He Danced to Get Away

 

Sasori was frozen in his bed. He stared, unblinking, at the young man who was standing at the foot of his bed. He head was hanging down, his long blonde hair shielding his face from sight. His arms hung limply at his sides, and he was inhumanly still. It didn’t even look like he was breathing. There was a foul stench in the air, filling up the whole room. The stench of death, of decay. It was stifling. Sasori didn’t dare to move, or to make any sort of sound. He laid there, stock still, watching this…boy.

Suddenly, there was a wet gurgling sound. The boy slowly lifted his hanging head, to reveal his face. It still had the same sweetness and roundness that it had before, when Sasori first met him, but now the big blue eyes were red and bloodshot and lifeless. As they bore into Sasori’s own frightened eyes, they seemed almost to draw him in. But there was nothing there, no proof that he was alive. Those blue eyes were wide and glassy…empty of all emotion. The gurgling grew louder, and then blood began to bubble out of the corners of the boy’s mouth. And then there was more, it poured out of his mouth, down his chin, and splattered onto the hardwood floor.

And then he spoke. It was quiet, muffled by the sheer amount of blood in his mouth.

“Help me.” The voice was just as lifeless as the boy’s eyes.

Sasori’s skin was crawling. What the fuck was happening? What this boy a zombie? Was he a ghost? He had no idea. He didn’t look like he wanted to hurt Sasori, but he was supposed to be dead. He was spitting up blood all over his bedroom floor. He was supposed to be dead.

“Help you? Help you with what? What’s wrong?” He almost didn’t trust his voice. It came out shaky, just like he thought it would. He hands were shaking now, too, as they gripped his sheets tightly. His eyes widened as the boy began to shake, even more blood pouring from his mouth.

“Help me.” Was all he said. Sasori stood up, his legs almost giving out from underneath him as his feet hit the cold hardwood floor. He ran the few steps to the boy, and bravely reached out to touch him.

“Help you with what?” He asked, trying to turn the boy so he was facing him. It worked, his upper body turned to face Sasori…but his bottom half didn’t follow. His spine snapped, a loud, disgusting crack filled the room. “Oh…G-God!” Sasori murmured, and he felt bile rise in his throat.

“Help me.” The boy repeated, some of the blood from his lips splattering onto Sasori’s cheek. He wanted to vomit. He fought through it, though, and twisted Deidara’s body around so it was back on straight, a loud POP indicating his spine was back in place.

“Help me. Help me.” He repeated it, probably attempting to sound urgent. It didn’t work though, as his voice was void of inflection. There was more and more blood, a seemingly unending supply of it was pouring from the boys delicate lips. It was thick and dark red, coagulated from the boy’s decay.

“Come with me to the bathroom. Can you walk?” Sasori reached out to grab the boy’s bare arm. His skin was ice cold, but what had he expected? The boy was dead.  He pulled Deidara toward him again, and this time his lower half followed. He walked on shaky, unsure legs as Sasori lead him to his bathroom.

Once they were there, Sasori tried to sit the boy down on top of the toilet seat. He was unsuccessful, because the boy’s legs wouldn’t bend. And then suddenly, his arms wouldn’t bend. Sasori tried to press his fingers into the boys skin, and it was stiff and hard as a rock. The red head took a deep breath.

Rigor mortis. This boy really was dead.

“Shit. You can’t move, can you? I’m just going to wet a cloth and wipe off the blood, okay? I’m not going to hurt you.” Sasori said, looking over the younger male with confused eyes. What was he supposed to do with this boy? Should he call the cops? The morgue? He had a dead boy spitting up blood in his bedroom…now in the bathroom…would they believe he was already dead when he got here? No, they would most likely blame Sasori for his death. But…the boy had died earlier that day! His parents had found him dead!

Sasori looked down at Deidara’s wrists. Sure enough, on each one there was a wide, gaping gash. He must have cut himself hard, deep…he must have been angry when he died. Then why was he begging Sasori to help him now? Did he regret doing it? Did he regret killing himself? Or did he want Sasori to help him get to the other side? Did he need help passing on?

But there was an even bigger question nagging at Sasori’s mind. Why him? Why did this boy come to Sasori of all people? Why didn’t he go to his parents? How did he even find Sasori? He needed these questions answered. Until then, he couldn’t go to the police. He couldn’t go to anyone. And right now, Deidara couldn’t speak. He couldn’t even move. And Sasori had a feeling, when the boy did regain his muscle control, all he would be able to say is ‘help me’. And that didn’t get them anywhere.

With these thoughts in his head, Sasori grabbed a cloth from underneath the sink, and soaked it in warm water from the faucet. He ringed it out, and turned towards the boy. Gently, he wiped away all the blood that had begun to crust on the boy’s mouth, chin, neck, and chest. Most of it was on the boy’s flimsy shirt, so once Sasori was finished with the cloth, he dropped it in the sink and tore off the boy’s nasty, bloody shirt. He tossed it into the sink, too, making a mental note to burn both of them later.

Now that Deidara was clean, Sasori took in his beauty up close for the first time. He was a slender, short, all around petite boy. He had big, blue eyes, which were now sadly clouded over with cataracts. His hair was long and blonde, but it had fallen out of its elastic band. Said black band was hanging loosely from the golden strands, attached only by a snarled clump of hair. Sasori snagged it free, and held it up to show the boy.

“I’m going to put your hair up, so it’s out of your face, okay?” He told the younger male, before reaching out and gathering the thick hair up in ponytail, securing it with the band. He pulled back and admired his work. Now he could take in the entirety of Deidara’s face. Even in death, he was the single most beautiful thing Sasori had ever seen. “When the rigor mortis wears off, we’ll get you in the shower, okay?”

Deidara groaned, a deep, strangled sound that tore at Sasori’s heart.

“I’m sorry this happened to you, Deidara. I’ll help you. I know this must be so scary…but I’m here for you.” He said, as calmly as he could. But…how was he going to help the boy? He didn’t know anything about…this kind of stuff. He was an English major…studying to become a teacher.

As he thought of his University, that’s when it hit him. He knew exactly who could help him with this fucked up situation.

The Hyuuga sisters.