Naruto Fan Fiction ❯ Have You Ever Seen The Rain? ❯ We Only Come Out At Night ( Chapter 2 )

[ X - Adult: No readers under 18. Contains Graphic Adult Themes/Extreme violence. ]

Disclaimer: I do NOT own Naruto or ANY of its characters. They are property of Masashi Kishimoto. There may be characters appearing that are originals by me. Deidara's father is an example. Please review.



The house was dark, the night having long since taken over from the daylight hours. Panes of glass from many windows were beaded with droplets of rainwater as dismal light filtered through pouring rain and the dark leaves of a hanging willow tree. Listening closely, Deidara swore he could hear the water trickling off the long boughs onto the ground, as if the great tree were weeping.
Downstairs, in the nook beneath the stairwell, was a hidden door blended into the wooden paneling. When closed, only one who knew it was there would be able to distinguish the slight difference between door and woodwork, but there was never enough light in the dark corner for that fact to be revealed. This was to Deidara’s advantage as he moved into concealment in the shadow of the stair.
A slender, bruised hand slid along the molding at the base of the wall until it came across a groove in the wood. Fingers followed the groove upwards until they reached a particular swirl in the carved wood paneling and pressed upon the center of it. Next to the blond teen a door slid open with the barest skid of wood on wood, although the sound was muffled by the pounding of rain on slated shingles and the papery patter of drops on flipping willow leaves.
A peal of thunder cracked overhead, following on the heels of a flash of blinding light. Deidara jumped, opening the door wide and ducking through while the reverberations still shook the house. He slid the door completely shut again and leaned shakily up against the smooth wall of the narrow passage. If that woke my father up…Deidara shook his head, long bangs flicking back and forth as he did so. It was best not to think of what would happen then. With a shudder, Deidara carefully pushed himself away from the wall and crouched in the pitch-dark of the stone passageway. The low ceiling was barely high enough for him to creep along on all fours without bumping his head. Feeling his way down the crawlspace, his hands moved along the baseboards in search of the small, bent nail that would tell him which door he should open next. When his fingers brushed against it, he felt upwards along the wall for the piece of loose brick that was the catch for the door he knelt in front of. Deft hands searched the wall, counting mortar lines this way and that until they came at last to rest upon the cracked stone.
Within moments, the door was back in place and Deidara was climbing carefully up a dusty airshaft ladder. He came to the top of the ladder, his ponytail brushing the second trap door into the attic, and stopped. Deidara took exactly seven steps back down, and reached for the piece of string looped on the wall. When he found it, he tugged it gently and looked through the small crack of gray light revealed.
Deidara’s blue eyes peered through the clothes in the back of his closet and examined the room beyond. His room. One might not think so for lack of teenager-esque decorating, but it was indeed his own.
Slowly, Deidara opened the panel wide enough to slip through and balanced himself on the iron rungs. In one swift motion, he swung himself though and shut the paneling behind him, shoving a few pairs of hanging pants in the way, just in case. Sighing, the blond boy moved from his closet and laid quietly on the bed. His thin and battered hand reached into the breast of his hoodie and removed the objects he had hidden there. A bag of chips and a slice of bread filched from the pantry, a wedge of cheese from the round in the fridge, and a small piece of smoked ham were the fruit of his venture downstairs.
Quickly layering the meat and cheese on the bread, he hungrily pushed makeshift sandwich into his mouth and ate it. He dusted the crumbs from his face and hands and reached for the chips. Deidara opened the bag as quietly as he could, wincing at the squeak of plastic. Sitting cross-legged, he ate them one by one while listening to the soft patter of rain all around him. When he was done, he wadded up the wrapper and stuffed it behind his dresser before grabbing a glass mug from his windowsill. Taking a sip, he grimaced at the taste, but did not hesitate to take another. The water was acrid and musty, flavored by old, damp wood.
After he took another sip, he used his hoodie’s sleeve to wipe away the water gathering on the windowsill and pushed the mug beneath the drip. Happily fed, he pulled up his sheets and slid under them, fully intent upon sleeping. His eyes were shut and he could feel himself drifting towards sleep when he heard a sound that made his eyes snap open in fear, his body going rigid and cold under the sheets. No! Not tonight! Not again!
His breath held caught in his throat and he hoped, dared upon hoping that tonight he would be left alone. His stomach plummeted and churned as the knob of his door turned and creaked. Not tonight…The thought was little more than a moan in his head. There had never been any chance with hoping, and there never would be. I hate you…
As his door slip open, Deidara curled into a tight ball and willed himself to be outside in the rain. He imagined each cold, clean smelling droplet touching down on him in such a manner as to leave him soaked. He imagined the feel of sodden clothes, slicked to his skin with wetness and the drop of water trailing its way down the back of his neck, the blond hair plastered to his face, the water dripping from the end of his nose. The image was almost perfect in Deidara’s mind, he was almost out there, there where he wouldn’t have to feel the callused hands pulling away the sheet and lifting the back of his hoodie. He was almost in a place where he couldn’t care.
A warm hand touched his cold back and he flinched, the illusion broken. Goose bumps spread across his body and the hair at the back of his neck rose in chill apprehension. It was almost as if Deidara could feel each ridge in the fingers touching his back as they moved around, feeling the soft, bruised flesh. Without warning, the bitten nails dug into the middle of his back and Deidara stifled a gasp. The fingers bit into his back and clenched, sending a sharp wave of pain that made the teenager arch his back with a strangled intake of breath. From above Deidara, a cold, dead voice was heard.
“Tell me, what must I do? What could I possibly do to punish you? What torture is enough to atone for your crime, Deidara?” The voice seemed to take on a cooing hint, almost pitying in its mocking tone. “Tell your daddy what he can do to bring her back. After all, its your fault that she’s gone, isn’t it, Deidara?”
Deidara turned his face into the sheets, his eyes clenched shut to keep the tears from leaking out. No matter what answer he gave, he wouldn’t be spared. His silence itself was enough of an answer. The hand dug into his back again and he hissed, throwing his head back as old bruises were mashed into once again.
“You’re not going to answer me again?” the voice asked, sounding as if hurt. “You hurt me, Dei-chan. I was really hoping you’d cooperate this time. Maybe I should just - oh say -” A warm hand slid down towards the waistband of Deidara’s jeans and slid into the back, caressing the teen’s bottom. “Invite myself to the goods without your consent?” Fingers moved to caress the boy’s entrance, and Deidara shook his head vigorously.
“No…” Deidara’s moan was quiet, barely audible against the sheets. He felt the hand relax, then it prodded at him. “No…” A bit louder.
“Oh, what did you say? I couldn’t hear you? Did you say no? I must be mistaken.” Deidara’s father pulled his son into his lap and took his hand out of the teenager’s jeans. Deidara lay limply against him, his head flopped sideways into the man’s shoulder. “You see, no isn’t an answer when you deserve it. Why don’t you understand that?” He leaned forward and breathed in Deidara’s breath, making a tsk-tsk sound.
“You’ve been to the pantry again, haven’t you? How you manage to get down there without me catching you is quite a mystery, my disobedient son. How ever do you get past your dear otousan?” His father’s hand brushed Deidara’s hair back and lifted his head up to stare at his son’s closed eyelids.
“No matter. You need to be punished for that.”