The puppeteer stalked through the woods, his clothes whipping out behind him. Sasori picked up the pace, concerned that he hadn't met up with Deidara yet.
An uneasiness ran through him.
The demon reached the brook, the water splashing against his shoes. Grey eyes peered out, scouring for a sight of the sculptor.
This evening, Sasori too had reminiscent thoughts of his first meeting here with Deidara.
The blond had drawn his interest with the very mention of art. It had been an age since he had last interacted with someone about that. Excitement had stirred within him, enlivening the puppeteer once more.
And now, look at them.
He didn't even know how to refer to the student. He wasn't only his friend; he was his lover, his…partner?
Sasori tried out how it sounded. "Partner…" The redhead whispered to no-one except the nearby trees.
It felt kinda strange in his mouth.
A rustle came from the side. The puppeteer's eyes, so accustomed to the darkness of the woods, did not startle as he watched the figure crunch through the undergrowth through this clearing.
"Hey." Deidara called. He sounded weary. "Sorry for making you wait, un. I know you hate it." He sat down on a nearby rock, avoiding the harsher edges. "…I'm here now, anyway." The blond followed up, his voice hollow.
For once, Sasori didn't feel the need to castigate the blond. Instead, he absorbed the body language seeping through from the sculptor to himself. The only light source they had were beams streaming from the moon, high up, peeking out way above the forest. Yet it was enough to make out what Sasori needed to see.
The student was distracted, enervated.
"Deidara…we don't need to do this tonight. I know you just got here-" The redhead offered. "-but you seem exhausted."
The sculptor narrowed his eyes. He hunched forwards on the rock, directing his words to the puppeteer who remained standing.
"No, I want to do it. You've spent enough time trapped here, I don't want you have to wait another night, un."
At the bold words, Sasori finally baulked. It was the directness, the meaning behind those words - it fragmented him apart.
He gripped his fists together, fingernails digging into his fleshy palm. No blood drew from his demonic body.
He choked a noise down, pleading internally that Deidara would not notice.
The blond, however, was not misled.
He stood too, stalking over the muddy earth to be directly in front of the redhead.
The sculptor said nothing, merely giving the demon a blazing, imploring expression.
What now?! Was the blond's incredulous thought. He'd already had a night of it with Itachi, his own doubt - what else was an obstacle in his path? The flash of unease and doubt that manifested with Itachi's accusation whipped up within him.
He hoped with each fibre of his being it was unfounded.
Sasori made an effort to uncurl his palm, placing one on the blond's left shoulder. His touch was softer than Itachi's had been. The puppeteer's cheek nudged to one side as he began to speak.
"…I haven't been completely honest with you. I thought it best not to tell you." At the very edge of them embarking on the venture, Sasori's mental conscious screamed at him to share the truth with Deidara first.
The sculptor's mouth was suddenly dry. He licked his lip, as it to reclaim the moisture. The sickly, hot feeling in his abdomen was back.
"…Right…un." The artist managed. He couldn't blink, on tenterhooks for what more the puppeteer was going to share.
Sasori gripped his shoulder, pressing down with a sense of fervency.
"I've been letting you believe that when you break the seal…I'll be free from here. When in actuality-" The demon broke off, directing his attention towards to the ground. He forced the next sentence through that way. It was easier that seeing the sculptor's concern plainly.
"-What will happen is that my bind to earth will be over. The heart is my essence; you have to destroy that to remove the seal. If you do, it will take what's left of my spirit with it."
At first, Deidara couldn't react. He had to let the words sink in, like sand falling through a tiny gap in a timer. The thoughts swirled around just enough until they took hold.
The art student raised a hand up to join the demon's that was holding onto his shoulder. "…That can't…surely, that can't be, un. If it was, why would you want to be set free of it?" His first attitude was denial; Sasori cherished all things eternal - his art, his body, soul. Why on earth would he ever give that up?!
The demon clicked his tongue against the roof of his mouth. He answered quickly; Deidara realised he must have known this for a while, presumed that the student would question it. Perhaps even talked himself in circles, envisaging future arguments…
"It is true. I know magic, Deidara. It runs through my very being. I'm not wrong about this." He squeezed the blond's hand, out of some focus of reassurance, for both he and Deidara. "As for the second question…that's harder to answer."
Deidara reacted instinctively. He grabbed ahold of Sasori, both of his arms against his lover's shoulders. He wanted to wrench the redhead out of this situation.
"Shit, Sasori - you better fucking try or I'm leaving here and never coming back." The blond threw back at the redhead, enraged. "'Cause if I'm the one that has to do the deed then I'll make sure it doesn't happen, un. I can't, I won't-"
Now Deidara actually grabbed hold of the demon and shook him, such was his frantic psyche.
"I'm not destroying you, un. How could you let me think I was helping you?!"
The puppeteer behaved like a rag doll, letting his body be lurched by Deidara. He felt a horrible rise in his middle. This is exactly why he didn't want to divulge the truth to the art student. He figured if Deidara worked out the reality, his intention to participate would evaporate.
Already, he regretted his actions tonight.
The redhead clenched his teeth, lambasting himself for being so weak - not being able to keep something this crucial to himself anymore. He used to be a skilled liar…this sculptor had got under his skin, set him apart. He was annoyingly fallible to Deidara.
What was going to happen plagued his fixations for the last day; knowing the truth and not wanting to share that with his partner.
This, truly, was the reason Sasori reacted so negatively to the idea when Deidara brought it up initially…
Yet the blond, without fully knowing the effect of his actions, had managed to tweak at his senses; planting the seed that would take hold.
Would it be…freeing?
Would it be peace, after all this time?
Before, he had even asked Deidara, unfairly not divulging everything he meant…
"If you really want to do this…to break the seal placed on me." He didn't blink as he held the other man's azure gaze. "Are you prepared for what that might mean? What it might require?"
Deidara's positive response had helped fuelled him forwards, burgeoning his resolve.
If the blond was resilient enough to release him - perhaps that was fitting, bittersweet end that they deserved. The demon had already known it was futile, ultimately - he had mulled over the frightening prospect of Deidara' leaving him in the most final way, as humans do.
If Sasori overcame his own tether - he would break that hold. Face that frightening prospect, tackle it for himself.
He couldn't cling to something out of loneliness, no matter how appealing that thing may be.
Maybe this was the very reason they were brought together - the enchantment seeping out of the clay, drawing Deidara to the woods, to Sasori - all for the purpose of their love being the drive, the catalyst needed so the demon could finally be released.
He needed Deidara. He needed the sculptor to help him move on.
Sasori thought back to his own time, hundreds of years prior. His parents, his grandmother, even.
Their comforting embrace.
If he could leave here, he might finally find that solace. Calm that he believed his distant loved ones must have. They weren't trapped, right? They weren't…lingering.
He may even sleep again. The puppeteer remembered the feeling, his mother tucking him in at night…
It vanished, akin to the surreal moment experienced right before waking.
His art - that could live on. The blond was an artist too, after all. If not he, there may be a new generation that the blond could entrust his puppets to. His ideals could truly live forever through his greatest artistic achievements outliving himself.
All that was left was…Deidara.
That would be the hardest bind to break.