A/N : Hey everybody, its me SCHiiTZ. Well, this is my first fanfiction here, be honest in your reviews, no sugar coating please.
Warning : shonen-ai/yaoi
Disclaimer : I don't own Naruto, but I wish I did.
He had to say, the blonde with the icy blue eyes and the feral grin was begining to grow on him. In the begining, when the blonde ended his sentences with his usual "un" or "yeah" it annoyed him to no end, but now it seemed somewhat endearing to him. But how could he, an old man trapped by will in a puppet that looked only seventeen, even catch the attention of the blonde bomber? He had only just realized his feelings of attatchment towards the blonde, though they had been there for years, his pride pushed them aside thinking they were unnessicary or thought of them with hatred. Such a fool he had been for doing so, now that he was sure his life was going to end. Such a fool.
THe though was quite sobering as he fought with his grandmother and the pinkette kunoichi. Dieidara was gone, he was going to die alone, his feelings never voiced. Damn his pride, now he will never see his blonde pyromaniac again. A large weight settled over him, pushing his chest down, pushing him down intho the depths of anguish. If only he oculd feel Deidara's light caress on his cheek, then maybe he could die with a heart swolen with bliss and love. But life is cruel, the world is cruel, he could feel his limbs creaking from the stress of the battle, his heart was as empty as his chance of survival, if only, if only...
If only the object of his affections was here to give him strength. Strength to show him that art was everlasting, strength to prove it. It seems that Deidara's theory on art was correct, art is fleeting but so is life. Every feeling, every word was ever fleeting, falling through his fingers like sand, slipping through his fingers like wind.
His eyesight was failing, he had just been defeated. His last thoughts taken up into the wind were of Deidara, wishing him a happy life.
A/N : Short, I know. Please review!