27

She was walking through the deserted village, a ghost town. There was no movement, no life, no sound. The lighting was dim, and she couldn't tell what time it was. She was looking for something, something important, but she couldn't remember what it was.

Her anxiety started growing and it was then when she saw Deidara. He sat on the top of one of the buildings, no cloak, his black mesh shirt hinting at the perfect, lean but toned body underneath. She knew then that this was what she had been looking for, but the anxiety didn't wear off. She called his name, but he didn't turn to face her, he was staring at something, and she turned to see what it was.

There was a couple not too far from her, hand in hand, they were facing away from her, so their faces remained hidden. Why would Deidara be looking at them? The man leaned over the girl and kissed her lips lovingly. It was then when Deidara leaped gracefully down to the ground and started walking on the opposite direction.

Aline reached for his arm, but he didn't turn, he just kept walking. She walked behind him up to the trees on the other side of the village, he was walking slowly, yet she couldn't walk fast enough, she tried to run but her body was too heavy, she called him over and over and not even once did he seem to notice.

Otamu was waiting for him near a tree, wearing the kimono Aline had worn to the festival, red, silk carefully complimenting her body. It was the same makeup and hair do she had worn that night as well. Why was Otamu wearing her dress?

Aline stepped closer to her and as soon as she got close enough to touch she turned her back to her. Deidara got close as well, taking Otamu's hands between his.

"I love you"

He leaned in to claim her lips and only then his eyes rested on Aline's. It was a different expression than the one he'd worn that day at the village when she saw them kissing from afar. Aline reached to pull them apart, but found her body translucent like if she were a ghost...

Oxygen didn't seem to make its way to her lungs, she started hyperventilating.

A gentle hand caressed her back in a soothing motion. It was then when she realized she had been dreaming, but she refused to open her eyes, instead she took comfort on the rhythmic motion of the hand on her back. Now that she was fully conscious she could feel her head been lifted and going back down with Itachi's breathing. Her body hadn't move an inch from the way she had fallen asleep, and only now did she realized how comfortable and safe she felt.

Itachi was more careful now, he lifted her head very, very carefully with his hand and rested it on the pillow, then he got off the bed, without a sound. If she hadn't been awake she was completely sure she wouldn't have been able to notice.

She heard just the slightest click of the door as it opened, and once again when it closed. Her eyes opened, it was hardly even morning, the sun hadn't come out yet, but she felt too alert, like she couldn't lay still.

The pictures of her dream ran fast on her mind, blurry even, she couldn't understand the meaning but Deidara's words burnt deep on her chest. His low, deep, fervent voice.

Morning didn't hold any comfort for her, she was worried sick, for no apparent reason. She wanted to see Deidara, she wanted to apologize, and scream and burn everything down, be mesmerized by his eyes, and feel the warm fuzzy thing she felt growing on her stomach when he was near.

But he had someone, he had lied and cheated over and over. Well, not lied. They had never been together, cheating was not the right word. But it hurt. She wanted to stake a claim over him, and his eyes like sky, his deep voice, his lean, toned godlike body. She wanted to be the muse behind every explosion, every work of art. She wanted to be his masterpiece.

The long bath she took to clear her mind wasn't helpful. The sun had come out and the dream kept haunting her mind. His voice on repeat, the look on his face, and every time it hurt her deeper and deeper.

"I love you"

It was only then that the words made sense, she wasn't just in love with him, infatuated as she once thought. She loved the man, loved him like she knew she hadn't ever loved. That's why she couldn't begrudge him, it didn't make any sense, she loved him and that was all that mattered.

Deidara sat on the kitchen's table, completely unaware of how he'd got there. His mind ran over the last night events. He'd seen Aline ran home, he had leaped down the building and found Otamu waiting. The liquor on his system had all but numbed his body and as soon as she came close he knew what she wanted, and he simply gave in. Aline's companion, Vaughn, made his sight grow red, anger and rage pump through his veins, his lips on her made his stomach sick, he wasn't thinking, he didn't want to. He just wanted to forget, because he knew it had been his fault. And he couldn't blame her for it, it didn't make sense either how much his body ached for any sort of comfort. And it didn't make sense how aware he was of how wrong this was, but he didn't care.

They got into her room, Otamu's lips urgent on his. She worked him out of his clothes before he could get the chance to breath, and before he knew he gave into the urgency, in need of the release that would surely come after.

He didn't spend the night over though. Just as soon as they were done his eyes caught a face. The most beautiful face he had ever seen, the one that made his heartbeat raise, and his stomach drop. One of the sketches Otamu had made of Aline was lying there, close to the bed. Her eyes were closed, but the pain was unmistakable, the pictured exuded pain. And he knew that pain was his making.

He left her then, picked up his clothes and looked back at the girl on the bed.

"I'm sorry, I can't do this."

And with that he left the room, without regrets or second thoughts.

The rest of the night he had spent on a bar, haunted by the pain of the girl on the picture.

He walked back to the Aktuski's headquarters, nervously. But when he finally got there, shortly after the sun started to claim the sky he found it empty. Aline's room was closed, and he resisted the urge of breaking in and taking her into his arms, and beg if he must to win her back somehow. Because there was something he knew, deep inside, knew it on the core of his bones.

He wanted her, he needed her like he had never needed anything.

The softness of her skin, her light brown, almond eyes… the warmth of her body…

He had stood outside her door for what seemed to be hours, a hand on the doorknob, but he couldn't make himself open it, instead he had walked to the kitchen and sat there, staring into space.