Confession
He visits Sasori every other night, and each time before he enters the abandoned cavern he is always scared that someone has taken Sasori’s corpse away. Deidara knows that Sasori would have wanted to be preserved forever and he wants to honor that so he visits as much as he can to make sure nobody dares touch his Master's art.
He’s managed to mourn as quietly as he can until now, when Pein has found a replacement partner for him and he can’t - he can’t quite adjust yet, he can’t just forget about Sasori because he worked best with him and nobody else can compare. They'd made art together, painting the villages red - but this is Akatsuki, and he doesn't have a choice.
“Sasori.” Saying his name sends phantom blades all over his skin, peeling off layers upon layers of an indifferent facade that up until now came to him so easily—but Sasori’s death had caught him off-guard. For once in his life, Deidara struggled to adapt. To change. Everything just happened too fast. “I don’t know how to do this without you... hmmm.”
The grunt he makes at the end is inarguably a cry, and he slumps defeatedly at Sasori’s corpse who remains ever unresponsive. Deidara’s cries distort into laughter at the thought—Sasori never ran out of things to mouth Deidara off of, and most of all he’d never wanted to die—but any noise that Deidara makes now does not bring him back; no complaints fall upon him, no beautifully twisted forms of reassurances pour from Sasori’s lips—the empty vessel simply keeps staring at him, and Deidara aches alone in silence.