So I was in Additional Math class today and inspiration suddenly struck me. Something along the lines of describing a person that you are in love with, and all that. So I turned to the person sitting next to me. I was like:
Me: HEYYY. What do you usually think of when you see someone that you like?
Her: Uh. That person's smile, you know, like when they wave at you. The way they walk... and how they talk to you?
Me: YOU'RE AWESOME.
So here I am finally done with my oneshot. Hahaha. As I promised, KAHYIN, THANKS FOR YOUR SUGGESTIONS :D Hehehe :D
If I could say what I want to say,
I'd say I wanna blow you away.
Be with you every night,
Am I squeezing you too tight?
If I could say what I want to see,
I want to see you go down
On one knee,
"Marry me today".
Guess, I'm wishing my life away,
With these things I'll never say.
Beautiful. He is beautiful.
He is so beautiful you find it painful to breathe. You find it torturous to look at him. It is near excruciating, but you can't tear your eyes away. You don't even notice that you are holding your breath until the air chokes you in your lungs. You inhale, and the breaths trickle out in shaky clouds to form little misty puffs in the cold.
You shove your frozen fingers into the pockets of your jacket, biting down on your lip. You kick the water rushing towards you tentatively and try to bury your feet deeper into the sand as the shallow waves spill onto the shore, and crawl slowly back into the sea.
From behind your long blonde bangs, you steal another look at his flawless face and feel the lingering ache in your chest amplify. His rusty red hair is ruffled by the wind as he stares contentedly out at the horizon.
Those eyes. You think of those intense pools of warmth and shudder when you imagine him turning those bedroom eyes your way. You feel your face heat up the way it always does when he actually makes eye contact with you.
Your attention drifts down towards his near perfect lips. Those lips that unfailingly seduce you every time they quirk upwards into that trademark smirk of his that you have unconsciously come to love. The curve of his smile; and the occasional rare laughter that may escape his pale lips.
You ache to reach out, and lock your fingers with his. His hands, those hands that top your art class with his famous intricate puppets, those hands that scrawl out model answers in Physics in his messy but yet extravagant handwriting. Those hands that whack the top of your head when ever he thinks that you are being annoying.
You think of the way he walks. Confident and sure, as he strides down the hallway with legs too long for someone his height. And then you remember your own height and how you, being an inch shorter than him, probably have no right to comment.
You think of his voice. It is low and smooth and always seems to have a teasing lilt when he talks to you, more often than not it is a mesmerizing murmur that only you can hear. You absolutely adore the captivating way he says your name or calls you a "brat", and the inevitable flick to the forehead that follows after that.
He utterly and undeniably holds you prisoner. You are enthralled, by all of him. And he doesn't even know. The thought riddles you with cracks and a sudden onslaught of overwhelming desperation; of sorrow.
Your captivator turns to catch you staring. He watches you, blinks once. And then he reaches out, flicks your forehead. "What's wrong, brat?"
You are momentarily stunned by the sudden unexpected contact. You can feel your blood pounding by your probably reddening ears that are thankfully shielded by your tumbling mess of blonde hair. "W-what, un?"
He raises an eyebrow and runs his fingers through his perpetual bed head, the red strands falling to the front, skimming his eyes, which are intently fixed on you. "Why are you staring at me and spacing out?"
You feel your eyes widening, the thought of him finding out the reason stabbing you with embarrassment. "Uh, I... Uh..."
He doesn't look away. "Hurry up. Stop stalling." He narrows his eyes. Merciless. "You know I hate waiting."
You take one step backwards, feeling the blush creep up your neck. "I'm sorry, un. I didn't realize I was—"
You are interrupted as the oncoming wave hits the shore and washes the sand out from under your soles into the sea. As the ground shifts from beneath you, you let out a little yelp and stumble, losing your balance.
Before your head connects with the sand, rocks and splintered seashells, you squeeze your eyes shut, praying.
Warm arms envelope you and the both of you fall with a muffled thud and ringing splash into the icy, shallow water.
With your heartbeat going almost erratically out of control, your eyes snap open to clash with mud brown orbs. You can feel his arm behind your head, the arm he used to break your fall and possibly saved you from a concussion.
A safely hidden barrier within you breaks and you are aware of the rate your emotions are surging out, flooding your whole being. Overwhelming you. Drowning you in your own feelings. You like him. You like him so much; too much.
You like the way he is cold to almost everyone else but is an open book to you.
You like how he is impatient.
You like his ridiculously short temper.
You like how he hates to wait but waits for you anyway.
You like how you think about him all the time and stare when he isn't looking.
You like the way he worries for you but would never ever admit it.
You like— no, love.You love his laugh, especially. A short, low chuckle that normally ends with a sharp exhale.
You love him.
You love loving him.
He is looking at you now, carefully, lying over you with his arm still around your waist and the other behind your head. "Deidara?" he says.
You love the way your name sounds on his tongue. The way he stretches out every syllable and his perfect pronunciation.
You like the way it feels to have his weight crushing you, the warmth emanating from him in the otherwise cold weather.
"Sasori?" You say, softly, breathlessly.
His forehead creases into a gentle frown. "What, exactly, is wrong? Are you finally going to tell me?"
"What are you going to do?" You blurt out.
"What am I going to do when what happens?"
"What would you do if I told you that I fell in love, un?" The adrenaline is nearly bursting from you. Your blood is running hot and cold, your feelings flickering from one to the next. Uncertainty. Hope. Desperation. You are already bracing yourself to respond to his reply.
Surprise flickers behind his eyes for a split second before he narrows them and glares at you in an almost accusing way. "Who is it?"
"You, un." Your voice drops lower than a whisper. You will yourself to say it. "I think I fell in love with you."
You watch his beautiful eyes contradict with every different emotions, conflicting, raging like an inferno, an internal war, some that you can't even name, as you lie there beneath him on the sand waiting, with the waves breaking in and soaking the both of you.
You realize that you are holding your breath again, willing him not to answer, because you know disappointment when you are near it. You can hear the beating of your heart echoing within your hollowing chest with every new second of silence.
"You think that you're in love with me?" He finally asks.
You are still too numbed by your audacity to speak, so you nod.
He leans down and your breath hitches when his nose skims yours. The tips of his hair tickle your face. "How do you know that?" There is amusement in his enchanting voice, a lingering feel of fondness.
So you tell him. You tell him about how you are in love with his eyes, his smile, his laugh, his walk and his voice. With every point you count off on your fingers, his smirk widens, and you feel the nervousness dissipate as you grow bolder, moving on to how you like the way he says your name, the way he pats your head and messes your hair. You feel the ecstasy spilling out within you when you finally extract a laugh from him.
"So, what would you do, un?" You ask again, wishing fervently to every star in the sky, every dandelion in the fields and every birthday candle that you have ever blown out.
He tilts your chin up and covers your mouth with his. In your daze, you taste the salt of the sea on his lips, his breath of mint and cinnamon mingling with yours. You are hyper-aware of everything else. The sound of the waves, and the rustling of the leaves. The humming from his throat; the feel of his smile against your own.
His fingers tangle in your honey blonde locks as yours weave into his red mess of tangles.
You feel a sort of happiness, something along the lines of joy, something like a detonated bomb. Something like... an explosion of warmth, hope and euphoria.
When he pulls away and props himself up on his palms, placing them on either side of you, you can see through his grin and burning gaze that he is feeling the same way that you are.
"To answer your question," he murmurs into your ear, leaning down, "I would let you."
"You would, un?"
"Because I've already fallen in love with you a long time before you fell in love with me."
You are surprised, even though you have already guessed his answer. You can't help it. The wonder. The unbelievable fact that this ethereal being is letting you love him. That this angel is in love with you. Someone like you, someone as insignificant as you. "How do you know that, un?" You say, a little smugly, throwing his words back at him. You think you deserve a little flattery.
"How, you ask... Hmm." He raises an eyebrow at you and taps his fingers in the sand before slowly slipping them between yours. You stare at your entwined fingers; his touch is like spring melting into winter, like a butterfly fluttering its wings. Gently, lightly.
"Because you're a brat, Deidara," he says, and once again, you are hypnotized by the way he rolls your name on his tongue, the way his half lidded bedroom eyes gaze at you, and only at you. "But you're my brat, and I love you."
Despite the accelerating beat of your heart and sudden loss of the ability to breathe, you laugh, splashing him with the seawater, your hands stinging from the cold, and you briefly think about hypothermia. "You're such an idiot, un."
His confession definitely doesn't surpass yours, but you love it anyway, because it is something he said.
"You're probably unaware of all the things I let you get away with, but don't overdo it, brat."
A/N: This is very cheesy and cliched, yes I know. I wrote it this way to make up for all my other depressing SasoDei endings, or somewhat depressing endings. Or actually, just Ephemeral In Love, but that was depressing enough, the effect hasn't worn off on me. Now that I really, really think about it... There are TOO LITTLE SasoDei shippers. Like, come ON people, these two are perfect together. So if you're a SasoDei shipper, you are immediately my best friend. WHO'S A SHIPPER? HAHA. Thanks, please review! :D