Pairing: Sakura Sasori
Rating: T
Genre: Romance/action
Standard Disclaimer applied




We all have a weakness,
but some of ours are easy to identify,

Look me in the eye,
and ask for forgiveness.

We'll make a pact to never speak that word again,
yes, you are my friend.

We all have something that digs at us,
at least we dig each other.




Sasori was restless.

Nothing abnormal there. The poor guy rarely got any sleep these days anyway- what with all the work that was piling up. Being an A list artist had its downside.

But tonight's restlessness was different for all the other nights. Somehow he didn't feel like falling asleep-as if he weren't suppose to.

Groaning, the handsome youth pulled himself up and pushed back the covers of his black and steel, queen sized bed. He wasn't going to sleep this way. Maybe a glass of warm milk would calm his nerves. He doubted it, but was willing to try anything that would put an end to this near maddening insomnia. Now he understood what his cousin Gaara had to go through every night.

He fumbled around with the bedside table for a few moments before finding the light switch to another steel lamp.

Aided by the new light, he found his slippers and proceeded to venture out into the kitchen. He was wearing nothing other than a pair of silky black boxers, knowing that no matter how cool the nights got out here in the desert, he wouldn't be affected as long as he had an extra pair of sheets in the hall closet.

In late February he was already finding the temperature rising higher than what most were used to. He, of course, was acclimated, but that didn't mean his friend and partner Deidara Iwa wasn't. The dumb blond would go on forever, complaining about the heat.

Passing through the hall he flipped on the lights, lighting up the kitchen. Like the rest of his house, cold gray and steel was the theme that dominated the cooking and eating area. He preferred it that way. Modern and efficient. He had no use for anything other than that.

He yawned and looked out into the spacious living room that was consisted of a floor to ceiling window that took up the entire room. The cacti and desert rocks were the only things he could see when the sun was out. This landscape held the type of serenity that made his muse pick up and sell his works.

But not tonight.

The desert was quiet, he noticed. It lacked the usual hum and throb of life that emerged only at night. During the day it was much more quiet. He brushed a stray bang of crimson out of his line of vision before turning towards the kitchen. Maybe it was because he had flooded his fishbowl of a house with light, scarring off the coyote and desert hare that gathered in his property. Whatever the reason, it did not concern him.

After making it big as an artists, he had moved out of his tiny Phoenix apartment and bought this house from a friend who was hitting rock bottom with his work. There wasn't anyone else around for a good few miles making it an ideal location for an artist. His driveway in it's self was a mile and a half long.

He liked his privacy.

Being a cold and silent person, as his partner Deidara had said, Sasori found that he was the sort of person that repelled other people away. Maybe he scared them with his dead set eyes and cold stares. He had been told more than once that he looked like a dead puppet when he was at those pointless exhibit parties that had no meaning to them what so ever. It's not like he tried to be a scary or displeasing person, that was simply his nature. He could no sooner change that than the very make up that was his DNA.

Still, this didn't stop the mass of women that had only seen him through the Internet from sending him truckloads of love letters and gifts. A few of them had even been a tad bit on the disturbing side. Thankfully, his location and address was unknown to these woman.

He wondered how long that would last, knowing how relentless some of them could be. The though would have made a lesser man shiver in fear, but Sasori merely shrugged off the idea. He wasn't above scaring the females away himself if it came to it. It wasn't a womanizing lady's man like Deidara, or a suave gentleman like Itachi. He was cold and quiet and...alone.

He pulled the gallon sized carton of milk out of the stainless steel fridge and found a clean mug in one of the cabinets. He poured himself a glass and set it in the microwave to heat. He had just finished entering the last digit when something hit his house.

"The hel-" he hissed in irritation as the shock wave hit.

Everything around him turned as he fell out of balance. Books and lamps fell to the ground, a few of the pictures on the wall following them with a crash and shattering of glass. The floor from underneath him seemed to shift as he tumbled onto the tile. He lay there, with his arms spread out calmly before him, trying to reduce the severity of a possible injury. Already he could feel a bruise forming from where the stainless steel kettle had hit him.

A moment passed and everything seemed to still.

The world was holding its breath.

Ignoring the chime of his microwave, he grabbed a robe from his bedroom and a black light with the intention of finding out what it was that made his house rock.

The bright purple light stretched out in front of him, turning the backs of scorpions neon green as they scurried away from him. He was well aware of how dangerous the small creatures could be, having almost lost his father to a baby one. The baby ones were the ones you wanted to look out for, since they can't control their venom and often end up shooting it all out when they sting someone, resulting in death to the small creature. Almost like a bumble bee.

Strangely enough, they hardly seemed like a threat to him, regardless of their venom. They were naturally repelled by his presence, earning him the nickname Scorpion of the red sand. It wasn't a name he was happy about, but he tolerated it because his grandmother was the one who started it.

Sometimes he would like to think that the devil himself would have to bend his head to the wit of that old lady.

She didn't even seem like a human at some times.

Smoke entered the line of light. There was something in the ground that had thrown rocks and dust and dirt up against his house. An item that had skidded to a stop after falling from the sky, maybe? He switched the light from purple to white, extending its reach and enhancing his sight.

What met his eyes was what he was expecting least.

A girl with long pink hair, covered in blood and burnt clothing. Or rather-the remains of burnt clothing. There was hardly anything left, most of it looking like it had just suffered a trip through the furnace. There was a lot of blood too. She was hurt. He caught sight of her chest rising and falling and deducted that she was in fact, alive.

While he was a cold person in general, he wasn't entirely heartless. Propping the light on a rock, he slipped off his robe and crawled down into the creator where she was. The night air wasn't that bad. Reaching for her, he threaded the fabric underneath her body and wrapped her up in the large black thing. He was about to pull her up when she shifted in his arms.

Her face turned towards him, her long pinkish hair falling away from her now opened eyes. His cinnamon brown orbs met her own and he felt his body go numb as he was pulled under her glowing gaze. Her eyes, seemed inhuman, like those of a alien or devil. No-devil was not the right word. Angel was better. It was a blank shaded gaze, that looked like it could go on forever.

"Are you okay," he asked, surprised by how calm his voice still was.

A hand snaked into his hair, as she pulled herself up to close the distance between their lips.






AN:/This is a seven theme challenge I took up. There will be seven chapter, each with a theme.

1. Restless
2. New
3. Glow
4. Reflection
5. Buckle
6. Leaves
7. Crackle