Memento
By Kurayami-Tomoshibi
A/N: 400 words (not counting this intro). It was my point to leave out Deidara's name. Warning – death, angst, and big words.
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Life had turned upside-down, or time had reversed itself. A wandering, lost, painful feeling filled up the once-empty crevasses of his heart; he felt as though a great weight had suddenly been thrust upon his shoulders. He fell on his knees beside the broken body of his partner, tears leaking from his eyes like water from an overfilled birdbath. His shoulders trembled with suppressed sobs; he reached over the puppet's chest, resting a hand on the blood-drenched cylinder where his heart was kept. His fingers found themselves exploring the canister, wandering beneath the holes in its casing to caress the pierced organ itself. Tears soon joined the blood on his partner's body, washing some of it away, as though purifying the partner who had (in a way) sheltered him from the others, who had given him an eye that could resist the Uchiha's petrifying stare, who had been so patient with his courageous outbursts and overconfidence. He looked into the blood-spattered face that hadn't changed for 21 years; his partner was pale, red hair dull and lifeless, eyes closed in a nearly peaceful manner. This brought more pained tears to his eyes; they rolled slowly down his cheeks and dripped from his chin to the puppet's bloodless skin.
He always respected his partner's art, even though he knew he would never win the argument over whose was better.
He gently laced his fingers with those of his Akatsuki counterpart. The mouth in his right palm quivered with sadness, tongue reaching out hesitantly to remove the ring on the puppet's thumb. He slid this into the pocket of his robes, unable to part himself from it. He gently ran a finger down his partner's jawline, unwilling to get to his feet and move on. He reached across his thin chest to clutch at the area where he lost his arm; the heavy, ragged stitching made it unbelievably sore. He looked back at his partner; the stitches throbbed. He winced, his visible eye filling with agonizing pain for a fleeting moment. He gazed down at his partner's broken body, longing and sorrow filling him with pain. His long blond locks trailed over the puppet's bloodstained chest, the ends of the hair staining themselves red with his blood. He silently stared at the blood in his hair, assorted thoughts filling his grief-stricken, anguished head.
And he was slowly stabilized by his bloody memento.