Deidara last
Third Person
Deidara has always been a creature that craved the warmth of the sun at all times and withered in even the slightest of flash of winter cold. Someday, he’ll regret tanning like this because he’ll have skin cancer but what does he care, he’s 19 and young. Cancer and death is far from his mind. In fact, nothing is in his mind right now as he naps on his couch in his tiny apartment, sketch pad forgotten and graphite markings ruin the tone of his hands; his brain only registers the sun.
His laziness was interrupted with a loud buzzing sound from his table as his phone vibrates off the table and only when he heard the drop of his plastic-y phone against hardwood floor does he wake up, startled. His phone survives the fall and continues to vibrate towards the door in a slow escape.
Deidara drags his legs off the couch and gets up to retrieve his phone. Growling, “What?”
A man on the other side and speaks of nonsense to Deidara’s still sun wrapped brain. He yawns audibly and the man decides to cut right to the chase.
“Sir, your application to our establishment has been denied. We thank you for your patience and time and hope to-“
Deidara slides his phone shuts to close the call. The blond flops back on to the couch and bury his face against a cushion. Slowly the words the man said settles in, fogginess in his head disappears and anger burns in his stomach.
“FUCK!”
He pathetically punches the side of the couch. Later he’ll find that he broke two fingers and sprain his wrist. But he would not be thinking of it for the rest of the week.
On the good side, at least he didn’t break his cell by throwing it. Again.
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