he knows

A/N: I don't know. I got this idea from my cousin who well, basically forced me to write this. She said something about having a dream about this story or something… Oh wells.


dedication: For anacoana. Because you made me giggle at the most random of things. Like that random dude at Wal-Mart with the can of spray cheese. Thank you. :D


"Every time I see you, I can't help but just want to sit in a corner and cry, un."

Sasori looks up; shock filtering over his normally composed features as he heard the softly whispered words. Deidara isn't looking at him; instead, he is studiously avoiding the red-head's stare as he continued to mould the fine clay between his lithe fingers. The blonde's visible blue eye is sad, and Sasori couldn't help but ask the foreboding question.


Even though Deidara wouldn't meet his gaze, Sasori could still feel the blonde's sadness. His agony was almost palpable.

"Because I'm so in love with you, it fucking hurts, un. And I know you don't feel the same way and there's nothing I can do about it."

And suddenly, everything seems so messed up and Sasori can't even breathe properly. Because he doesn't like that look on his best friend's face and he would do anything to take away the other's pain. But the redhead can't lie and the blonde knows and Deidara is right; there is nothing that he could do.

"Deidara, I'm s-"

"Don't." Deidara interrupts him with a small grin. "Don't say you're sorry. Please. I don't want your apology. Because you don't mean it, un. Not in the way I want –I need— you to mean it. So just shut up, un."

And so Sasori shuts up. Because despite everything, he does respect his best friend and his wishes. So he lets Deidara go back to moulding his clay, and he goes back to sketching out new designs for puppets, and for a while, they forget that they ever had this conversation.


"You know, I tried so hard to get over you, un. I really did." Deidara whispered to him as they watched Pain and Konan waltz around the ballroom floor, the blue-haired woman's long white wedding dress wisping around their legs as the two of them glowed in joy.

Sasori glanced at the taller of the two with tired eyes. "Why are you telling me this, Deidara?"

Deidara shrugged, his eyes following the movements of the recently married couple. "I don't know, un. Just didn't feel like keeping it all bottled up anymore, I guess, un."

Sasori sighed as he saw his friend's sorrowful blue eye, and he once again thought that he'd do anything to make the blonde happy and smiling again with that spark of life blazing in those deep cerulean abysses. And so, Sasori hesitantly and cautiously plucked Deidara's hand from his side and held it gently with his own smaller hand.

"I can't exactly say that I feel the same way for you, brat. But… maybe we can give this a try?"


To tell the truth, being 'with' Deidara wasn't really any different from when they were classified as just friends.

When they were just friends, they still did everything together. They hung out every chance they got. They went to the mall together and Sasori still helped carry all of Deidara's shopping bags. Deidara still went to everything art expedition held in the various museums in Sasori and his puppets' honour. The two still fought over the definition of art at every turn.

The only difference, it seemed now, was that Deidara texted him more than usual. They would hold hands as they strolled through the mall, the park, a restaurant, everywhere. And there would be more lingering hugs and touches and kisses of 'hello' and 'goodbye' from both parties.

Other than that, they were still best friends.

Sasori never really thought of Deidara as his significant other.


They had been watching some cheesy movie with moronic villains and even more moronic heroes, just snuggling together on the couch and laughing at the even cheesier and clichéd lines used throughout the whole movie.

Deidara played with the hem of Sasori's maroon t-shirt, leaned against him with his head resting at the junction of Sasori's neck and shoulder. Sasori twirled a bit of blonde hair between his nimble fingers.

Deidara leaned back with a sigh and began to nibble on Sasori's neck, placing butterfly kisses on the shorter man's collarbone and then nipping at the sensitive skin at the pale column before using his tongue to smooth out all the indents. Sasori sighed and let Deidara continue on for a while, before flipping them around and pinning the younger man on the couch. With their positions reversed, Sasori leaned down and captured Deidara's soft, pink lips into a heated kiss.

As Deidara licked the bottom of Sasori's lip, begging the older man for entrance into the hot and moist cavern, Sasori felt a shot of guilt and regret cross through him.

He wished that Deidara's kisses and moans would ignite something within him, a spark, but there was nothing.


Deidara is perfect. Well, maybe not perfect. But the closest to perfect as Sasori could get to in this corrupted world.

Deidara is funny, and intelligent, he can hold a decent and intellectual conversation and he definitely isn't afraid to speak his mind.

He's one of a kind. He's beautiful, and strange, he isn't too clingy, and he understands Sasori. He appreciates and respects Sasori's art. He understands that Sasori likes his own personal space and he never gets angry at the redhead. Frustrated, yes. Annoyed, yes. But never actually angry.

And every day, without fail, Deidara would hold Sasori in his arms and whisper those three words that Sasori had been craving ever since his parents' death.

So why can't Sasori love Deidara like the blonde deserves to be?


"This isn't working, un." Deidara murmured as they strolled, hand-in-hand through the public park. It was evening, and the park was relatively empty except for the two of them. There was a quiet and peaceful feel in the air, and Sasori soaked it all up.

"What do you mean, brat?" Sasori asked, twining their hands together, tightly.

"Us." Deidara clarified, looking slightly terrified but determined all the same as he ploughed onto the next words. "Us. We're not working out, Danna, un."

And Sasori feels the shock wash over his system as he glances up abruptly at the blonde. Even with those words whispered and traveling with the wind, Deidara holds onto Sasori's hand tightly, his frame shaking ever so slightly.

"What do you mean?" Sasori repeats his question in a definitely sterner tone of voice.

"Danna…" Deidara looks into those brown orbs, drowning in their warm color as the birds continued their melody somewhere far, far away. "Do you love me, un?"

Sasori gives a small smirk, feeling relieved that this was all that it was about, and a sigh escapes his lips to brush over his brat's chin. He pulls Deidara closer and envelopes him into a warm hug.

"Of course I do." He lies.

And as he continued holding Deidara in his arms in the middle of the sidewalk, he feels Deidara's lips curve into a smile on his neck, and Sasori lets out an inaudible sigh.

He just wished that it wasn't a lie.


Now, everytime Deidara whispers those three words into his ear; Sasori breathes them back, just as quietly. And suddenly, those words weren't that intimidating to him anymore.

Sasori managed to convince himself, with many muttered words, that everytime he tells Deidara "I love you" he actually means it. And that it wasn't a lie.

"You're really bad at lying, do you know that Danna, un?" Deidara asked one day, as he sat at the foot of Sasori's bed, watching the other sketch out designs for more puppets.

"What are you talking about, Deidara?" Sasori asked, lifting his eyes from the heavy sketches adorning the paper, and instead, focusing his gaze solely on his best—on his lover.

"I can tell when you lie Danna, un." Deidara whispered gently into his knees.

"Are you calling me a liar, brat?"

"Only on a few subjects." Deidara suddenly seemed to find the cracks on Sasori's ceiling very interesting as his eyes was adverted to said place. "Like… I don't know… when you tell me you love me, un."

Sasori pauses there, and his hesitation is all Deidara needs to confirm his suspicions.

"So I'm right, un. You don't love me." Deidara nods to himself in affirmation.

"Brat, Deidara, I-"

"Shut up Danna, un." Deidara looks at Sasori with sadness and determination tinting the sky-blue orbs, and he whispers the next four words, "Let's take a break."

And Sasori sighs, because suddenly, it feels as if a large load was lifted from his shoulders.


The next morning, Sasori wakes up, feeling slightly shaken from the horrible nightmare he just experienced. He turned to the side, expecting to see Deidara sleeping ever so innocently next to him, instead, his fingertips brushed air. Hearing shuffling, Sasori quickly rolled over and sat up, his heart (for reasons unknown to him) felt as though it was plummeting down to the pit of his stomach at the sight of Deidara sitting at his desk with a suitcase resting next to him.

Hearing the sounds, Deidara turned around and flashed a wary grin at Sasori's direction. "Oh, Danna, you're up, un." At Sasori's withering gaze, Deidara faltered and quickly looked back down, fiddling with the handle of his suitcase. "I just finished packing up. I guess I'm gonna move in with Hidan, he said he wouldn't mind, un. I… I just waited around to give you a heads-up in-case you need to find me or something, un."

Continuing that small little smile of his, Deidara stood up, dragging his suitcase with him. "I guess I'll be going now Danna. Just call Hidan's place if you need anything, okay, un?"

And suddenly, Sasori was left all alone.


It was harder than Sasori had expected, to attempt to get over him. When they hung out (because they would always be best friends, before anything else), Sasori always felt the strange need to hold Deidara's hand, or to pull the blonde into a warm hug or to peck his cheek, forehead, lips, anywhere.

It was strange, and Sasori didn't like the feeling at all. The little butterflies that flitted through his stomach every time Deidara smiled or laughed and giggled, it was insane.

He began to fix the covers of his blanket, just to toss them about once they were perfect and mess up the order all over again; just because that was one crazy antic that Deidara performed everyday. He watched every single cheesy horror movie again, sitting alone on the couch and remembering every little comment Deidara had ever made about every scene, hero and villain, and he couldn't help but miss the way Deidara's arm was always slung over his stomach during these occasions, or the soft lips nibbling on his neck.

And every night, he slept alone on the bed. And he couldn't help but feel as if the bed was suddenly too cold, and big, and that there was some warmth or comfort missing from the usually very comfortable sheets.

But what really made Sasori snap, was when he saw Deidara walking down the street one day, that hand that Sasori used to hold and play with, clutched in the grips of Itachi Uchiha. A breathtaking smile was adorned on Deidara's rosy pink lips, the same smile that had been reserved only for him, for Sasori. And when Itachi made some smart-assed comment, Sasori saw Deidara giggle happily, flushed and beautiful and perfect.

And Sasori suddenly knows why he feels so lonely every night. Why he missed those perfect lips on his heated skin so much. Why watching those horror movies seemed so boring when the blonde wasn't stuck to his side. Why he felt so hurt, when Deidara and Itachi continued down the road, not even noticing the redhead. And why he felt the need to go stab himself when he saw Itachi lean down to steal a kiss from Deidara's lips.

He knows.


A/N: I'm not good at angst. I think I established that fact after I wrote that extremely fail angst story. But my cousin gave me this idea, actually, she gave me basically the whole plotline, and I couldn't help but fall in love with the idea. So here is it! Woot! I, actually rather like this piece. Surprising, right? Usually I'm all emo and stuff, but I'm rather proud of this one!

So I hope you guys enjoyed it!

And do you guys think I should, I dunno… add one more chapter? Just to give Sasori his happy ending?