You last resort was fading quickly. Unable to bear being in Sasori's empty room ('It's still his room,' you had thought sharply, 'It still smells like him, so it is still his room. He won't be gone forever.') you had taken the afternoon blue blanket from his bed -- it was thick and acted as the comforter -- and wordlessly trekked upstairs to the attic with two rolls of tape in hand and your cookie jar.
Just as you thought. There were still two shoeboxes -- you noted briefly, hurtfully, that he was probably in such a rush he forgot it -- side by side, gathering slight dust. In a swift movement you laid the blue quilt out on the floor neatly, smoothing out the wrinkles, and put the cookie jar in the center, then the shoeboxes next to it.
"No, that doesn't work," you spoke to yourself, brow furrowed. "I suppose I could just carry one, right? Oh, wait, the windowsill! Right right right. Silly me."
"Silly girl."
You spun, face sheet white, looking for the voice, his voice, anywhere in the room. You swore you heard, as if he was right there beside you, but...
...there was honestly no one there but you and the mice and spiders.
You took a steadying breath, shaking your head.
Hallucinating already. He had barely been gone a few hours, and you were already wishing he was there so hard you imagined it.
"Merlin's beard I'm.. I-I'm stupid."
And lifting a shoebox and putting it on the windowsill, you removed the top and took the first few pictures into your hand.
Your mother holding you in her arms, justborn. Tiny. New.
Day one.
Taking a piece of tape, you stuck it to the picture, and then taped it to the wall.
"Hi guys. I figured you'd have a better view on the wall, here. Shoeboxes are awfully uncomfortable and all."
"I'm glad you made it home when you did, Sasori, there is a fierce storm brewing... Scouts reported a grungy sandstorm followed by the yearly wash-out." The wash-out was a once a year thing in Sand Country -- a huge storm, nearly a hurricane or monsoon, which drenched the lands with so much water it supplied them with reservoirs and life for scrubs. "There hasn't been something like this in years, many many years. Before you were even thought up," Chiyo chuckled fondly, sipping on tea.
And gee. I wanted to punch her in the teeth. Multiple times, in succession.
My tea, anyway, was currently getting cold before me, as was my lunch. It was my favorite, or, what she assumed was my favorite. Curry on rice with a side of sweet dumplings. Better yet, it used to be my favorite.
Now it was Oreos and milk.
(Damn Shiroisuna.)
I poked at it boredly with my spoon, nodding absently. I hadn't really said anything since I had walked in -- she had done all the talking. From her tone and physical reaction, she was brightly assuming that Hi-... Shiroisuna had seriously fucked up in some way and that I had 'seen the light'. She hadn't said a single word about her. Not at all. She merely inquired what brought me here, saw my boxes, and immediatly called out servants to carry it up to my room and for lunch to be made early.
You may be wondering why I didn't go to a friend's house or an aquaintence's instead. Anywhere but here.
First of all, I had only one actual 'friend' in that sense of the word. And she had not spoken to me in over a week.
And if I dared showed up shamefaced on anyone's doorstep who I worked alongside... my reputation would be spoiled forever. I hated people whispering behind my back, after all -- fucking annoying. Gossip. I hated it. I hated the whispering, the rumor spreading, the delight everyone got from it.
Especially when I was the topic.
"--mud, everywhere! It's bound to be even worse this time, judging from how big they said the sandstorm was. Maybe even a mudslide... lord, that would be something to see. Sasori, you haven't even touched your food. What's wrong?"
I briefly looked up, not really giving a pink shit for her to know what the hell was bothering me, and shrugged faintly.
"I'm not hungry," I placated her. She accepted this with zero suspicion and went on about the upcoming weather.
I had never really enjoyed the wash-out; it was wet, it was loud, and it meant I was absolutely cooped up in the house which typically lost power an hour into it. That meant no music, no lights to tinker by. Lots of strong-smelling candles had to be lit, and then everyone generally meandered into the parlor where conversation picked up and cards and board games were played.
It was alright when I was a child, but now, I just loathed it.
I wonder what Himo- Shiroisuna did. I know she loved the rain with a passion, but surely she wasn't daft enough to actually... go out into it... right?
A strong pang of worry hit me, and for the first time in what felt like forever, alertness entered my eyes.
I hadn't locked her door on the way out. There was still a massive crack in it from when I had slammed it, which meant sand and water would definetly get in unless she covered it up. The damn thing could even break to pieces from the winds, being already damaged as it was. No candles were in her home, I knew for sure -- it was a hazard, especially with her coordination -- and I doubted she'd be able to change the batteries for her flashlight without injuring herself. Hell, what with the lightning faking terror shapes from the shadows on the wall, she'd undoubtedly go out of her mind with worry...
"Sasori? Are you alright? You look pale..!"
I realized that my hands were fisted and that I was tense, wound up like a feral animal about to spring. And a tiny voice passed through my head.
"Please do not talk to me anymore."
I untensed exponentially.
"I'm fine, Chiyo. What were you saying?"
I would have had a gulp of tea to really calm myself down, but it was cold.
One-half of the window's wall in your attic was now covered in photographs.
Mostly they were normal-sized, but some were cutouts, and others a little larger, and then there were polaroids and even a few large, portrait-sized ones you had found tucked away. And there was still some left in the shoebox, along with Sasori's untouched one.
The cookie jar was also well on its way to emptiness, with the help of two very respectable mice who you had given an Oreo to as an anniversary present (a whole year!) and the window was also opened to let in fresh air and sunshine.
It was oddly nice outside today, you had noted with some baffledness; it was not hot at all, maybe even in the seventies, and there was zero breeze and no sweltering heat from the sun.
Weird.
But you continued humming half-heartedly, taping up a fine photograph of yourself getting a piggyback ride from your father.
"And, through it allll... how could you cry.. for me? 'Cause I don't feel bad about it..."
Another one went up; your mom beating serious ass at DDR in an arcade.
"So shut your eyes... la da da-daa... ...and sleep. Just sleep..."
The rest went up rather quickly after that, and soon enough you found yourself gazing raptly at a mother holding a redheaded baby in her arms, justborn. Tiny. New.
Day one.
You moved a picture to make room for it beside your very similar one. Proudly, you decided, that they looked grand next to each other like that. Just grand.
More Oreos were consumed. You never noticed the quickly approaching cloud outside your window, miles and miles away, but yet so damn close. You just hummed and hummed and sang inbetween hums and admired Sasori's wealthy, lovely life.
"I can see you, awake, anytime... in my head... All fall down; well, after all. La-da, la-da, la-da... da-dummm... da-dumm.."
And then you were thrown back ten feet by wind.
♥
DELETED SCENE! :D
Have you guys listened to The Desert Song by My Chemical Romance? Holy shit, holy shit, holy shit... it's not my favorite song, but God almighty, Gerard can sing in that. They don't change anything about his voice, and it's filled to the brim with so much... emotion... ♥
I basically love it with all my heart.
So if you're tempted to listen to it, rate, and if you know what the hell I'm talking about already then message me and we can have a badass conversation about our favorite 31 year-old Way :3
And again, I'M SORRY ^___^;;;
"Honestly, Sasori, you look nearly sick. Curry is your favorite, and it's a shame to waste it..."
My mind was swarming. I couldn't get those stupid, gorgeous brown eyes out of my head, and I couldn't stop hearing little bits and phrases of words like, "I hate puppets" and how nice it felt to have my skin brush against hers. Her scent was perfectly embedded in my head; peaches. She permanently smelled like peaches, from her shampoo and conditioner and soap.
She always bought the same thing.
I found myself glaring at the table, seething, hands in fists on my lap.
I gave in.
"Do we have Oreos?" I asked calmly.
Chiyo looked surprised.
"I thought you hated Oreos," she remarked.
...I thought I did, too.
