So, so cold
How unfair
It's cold in here
There must be
something wrong
With the atmosphere
The sands of the desert were so hot, that at noon- everything glowed red. That was why they were given the name 'the unforgiving red sands'. They were unforgiving in other ways too.
Like how everything was so unfairly hot except for the things that were meant to be warm.
When Sasori's 'mother' embraced him, he couldn't hear her heart beating just for him. She was so cold.
Like when his 'father' picked him, the mechanical digits that patted Sasori's head were unbearably cold.
Like whenever Sasori would hug them, expect them, want them to be warm and full and alive… they would be so cold.
As cold as the tears that would spill down his cheeks whenever he would wonder why his mum would never make her smile bigger. As cold as the chill he felt when he climbed out of his father's wooden lap.
"They love you so much, Sasori-kun," his grandma would smile.
Why couldn't they say so themselves if they did? He figured out that they weren't alive. His heartstrings twisted uncomfortably when he saw that his parents were merely life sized dolls. They may look like the real thing; they may even act like it. But they weren't real.
"Where are mum and dad, Chiiyo-Baa?" Sasori asked one day, poking his fingers together, gazing at his grandma.
The woman suddenly looked like she'd aged over ten more years. Her eyes became sad and she cut the strings from her fingers. The puppets were no longer needed. Sasori was too old for dolls.
She pulled the little boy into her lap, stroking his fiery hair and kissing his eyelids. "They're…" she choked, taking a moment to breathe. "Oh my darling…" She held him tighter, rocking him back and forth. Sasori's own eyes filled with tears… for the first time ever, he could hear another person's heartbeat… feel the warmth. But it was not enough warmth for the young boy. His grandma was too old and frail. Her fingers may as well have been colder than the puppets.
"What did I do wrong?" Sasori asked, panic flooding his eyes. He clutched his grandma tightly, painfully. What if he had done something wrong and Chiiyo would go away as well? He felt physically sick.
This house was so gloomy and so unbearably cold already… The loneliness bit him, the empty air laughed at him and all the red sand would do was whisper by itself.
"They've gone…" Chiiyo managed to croak out.
Sasori wished and wished and wished they'd taken him along with them. And Chiiyo-Baa.
"It's not fair they left us behind…" Sasori whispered to Chiiyo, playing with a strand of his 'mother's' hair.
"No… it's not fair…" Chiiyo agreed very quietly—but Sasori heard it.
"How can any object love you when they lack the things needed to express the emotion?"