The sculptor's fingernails gripped hard against the wall behind him. Although what safety holding onto something could really give him was laughable. Yet it was instinctive, as if to hold something tight meant protection.
The grasp was not lost on the redhead. Sasori's eyes were wide, boring into the sculptor's own.
The puppeteer was still mulling over in his mind exactly what to say; he had the time. The blond did not look like he'd be capable of movement right now…
Deidara's pulse thundered at his temple as he nervously took in the situation.
The artist figured Sasori would be able to lunge forwards and grab him in an instant should he try to flee. The demon may not even need to move, if his earlier demonstrations of magic were to be repeated. Feeling trapped, the blond clenched his teeth, and readied himself for what was about to happen.
Sasori's face was owlish as he began speaking. "You've seen the other side of my collection, then." The redhead didn't need to clarify, Deidara understood well enough. The blond responded with a twitch of his brow.
The demon let out a soft h'n.
"And what do you think?" The question was asked with genuine interest, the puppeteer fidgeting one foot on the ground as he spoke. Sasori could have well have been asking Deidara his thoughts on a new meal recipe, the way he was phrasing it.
The art student swallowed. His fingertips tingled from grabbing onto the rocks embedded in the cave with such pressure. Eventually, he spoke.
"…What…happened, un?" The sculptor hovered over the words, his brain not clear on exactly what he was going to say until the words formed at his lips.
Sasori cracked his head to one side. He opened his mouth and closed it. He never usually hesitated saying what he wanted…
And yet…He eyed the young artist curiously.
The puppeteer brought a hand up, flexing the muscle as he ventured his answer. The rhythm seemed to help phrase his internal spiral.
"What I can do — what I am…It does rather have an occupational hazard." He shot the pale blue light from his fingers; Deidara gawked at the obscure entity as it connected with the fragments beneath the two men.
Sasori continued speaking as he directed the chakra; crumbles of cracked bone formed shapes in the air. "People are ready to attack that which they do not understand." He made them curve at his touch, not needing to view the action as he did so.
Deidara nodded, knowing the redhead was still watching him intently. He pulled a palm upwards, finally letting go of the wall. The artist's fingers were white with the strain; he rubbed the back of his neck.
Sounded like Sasori was rationalising that he had protected himself. The blond grimaced. He knew from the first sight that Sasori had killed whoever was buried beneath them…All those people, the sculptor thought darkly.
"…Maybe it was a mistake to bring you in here, Deidara…" Sasori's soft voice cut across the blond's thoughts. He had been following the blond's expression carefully.
The use of his name made the sculptor jump. He began to sweat, feeling the rise of bile at his throat. Deidara's whipped his eyes from the ground, and they connected with the demon's. Terse seconds stretched between the two men.
When Sasori began to speak again, he actually seemed strained. Deidara held his tongue back as the redhead spoke again in a short, clipped voice.
"I already told you before - I have no intention nor reason to hurt you. These people; I've been pursued for many reasons, each as pointless as the next. To kill the necromancer, to copy his power - all pathetic." He gestured with an offhand throw of his palm to the ground. The fragments pulsated in the air. "Their narrow-mindedness was insufferable. Wasteful."
"Uh-huh." The blond agreed, in order to pacify the other man. Deidara's shoulders felt just a smidge less tight as the redhead reiterated his statement on not needing to hurt him.
The redhead however did not notice the slight relaxation of the blond's body. Instead, he picked up on the younger man's tone. Sasori set his mouth into a heavy line.
The chakra retracted back up his fingertips - bones fell to the ground with a crescendo of thuds.
The puppeteer was fast reminded of why he was truly alone. In this world, who would understand what he had seen, experienced…and frankly, lived, in this eternal form.
It was futile to pretend that somebody would.
The redhead abruptly stepped away from the blond, and turned back towards the entry point. After taking a few steps, he threw out a request to the younger man. "You should probably follow me, lest you want to stay in here."
Sasori could hear Deidara's hasty footsteps following his own through the crevice and back to his den. The redhead did not offer his hand to pull the student through this time.
•••
It was dusk, the clouds illuminated with a murky red. The blond had been back in his room for some hours now. Deidara was laying on the ground in his dorm, his phone resting on his chest.
He felt the slim weight of the device on his body, recollecting getting it back from the demon…
The blond had frantic eyes as they got used to the brighter light of the main room of the cave.
Sasori stood near the fireplace, his arms folded. He knew the blond was going to leave, and right now, he had no desire to stop him. Except…
"Before you go-" The demon began, reaching to a chest that was tucked into one of the cave's alcoves. He fished out the student's phone, and that container of earth he had gathered on the night they met. "-Here. You stole it for art. That's an acceptable reason for me." The scarlet hues in the mud shimmered in the firelight as Sasori passed it to the blond.
Deidara was dumbfounded as the demon handed back his possessions. Unable to pull a rational thought into words, he slipped the phone into his pocket. Gripping the container in one hand, the other went to his temple. His brain felt like it was being squeezed through a very tight hole.
Sasori frowned at the blond's silence. He was going to leave it…however, realising he may not see the young man again, temptation overtook his actions.
"I thought you'd have more to say - you had a lot to say last time you were here." The demon inclined his head towards the art student, recollecting how the blond had almost talked his ear off on Friday night.
Deidara gave the demon a strained look.
He swallowed, before speaking up. His voice was coarse. "What the fuck do you expect me to say, un?"
Sasori's eyes narrowed a fraction. A beat passed between the two men.
The demon sniffed, and re-folded his arms.
"I suppose you are correct. I can't think to know your mind."
Deidara's nose wrinkled, his insides squirming. This was really happening right now - Sasori had nigh on confessed to me about killing countless people, and he was hankering on my reaction to it all. For the second time in just one weekend, the art student was reeling from the absurdity.
"Goodbye, then." The demon spoke again. This time, Sasori gripped against his own clenched arms.
The sculptor gave him a jerk of the head before diving out of the cave.
On this day, Deidara's legs moved with more surety out of the woods.
•••
Deidara sighed low as the student bought his mind back to the present.
He was holding onto the phone tight.
Later, the art student dragged himself off the floor, slipping on his pyjamas. The sculptor's head felt heavy, thoughts weighing him down. Deidara left his room to go into the kitchen and make some food - hopefully some of his friends would be around, he had barely spent anytime with them that weekend. He hadn't told a soul about Sasori, and did not plan to anytime soon.
The sculptor stood listlessly as the kettle boiled.
Thoughts of Sasori still lingered; they were disparate, random thoughts about that demon - Sasori's passion manifesting in directness; protecting himself, bound to this earth.
Deidara tried to put what had happened to the back of his mind. If he focused on it for too long, the sculptor got an uncomfortable tightness in his chest.
•••
10 days later.
You've got to be kidding me…
Deidara sat back on his stool, flabbergasted as his teacher was giving him feedback.
The professor wanted the art student to do another piece using his scarlet clay. Deidara's eye twitched as he listened to his teacher praise the sheen of his sculpture, the vibrancy; the potency.
The sculptor had indeed been very pleased with his positive mark-up on his latest submission - until the professor asked him to turn in a further piece using a similar composition.
That son of a bitch, Deidara fumed. He was not recalling the professor in his profanities, but a certain scarlet-haired demon.
The blond was foul tempered later that afternoon, walking though the dreary mist that rested over the campus. His internal monologue chugged away all the while; he had only done his latest piece with the garnet infused earth out of sheer spite!
Deidara wanted to use it up; sure, he had been curious about the earth - that is what got him into this whole mess with encountering Sasori in the first place. But after his last interaction with the puppeteer, he was pretty sure he was meant to stay the hell away from the redhead.
So the student had used up the earth in his latest project - the sculpture being a heart. Each vein was contorted, throbbing.
Deidara had a twisted expression as he moulded, poring his energy into the craft. He felt a release from creating - he always did.
The blond clocked inwardly that fashioning the heart was art literally imitating life. He thought of how Sasori's heart was pierced against the cold cave wall. Creating one out of the earth, in homage to his experience there and away from the woods, was almost like taunting the redhead.
His teacher had said the art breathed…life.
Deidara stalked down the wet steps, the pooling water splashing on his boots.
Once he reached the student union, the blond found an unoccupied table and sat down heavily. The place wasn't busy yet; it was only just past 4pm. He just needed somewhere to take it in, breathe.
Deidara had mulled over his options as he sipped coffee.
He was conflicted, ecstatic with the praise, and at the same time mollified at its consequence.
Having to turn in another assignment with the same materials meant having to go back to the woods. He wold need to retrieve more of the garnet earth to infuse with his clay.
Deidara fidgeted. The young man brought the cup to his lips. Muscle memory took him back to the cave, Sasori manifesting that tea for him…
The blond's middle felt squeezed. The artist was agitated.
He recalled the demon's intense expressions, that voice that first provoked a rise in him.
He had a foreboding thrill at potentially running into Sasori again.
Deidara frowned. This was not…urgh, this wasn't healthy.
He arched backwards, hair swishing down his back as the blond looked upwards. Telling himself he was making the heart out of spite…was that true?
Wasn't it more like…a fixation?
He could tell himself he was using up the clay so he could put the experience to rest…still, it kept coming back to the redhead. Deidara kept wanting to go back to him.
The student took stock of this feeling. With a tightening in his chest, he knew he had strayed across the correct answer for his actions.
Surely, though, it would be abhorrent to want to see the redhead again…right?
No-one would clearly run back to a man who had freely admitted to some of the things Sasori had done.
Scratch that, he wasn't even a man full stop.
Still, since the student had left the demon's cave, Deidara had been pierced with yearning. It occupied his mind at lonely times, when those thoughts no breakers on them.
Later, these sentiments became impossible to ignore. The artist had been feeling frustrated all day. He striped off and headed into the shower. He was restless…aroused.
The blond stepped in the shower. The thought crept into his being to do something about it…
As the water crashed around the blond, he felt the pull towards the demon once again. It was undeniable, Sasori had infiltrated a core within him. Damn that fucking demon.
Feeling that same sense of thrill as before, Deidara imaging the redhead in there with him, the heat of the steam choking the air from their bodies.
How he wanted to crash against Sasori…
In the privacy of his psyche, the blond could imagine what realities he burned for.
This imagined Sasori pushed him against the wall, breathing down his neck as he slipped a hand between the blond's legs, feeling each reach of the blond. Deidara shook as he moaned, Sasori gratified from making the student squirm in pleasure.
The demon of his fantasy enjoyed getting the blond off, telling him so as he gripped against Deidara's cock. Sasori told him exactly what he was going to do him, his tone vehement.
He wanted Deidara to let him in, wholly and completely. He'd give the blond some fun to excite him even more…the demon got to his knees; still the water rained down on the two men.
Deidara held his breath as he stroked his own dick, the sensation pulsing. His pleasure built, playing these scenes in his mind eye; Sasori sucking his cock - those intense eyes for once staring up at the blond for a different purpose.
It hit him all too suddenly. Gasping for breath, the blond trembled as the shower poured down on his body. His skin was tingling, twitching.
Deidara swore under his breath. This yearning for the demon was not natural, nor helpful.
•••
