Tenth Day: Eternal
Written in 2018.
"It's okay, sweetness, just a few more weeks until we can take the rest yuckiness out of you."
Sasori wished she would stop treating him like a child and just say it for once. The T-word that didn't taste as bitter in his mouth as the chemo pumped into his body made it to be. Tumors. Nearly insignificant in size, but alarming in numbers, speckled in numerous sites of Sasori's bones, which ached from more than just growing pains of adolescence.
His mother rubbed his back in repetitive circles, as there was no hair on his head for her to smooth back.
"How about we get you some ice cream before dinner?"
The dinner that Sasori would ignore, his stomach already burned to a crisp from his treatments since the age of eight. And if he was able to stomach anything, the prospects of more surgeries trampled his appetite even more. The blanket over his lap was mandatory, concealing what the surgeons had done to him last, because as they said, "It's metastasized in the left leg more than anywhere else, so prevent the spread, we advice to–"
That was usually as far as the memory went, but it still swept Sasori away with nausea that wasn't from the numerous chemicals swarming in his bloodstream. His left leg was supposed to be the last of the surgeries, the rest of the tumors taken care of with chemotherapy, but now those monsters wanted to carve into his chest and steal away even more, leave his heart vulnerable for the world to take.
"They have a plan, sweetheart, it'll be okay, this is the last of it," his mother promised. His father, nearly forgotten in his corner of the room, backed up this statement, but with less conviction. Sasori was sure he had given up long ago, that it was only his mother who held any hope.
As her shaking body held his, Sasori knew that the seven years his pathetic body had done to fight was for naught. It had failed him. But he would never show his mother the contempt that rushed through his veins just as readily as the drugs, because it would break her and he couldn't stand having her be just as broken as he was. Even as she let out silent sobs, Sasori would never release his true feelings of wanting a life to live for once.
The night of the surgery, his mother kissed his clammy temple and told him she would be there in the morning.
But Sasori awoke to a frantic beeping sometime in the middle of a night; and then a low, impressed whistle.
"You're not doing so hot, kid. Want a helping hand, un?"
With more waking energy than Sasori had felt in a years, he opened his eyes and jolted away from the voice. He was standing on linoleum floor, barefoot in the middle of the operating room as nurses rushed by him in frenzied madness, carrying various liquid and equipments in their arms.
First, Sasori noticed that even with one leg, he had incredible balance, nothing like when he first tried to stand in physical therapy. The second thing he noticed was the operating table.
Sasori peered at the table that was swarmed by the medical team assigned to his case. It hurt to look at, but Sasori couldn't take his eyes away as an army of hands orchestrated a disaster within his chest, surgical gowns bleeding crimson.
"Yeah, some rookie surgeon nicked a vessel and tsk, it's a mess in there, un."
The voice was beside him now, and once the beeping and shouts grew more frantic, Sasori managed to tear his eyes away. Next to him was a boy about his age, wearing tight clothes (that Sasori wished he could pull off), standing with the arrogance of a teen who just got his driver's license.
"Who're you?"
This was all a dream, wasn't it? Nothing would make sense otherwise Sasori concluded.
The teen shrugged, a cascade of gold shifting over his shoulders. "A friend, if you want," he chirped, flashing a wide grin. "Been here a while watching you, counting down till the big day, y'know, but I honestly don't think that day is today, get it, un?"
Sasori wasn't sure he could follow but he nodded his head the slightest inch.
"I can tell that you want to do more with your life, I can feel it in my bones– ah, sorry bad analogy, un." The boy must have caught his scowl. "So how about it?"
"How about what?" Sasori almost had to shout over the commotion going on around them. It buzzed in his ears, and he shook his head to chase the bees out. His dreams were never this hectic, usually just a drug-induced slumber.
The boy's grin turned crooked. "Uh, moving forward, onto the next chapter, keeping the clock ticking? You want that, right, un?"
Sasori's breath almost hitched. He couldn't remember the last time he dreamt of living, actually living his life as a teen free of cancer. But this was a cruel dream, and skepticism invaded even here.
"You're saying you're going to save me from dying, just because you think I'll do something 'great' with my life? Besides being a charity case to keep fighting?"
The dream was becoming louder and Sasori could barely hear the boy. "We only have a minute left," he said in a sing-song, gently rocking onto the balls of his feet. "Better chose soon, un," he teased and Sasori felt panicked for a moment.
"Yes, of course I want to live, don't be stupid."
That got the teen to still and he stared at Sasori with an intensity that didn't match the innocence of a child. "Even if that means never dying, un?"
"What does that even mean?"
"Chose: life or death, un?"
"Life, life, I chose life," Sasori exclaimed, and the boy took his hand, giving it a definitive shake.
Grin effervescent, the boy said, "I'll see you around, un!"
–
Recovery. Remission. Relief on all sides.
The doctors called him a miracle case, as if none of their intervention had done a thing, and God had saved him. Hearing this, his mother cried more freely than she ever had before. Sasori didn't know how to feel about that.
His dream–– it was a dream, he knew it–– never left him completely. Only when he was on the cusp of forgetting that night, did it come back when he fell asleep, but it was different.
Back in the operating room, monitors and surgeons vivid in their noises, Sasori was with the boy again. He would ask Sasori different questions every time.
"What are you going to do now, un? Head to school? Did you take lessons before?" At this, the teen would scratch at the back of his head. "Or was that not something you had planned for, un?"
Sasori never knew what to say. "What is this? Who are you?" This was all he usually got in before he woke up in a cold sweat. The first was a week after his operation and they continued in small spurts until a semi truck hit his family's car in an intersection.
This time Sasori was standing in the middle of the road, lights flashing while paramedics and firemen ran amuck. He stood solidly on his prosthesis, no pain felt like in his physical therapy session that day.
"That's a shame, un," a somber voice spoke behind Sasori, and he turned to see the boy, now in a dark hoodie and baggie sweat pants.
"What? What happened?" Sasori did a complete 360, trying to understand the chaos around him. Only when he saw his family's car did he stop. "I'm..." Sasori patted at his body, feeling for any injuries as he took in the crushed vehicle. The front had been completely caved in, glass and metal bits everywhere while the back looked almost as secure as ever.
"I'm sorry, but I can't let you go, un."
Sasori turned to the boy again, doing his best to understand. "Is this a dream?"
Shrugging, the teen looked on and Sasori followed his gaze to see himself on a stretcher, and being loaded into the back of an ambulance. Two large lumps, covered in a white sheet, remained by the ruined vehicle, red soaking nearly half of the sheet.
"They weren't apart of the deal, but I think you'll get on fine without them, un. After all, everyone dies." The teen played with the end of his long hair, the gold flashing red and blue in the emergency lights. "I'll see you around, un."
–
Sasori awoke in the hospital, sure that it was all a dream, his recovery, and that cancer still ran rampant in his body. But his mother wasn't sitting beside him, and his father wasn't in his corner. Only after he tried to get up did a nurse appear and tell him to lay back down.
A doctor and social worker came in ten minutes later to explain Sasori's situation to him.
Both parents, dead on impact, and another miracle for Sasori as the metal around himself held steady. They spoke almost joyfully, until remembering the situation, and continuing somberly. Only a light concussion and bruises from the seatbelt was the damage Sasori sustained.
He would be placed in a foster home, but that night at the hospital Sasori's dream continued where it had left off as soon as he fell asleep.
This time he would ask the right questions.
"Why is this happening?" Sasori asked as soon as he recognized the teen next to him, now in ripped jeans and a blue graphic T. They both stood in the middle of the busy intersection.
"You said you wanted to live, un," the boy replied slowly, like it answered everything. "You're living."
"No, I'm dreaming," Sasori argued, beginning to pace. "It's just a dream, just a dream, I'm..."
The teen stared at him, before going over and taking his hands. Sasori looked at him expectantly. "Yes, this is a dream, but that doesn't change the fact that you're alive, un. And that you'll continue to live for a very long time, un. You can do anything you want, and you'll be safe. I'll be watching, un."
"Are you an angel?" It was the only explanation, the boy looking so peaceful, so ephemeral while he smiled at Sasori. How else would you explain Sasori's string of miracles?
"Not quite, but let's not worry about that now. You can call me Deidara, un." He gave Sasori's hands a reassuring squeeze. "I'll see you around, un."
–
His first foster home wasn't what Sasori would call ideal. An overly religious family, that already had three younger children that required more attention than Sasori. Not that Sasori wanted attention. He preferred to be left alone, tinkering with whatever he could get his hands on. But just because he liked being alone didn't mean that he liked to be alone with his thoughts.
He had went to his parents funeral, his foster family not in attendance due to Sasori's parents belonging to another church. After that Sasori did his best to not think about them, knowing he would break down from it all. It was only once that he had asked Deidara, his angel he decided to call him, why his parents couldn't be saved as well.
"Why me?" Sasori asked, sitting on the curb of that same intersection, Deidara next to him, knees tucked close.
"They got what they wanted, seeing you healthy and moving on. They just couldn't follow this time, un."
Sasori woke up to the sound of the youngest crying in her crib, Deidara's words echoing in his head.
After that, he didn't dream of Deidara often. And if there was an instance where he did manage a glimpse, it was rushed, Deidara practically in a hurry. But it was a dream, so why was time involved?
Sasori didn't ponder too frequently about this. He had seven years worth of school to catch up on, and it wasn't like his foster parents were willing to help with his studies. Instead, he was handed over to the local public school where he had a tutor in hopes of learning everything as quickly as possible.
"You can still receive a high school diploma but you have a lot to work on to get up to speed in all of your classes," His tutor had said. After that it was constant studying. Most days Sasori was at his desk for hours at a time, and when it came to a stretch break, his bad leg would protest severely. It seemed to be the only reminder of his condition from before; that and his fuzz of crimson hair growing atop his head. He never remembered it being so bright.
Luckily school was the most helpful distraction Sasori had ever received. That was until his foster father suffered a heart attack, paramedics soon flooding the home to revive him. This was the first time that Sasori had seen Deidara while he was conscious.
The teen was no longer a teen, but an adult in his late twenties, taking turns in resuscitating Sasori's foster father until time of death was finally called. Sasori hated the sound of crying, a close reminder of his mother, but hearing his foster mother wail helplessly, set him on edge.
Before he could have a proper freakout, Deidara came over unseen, placing a hand on Sasori's shoulder. "Why couldn't you save him?" Sasori asked his angel, only to receive a painful grimace. "If you follow me, why can't you help others?"
Deidara gave a soft squeeze to Sasori's shoulder. "This may be happening because I've been following you, un. I'm sorry that you have to witness so much of this."
Sasori's brow furrowed, and he grabbed at Deidara's hand, an assurance this was not a dream. "What does that mean? This?"
"I wish we could meet on better terms, but this is how it has to be. I'll see you around, un."
–
After the death of his foster father, Sasori was relocated under the claims that his foster family could no longer take care of him due to new circumstances. Once more, Sasori had to start over in a new town, but he kept up on his studies, working through the summer endlessly until he was finally deemed ready to enter as an official high school student.
It was a week into his Junior year when a mass shooting occurred and Sasori was once again taken into the hospital. Deidara met him in the operating room, a teenager in appearance.
"This really isn't what I had planned for you, un," Deidara muttered as he paced the room, whereas Sasori stood still and watched his body being dissected in new ways form before. "An endless life shouldn't accompany endless death unless..."
Sasori looked over to see Deidara mussing up his now messy locks. Interestingly enough, the teen was wearing a hospital gown this time around.
"Maybe it's the opposites that attract, un?" Deidara stuck his tongue out and gagged. "Fucking cliché. What do you think?"
Eyes half-lidded, Sasori said, "I'm tired."
Deidara only hummed. "Well, we'll have a long time to figure this all out, I suppose, un."
Sasori finally looked at his angel and said, "I'll see you around."
–
High school. College. Med school.
Sasori continued to climb the ranks no matter how many fell before him, soon learning to ignore the increase of deaths in his presence. He soon grew to find that Deidara was not, in fact, an angel. But by then, it wasn't much of a surprise.
It was fifteen years later, when Sasori had his first patient death (something for once that was his fault). Deidara was there, a comfort in his own way.
"He was too far gone for help, un." Laying on a cot in the on-call room, Deidara let Sasori lay his head on his lap. "This really wasn't your fault."
"Was it yours?" Sasori's fingers pinched at Deidara's scrubs while the now-adult ran his fingers through Sasori's hair.
With a shrug, Deidara said, "I suppose, but you shouldn't take the blame."
"I can't really blame death now, can I?" Sasori nuzzled the inside of Deidara's knee. He really should hate this being for making Sasori what he was, but how could he when Deidara was the one constant in his life, his one comfort.
"I guess not, un," Deidara mused, fingers scratching at Sasori's scalp, hair fully grown and lush.
For once, Sasori couldn't help but be mollified, but unsure if it were the words or the action.
"I have to go now," Deidara said, and Sasori almost thought he sounded sad.
Giving Deidara's palm a light kiss, Sasori said, "I'll see you around."
–
Five years later Sasori had to move away, having no way to explain why he still looked like a fifteen year-old boy. Curing people only did so much to fulfill Sasori's desire to please. It was only one way to see Deidara.
It had been an accident at first, Sasori was sure of it, but he realized he liked it when he caved his roommates head in with a frying pan. And he hadn't stopped until Deidara grabbed his wrist, stalling all movement. Sasori could only stare down at the pulp and sinew that was the person he shared a space with for three months. Squinting, Sasori tried to remember what was said that caused him to snap.
"Why did you do this, un?" Deidara sounded genuinely curious, not mad as Sasori had expected.
Sasori's face became taut. "I... he said something, and I didn't like it." He finally looked up to see Deidara older than Sasori by at least twenty years. "Does that bother you?"
Expression perplexed, Deidara said, "Why would this bother me, un?"
Shrugging, Sasori dropped the frying pan. "You saved me. Aren't you upset that I'm using my life to end others?"
"That was happening regardless," Deidara pointed out, taking hold of Sasori's bloody hand, examining each finger. "You just took it into your own hands now, un."
Sasori couldn't help but smile at that, for once feeling in control of himself, when just the opposite was happening. "Does that mean you'll be around more often?"
"Is that what you want, un?" Deidara intertwined their fingers. "To see me more often, un?"
"Yes," Sasori finally admitted. "That's what I want."
Matching Sasori's smile, Deidara said, "Then I'll see you around, un."
This was based off a prompt but I switched it up.
Death spared your life and made you immortal. Over hundreds of years, you have become friends. He's been very busy with work and you miss seeing your buddy. You spend centuries attempting to create world peace, stop war and cure diseases so you can spend some quality time with your friend.
Review?