Um... yes, well. I wrote this before my old computer committed suicide. I tweaked a few things, changed it to third person POV, and, well, here it is.
Enjoy...? :)
"Hey, kid. You wanna cigarette?"
Deidara jumps. The first thing he notices is that there's this weird dude standing next to the bench, and he's offering Deidara a smoke. The man is pretty well dressed. The jacket he has on looks absolutely warm, by the way. Deidara himself is only in a (torn up, by the way) t-shirt and jeans; not his best.
The second thing he notices is that the streetlight above him has gone out. It's dark now, but there is some light coming from the lamps further away. He supposes he fell asleep on the bench. Well, at least he left the train station before he did. He might have been arrested if he did that, which would lead to them finding out he's a minor (a not-considered-adult) and there's no way he's going back into the system. It's screwing him over; he has a life out there to lead, you know.
The man clears his throat to capture his attention, and Deidara turns and stares at him. How long has he been there?
Deidara's nervous gaze is simply returned at first, but after a moment the man smirks and withdraws his hand to pull out a cigarette for himself. "I swear they're clean," he says, like he's making a joke, but his tone sucks the humour out of it and makes it just a statement. Deidara grimaces, shying away and reaching down under the bench to check if his bag is still where he left it. Thank god, it is.
His fingers are numb when he pulls the bag into his lap. Using his hands creates weird sensations in his fingertips. If he were just a bit younger, more innocent, he might have been amused by this. But right now, in this situation, cold and numbness only means possible death. He runs his hands up and down his arms, relieving them slightly from the chill. Why did he let himself fall asleep? The number one thing they tell you when it's cold outside: don't fall asleep.
The man lights his cigarette and takes a long drag. Deidara huffs and scoots further away from the man, scrutinizing him. He has bright red hair, messy but neat in its own way, and the eyes he's stared into earlier had been brown. He is wearing a warm, practical coat, and jeans that are similar to Deidara's, but clean and without tears. His hands were shielded from the cold by gloves before, but he took one off to smoke.
The man doesn't look too dangerous… but then again, looks can be deceiving. There's a voice inside of Deidara telling him to just get up and run like hell, but his muscles are sore from sleeping in an upright position, and he ignores it for the time being.
The man gives a sudden laugh. "You probably think I'm a pedo, huh?" he asks. Deidara jumps and offers him a nervous smile back, laughing along with him until it all too apparent his own laughter is fake. Deidara isn't good at trusting others, and this comment (which was totally creepy but understandable to make) doesn't help at all.
The man doesn't call him on his fake laughter. He simply takes another drag and begins to softly hum.
His eyes focus straight ahead, and it reaches Deidara to wonder what the man's seeing out there that he can't. When he begins to get up, the man stops him with a question. "You running away from home, kid?"
Deidara thinks about it. He honestly considers telling him, yes, of course, and he has a nice but dysfunctional family, and an expensive house, and a warm bed, and he's just a confused, angsty teenager who hates their family, and their home, and their bed, so he ran away. Yes, yes, that's it. But then he reconsiders, and shakes his head instead. "Orphan," he murmurs.
The man murmurs back, "You're quiet." He drops the cigarette, snuffs it out under his foot, and pulls at the sleeves of his jacket to take it off.
He holds it by the collar and begins to fish through his pockets and empty them. Under it he only had on a black t-shirt—but, without hesitation, he drapes the coat over Deidara's shoulders. "Keep warm, kid," he says, walking away.
"Wait," Deidara hears himself say. The man stops in his tracks, his head tilting to the side as if to turn to face the blonde, but he never does.
"…Yeah… well, thanks, un," Deidara tells him hesitantly. He places his bag next to him on the bench and puts the jacket on.
The guy shrugs. "Itachi, we're leaving." Deidara turns to see who he's talking to; there's a man about the redhead's age sitting on the curb against a street light. He swears he sees some sort of complex emotion on the man's face, maybe jealousy, but the man looks away in an instant. He gets up and leans against the street light, waiting for the redhead.
"Like I said, kid, keep warm," the redhead repeats, as he walks away. He still hasn't turned to look at Deidara, but he has the air of a self-satisfied bastard around him. God, Deidara hates people like that, especially creepy dudes who offer people a smoke and talk small talk with them on a bench out of the sight of the police in the middle of the night, and then offer them their jacket—
Deidara can't help but smile. He inhales and exhales, and his breath mingles with the man's scent in the air.