Disclaimer: I do not own Naruto or any of its characters.
A/N:
Inspiration struck and this was the result!
It's just a budding li'l idea so do let me know if I should continue it. If I do, it'll probably just be a short fic too…
Leave a review (if you'd like to) because I want to know what you thought of it :)
Enjoy :)
When Our Fingertips Touch
Chapter 1: And down into the abyss he falls
"There is nothing but darkness.
His eyes see no light,
His heart feels nothing at all;
And down into the abyss he falls."
He had been diagnosed with depression at only the age of eleven.
Truth was that he had had it since he was eight.
More specifically, he had had it since two months after his parents' passing.
For those two months, Sasori pondered what he was to do with his life. Was he supposed to do something? Cry? Maybe sleep through the days?
It wasn't that he didn't want to do it. He simply couldn't.
Sasori never cried. Not when his parents were around, not upon finding out about their passing, not at their funeral, not when he was all by himself. And he couldn't sleep much. Ever since he'd entered that orphanage and isolated himself from everyone else, even the caretakers, he had had numerous sleepless nights. He would lay awake in bed, on his side, his brown eyes glazed over with some untellable emotion. The caretakers, who'd found him in such a state every morning, had speculated: Was it grief? Possibly sadness? Even anger, one had suggested. The answer was none of the above; it probably didn't even count as an emotion.
The answer was emptiness.
And so stayed the void in Sasori, swallowing up any care or love showered upon him by the orphanage people. It was like a black hole, a cruel, unrelenting monstrosity that engulfed everything, leaving Sasori with nothing.
The other children feared him. Who was this creepy boy? With a head full of unkempt red hair and that emotionless, expressionless face, he easily became the poster boy for anything that they didn't want themselves to be associated with. Sasori never minded—he didn't want to be associated with them either.
As time passed, Sasori grew up in the orphanage. He'd seen a couple of kids getting adopted; a bunch of rich people, he presumed, had dropped by and picked up the kid that stood out the most. As a result most of the kids were always playing up their cheeriness and trying to show off their talents or skills. Sasori did the exact opposite. He played up his aloofness and coldness, and was more often than not found crouched in a small corner of the room, staring into space. There was little wonder as to why he, who had spent more time at the orphanage than most of the other kids, was never adopted.
Until one fateful day threw his life out of balance.
It wasn't really a big, luxurious car; it was more of a simple vehicle that drove up to the orphanage, the sound of little sediments crunching beneath the tires.
Upon hearing the familiar sound, majority of the children leapt up to begin their 'performances', and Sasori shuffled away into some insignificant corner behind the couch where he could stay being his insignificant self. He leaned against the white walls, thinking about nothing in particular.
The family walked into the room, with one of the caretakers by their side, giving them a simple introduction to the orphans. The lady had kind features and had creamy brown locks, with an air of elegance surrounding her. The man was blonde and tall, nodding passionately at appropriate parts of the caretaker's speech. But what—or who—stood out the most from the family was their nine-year-old daughter, a pretty blonde with pigtails and a spring in her every step.
She left her parents' side to roam the relatively large room, observing everything with such awe and wonderment that her presence was slightly overwhelming for everyone. A mega-watt smile on her face, she waved at all the kids as she literally pranced about the room, her lovely hair swishing behind her.
The boys were all smitten and the girls were impressed; she was just so adorable. But as the young child wandered around looking at the orphans, she just wasn't satisfied with what she had seen. She hadn't found… the one with that special something she was looking for.
…She saw 'the one' when she finally peeked behind the couch.
He was a redhead, she'd observed. Porcelain-like features and an icy look on his face, he wasn't really classifiable as attractive. Yet she chose him. As she reached out for his hand, her grin grew wider.
Sasori didn't like it. When he first saw her, it was like staring at a miniature sun, what with her practically radiating radiance. So he was tempted to reject that tiny outreached hand—except he couldn't. Like how he couldn't cry. Or couldn't sleep. It was some innate thing in him, he had believed, some ridiculously innate thing.
He wanted to scowl, slap the hand away, and continue staying locked up in the cage that was defined by his emptiness… But he mysteriously, instinctively, reached out… and clasped her hand in his.
"What's your name?" She'd asked, all bubbly and excited.
"Sasori." It only qualified as a murmur, a half-hearted one at that, but she accepted it all the same.
"Hello Sasori!" She cheered. "My name's Deidara, nice to meet you!"
For the first time in what seemed like forever, Sasori allowed himself a tiny smile.