Chapter 16: art is an explosion (爆発)pt. 1

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A moment shared between only two people, the watchful eyes blindfolded. He remembers Itachi grunting and whispering into his ear as quiet as possible while thrusting into him. He was clawing his back, mouth open with each sinful moan blessed only for Itachi's ears. The rustling of bed sheets, pounding of hearts never to be silenced. Then, a kiss—a kiss, so deep, so full of passion and lust. Wanting. They spend the night craving each other's body, touching each other's soul, fulfilling the desire they've held back for so long. Sinful. They know of the consequences they may face, but for the first and the last time, they only want to be selfish and greedy. Wanting only to spend such little time they have searching for touch, attention and craving for love.

The night had gone in a wink, and morning approaches the bedroom window hastily. A crack of sunlight lighting up the room that is so warm and smells so strongly of sweat, heartache and fulfilment. Itachi turns over in his sleep, arm stretched searching for a warm body that he held close during the night, only to find himself alone in bed. He shoots up from the pillow, eyes scanning the entire room with grey clouds thumping in his chest. His hair tangled and visibly a perfect nest for any aviary.

"Dei?" His voice bounces off the empty walls.

-----

"I know what you did." He swallows the thickening lump in his throat, pushing it back down.

The glare he despised is directed towards him. Since the beginning Deidara wishes to never have to be the target of his menace; cold, stone-like, and filled with hatred. Is there any other way to avoid it now? He scoffs at his reaction, a foreign smirk ghosting his lips.

He growls, finger under his chin forcing him to look directly into his eyes, "Don't you ever forget, Deidara."

Venomous. Cruel.

The secret between them forever kept in hushed voices and crimson fury.

Deidara nods. Eyes glimmering under the dim lighting. A shadow cast over him erasing the glee he usually dons whenever he is with Pain, just the two of them. Pain, the man whose attention he craves whether it be praise, affection or intimacy. It could be anything, even a scold. But after his intimate night with Itachi, the gentle caresses and rough make-out, Itachi's attention to only him, his stomach churns at the thought of Pain. He doesn't crave this man's attention anymore. He doesn't feel the bubbling excitement from his praises or harsh criticisms anymore. He doesn't feel anything when he touches him any more. The downgrading words Pain says to him that led to his self-deprecation... Now he realises how much influence he truly has on him. How manipulated he has been by the degree of trust he gave Pain because he was their leader—the untouchable foe.

Deidara grabs Pain's wrist that still holds his chin, his brows creasing, "All these years... What was I to you?"

He grits his teeth. His eyes pleading, clinging to the smallest hope that still sparks within him. However slim the chances may be. But Pain has other plans, a foreign glint reflecting his pupils. His hands grip Deidara's face smothering him with an unwanted kiss; rough and forceful. Deidara squirms, attempting to distance himself from Pain's grasp which immediately tightens the more he struggles. Until his world spins.

An electrocuting wave shocks him. His limbs gradually becoming numb, paralysed in Pain's embrace. His eyes widen in fear. The blue in them dulling.

That morning Itachi hasn't seen a single shadow of his beloved blond shinobi. It shouldn't bother him, perhaps, but it does. It truly does. Because after all the intimacy, the touches, the words whispered to each other with voices so hoarse in the night. Now not a single "good morning" uttered, or a glimpse in the hallways is too much to blatantly accept. Too much for him to handle, despite what he'd done and gone through in his years as an ANBU and rogue shinobi. But because he is Uchiha Itachi, he cannot lose his composure. He cannot have a weakness.

So, for the next three days, Itachi has not heard of or seen a flurry of a beautiful blond man who he's grown to love in the midst of the preparation for war. It seems to him as if Deidara simply vanished into nothing like ash. A ghost of the past. It was too good to be true, he notes, internally knocking himself out multiple times. Despite his inner turmoil, he remains as impassive like he's always been. Because shinobi cannot have weaknesses. Because shinobi are expendable. 

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