Thanks XxItachiFanGirlxX, Mei Chan is Random, Suzette's Blue, Cervello, and mochiusagi for reviewing the last chapter!

Disclaimer: I don't own Naruto.

Aaaaughhhhh, I'm awful! I haven't updated in forever! I'm so sorry!

Lyrics are The Game by Trapt, which I do not own.

Chapter 5:

Put Up Your Walls


How have you been, nice to see you again
How quickly these conversations seem to end
You meet a friend, every now and then
How quickly these relations turn into trends


"Deidara, shower's free," Itachi announced. "Deidara?"

"You… bought one of my paintings," Deidara said.

"I don't know what you're talking about," Itachi said.

"Don't lie," Deidara said, turning around with the painting in his hand.

"You… left that… before you moved," Itachi lied.

"Liar," Deidara said. "Why do you have my painting? Damn it, Itachi! Answer me for once!"

"Answer me,"

"Are you even going to answer me?"

"Answer me!"

"Answer me!"

Itachi's mouth opened and it made motions to speak but nothing came out. Deidara shook his head and stalked past Itachi, bumping shoulders with him as he walked by, shoving the painting into Itachi's arms. Itachi looked at the painting he had bought on a whim.

Why did he have Deidara's painting?


Put all your walls up and open your windows
And close all your doors
You catch yourself standing in front of the mirror
And now you need more


Flashback

Itachi didn't smoke. Once in awhile, when he and Deidara had still been together, he took a cigarette. He had made sure the blonde didn't smoke religiously, knowing that if the blonde was left to tend to himself, he'd probably smoke a pack a day… but lately, for almost two months since the break up, Itachi found his hand itching for a cigarette in the carton that had been left in one of Itachi's jackets by accident.

Today, he had given in.

Today, he had lit a cigarette and was currently walking with it in his mouth as he walked in the open market.

A painting caught his eye, and although he had no appreciation for art, or any artistic ability whatsoever, he stopped to look. He stopped to look at the painting because it looked familiar. Maybe it was something by an artist Deidara had pointed out while they were still together and the blonde had insisted on going to various museums?

Deidara Iwagakure.

Or… or the blonde could have painted it himself, Itachi thought dryly. It was just his luck to find something his ex painted on the first try.

"Like that, huh? I was lucky to get a hold of it. The artist-"

"Destroys his paintings after the first seventy-two hours," Itachi said, having been around to witness many an explosion or burning, depending on what mood Deidara was in.

"Are you a fan?"

"Of sorts," Itachi said. "How much?"

And he found himself the owner of one of Deidara Iwagakure's works.

Great.

Kisame was never going to let him hear the end of it. After all those talks of Kisame trying to convince Itachi that he missed Deidara and Itachi denying that he missed him, Itachi was ready to admit it.

He missed the blonde.

End Flashback

What do you wish for
To catch you as you're falling
So easy to ignore
But now you hear it calling again


"Deidara, you've been in there for almost two hours. You better not have killed yourself," Itachi growled from the other side of the door. He knew the blonde took long showers, mostly because of his long hair, but two hours was pushing it, even for Deidara.

"I'm alive," Deidara said.

"Well are you coming out?" Itachi asked impatiently.

"Because you're so eager for my company?" Deidara asked and Itachi was sure he was rolling his eyes.

"Sasori's on the phone," Itachi huffed. The door opened to reveal a fully pajama clothed Deidara. Deidara took the phone and walked by Itachi.

"I'm fine, danna… yes, I'm at his house. You're calling his house phone… I am not being bitchy! You'd be like this to if someone killed someone in your art studio…" Deidara huffed. Itachi rolled his eyes and went into the kitchen, accidentally catching the last part before he stopped eavesdropping.

"Why did you have to call him?" Deidara asked in a weak, defeated voice.