Really, starting a new fanfic with my reputation for updating is probably the last thing I should be doing, but the inspiration for this came as I was sitting alone on a bus travelling back home from London – it was a 7 hour bus ride and my iPod died an hour into it! So I had nothing to do but dream up Sasodei scenarios!
And seriously, I know I haven't posted for a while, but what the fuck is up with the formatting on here? It's not just me, is it?
Deidara switched off the backlight on his iPod in a desperate attempt to make the charge last longer; he was only two hours in to an eight hour bus journey, and already his battery had nearly run out after forgetting to charge it during the night. The volume had also been turned down, a sacrifice to prolong battery life, making the music almost inaudible. He sighed and switched off the device, deciding there may be a greater need later in the journey. He left his earphones in hoping to dissuade anyone who may try to sit next to him or start a conversation. At times like this you were best left with your own thoughts.
The blond spent a few minutes with his head resting against the window watching the scenery, though there was little to see on this stretch of the motorway. An announcement from the driver in formed the passengers of a pickup at the next city, only a few minutes away. This was confirmed by a change in scenery as the first suburban houses passed quickly by. To Deidara, cross-country bus journeys were measured by counting down the pickup stops rather than counting down the minutes, and this would be the first stop since his travels had begun. He picked himself up in his seat, the thought of soon passing through a city unknown to him being moderately exciting. New suburban builds soon gave way to industrial buildings, both thriving and in use and abandoned and dilapidated, the blond surmising they must be approaching a river. He found some small satisfaction as the bus rounded a bend and crossed a high bridge over murky green brown water, and in to a presumably recently redeveloped post-industrial area now a locale of wide plazas, expensive riverside offices and apartments, and bars and restaurants.
The pickup point was a little further into the city centre proper, down a rather random street and outside an Indian takeaway. A generous crowd of passengers were waiting to board – some with partners or families, others with a friend or two, and a few obviously travelling alone. One of Deidara's great hobbies was people watching. He loved to pick out characters and try to make up a story round them. For instance this time one man in particular stood out; dyed red hair cut trendily to shape his face, pale skin, unbelievably handsome, slim but strong-looking, Asian features – either Chinese or Japanese, Deidara guessed. He had only one bag with him – a black rucksack – and was wearing a leather biker jacket over what looked like a very fitted red check shirt. Black jeans sat nicely on his hips and over a pair of biker boots. Deidara scolded himself when he realised that he had been blatantly staring at the attractive stranger – the first rule of people watching is not to stare – but relaxed when it became clear the man hadn't noticed.
By now the first of the new passengers were making their way down the aisle, groups looking for a block of seats together and lone travellers looking for a pair of seats to themselves. The blond sat at the very back of on the right; there were no seats to his left until about three meters further down the bus as the engine was housed in that space, leaving only pairs of seats directly ahead of him. Though it was hot back there due to the proximity to the engine it was relatively quiet and private.
Most of the passengers had opted to sit near the front or middle, only one making his way towards the back. Deidara's heart sped up and he was certain he was blushing as his mysterious man chose the seats nearest the back on the left. The blond couldn't help watching out the corner of his eye as the red-head removed his jacket and threw it on the seat nearest the window. The man took a book out of his bag and dumped it on top of his jacket before reaching up and putting his lone piece of luggage in the overhead rack. Deidara felt butterflies in the pit of his stomach; as the man had reached above his head his shirt had risen up exposing the top of his boxers and a band of perfect pale skin. As the man fiddled with his bag Deidara lent slightly into the aisle to get a view of toned abs and the very bottom of a black and grey tattoo. For the blond, an instant attraction was quickly turning into infatuation. He felt a twitch in his groin to his embarrassment, suddenly feeling like a school girl who had creamed her underwear when her crush had flashed her a smile. The red-head sat in the aisle seat, giving the blond something to look at. The man's shirt was long-sleeved with the sleeves rolled up to the elbows exposing perfect, slim forearms – the blond had always had a thing for sexy arms – with the hint of another tattoo visible that came down his right arm.
Deidara had known he was gay from an early age. He wasn't bisexual, he knew that from trying to have girlfriends in high school and college, but had never had a boyfriend or even experimented – he just watched and fantasised, never plucking up the courage to go for it. He didn't come from a nice area and he hadn't gone to a good school; it had been an inner-city comprehensive where fellow pupils would sooner beat you to a pulp than look at you. He was also half Japanese, he had inherited his father's blond and fair European colouring, but his mother's delicate features. It had given him unusual but beautiful looks, his almond-shaped sapphire blue eyes were an especially striking feature which he frequently lined in black kohl, and he had an almost permanent light tan.
His phone vibrated in his pocket making him jump. A text from his mother asking him to phone as soon as he got to London and wishing him a pleasant journey. He had no family at the bus station to wave him off, though a few of his friends had turned up, as his mother and father had moved back to Hokkaido. His father had been a sergeant in the Royal Engineers and had met and fallen in love with his mother while on training in Japan. The two had married and his father had settled his family in his home town back in England. Though his father had been frequently away it had been a loving environment to grow up in, and he was very close to his mother; the two had spent many sleepless nights up crying while his father was away to war. Last year his dad had left the army after twenty five years, taking up an engineering position with a firm in Sapporo, his parents finally relocating to the city a month ago after completing on the purchase of a nice house in an excellent location.
Besides the odd trip away with the school Deidara had never been away from his mother, but that was all part of the going away to university experience. His parents had always planned to move back to Japan, so Deidara had applied to universities in London to make visiting easier. He had also been lucky; his mother was a teacher so there had always been an emphasis on learning, and his father's job had gotten him interested in engineering at an early age. He had aced his GCSE's and A Levels which had led to this moment; a full scholarship to study Civil Engineering at UCL. His accommodation was included in his scholarship, as well as a living allowance for food and such. Even so, he was planning on getting a weekend job mainly to build up some savings and to meet people. He was treating this as a completely new start, where he could live his life without having to hide his sexuality. From now on, he decided, he was gay and proud. And who knew, maybe this new approach to life would get him a boyfriend.
Thoughts of boyfriends brought him back to the red-headed man who was reading his book. The blond hadn't been able to get a look at the title, but in his imagination the mysterious man was reading Kafka, or Marx, or Voltaire. That would be perfect. Deidara had long ago accepted that he was very picky, so much so that he often used his high standards as justification to himself of his lack of a love life. He liked strong, romantic men who were in touch with their feelings. They had to be handsome with a body to die for, and have a nice, sexy voice. Most of all they needed to be intelligent, abreast of current affairs, and be able to argue and debate, and have informed opinions. Surely he could find such a partner at UCL?
The red-head's phone rang; a simple, standard Nokia ringtone. The blond found himself nodding in approval at the man's unpretentious taste. He couldn't abide people who inflicted their taste in music on the general public through the medium of their mobile. As he took his phone from his pocket his book fell to the floor, front cover visible to the blond who nearly squealed in delight; his crush was more than half way through Der Prozeß.
"Moshi moshi," Deidara nearly fainted when he heard the other speak. His voice was like melting chocolate! Not to mention he was speaking Japanese, that was something they had in common!
"Obaasan..."The red-head sounded irritated. Deidara knew it was rude to listen in but couldn't help himself. There was a long pause where the blond could hear the caller though not clearly enough to make out any words. Minutes passed without the red-head saying anything, in fact he had picked his book off the floor and was continuing to read. After about twenty minutes the man's patience had run out, "Shitsurei shimasu, Obaasan."
'Wow, he's even polite when he hangs up on someone.'
"Ladies and gentlemen this is a call for all passengers whose destination is Whoolley Edge Services. We will be arriving in the next few minutes please ensure you take all your personal belongings with you. For all other passengers we are ahead of schedule and will be stopping for half an hour. Please make sure you are back on the coach by 12 o'clock," the driver's announcement was met with appreciative noises at the unexpected opportunity to grab food, smoke, or have a breath of fresh air. The red-head had gotten out of his set and was now routing around in his bag, eventually pulling out a packet of cigarettes and a Zippo. Deidara didn't smoke and wasn't particularly fond of the practice, but sometimes, he had to admit, it did make you look cool, and in this instance it just added to the red-head's appeal. He was only gone a couple of minutes, returning to his seat after finishing his smoke and again revealing a tantalising sliver of skin as he put his bag back up on the rack.
The blond pulled a compact mirror out of his bag and checked his hair over. He always wore it in the same style and it had become a kind of signature around his home town; he had spent years growing and caring for it until it reached mid way down his back. A portion of hair was pulled up into a high ponytail leaving the rest loose with a fringe cut at a trendy angle obscuring the left side of his face. He clicked the mirror closed after touching up his eye liner and gave his outfit the once over, making sure his t-shirt wasn't accidently tucked into his boxers and such like. Also, when he had picked out his clothes he had had comfort in mind considering he was dressing for an eight hour bus journey, so wasn't exactly dressed to impress. Nevertheless he didn't look too shabby; he wasn't wearing his best jeans, but they were nicely baggy and low slung on his hips exposing the elastic band of his retro Banana Man boxers. His white t-shirt was creased to Hell, but that was nothing new – he didn't see the point in ironing – and anyway, his plain black zip hoody covered a multitude of sins. He made his way to the front of the bus, passed the red-head. He was careful not to look at the man as he passed; he had also never paid as much conscious attention to how he walked before. Suddenly, putting one foot in front of the other without falling over was the hardest thing he'd ever had to do. He'd also never concentrated so hard on how his hips moved when he walked.
There were plenty places to pick up food at the services – even a Burger King – but the blond didn't feel like eating; the butterflies in his stomach were starting to make him feel nauseous. It was more that he needed a couple of minutes to gather his thoughts. Sure, he had been attracted to men before – that was after all how he had discovered he was gay – but never had the feeling been so quick or intense or all consuming. In Deidara's eyes he had never seen anyone so beautiful. He remembered the promise he had made to himself earlier that morning; this was the beginning of a new life, and of a new Deidara, 'as of this moment, I have five hours to make him mine.' He checked his watch. There were still a few minutes until he needed to be back on the coach, enough time to pick up something trashy to read.