Was it too much to desire peace?
Sasori hardly thought it was asking for a lot; indeed, surely everyone relished the ambience that came with the right amount of solitude.
Didn't everyone wait for the end of the week, when you could shut the door on the world, and truly be - no more facade, the mask could slip to reveal irrevocable reality.
Apparently, his neighbour did not adhere to that particular brand of thought.
No, no; for the last successive Friday nights, Sasori pulled onto his driveway and was met by a myriad of annoyances.
First, it was the blond blasting music and leaving the window open, so the dance music permeated into the redhead's house. Each thump of the bass was met with a narrowing of eyes.
The next week he actually had others loitering around their shard porch, bottles in hand. They began to talk louder and more animated with each hour, the way drunk people do.
If the intrusion carried on later then it took him to cook dinner - Sasori would go round and tell the younger male to be more considerate of their shared space. The redhead was therefore relieved when the temporary occupancy of random strangers outside his house lasted no longer than his spicy Italian pasta took to whip up.
With a slam of the door, Deidara and his friends had headed out to town - the puppeteer wearily thinking that it at least resolved his immediate annoyance.
And, as if it couldn't get any worse, last weekend the puppeteer had been jolted from sleep by a grumbling boom. In his dazed condition, Sasori sat bolt upright and frantically tried to place where the sound had emanated from. His face grew into a scowl when he realised that it had originated, rather unsurprisingly, from the the direction of Deidara's house.
He muttered, stepping out of bed. The redhead leant against the window and stared out into the night. It was late; past the hell could the blond be up to?
This time it wasn't even a party - Deidara was cooking up something troublesome on his own.
Sasori tensed; if another crashing noise followed, he'd march round and tell his neighbour - enough was enough. He'd had it with the blond disturbing him.
However, a second bang did not materialise in the wake of the first, and so the redhead was forced to lay back in bed, insides quivering with indignation.
The puppeteer supposed he could go round even now and tell Deidara he was out of order…but; he'd already stewed alone for the last ten minutes. Going round after such a pause would be kind of awkward.
And that's how Sasori would describe his relationship with his still relatively new neighbour. Deidara was downright awkward. In the six months since the blond had moved in next door, Sasori thought he had truly not experienced peace.
Tonight, as Sasori unlocked his front door and stepped into his house, he felt an irritating twitch as the puppeteer realised he would need to interact with Deidara yet again.
Great, just what he needed after a long day, the redhead thought as he placed his jacket on the hanger.
He bent down wearily and retrieved the bulky parcel. It had come the day before.
Sasori was able to work home a couple of days in the week. It was bliss; not having to interact with coworkers in person was a delight. One downside of this perk from his workplace was that the postman would bring parcels intended for his fair-haired neighbour round to him if the blond was not in.
Irked, the puppeteer had accepted this latest one with less grace than at the start.
The most frustrating thing was that Deidara never even came round to him to retrieve them.
The last couple of times the redhead had to accept a parcel on the blond's behalf, the redhead swore he wouldn't take it round to Deidara. He'd be petty, keeping it for as long as possible if the blond couldn't be bothered to get it.
However…it had not been successful. Still, Deidara did not come round to fetch the package.
Sasori usually got so fed up with tripping up over the damn boxes that sheer irritation prompted him to march over to the younger man's neighbouring house and alleviate it from his own hands.
And that's exactly how Sasori's weekend began tonight. He stepped back out onto his own outside deck, and strode over to the blond's door. The puppeteer rang the bell, hearing the blearing of noise from the outside.
The older man did not detect movement from within the house; the blinds were pulled down. Sasori cocked his head to one side, thinking. Perhaps the blond was sleeping?
A cruel thought took seed in his brain. With a glacial smile, the puppeteer jabbed a finger against the blond's doorbell, pressing it over and over.
See how he likes being woken by loud noises, the redhead sniffed.
After a few moments, there was a thunder of steps from behind the door; a rustle of a key and then the front door was yanked.
"Shit, man I was coming - what the hell is wrong with you, un?" The blond roughly threw out towards Sasori. Deidara didn't come out of the his completely, merely leaning on the open door. He was wearing slacks and a light vest; the warmth of the summer negated the need for anything more.
Sasori, by contrast, was wearing a pale shirt, tie and dark trousers - the redhead was sweltering in this heat. He'd loosened the tie a little, at least - one of the first things he did when driving home from work.
The puppeteer was indeed itching to get out of his work clothes; perhaps that's why his reply to the blond was antsy.
"Isn't it fucking obvious." He shunted the parcel towards the blond. "Why do you order so much crap-" Sasori paused, pushing the package directly into Deidara's hands. "-If you're never around or bothered to get it?"
Deidara looked down at the parcel. His rather crabby expression gave way to a sly smile. The blond raised the box upwards, and looked the redhead directly in the eye.
"…Ah. Well, why would I do that….when you're around to pick up for me, un." His countenance relaxed, Deidara leaned more against his open door as he surveyed Sasori. The redhead looked aggravated and twitchy. Sometimes, the sculptor got real satisfaction from getting a rise out of the puppeteer.
It took a second for the words to sink in for the redhead. When realisation dawned, he took a short intake of breath. This fucking guy…
A haughty expression overtook the puppeteer's face. He crossed his arms, staring down the blond who was just lounging against his door. Seething, Sasori offered his rebuke back at Deidara.
"You must have been one entitled brat growing up, Deidara."
The redhead had enough of this irritation for one night. Frankly, he had his fill of the sculptor weeks ago. Turning on his heel, he stalked away, back to the safety of his own house.
"Thank you, my man~" The sculptor called out in his wake - Deidara's tone rankled him further; entirely unbothered by the redhead's assumption of his character.
T'ch. What an ass.
Sasori merely ignored his neighbour, albeit for the way he slammed the door behind him upon entering his home.
...
The next day, the puppeteer was more content whilst tweaking his latest work in progress. The puppet was bulkier than his usual style - it made for an interesting challenge. Sasori shimmied his back, moving backwards against the floor and looking up at the underbelly of his creation from the ground.
Music enveloped his workshop in the ambience that the redhead enjoyed.
He was happiest when left to his own devices. Sasori supposed it was his was of re-charging after a hectic week. After a while, the redhead stretched, and slid out from underneath this puppet, who he had taken to calling Hiruko.
Slouching towards the kitchen, he made himself a coffee, checking his phone as the beverage cooled to an adequate temperature to sip.
He read a message from his oldest friend apathetically.
"Invites should arrive today. Let me know when you get it." Kakuzu was always prompt, clear with his intentions.
Sasori shook the back of his hair, thinking.
He padded over to the door, and sure enough, whilst he was entranced on his latest project the postman had delivered a starchy envelope. The redhead's deft fingers flipped the card over in hand before opening.
Sasori took in the details only after scanning it a few times over, his grey eyes lingering on the date. Kakuzu and Hidan's wedding would be in about five months time - here was the proof it was indeed going ahead.
He felt strange seeing the physical invite at his home, and Sasori couldn't quite put into words why. Feet carrying him outside, the puppeteer folded his limbs into outside wooden chair. It wasn't the most comfortable, so he propped a cushion behind his back, leaning his skin against the smooth wooden frame
Sasori let his thoughts pull him onto this tangent, a distraction away from his work upstairs.
Perhaps because he was feeling strange about this invite as he didn't think Kakuzu would contemplate such a union. Not that Sasori had anything against Hidan; Indeed, he hadn't even met the guy.
The redhead had moved away from their home town and had limited trips back since then. He and Kakuzu kept in touch the best two men in their late twenties managed.
The fact that Kakuzu considered him fit enough to be his best man was something Sasori did not take lightly.
Sasori's lips twitched - Hidan had to be something that Kakuzu would embark on this commitment with another person - the redhead was looking forward to seeing it for himself.
No, the strange pit that opened in the artist's middle when he opened the wedding invitation was more about himself than his oldest friend's choice.
It was a tangible jolt to his personal nervousness.
The puppeteer had struggled with bouts of loneliness throughout his life, ever since that fateful time his parents never came back from their trip. He was alone for many years when small, his grandmother a passive participant in his mentality - avoiding truths and teaching him secrets instead.
Fashioning the pieces with his parents likeness was Sasori's first foray into puppetry. Even with his childish clumsiness, the rough fixings did enough, clunking and spluttering into life.
Yet, he soon realised; it never filled the emptiness. The redhead fashioned a guard, learning from a young age to keep others he cared about at an arm's length. Perhaps that's why he was alone now.
Sometimes, he wondered if it would be the done to actively seek out someone…
But he was picky. He liked things just so. The same mentality that absorbed him as artist melted into his feelings about others.
Sasori wouldn't be content with just anyone. The redhead had been with others before, but only a couple in any serious capacity.
Frowning slightly, the puppeteer mulled over those past lovers. Failures, Sasori considered.
The redhead was unapologetically adamant at moving on once something was done. Perhaps he was cruel; perhaps it another way of keeping his guard up - protection from lingering pain.
The redhead stretched, his mind feeling calmer. Sasori realised it was better to be alone than be with someone for the sake of feeling he ought to be doing so.
He supposed it was only natural to feel wavering bouts of panic about the path you had crossed so far in life. They key to keeping going was finding that which gave you a purpose and thrill within it.
Later that evening, Sasori had finished working on his puppet for the day. The final rays of the day's sun kissed the edges of the buildings, filtering through the trees that were littered around the street outside.
The puppeteer watched the haze of this golden hour through the window, struck with the idea to chill out outside on the porch. It helped give him headspace earlier, and why not make the most of the pleasant evening now?
Grabbing a drink from the fridge on his way out, he swung the front door open.
Sasori stopped short of sitting on the lounge seat he had on the porch when he saw Deidara on the other side.
The blond was hovering on the bannister that wrapped around the edge of the decking. He was half seated, one leg dangling off the floor.
Deidara tilted his head he watched the redhead gingerly stop in front of him. He could almost hear the cogs turning in Sasori's head - the blond had interrupted his routine, and Deidara could tell it was annoying to the elder man.
The sculptor raised a slight eyebrow as he mulled over a deeper thought. He wondered how often Sasori avoided him whenever he saw he was out here. Probably a lot, Deidara thought ruefully.
The younger man sat up a little straighter. "I'll go if you want to be out here on your own, un." Deidara spoke forwards in a ringing voice.
In fact, the sculptor was about to jump off the edge he was perched when Sasori held up a palm. Perplexed, Deidara was actually surprised his surly neighbour was stopping him.
Oh jeez, what have I done now…the blond began to feel exasperated once again at dealing with Sasori's rigid personality.
"One thing…why have you got my mail?" Sasori's voice was subdued, yet it lingered with a sense of foreboding.
"Wha-?" Deidara exclaimed. He had a card between a forefinger and thumb. He grasped against the card, feelings the ridges of the texture against his skin.
"That right there; that's mine. Give it here." There was no mistaking the animosity in the puppeteer's voice now. His nostrils flared that the stupid idiot was now taking mail from him - he was holding Kakuzu and Hidan's wedding invitation. I must have left it out here earlier, Sasori fumed inwardly.
Now Deidara sprang from his perch. He rounded on the redhead, angered by this baseless accusation.
"Have you thunked your head on your puppets? This is mine, damn it - look for yourself, un."
He shoved the invitation under Sasori's nose.
With a horrendous swooping sensation, the puppeteer took in the words in front of him. Sure enough, it was the wedding invite - except, this one was addressed to Deidara Iwa.
A look of horror affixed the redhead's features.
How could this be possible?!
Eyes wide, he voiced his surprise after his mind caught up, his heartbeat rapid with stress.
"How-how do you know Kakuzu?! He's never mentioned you to me…?"
Deidara crossed his arms, still imbued with chagrin at his neighbour being such a tool. He answered wearily. "I don't. It seems you must know him, though. Jeez Sasori; This the first time I've seen any evidence you have any friends that aren't made by your design and 100% cedar, un."
The puppeteer wore a grimace. This twerp was beginning to test his patience.
"Then why are you going to his wedding if you don't know him?" The vitriol was beginning to ooze out of each syllable.
Deidara leant his arms behind his back, resting them the palms on the porch's bannister. He answered stoically. "Well, I wouldn't miss it - considering I'm Hidan's best man."
Sasori missed a beat. Whilst his grey eyes widened, Deidara continued, his voice nonchalant.
"Me and Hidan were college roommates - we've been solid ever since." He paused, tapping fingers on the wooden beam. "I'm surprised they didn't realise how similar our addresses our and point it out before now, un." The blond said as an afterthought.
The redhead swallowed, the blond's words washing over his head. He coughed, and spoke up roughly. "Please tell me you're joking."
Sasori had just managed to pull his attention to what was right in front of him; the most perplexing and daunting development.
Deidara's face was lit with derisive humour.
"Oh-ho; why-?" He bared his teeth. "-You got a problem with that, un?"
The redhead rubbed his temple, exasperated. He stepped around their porch, agitated footsteps creaking on the wood.
"I can't believe this." He muttered, drawing out each word, as he turned away from the sculptor.
Understanding; Deidara's eyes shone. "Don't tell me - you are Kakuzu's best man, right, un?" He called out, the corner's of his mouth twitching. This was certainly going to be interesting, the sculptor considered with a rise of mockery.
Sasori didn't answer straight away; instead, his palm slowly pulled down against his face, pulling against the skin in exasperation. Despondent, and unable to avoid the truth of this situation, the puppeteer turned back to face his neighbour and gave him a curt nod.
Deidara let out a yelp of amusement. He stalked over towards the redhead with a swagger. He noted, not for the first time, their height difference. Although the puppeteer was a little older than he was, the blond had a couple of inches on the redhead.
The sculptor placed a bunched up hand against his face, resting the knuckle against his lips. Deidara's azure eyes were alight with mirth.
"Looks like we're going to have to work together, un." He jibed, laughing in the face of this strange turn of events.
The blond pinched his lips as Sasori seemed to take stock of this. The redhead swore under his breath and sat on the bench outside his house, taking a long draw of his drink.
Deidara's imagination began to flit through different scenarios, involving having to get the wedding arrangements sorted with the redhead. Although, Sasori seemed pretty organised, so perhaps that wouldn't be too terrible.
The blond's main reservation was at just how uptight this guy was. He'd be an absolute nightmare to plan the stag do with if he didn't lighten up.
Wait, wait - the stag do!
The blond gagged. He brought both his hands upwards and ran them through his thick blond hair, spluttering as he stifled laughter.
Deidara would get Sasori completely of his comfort zone on the stag do if it was the last thing he did.
At the sound of the younger man's laugh, the redhead shot a piercing look towards the blond. Deidara clocked it, and with shining eyes, moved forwards. The sculptor ignored the redhead's shout of indignation as Deidara sat down next to him with relish.
Sasori jumped at the action. In this proximity, he could take in the blond's earthy scent and the tickle of Deidara's hair against his shoulder as the younger man leaned in close to his face.
The redhead shifted backwards, moving his body away from the blond who seemed to have no respect for his personal space. Sasori felt oddly flustered, and his face showed it.
"Pleasure working with you on this Sasori, un." The blond's voice was husky, jeering. The puppeteer's eyes narrowed. His grey eyes bore into the younger man's before he looked away with a sharp turn of his neck.
Things were indeed shaping up to be troublesome. Fate, or damn rotten luck, had dealt him an irritating blow.