There was a crack to the right.

The man took a short inhale of breath. Was today the day?

Heart hammering against his ribcage, Deidara dug his feet into the ground to steady himself. He wanted to close his eyes, but knew that would be futile.
It was only a branch breaking in the woods, yet the noise shot across the opening through the trees, piercing the blond with foreboding in its meaning.

He gripped his fist tight, fingernails digging into the soft skin of his palm, as the blond jerked his head to the right. Best get it over with.
The artist was prepared for what sight may meet his eyes, however it didn't make the scene any less unnerving when finally saw it.

Deidara took a second to steel himself, before his voice lurched into action. "Is - Is it time, un?"

The other figure said nothing; he didn't have to. His silence spoke volumes.

"Of course, un." The blond replied. He was sweating now. Deidara wiped his brow with the sleeve of his jacket. Trying to force his voice to sound more confident than he felt, he broke out with a "…Well, then." as his legs moved through the undergrowth. The leaves were deep here; the young man trudging through the wet mulch in places.

He was now level with the other; Deidara dare not look him directly in the eye. If he did, perhaps his resolve would falter, after all…

The artist did not look back as pushed deeper into the woods.

•••

Four weeks earlier

Deidara was reaching on his tiptoes, just edging the box back so it fit snugly on his top shelf. He stepped back, and admired the look once he had finished.

Getting there, the blond thought, crossing his arms.
The blond had just finished unpacking his room. This would be his final year at the University, and he wanted to make this dorm his most "lived in" one yet. He had set up his art supplies and some of his sculptures on the shelving.

He'd found his own sense of home away from home here, and realised it was important to make it your sanctuary

Or…part of your sanctuary, rather.

Deidara absent-mindedly tugged at part of his long tresses as he glanced out of the window. He could see the edge of the woods from his view here. He was on the third floor of this building; the leaves on the trees were already starting to turn into that flurry of autumnal colours.

The blond had found another part of his sanctuary in those woods too. He was eager to go back.

•••

A short while later, Deidara and his flatmates were in the kitchen. Laughter and a rabble of voices overlapped, as the young men caught up properly. Summer had been long, punctuated with internships, part-time jobs and should-searching in varying degrees.

Kakuzu was recounting the places he had been in a bored voice. Kisame looked back at his friend, impressed. "Damn, you fit that all into one summer? And I all saw was the beach!"

The dark haired man merely shrugged as he responded. "I'll go wherever the money is best; these clients were worth seeking."

'Kuzu, you're killing me here, give it a rest with the corporate fucking bullshit." Hidan snarled, cracking open a beer. "You're not with the stiffs anymore."

Deidara sat back, impressed at his friend's summer escapades. They had kept in touch via the group chat, however not seen each other in person since the parties in the last week of summer term. It felt good to be together again.

"What about you blondie?" The silver haired man threw out. "Can you beat my summer camp or Kakuzu's greasy-pole-climbing-dick-sucking or whatever the hell it was?"

The blond laughed as he reclined on chair, rocking back onto two legs. "No, I can't beat that, un. Same old for me; working at the hotel back home." He took a sip of his own drink, and followed up with a brighter sentiment. "I found more time for my art this year, though."

Truly though, Deidara was happier to be here at university. He came from a small town, up in the more mountainous region. Although it was peaceful, and his relationship with his parents was fine enough; he relished being back with his friends.

The group talked, drank and unwound from the day's travelling. Hours later, Deidara slumped heavily back into his bed. He looked lazily around the room. Finally, his azure eyes found what they were looking for. He focused on his latest sculpture; the moonlight illuminating the figure just enough to make out the legs that were stretched and the claws which were bared upwards. The sculptor couldn't put a face to it though; the complete manifestation of this creature eluded him, despite throes of inspiration tempting him here and there over the summer.

Once the idea to create this being had took hold, Deidara felt like he was trying to catch something he couldn't grip. The execution of this inspiration had challenged him like nothing else.
He was excited, now he was finally close again to the woods where the idea had first came to him, he'd be able do it justice.

The rancour of ideas streaming through his mind kept the blond from sleep. Again, he wondered to himself…Why had he thought of a Scorpion, of all things? It's not like they were anywhere near a desert

He sighed, exhaling low.
Perhaps he would find his answers soon enough.

•••

The academic year began, Deidara and his friend getting used to their new routines as classes began.
That Friday night, they shook off the week of assignments. The blond was in the shower, wiping that day's paint away down the drain as the heat of the water was piping through. He liked his showers especially hot, the sensation against his skin felt exhilarating. He stepped out of the small bathroom, towel around his waist. The damp hair tangled down his back.

The blond knew he should be getting ready; even Itachi was almost ready and he hadn't even dressed yet. However…

He leaned against the cool glass, it steamed up at his touch. The sculptor looked once again towards the woods. The night sky was dark, clouds swirling above, not even letting the moonlight through tonight. And yet still…Deidara felt that pull towards the woods.

Tomorrow, he told himself resolutely. He would be able to go tomorrow.

•••

Once they made it into town, it didn't take long for the night to get into full swing. At their favourite club, the bond had just done a round of shots with Itachi and Kisame at the bar, grimacing as it burned his throat on the way down.
"Argh, ack." The blond spluttered. Kisame thumped him on the back.

Itachi smiled coyly. "Ever the light-weight, Deidara." He threw out at the younger blond.

The sculptor bared his teeth as he put an arm around the Uchiha's shoulder's. "That just means I'm a cheap date, un." He grinned. The sculptor let go of the raven haired man, as Itachi rolled his eyes at the blond.

They danced and drank the night away. Deidara felt like he had found his spark once more.
Enlivened, he was determined as they piled back into the night bus. It rumbled through the town back to the University campus, the sculptor's eyes wide as he watched the lights zip past.

He bade goodnight to his friends as they stumbled back to their dorm rooms. Deidara moved noisily back to his bed, and whipped his phone out as he sat down and checked the time.
03:41am.
Hmm. Pretty late…
But. Technically, the next day.

He grinned, and shot upwards again. The blond raced into his bathroom, running the tap. He splashed water on his face and then chugged a large measure down his throat, with the intention of wading off some of the effects of the alcohol. Realising he had smudged his eyeliner, Deidara tidied it up clumsily and pulled a heavy jacket over his t-shirt and jeans.
He wrapped a hat, gloves and a scarf around his person before sliding sturdy walking boots on. With each lace tied, he felt more excited. Before he slipped out of his dorm room, the sculptor pulled a satchel over his shoulder.

And so that is how Deidara found himself about to enter the woods at almost 4am that Saturday morning. The air was brisk. He used his phone's torch to light a slither of the ground in front of him. With each step into the bracken, Deidara felt the chill on his bones.

Perhaps he should have brought a bigger coat. Oh well, too late for that now.

After about ten minutes of walking, Deidara found it.
It was a clearing in the woods, trees still peppering around the conclave. But still, something…different about this place. Mounds and grooves made up the floor of this woodland, yet here the rocks were sharper, darker somehow. He placed a gloved hand on the stone, tracing a finger against it as he kept walking.

Deidara had to watch his footing at the ledges got steeper. He bent down, and stretched forwards on particular steep bit. He looked down, watching his feet, as they sunk into softer ground. Aha!

The blond crouched down properly now, and took his gloves off. Plunging one hand deep into the mud, he felt the satisfaction from the bitter cold of the ground.

This was it!
He rubbed the minerals between his fingers. This mud was the feeling, the consistency he wanted to infuse with his clay. It was a curious colour; a deep burgundy. Deidara looked over his shoulder; sure enough, as the feeble torch light of his phone illuminated the ground, he saw the shimmer of water.

The sculptor had found this stream sometime last year, and had come across the unusual mud for the first time then. The blond loved how it looked when mixed in with his clay sculptures. He had tried to come back for more for his second year art project, but it had dried up by the time summer term had began last year. Rather than this fluid, garnet coloured mineral, he had found the rocks stubbornly dry. He had needed to come back in Autumn, it seemed.

Although his last forays into the woodland had been fruitless, he'd found the trips into its quiet enclave peaceful and his calm last year. It's why he considered it part of his sanctuary of university life.

Deidara pulled a container from his satchel, and began scooping some of the earth into it.
He was almost done, when a voice called out to him.

"Brazen, aren't you?"

"Arghh-Argh-fuck!" The blond yelled, dropping the container. He span round, heart in his throat.

He shined the light forwards. In horror, his eyes were stretched wide. A figure was standing before him, arms crossed. Someone else was in these woods at this time of night after all.

Immediately, thinking the worst, the blond scuttled backwards, his knees sliding in the sludgy ground. In his panic, Deidara's phone slipped in his grip, the light now blaring out towards the legs of this figure.

His instinct told him that meeting someone here wouldn't likely be under good circumstances. He internally berated himself for such a stupid decision; what was he thinking, coming out here alone in the dead of night?!

"I don't want any trouble, un. Please I-I'm just a student." He threw out as he backed away.

The other man cocked his head to one side, watching the young man. A student, eh?
He started to walk forwards towards Deidara.

In frightened response, the sculptor panted as he backed away further, before his back collided with the smooth rock.

He took a rough intake of breath as the man rounded up right in front of him. The blond couldn't see his face, however he could feel the sensation of it right in front of him.

In a sudden movement, a hand reached for his arm and yanked it brusquely. The sculptor yelled out, panic rising in his core. This is it, I'm done for, were the art student's thoughts as this figure gripped onto him.

Yet Deidara's immediate fears were nullified at least for a little while; all the man did was wrench his arm to one side so his phone landed on the ground with a thud.

Deidara panted for a few seconds as he tried to make sense of what was happening. Still this man had hold of him. After what felt like eternity, he heard the voice again. "…That's better. You shone that right in my eyes."

The voice was slick as honey, deadly like venom.
The sculptor baulked as he felt the fear rush through his veins.

"What are you doing here?" The man asked, his voice quiet.

Deidara licked his lips to get a semblance of moisture back. "Uh-Getting art supplies, un." He offered, still panicky. The blond couldn't see the man clearly. All he could feel was the grip on his wrist. It tightened just so as he reacted to Deidara's words.

"…Art?" Now the voice was little more than a whisper. "…So that's why you're stealing from here."

Deidara wanted nothing more than to be back in his room. Why the hell had he come out here!

"Let me go, un." The sculptor grunted, trying to sound more forceful than he felt.

"Go?" The other man repeated. "If only it were that simple."

Deidara bit his lip, as he surveyed his predicament. This was not good at all…

What happened next was a surprise to the sculptor. As if by some magic, the man relaxed his grip on his arm. Deidara whipped it away from his grasp, instinctively wanting to get away from him. Incredulously, he actually heard the other man chuckle at his actions; "Well, maybe it is for you anyway. Me not so much."

Deidara stared back, aghast.
What the fuck was going on? Was this guy trying to have a joke with him now?

He wanted to run, but his body felt rooted to the ground. Adrenaline was being squeezed through every orifice, his nerves on edge. Frightened, Deidara let out a startled "Argh!" as two hands reached either side of his arms and helped him to his feet. Once the sculptor was upright, the other man did let him go.

"Come with me." The voice spoke out firmly.

Deidara weighed up the consequence of not obeying the order in his head. Would he be able to outrun this man? Maybe…maybe not. And the blond's light source had been rescinded, his phone lost to the ground somewhere.

The figure seemed to realise what thoughts were hurtling through the sculptor's psyche, as he got close to him. Deidara could sense this person's whole body for the first time, before it had been blind panic and limbs. This man was a little shorter than him, and he could smell…was that cedar wood?

He felt a jolt through his spine as he realised the man got so close to him; he pressed against his frame on the rocks. In that moment, Deidara could have easily thrown up his own intestines.

That is, until the man placed a leg in between the sculptor's own. There was no space between their bodies now. The other man moved his mouth to be almost touching against his ear, and murmured against it. "…If you seek art here; you'll want to see what I can show you."

Deidara felt weak, his knees were about to give in. The younger man felt like he could barely breathe.

The other man moved back, his left hand lingering for a moment before it drew away.
He retreated; the artist could hear the crunches of his steps.

The blond's heart was hammering. He had never been more scared.
And yet…

He pulled at his hair, feeling jittery. He swore, and kicked at the ground.

Deidara couldn't believe he actually thought this, but…
Fuck, that feeling of the man's mouth against his ear made him feel aroused.

Why in all that was fucking sense was he getting turned on at a time like this?!

Deidara ran an agitated hand through his hair, thinking rapidly.
He hadn't hurt him.
Yet.

This man had seemingly understood that the blond was here for his passion.
Perhaps…this was some bizarre fucking kindred spirit? After all, Deidara was also the one in the woods in the dead of night. This guy… it was possible he was of similar mind, and not some kind of sadistic murderer.

"Are you going to keep me waiting all night?" The sarcastic drawl cut across the blond's thoughts like a knife through butter. In response, Deidara jumped out of his skin, and swore again.

He could sense the undeniable impatience in the other man's tone.
There was something about that voice that reached him in a way nothing else had before.

Feeling reckless, Deidara chased after the figure.