Okay, peoples, listen. I've gotten some reviews about how I'm always prating about Manicurist, and that no one cares about it, and blah blah blah…
Well, I got news for you guys. The only reason I talk about it so much is because I'm rather proud of it; I think it turned out great, and I don't give a damn if it's dead or not. And, I've actually attracted readers to that story via this one. So, apparently, some people do care.
And, they're in author's notes! If you're so annoyed by me mentioning it so much, then just skip them! I don't really care if you read the author's notes or not, simply because I know you people'd rather read the actual storyline.
I understand that it can get annoying especially if you're not a KisaIta fan, but you don't need to flame me. And, the entire thing isn't KisaIta, just like Psychologist isn't entirely SasoDei. It wasn't even supposed to be a shonen-ai fic in the first place!
This is even the last chapter, and the next serial fanfic I plan on doing set in this universe has absolutely NOTHING to do with Manicurist and just barely with Psychologist, so this'll be the last time you ever hear me go on about it! I hope you're all happy now.
Look, this is an epilogue for a reason. I skipped around in the original storyline, and it will make very little sense to those of you who haven't read the other half of the story. Okay? They were just suggestions anyways. You never had to follow them.
And, you seem to be forgetting that I can delete this fanfiction whenever I want. I don't care; I have both the rough and final drafts in my possession. So, just keep that in mind.
If you read all that, I thank you. If not…whatever. I'm done dealing with you.
This chapter is dedicated to A. Sponge (an anonymous reviewer), who just had to see what Sasori was thinking as…yeah. Just read. ((Thanks for the request, Sponge-chan, this was one of the funnest things ever to write, not to mention a great way to end it. :) Oh, and I don't own Metallica. ))
There was something seriously wrong with Deidara. At the Akatsuki meeting Friday night, he had been withdrawn and quiet. So unlike Dei. Sasori figured that it was because his dad had beaten him right before the gathering, so, like always, he had treated the blond nicely, even motherly. Normally, that would've been the end of that. But, this time, there was something else up. Hugely. Because, that Monday, Deidara was extremely off. He spaced out terribly during classes, was undeniably surly, and destroyed whatever was in easy reach, should he get mad. Sasori was genuinely worried for Dei, but whenever he inquired what the matter was, he would just get snapped at. "Nothing! Stop bothering me, yeah!"
But, he couldn't just let it go. He knew that Deidara was having some serious additional problems, and they were rooted in his house. Sasori just needed to know now what the problems were.
So, he stopped by the blond's house after school. Grandma Chiyo wouldn't mind if he was a few minutes late. Like she could see the clock.
When he walked up to the front door, he found it to be unlocked. Tentatively, pushing it open, Sasori let himself inside and headed up the stairs. He figured that that was where Deidara's room was, since after beatings, he would always schlep up the long staircase.
At the end of the hallway in which the staircase led to, there was an oaken door with a light coming from underneath it. Knocking, the redhead hoped that it wasn't the black-haired abuser behind it. When Dei answered it, Sasori couldn't be happier. "Hey, Dei," he greeted, with as much giddiness as he wished to ever exert. "The font door was unlocked, so I just let myself in. Um, is everything okay?"
The blond's single blue eye stared at him. "Go," he said quietly, slowly shutting the door. "Leave now. I don't want you to-"
"Deidara, something's wrong. I know it. Just…just tell me what it is so that I can help you," Sasori insisted, pushing the door open as Dei tried to close it. "You're not going to brush me off like you're trying to do."
The other boy sighed. "Fine. Come in, yeah," he said, defeated.
Deidara's room was simple, yet welcoming- a black-and-red cloud comforter on the bed matched the dark, poorly-lit Metallica poster on the ceiling, which contrasted with the computer on the desk, and so forth. Sasori rather liked it. "So…what's this all about?" the redhead asked, leaning up against the bare space on the wall.
Dei, completely ignoring the question, rummaged through the top drawer of his dresser, and eventually pulled out something shiny and black. Concealing it behind his leg, he sighed as he turned to face his friend. "I'm sorry," he stated in a low, sad tone. "I never wanted you to have to witness this, yeah."
Sasori gave a smile. "Witness what?" he asked, faking a naïve undertone. What was Deidara going to do?
The other boy sighed. "Sasori, listen. All my life, I've been pushed around. For as long as I can remember, my dad has been abusing me. My mother tried to stop him, but her dying of cancer made her cause fail. For years I've taken it lying down. For years I've lived in terror of coming home, for fear of the person who's supposed to protect and take care of me." He approached the redhead, step by step. "I need it to stop. I can't take it anymore." Taking the other boy's hand, he gently pressed his lips up against Sasori's. "Danna," he whispered, "I'm sorry. I don't want to hurt anyone- not Itachi, not Kisame, and definitely not you. But, I can't take it." Turning his head away, he let go of Sasori's hand and backed up.
Bringing the black thing out from behind him, the redhead finally figured out what it was. A gun. Was Deidara…going to shoot himself? Commit suicide? No. he wouldn't. Not in front of him. No… "Forgive me," the blond mouthed, putting the gun up onto the right side of his head and pulling the trigger.
Dei's body seemed to flinch outwardly, frozen in time for a split second, before his corpse hit the floor with a light 'thud.' Sasori screamed. As blood seeped out from his friend's head, he could feel his temperature rising and his heart pounding. He wanted to vomit. It was a grotesque scene, made even gorier by the fact that he knew the person in question. Gasping, his knees buckled in. Tears rolled down his cheeks as he realized what had just happened. Oh my God. Deidara just shot himself because he couldn't take the abuse any more. Since he didn't want to go into foster care, and he hated cutters, this must've seemed like the only way out. And the only sure way that he'd stay out. Oh, God… Getting up, he ran out of the house and made a call on his cell phone. Kisame would know what to do…
Sasori just barely got himself out of bed the next morning. He must've had bags bigger that Itachi's, since he hadn't slept at all the night before. How could he? Every time he closed his eyes, all he could see was Dei's bloody, dead body lying on the floor with thick, red liquid oozing out from the mortal wound in his head. All he could hear was the blond's voice, the spirit behind it broken, saying "I'm sorry. I can't take this anymore." It made him quiver like a building during an earthquake, and he wondered how he'd live through it.
During school, he couldn't concentrate. It was like he was a shell: his eyes saw, his ears heard, and his hands felt, but none of it was being processed or perceived. At lunch, his food sat untouched, and his once great creative-essay-writing-skills were absolutely demolished in English. It was almost as if Dei had taken a part of Sasori away along with his own life the last night.
Going home that day, his thought clouded his vision. Continuing to picture the corpse, Sasori's instincts were the only things guiding him home. Which means that he didn't check to see if cars were coming before he crossed a normally peaceful street.
"Oh my God!" a lady yelled, getting out of her car. She and another person had been on a collision course, and a red-haired boy had inadvertedly gotten himself into the crossfire. "Kid, are you okay?"
His breathing was slow and forced, and he coughed up blood every couple of seconds. The vehicles may have crushed some of his internal organs, the woman figured, as the other car that took part in the accident sped off like the devil was chasing him. "Get back here, you bastard!" she yelled giving him some obscene gestures before returning her attention to the kid. She propped his head onto her lap, and immediately called 911. Watching his chest rise and fall, she began to worry if she had just committed unintentional murder.
The many instruments monitoring Sasori blipped and beeped as they read his vital signs. A female doctor, with purple cropped hair and a stethoscope around her neck, hastily took notes on a clipboard. She began worrying for the poor kid's life, since the blipping was slowing down. He had been hit by a car- two, actually- when they were on a collision course. Stupid asshole was driving on the wrong side of the road. He went comatose a few minutes after the impact, and, thanks to a kind stranger, had ended up in the emergency room.
Although the outlook seemed grim, she knew that he would pull through. He has to. He was Sasori, the kid who had tried to bleed himself to death, but then had a wake-up call and saved his friend's life. He could make it. Lord knows he had enough willpower.
An abyss. A cold, black, empty abyss. That was the best way that Sasori could describe where he was. His limbs lay useless, being eaten away at by the freezing temperature, and his eyes wouldn't open, no matter how hard he tried. Am I dead? He wondered. No…I can feel my heartbeat. Bump. Bump. Wow, it really is rhythmatic! And slow. Maybe my heart's slowed down so much that I'm in a permanent coma. How weird would that be? Letting his thoughts wander more, he overheard a 'beeping' sound in time with his heart. Oh, they're monitoring me, he realized. Wow, I must be in pretty bad shape. I wonder if I'll die peacefully, just laying here. That'd be good. That way, I won't have to be haunted by those awful images of Dei's corpse. Yeah. Breathing deeply, he once again focused on his heartbeat. Bump. Bump. Bump. Bump.
The female doctor anxiously adjusted the machines monitoring Sasori. No. He couldn't die. He had so much to live for. God, he was only 13! This couldn't happen, it just couldn't…
Her spirits fell as the beeping quieted into nothing. The line graph that pulsed with his heart straightened. He was gone.
A sigh was given from the female doctor. He didn't make it. He didn't pull through. Guess he just didn't have the strength.
Sasori didn't know where he was. He had never been here before. The houses were uniform, gray, and the one-lane road that they bordered seemed to go on forever. Even more peculiar, though, was the sky. The sun was out and shining brightly, yet it was still eerily gloomy, and rain poured down onto the street, despite the lack of clouds.
Walking toward the end of the road, he noticed that none of the houses had any lights on. Maybe they were vacant. Or maybe the people inside were Amish. The redhead didn't know, nor did he really care.
Why was he here, of all places? The unfamiliar-ness of the neighborhood dictated that this was not a childhood memory. And, the fact that whenever he tried to talk, all that would come out of his mouth was a small, exhaling sound, told him that he wasn't in a normal place. Why the sudden muteness? He wondered. This was getting weirder and weirder.
Sasori would have been extremely creeped out right about then, had he not seen Deidara standing in the middle of the road. His hair was darkened and weighed down by the rain, his eyeliner was streaked down his face, and his expression was that of a relieved, once-depressed lover, but it was definitely the oddball blond that he had come to know.
Tediously, the blond made his way toward Sasori, dragging his heels as he walked. When the redhead walked on towards to blond, so as to meet him halfway, Dei immediately ran Sasori's arms.
Pulling the redhead is closer, Deidara whispered, "Even heaven is hell without you, yeah."
Well, there it is. The end. Hope that wasn't as crappy-ass as I thought it was.
So now, final reviews are in order. You know, what you liked, what you didn't like, blah blah blah…and PLEASE don't say anything about how I shouldn't compare this one to the other and how I should've focused on making this fanfic better…too late. Over and done with. Gone. Bye-bye. (You get it.)
((sigh)) Whatever. 'Till next time, I guess.