Read at your own psychological risk.

"People raised on love see things differently than those raised on survival" - Joy Marino.

Deidara had just hung up as Obito and Hidan walked through the front door. Obito placed the paper bag of food on the counter as Hidan spoke up, "We heard your bitching from outside but couldn't make out what it was about - who were you calling?" He immediately began thinking of what to entertain himself within the shabby house; knowing the blonde would tell him that it was none of his concern.

"The city, they called to taunt me about stealing my car from me," Deidara grumbled through his lie, "I need to get paid soon so I can release it..."

Hidan, an expert conman, spotted the lie easily; he was still surprised at the blonde's ability at lying. Obito hummed in response - he hoped he could escape the reminder-

"Which is your fault, Obito. My car wouldn't have been there in the first place if you didn't want to go drinking," Deidara accused.

Obito waved his hand dismissingly as he grabbed a chocolate out of the bag, "Yeah, yeah, this is the sixth time you've reminded me. I have paperwork to fill out for my transfer, keep the sounds to a minimum," the dark-haired man requested as he disappeared along the hallway.

"What did you guys buy?" Deidara asked as he skipped to the paper bag, rummaging through its contents.

Hidan scoffed, "A shower doesn't normally counter a drug hangover so good - you took airhead's painkillers."

Deidara hummed, "And I'm going to blame you for it," he answered as he unpacked the ramen while still sifting.

"He won't believe you, plus, why would I go for cheap painkillers?" Hidan replied as he eyed the blonde. His golden locks were tied up in a wet bun, he wore a loose blue hoody and grey shorts. He only spotted the hidden shorts because Deidara was leaning over the paper bag to inspect its contents.

"Obito," Deidara began, "Will believe anything if your lie is smooth enough. You cheapskates really didn't get any snacks?" The blonde turned to glare at the silver-haired man.

"I didn't want to," Hidan lied easily.

"What kind of sweets, or whatever, does that bitch like?" Hidan asked as he passed the snacks section.

"Dark chocolate, salty chips - really simple stuff. Why? You wanna get him some?" Obito had asked smoothly.

But Hidan heard the curiosity in his tone, "Nah, just asking so I make sure to get him the wrong shit."

Deidara rolled his eyes as he turned to the couch, "You can leave at any moment, y'know?"

"I know, but it's more entertaining here so I think I'll stick around for a few hours-"

"Yeah, I don't want you to. Leave," the blonde flapped his hand.

Hidan plonked beside the blonde on the couch, "That's exactly why I'm gonna stay here," He heard his words and quickly added, "for now." He continued the sentence so quickly it didn't sound broken up.

The Jashinist, frankly, was very confused; why was he choosing his words so carefully? He had never cared about how a sentence came out and he cared even less about how someone might interpret or feel about it. With Deidara, however, he found himself subconsciously being careful - as if this was his life he was playing with. Deidara was just a fuckbuddy, Hidan had lots of those in the past. Why he felt the need to be careful with his words or monitor his behaviour, he didn't know. Perhaps the sex the blonde had to offer was just so good that he didn't want it to be removed from his options just yet...

Deidara eventually found the remote between the couch cushions, "When did you and my idiot squatter become so close?" He waited for the T.V to come to life; like Frankenstein if the electricity bill was barely paid.

"Why? Are you jealous?" Hidan teased.

Deidara scoffed as the static screen quickly transitioned to life, "What is there to be jealous of?" He muttered as he flicked through stations.

Hidan was quiet at that response. His mind saw the fulfilment in the blonde's eyes captured in the picture on his phone. Realistically he knew he had nothing to do with that blue contentment, but he wanted to trick himself into thinking he did. Deidara really didn't care? Did the blonde really only used the Jashinist as a taxi? Hidan furrowed his brows, exclusivity was something he hated; he despised having his options controlled and watched. But when he thought of Deidara being with anyone else, his fists clenched.

Jashin chose Deidara for him; allocated the blonde for him and him alone. Hidan felt a sacred duty to only ever sleep with the blonde. Ergo, he was sacredly bound to the blonde, yet the blonde wasn't bound to him. At least, the blonde didn't act like it; didn't speak like it.

"So, your car-" Hidan began, trying to think of a lie - a manoeuvre - to get the artist to postpone releasing his vehicle.

"Don't. I get paid end of next week. Unfortunately, I'll have to use some of that money to free it from this city's obsessive clutches," Deidara interrupted, "I would still like to know how they knew that I wasn't disabled... Maybe I could break Obito's legs and prove disability..." The blonde grumbled.

He can't remember the money he stole last night? It's in his left boot...

Hidan thought carefully. If Deidara found the money, he wouldn't need a ride from the Jashinist anymore and their contact would easily stop; given the blonde's comfort at cutting ties after people weren't useful to him anymore. He could always take the money from the boot and give it back to the blonde when he manages to get them into a relationship; that's romantic, right?

"Why? Is giving me a ride becoming too much of a burden?" Deidara asked absentmindedly as he surfed the stations; he was looking for something to watch.

Hidan thought on the spot, "No, but I haven't been repaid at all," he added smugly.

"I can blow you, but that's as much as I can do. Even though it would hurt like hell from my raw throat," Deidara mumbled as he pressed the button to the next station, "I think you're blissfully unaware that your size is a problem for other activities. My head still slightly hurts, I don't want to add my lower back."

"Gross. After you recover then," the purple-eyed man replied. As someone who likes inflicting pain - as a sadist - Hidan had never thought he'd turn down the opportunity. But, evidentially, he just did.

Jashin, you haven't demanded the same since last night... Have you changed your demands? Hidan questioned in his mind.

"Ah! Finally, something good," Deidara whispered after he found a horror to settle on. He didn't know the name, nor did he care what it was. Gore was the artist's inspiration - he had a special gift for morphing it into beauty. People - despite what they might say - love being repulsed and scared. He knew that far too well...

"I've seen this-"

"Then shut up. I haven't," the blonde scolded, transfixed on tearing flesh and suspenseful breathing, "You're free to exit stage left," Deidara pointed a thumb at the front door.

Which bitch do I prefer? The hungover, needy one or the opinionated, independent one? Hidan contemplated.

Deidara had tuned in at the moment just before majority of the gore. There was some kind of poetic, artistic element to insides turning outside - organs being revealed; vulnerability expressed in its raw, anatomical form.

The usual uncaring Jashinist had seen the movie before, yet he found his eye's subtly focused on the blonde. Suddenly, he thanked his thieving foster families instead of cursing them. They had equipped him with an expert ability to watch without being seen; without being noticed. He could observe, that was one of Hidan's unspoken skills. His only problem was drawing reliable patterns from his observations.

It seemed to him that the gore, the blood and suffering glued the blonde. It reminded him of a cartoon character's eyes transfixed on something. Disturbing as it might seem, Deidara's dull blue eyes sparkling in the slightest at anything was so fascinating - so...pretty. It was pretty whether it was caused by suffering or by happiness.

Then, the strangest thing happened. A strangeness that carelessly twirled the Jashinist's stomach. The rape scene in the film slapped across the screen - in its vague depiction.

But, Deidara averted his gaze for a few seconds before his eyes returned to the screen.

The blue orbs looked down. They avoided it before they returned to the scene.

Hidan watched closely as, throughout the few-second scene, the blonde squeezed and subtly bent his thumb.

What the fuck?

Hidan focused his periphery glance on the blonde. Blood, gore, torture and screams didn't faze him in the least. But, when a vague rape scene drawled across the screen like slime, the artist squeezed his thumb subtly.

Surely... No, I've seen enough to know enough. He would've fucked out if it had happened in reality... I'm overthinking.

"I'm inspired. You can go home - I'm gonna go sculpt," Deidara announced before the movie had even finished.

Hidan replied instantly, "I get to watch. It's 'cuz of me that you aren't blind."

Deidara looked at him sharply; so sharply Hidan wondered if the blue gaze had cut him somewhere; perhaps his cheek, maybe his lips - it could've sliced an internal organ. He kept his lavender eyes neutral and his undefeated poker face on.

Deidara sighed as he undid his now dry bun, the massive sleeves of his light-blue jersey falling to his elbows, "Fair enough. Shut up while in there - a sociopath's input could be interesting..."

Hidan retained his blank face as the blonde hair cascaded in curled waves down Deidara's face and pack. He retied it promptly in a high ponytail; Hidan thought the blonde looked good with loose hair.

Deidara flicked the T.V off and rapidly undid the locked door to his sculpture room, leaving the door open for Hidan. Normally, the artist would lock the door behind him - like an ancient, sinful and secret ritual. People were not meant to watch his creations.

Hidan wasn't just any 'person' he was flawed - he wasn't 'human' he was less...perhaps more; Deidara hadn't decided which. He grabbed his clay and began quickly.

Hidan watched as Deidara's eyes focused and his hands became extremely careful. So that is where the blonde developed hand-eye coordination from. Like expert needles puncturing defenceless patches of material; the blonde made quick and easy work of the malleable white smoosh. You could ask Hidan anything about an engine, apparently, you could ask Deidara anything about hand pressure. He watched, engrossed, as the blonde expertly created curves and jagged ends on a clay-covered mannequin. The grooves were unsettlingly realistic as if the blonde was familiar with the tears and flimsy remainders.

He concluded quickly and stepped away from the sculpture with careful hands; raised in surrender, afraid he'd disturb the inanimate object. It was a mannequin with a ripped-open chest and split forehead - in pure white. The rips jutted out like fractured bone with a second layer resembling torn, jutted flesh. Hidan furrowed his brows at the sculpture as Deidara lowered his careful hands in defeat before pressing an index finger to his mouth in thought.

"It's very-" Hidan began.

"He's not sad enough..." Deidara noted in scrutiny.

Hidan thought for a moment, "Isn't he a mauled body - a shredded corpse?"

Deidara did not falter, "If that's what you see, I guess he is. A slowly rotting corpse of dead flesh... But he's not sad enough - there's not enough sadness..." Deidara whispered, his eyes scanning the violently ripped-open chest and forehead.

The most surprise Hidan had ever experienced in years pounced on his gut. It made his abs throb in anticipation as his tongue dried slowly, "What do you mean by sadness?"

Deidara tilted his head, his golden locks covering his face.

"Don't," the deep voice choked for a second, "It's not blah. Please... what else did he say?"

"Can you- please don't hang up... Please don't ever hang up-" his voice begged desperately, "Please just stay on the phone!"

"You never amounted to anything. We need money and there's only one thing people will pay you for," the hoarse voice echoed.

"He remembers... His birthday - it was ignored because he was despised; he was an accident. He begs for someone - anyone - to speak to him, to hear a living voice. He means something... He just-" Deidara caught himself quickly before his mouth went too far, "It doesn't matter... He'll fade. The clay will melt or crack - he'll die. No one will mourn him, no one knows him; he doesn't have a name," the blonde discreetly wiped his nose.

"Even sculptures struggle, so why would we be foolish enough to think those of us who can breathe can be happy?"

Hidan knew then, knew in his unflinching gut, that the blonde had a long story that he had never uttered to another living being...

A/N: yeah they is fun to write lol