed a little tune and walked back into the kitchen. Sasori didn't waste any time starting on his project. He simply sat down on his bed and stared and the hundreds of different sized puppets in his room. What could he create? He didn't actually love or care about anyone else except his parents – no, not even Grandma Chiyo.

He gently took the photograph of his parents off his bedside table and stared at it for minutes. He had only been five, far too young to lose his parents. They had died in a car crash with the father of one of his teachers in school. That's why he hated history, which was taught by Hatake Kakashi. That's why he always wanted to put the past behind him, but they would always stubbornly find a way to resurface.

The doctor, cloaked entirely in white, stared down at the little boy with messy red hair and a pair of lively, adorable honey-colored eyes. He toyed with the small puppet in his hands, and gave him a hopeful look. The doctor did not say anything. And two minutes later, the boy simply stared at the ground, before walking off to sit in a corner. "Mommy, daddy," He muttered continuously, making the small puppet do funny actions. Three minutes later, however, he hugged the puppet close to his heart and cried. "I love you." The doctor left. The child had already known about the news. There was no need to stay. So, Sasori cried, and just cried, for the first and last time in his life.

"If you keep crying like that, you're going to put out the flames caused from an explosion, yeah!" An energetic voice exclaimed. Wiping the tears from his eyes, the redhead looked up to see a boy around his age, with long blonde hair covering his left eye. His bright blue eyes seemed to be clouded with confusion all of a sudden. He raised an eyebrow. "Are you a guy or a girl, un?"

"I'm a guy!" Sasori shouted back.

"Eh? Guys aren't supposed to cry, yeah… But why are you crying?"

Sasori looked away, toying with his puppet. "Leave me alone!" He huffed. "It's none of your business."

The blonde kid didn't go away, he just stood there, staring and staring at him. "Someone you loved just died, right?" He asked suddenly, and Sasori snapped his head back up to look at him. His blue eyes softened. "It's okay. My dad just died, too, yeah. Well, I didn't tell him to go around messing with C4 bombs in a warehouse, un!"

He was so carefree, like he didn't care about his parent. How could he? "Don't you love your dad?" Sasori asked, and he nodded. "Why are you talking like you don't care at all? Don't you miss him? You can't see him anymore! He's gone! He doesn't exist!"

"I don't need you to tell me all that, un. I'm smart enough to figure it out." He sighed. "But just because my dad's gone doesn't mean he doesn't exist. He exists in the form of my art. I play around with clay and stuff, yeah; I can make a clay sculpture of him. That way he'll always exist by my side." And that was when Sasori widened his eyes at his words. It was probably the only time he was that smart or wise. And it was the first time he felt like he wasn't alone; that he wasn't left to rot without love; that he wasn't ever going to love anyone ever again. "What's your name, yeah?"

"I'm…Sasori…"

"Cool, I'm Deidara, un."

But not all resurfacing of a memory buried in the past was painful. Sasori jumped to his feet and got to work right away. He was wrong. He did love somebody else. He supposed he had just never really realized it. Cutting up a few pieces of wood and screwing bits and pieces together, Sasori created a puppet of someone he loved, someone that wasn't either of his parents, someone who had always been there for him, even when he least realized it. Grabbing his paint set, he squeezed nearly half a tube of yellow onto the palette. Oh, he would need a lot of that.

The days rolled by quickly, and almost every afternoon after school, Sasori would return home to finish his puppet. And on Friday, he had submitted his assignment piece when school dismissed, not telling anyone about it. He thought he would have been the only one to do so, but when he saw a small clay sculpture of himself sitting innocently on the table, he instantly stopped in his tracks. His best friend stood in the empty classroom, turning to face him with a small shocked look on his face. "Oh, S-Sasori," He murmured, his eyes darting towards the clay sculpture. "It's just…um, well…" His bright blue eyes then landed on the small puppet version of himself dangling innocently in the arms of his best friend.

"Dei…dara," Sasori greeted him awkwardly. Silence hung in the air as the two eyed each other's projects. Sasori cleared his throat, but made no move to speak. Well, what could he say anyway? Oh hey, Deidara, I know you're my best friend and I'm just some sort of lazy, impatient person you saw crying in the hospital when I was five but I just want you to know that –

"I love you."

Sasori stared wide-eyed at the blonde-haired boy a few meters in front of him. He avoided his gaze, a slight pink blush on his pale face. His blue eyes were now clouded with…embarrassment, and somewhere deep inside…honesty. The redhead simply swallowed and took a few steps forward, placing his puppet on the teacher's desk. "Deidara…"

"I know, un, I'm a fucking psycho who loves blowing stuff up that you'd probably call 'eternal art' or whatever but…yeah, I love you, okay? And I know I'm gay, like, seriously…but," He sighed, rubbing his temples. "Ever since we started hanging out when we were kids, you've been my closest friend, and…I don't think I've found anyone better than you. You understand me so well and you make the lamest, stupidest jokes that I laugh my ass out on. You're artistic, with good grades, and a pretty nice heart once somebody gets to know you well. So, yeah, I love you."

Sasori remained silent, and so did Deidara…until the redhead placed a hand on his friend's cheek and pulled his face close to his. His lips smashed down on the arsonist's, and both their heartbeat's soared, butterflies taking flight in their stomachs. Deidara grabbed his shirt, pulling him closer, and his best friend took the chance to tangle his fingers in his long, blonde hair. "Bastard," Sasori swore when they pulled apart. "I love you too."

"How would I have known, un?" Deidara snapped irritably, though planting a soft kiss on his lips, to which Sasori took advantage and deepened it. They pulled apart a few moments later, gasping for breath. Their hair were disheveled (well, not like Sasori's hair wasn't always like that), and they were pink. Deidara curled his fingers around Sasori's, and the redhead leaned down to kiss his forehead. "Stay over at my place tonight?"

Sasori smirked and loosened his tie, "Why not?" And with that, the couple walked out of the school compound hand-in-hand, not realizing that the Deidara puppet had been so coincidentally placed such that it had wrapped both its arms around the Sasori sculpture.