(no subject)
WHO: Uchiha Itachi pinwheeleyes, Uchiha Sasuke ah_fortiori
WHERE: On the floor of Itachi's old room~
WHEN: During the day on 11/29.
SUMMARY: Sasuke wants to talk to Itachi, but realizes that some things aren't supposed to happen.
RATING: Pg-13
WARNINGS: Vomiting...swearing...
STATUS: Complete
Sasuke had managed to pull himself away from his two teammates for a bit, with the promise of not to get hurt. He was sick of being treated like a child, but there were things that he definitely didn't mind. One thing though...Itachi. He needed to see him. Naruto was one thing...but Itachi was family. He was the one who had protected him all this time. He walked down the halls at an even pace, but trying to move quickly. Itachi was probably hiding deliberately. His eyes narrowed slightly as he continued down the hall where Itachi's old room had been, just encase he had been assigned the same room.
Luck held steady, though not in the way that Sasuke had intended - though he did manage to discover a parallel to the last time Itachi had been here. Not the same room ... but Itachi was walking that direction, towards the stairwell or the elevators one, head bowed and smoke curling lightly around his lips.
Smoking. A strange non-habit picked up from a strange blonde man named Sanji with remarkably disturbing eyebrows. Itachi brushed directly past Sasuke though it was impossible to have not seen him at least in piriphreal vision - despite how wrapped up in thought the older raven was.
The cherry traced light patterns when he chewed on the filter, eyes half-lidded. No way out.
Sasuke saw him immediately, and his eyes widened. Itachi had visited during his time of weakness. And then he had dismissed him. He said he had to get back. Sasuke's fist tightened in frustration.
"Itachi..." His eyebrow raised slightly and the smoke in his mouth. He tried to ignore it, shaking his head slightly. Self-destructive...how ironic, "Why did you dismiss me?"
Itachi paused mid-step, halfway down the hall. He let his foot fall loosely and flicked ash to the side, head turning lightly. Through a haze of dark bangs and lashes, he could see Sasuke this way, just over his shoulder. "You don't interest me right now," he told him with a small gesture of that hand, tracing the glowing pattern.
Sanji was right - smoking really was calming to the nerves. And what did a terminally ill man already living past his own death really care for extending a lifespan already spent?
Itachi wasn't suicidal, though he was self-sacrificing to the point of destruction. Now was no different.
Sasuke bristled at the comment, his nails digging into his skin. How dare he. He had given Sasuke his approval after everything. He had told Sasuke to get his revenge. He had actually seemed interested in Sasuke. And now this.
"Don't say that!" Sasuke growled, glaring at the elder Uchiha, "There's more to talk about."
“There isn't." Itachi turned away and continued the direction he was going, one graceful, silent step in front of the other. He had a slight sway to his hips without the Akatsuki robes to hide and conceal. He needed to find washing soaps or color-safe bleach in order to clear the bloodstains and stench from the set he'd retrieved from Dilandau's rooms.
It was a bit cold, without it. His skin looked so pale, with only the fishnet shirt across his torso that he'd worn beneath it.
"Nii-san-"
The word had slipped from his lips. It had been a complete accident. Sasuke had unconsciously reached out and grabbed his shirt. He needed to talk to him. About what he wasn't completely sure, but he knew he did, "There is."
Itachi flicked the cigarette away and turned, a casual swipe of one hand knocking Sasuke's fingers free of his shirt. He caught the boy's wrist and used the momentum to pin him back against a wall, arm caught tight over his chest in a classic hold-move.
The only thing to make this crueler ... but no, there were no kunai available within the confines of this 'hotel' to hold across his brother's throat to reminesce old times.
Just cold, blank eyes and a colder distant tone. "There is nothing to discuss."
Sasuke gritted his teeth struggling in Itachi's hold. There had been too many where the other had him pinned, helpless. And he hated it. Itachi though. There had to be some reason Itachi was being so ... closed off. There was before and there had to be now.
"Yes there is!" Sasuke gritted out, struggling weakly, "Stop ignoring me!"
He hated how weak his body still felt. It was his own fault, but it was still frustrating.
"I disagree." Itachi squeezed his fingers tighter to emphasize the point, then released Sasuke abruptly, all at once, just to watch how he slid to the ground. He'd ended up lifting him up somewhat. Sasuke had either lost a ridiculous amount of weight, or Itachi's strength hadn't ebbed much due to the neutralizing effects of this place.
He dug through a pocket and found a lighter, and another cigarette to replace the one he'd lost when manhandling his little brother. (So weak now, Sasuke, so unworth any further interference.)
"There isn't."
Sasuke sank down to the ground, feeling tired from even exerting that much energy. He had only just got back to eating solids in the last couple of days. His fist tightened again before he released it. There was nothing more he could do for the time being. Not until he got stronger.
"Promise you'll talk to me again," Sasuke mumbled softly, looking away from Itachi in shame.
"No." Itachi folded his arms loosely over his chest, toying with the lighter, then fisted it tightly in one hand. He stared down at Sasuke for a long moment, then his eyes flicked away, abstractly tracing a crack in the wall.
"Have a medic attend to you before the bruises set. Iron deficiency anemia and malnutrition could make that severe."
Sasuke glared more. In one way, he knew Itachi was showing he was caring. Showing that despite everything, he was still worried for Sasuke's well being. On the other hand, he was just going to walk off and leave if Sasuke didn't get up and stop him. He pushed against the wall, trying to use it as support to stand. If Itachi wasn't going to talk to him about other things, then it was a matter of getting him to talk about pointless things.
"Smoking is bad for you," he whispered, unable to get any louder.
"Answer me this," Itachi rested two fingers against his little brother's chest and shoved, just enough to send him tumbling back. He watched dispassionately as Sasuke slid down, and followed him, crouching loosely on the balls of his feet.
"What purpose is there to give health advice to the walking dead? When the heart stops beating and the blood discontinues it's circulation, the chakra points clog and close off forever, a man is not. supposed to wkae up again."
He held the cigarette out and thumbed Sasuke's lower lip, placing it there, then rose to his feet in a graceful rustle of fabric and too-pale skin. "In this place if I stop breathing, I will start again. We've established this. Smoking is only bad for the living."
Sasuke stumbled back and hit the wall glaring hard at Itachi. He wasn't dead here though. It did matter. Itachi was alive here and he...he was the only one who truly knew what was going on.
When Itachi placed the cigarette in his lips, he grabbed it and threw it away, his anger returning triple fold, "You aren't dead here! Don't you get that?! Can't you take care of yourself for once in your life!?"
For so long, at least it seemed to Sasuke now, that Itachi had been taking care of others before himself. His jaw clenched in frustration.
"For as long as I can remember," Itachi told him low and calm, "I watched over this selfish self-absorbed mindless boy. His every move, predicted and calculated as to possible outcomes, coreographed in an effort to make him strong enough to overcome a wall between us. So we could be brothers, live together, but ..."
He reached out and brushed the hair from Sasuke's pale forehead, "this boy... He became too enamoured and absorbed with pain and emotion. He forgot hatred, he forgot even love. He began to self-destruct. I even gave this foolish boy my death and rid him of a horrific parasite, assuming that was why..."
His eyes narrowed, teeth bared, "but that wasn't why, Sasuke. You're weak, you will always be weak and my presence here, or in death, will never change that."
Sasuke's dark eyes were wide and his breaths were shallow. It had finally struck a chord in him. Selfish. Weak. Indeed he was both of those things. Itachi was completely right. Even after all of that time, he was still weak. He had almost killed himself over matters of the heart. His head dropped, giving him and excuse to look away from Itachi, as his stomach churned uncomfortably with the small bit of food he had eaten earlier.
"I...see...."
There is one thing i always believed in as static and unchanging, little brother. That the sacrifices I was so willing to give would account for something, but you gave up. You were willing to throw it away and discard it as though it meant nothing. Which means it meant nothing, Sasuke."
His hands spread, black paint chipping, elegant long fingers that Sasuke'd crushed, once. Their fight had been horrific. He still had bruises, even now, Itachi seemed to heal slower than most.
"In that respect, why should I continue to exist here? What is it that you believe so important and necessary? I was here before. I was yours before, I don't think you will ever fully understand what it is you've done."
Sasuke shook his head in disbelief. His body shook in sickness and disgust. He could feel his food coming back, and he threw himself to the side, releasing the few contents that had almost settled in his stomach to come back up. He was disgusted with him self. Because of everything. Once he finished, he said nothing. His body shook and he could feel the bruise on his neck worsening. He rhasped out through pain and phlem, "I...I'm sorry."
Even now, Sasuke was brittle, so easily shaking apart at the seams. This was not the little brother he remembered having left, having goaded on so carefully towards a violent and magnificent destiny. This was a broken thing, reeking of sickness and trembling ...
It reminded him so much of a Sasuke at age six, breaking his own ankle in an effort to prove his worth, then crying himself sick on the way home. Pathetic.
He reached without thinking and brushed a thumb over the curve of Sasuke's lips, clearing away the residue of illness and snot. "Now what," he murmured, "did I tell you about saying things you don't mean?"
Sasuke growled at the reminder. He meant it. He honestly did. His weakness disgusted himself. He couldn't imagine how disgusted Itachi was with him. How could he blame him for dismissing him now?
He gagged slightly, trying to hold down another wave of sickness, as he glanced to Itachi, his eyes showing more strength than he body, "I mean it. Don't just dismiss it like my apology means nothing."
Itachi's fingers curled over Sasuke's lips, pressing in lightly against the threat of bile and spittle and heaving stomach. He pulled his brother back, free arm winding loose and strong around Sasuke's midsection, dragging him back against the smell of musk and smoke and calm, frustrated ozone. Like sparking wires.
"Sasuke ..." He murmured the boy's name against hair that smelled like sweat, and dropped a very hidden kiss near one clammy, damp temple.
"Breathe."
Sasuke breathed. He hated the smell of the cigarettes. The smokey smell made him feel slightly dizzy, but Itachi...it was comforting. He closed his eyes, trying to get himself to relax more as Itachi lightly kissed his temple. His lips felt almost cold, and he vaguely wondered if he had gotten a fever.
After a few moments more of staying in his brother's warm embrace he mumbled, his voice still scratchy, "I...need to get Sakura to help. I think my bruise is getting worse."
He sounded relaxed now, and as much as he wanted to continue talking with Itachi, he needed to repair his body. He would definitely talk to him more. He needed to.
If Itachi allowed it. He seemed reluctant to speak with him, to the point of borderline hostility. He nodded once and pulled away, discreetly wiping the fluids from his palm on the floor. It clung to him, bitter-sick stench, but any shinobi of true merit could handle it. Itachi lacked a weak stomach.
"Fine."
Perhaps Sasuke would eat something, it wasn't Itachi's concern any longer. After all, what could he do? Itachi felt truly useless, even his death had solved nothing, had accounted for nothing. The strong thing to do, the best thing, would be to sever Sasuke awy from him.
He couldn't even manage to do that.
Itachi let Sasuke loose and stood, feeling vaguely sick himself, though for vastly different reasons.
Sasuke pushed off of the floor and stood shakily, trying to prove to Itachi that he was strong. Even during weakness. He looked to Itachi, not being able to distinguish any emotions. His fist tightened again before it relaxed. He couldn't waste energy on that for right now. He had to get back down to his floor, and ask for help.
"I want to talk to you again after I'm better," He whispered, looking down the hall. to the stairs.
"Human nature consists primarily of desires for things, lusts and wants and whims. The reality is that you cannot have everything you desire."
Itachi moved away towards the stairs and slid his hands into his pockets, unsure just what to do with them. Without his cloak, his robes, folding them over his chest looked too defensive and brittle.
He wasn't one to show weaknesses. He made a mental note to have Dilandau's stolen robes cleaned immediately.
Sasuke walked back to the opposite set of stairs. Itachi was right. A person couldn't just want things. They had to make them happen. He would. He would make sure he talked to Itachi again after he was well again. And he would be stronger. He wouldn't just throw up at being called weak. He wouldn't be frail. He would be an Uchiha. For his brother and for his own pride. Sasuke swallowed back another wave of sickness as he began the climb back down to his room. He needed to get better faster.
WHERE: On the floor of Itachi's old room~
WHEN: During the day on 11/29.
SUMMARY: Sasuke wants to talk to Itachi, but realizes that some things aren't supposed to happen.
RATING: Pg-13
WARNINGS: Vomiting...swearing...
STATUS: Complete
Sasuke had managed to pull himself away from his two teammates for a bit, with the promise of not to get hurt. He was sick of being treated like a child, but there were things that he definitely didn't mind. One thing though...Itachi. He needed to see him. Naruto was one thing...but Itachi was family. He was the one who had protected him all this time. He walked down the halls at an even pace, but trying to move quickly. Itachi was probably hiding deliberately. His eyes narrowed slightly as he continued down the hall where Itachi's old room had been, just encase he had been assigned the same room.
Luck held steady, though not in the way that Sasuke had intended - though he did manage to discover a parallel to the last time Itachi had been here. Not the same room ... but Itachi was walking that direction, towards the stairwell or the elevators one, head bowed and smoke curling lightly around his lips.
Smoking. A strange non-habit picked up from a strange blonde man named Sanji with remarkably disturbing eyebrows. Itachi brushed directly past Sasuke though it was impossible to have not seen him at least in piriphreal vision - despite how wrapped up in thought the older raven was.
The cherry traced light patterns when he chewed on the filter, eyes half-lidded. No way out.
Sasuke saw him immediately, and his eyes widened. Itachi had visited during his time of weakness. And then he had dismissed him. He said he had to get back. Sasuke's fist tightened in frustration.
"Itachi..." His eyebrow raised slightly and the smoke in his mouth. He tried to ignore it, shaking his head slightly. Self-destructive...how ironic, "Why did you dismiss me?"
Itachi paused mid-step, halfway down the hall. He let his foot fall loosely and flicked ash to the side, head turning lightly. Through a haze of dark bangs and lashes, he could see Sasuke this way, just over his shoulder. "You don't interest me right now," he told him with a small gesture of that hand, tracing the glowing pattern.
Sanji was right - smoking really was calming to the nerves. And what did a terminally ill man already living past his own death really care for extending a lifespan already spent?
Itachi wasn't suicidal, though he was self-sacrificing to the point of destruction. Now was no different.
Sasuke bristled at the comment, his nails digging into his skin. How dare he. He had given Sasuke his approval after everything. He had told Sasuke to get his revenge. He had actually seemed interested in Sasuke. And now this.
"Don't say that!" Sasuke growled, glaring at the elder Uchiha, "There's more to talk about."
“There isn't." Itachi turned away and continued the direction he was going, one graceful, silent step in front of the other. He had a slight sway to his hips without the Akatsuki robes to hide and conceal. He needed to find washing soaps or color-safe bleach in order to clear the bloodstains and stench from the set he'd retrieved from Dilandau's rooms.
It was a bit cold, without it. His skin looked so pale, with only the fishnet shirt across his torso that he'd worn beneath it.
"Nii-san-"
The word had slipped from his lips. It had been a complete accident. Sasuke had unconsciously reached out and grabbed his shirt. He needed to talk to him. About what he wasn't completely sure, but he knew he did, "There is."
Itachi flicked the cigarette away and turned, a casual swipe of one hand knocking Sasuke's fingers free of his shirt. He caught the boy's wrist and used the momentum to pin him back against a wall, arm caught tight over his chest in a classic hold-move.
The only thing to make this crueler ... but no, there were no kunai available within the confines of this 'hotel' to hold across his brother's throat to reminesce old times.
Just cold, blank eyes and a colder distant tone. "There is nothing to discuss."
Sasuke gritted his teeth struggling in Itachi's hold. There had been too many where the other had him pinned, helpless. And he hated it. Itachi though. There had to be some reason Itachi was being so ... closed off. There was before and there had to be now.
"Yes there is!" Sasuke gritted out, struggling weakly, "Stop ignoring me!"
He hated how weak his body still felt. It was his own fault, but it was still frustrating.
"I disagree." Itachi squeezed his fingers tighter to emphasize the point, then released Sasuke abruptly, all at once, just to watch how he slid to the ground. He'd ended up lifting him up somewhat. Sasuke had either lost a ridiculous amount of weight, or Itachi's strength hadn't ebbed much due to the neutralizing effects of this place.
He dug through a pocket and found a lighter, and another cigarette to replace the one he'd lost when manhandling his little brother. (So weak now, Sasuke, so unworth any further interference.)
"There isn't."
Sasuke sank down to the ground, feeling tired from even exerting that much energy. He had only just got back to eating solids in the last couple of days. His fist tightened again before he released it. There was nothing more he could do for the time being. Not until he got stronger.
"Promise you'll talk to me again," Sasuke mumbled softly, looking away from Itachi in shame.
"No." Itachi folded his arms loosely over his chest, toying with the lighter, then fisted it tightly in one hand. He stared down at Sasuke for a long moment, then his eyes flicked away, abstractly tracing a crack in the wall.
"Have a medic attend to you before the bruises set. Iron deficiency anemia and malnutrition could make that severe."
Sasuke glared more. In one way, he knew Itachi was showing he was caring. Showing that despite everything, he was still worried for Sasuke's well being. On the other hand, he was just going to walk off and leave if Sasuke didn't get up and stop him. He pushed against the wall, trying to use it as support to stand. If Itachi wasn't going to talk to him about other things, then it was a matter of getting him to talk about pointless things.
"Smoking is bad for you," he whispered, unable to get any louder.
"Answer me this," Itachi rested two fingers against his little brother's chest and shoved, just enough to send him tumbling back. He watched dispassionately as Sasuke slid down, and followed him, crouching loosely on the balls of his feet.
"What purpose is there to give health advice to the walking dead? When the heart stops beating and the blood discontinues it's circulation, the chakra points clog and close off forever, a man is not. supposed to wkae up again."
He held the cigarette out and thumbed Sasuke's lower lip, placing it there, then rose to his feet in a graceful rustle of fabric and too-pale skin. "In this place if I stop breathing, I will start again. We've established this. Smoking is only bad for the living."
Sasuke stumbled back and hit the wall glaring hard at Itachi. He wasn't dead here though. It did matter. Itachi was alive here and he...he was the only one who truly knew what was going on.
When Itachi placed the cigarette in his lips, he grabbed it and threw it away, his anger returning triple fold, "You aren't dead here! Don't you get that?! Can't you take care of yourself for once in your life!?"
For so long, at least it seemed to Sasuke now, that Itachi had been taking care of others before himself. His jaw clenched in frustration.
"For as long as I can remember," Itachi told him low and calm, "I watched over this selfish self-absorbed mindless boy. His every move, predicted and calculated as to possible outcomes, coreographed in an effort to make him strong enough to overcome a wall between us. So we could be brothers, live together, but ..."
He reached out and brushed the hair from Sasuke's pale forehead, "this boy... He became too enamoured and absorbed with pain and emotion. He forgot hatred, he forgot even love. He began to self-destruct. I even gave this foolish boy my death and rid him of a horrific parasite, assuming that was why..."
His eyes narrowed, teeth bared, "but that wasn't why, Sasuke. You're weak, you will always be weak and my presence here, or in death, will never change that."
Sasuke's dark eyes were wide and his breaths were shallow. It had finally struck a chord in him. Selfish. Weak. Indeed he was both of those things. Itachi was completely right. Even after all of that time, he was still weak. He had almost killed himself over matters of the heart. His head dropped, giving him and excuse to look away from Itachi, as his stomach churned uncomfortably with the small bit of food he had eaten earlier.
"I...see...."
There is one thing i always believed in as static and unchanging, little brother. That the sacrifices I was so willing to give would account for something, but you gave up. You were willing to throw it away and discard it as though it meant nothing. Which means it meant nothing, Sasuke."
His hands spread, black paint chipping, elegant long fingers that Sasuke'd crushed, once. Their fight had been horrific. He still had bruises, even now, Itachi seemed to heal slower than most.
"In that respect, why should I continue to exist here? What is it that you believe so important and necessary? I was here before. I was yours before, I don't think you will ever fully understand what it is you've done."
Sasuke shook his head in disbelief. His body shook in sickness and disgust. He could feel his food coming back, and he threw himself to the side, releasing the few contents that had almost settled in his stomach to come back up. He was disgusted with him self. Because of everything. Once he finished, he said nothing. His body shook and he could feel the bruise on his neck worsening. He rhasped out through pain and phlem, "I...I'm sorry."
Even now, Sasuke was brittle, so easily shaking apart at the seams. This was not the little brother he remembered having left, having goaded on so carefully towards a violent and magnificent destiny. This was a broken thing, reeking of sickness and trembling ...
It reminded him so much of a Sasuke at age six, breaking his own ankle in an effort to prove his worth, then crying himself sick on the way home. Pathetic.
He reached without thinking and brushed a thumb over the curve of Sasuke's lips, clearing away the residue of illness and snot. "Now what," he murmured, "did I tell you about saying things you don't mean?"
Sasuke growled at the reminder. He meant it. He honestly did. His weakness disgusted himself. He couldn't imagine how disgusted Itachi was with him. How could he blame him for dismissing him now?
He gagged slightly, trying to hold down another wave of sickness, as he glanced to Itachi, his eyes showing more strength than he body, "I mean it. Don't just dismiss it like my apology means nothing."
Itachi's fingers curled over Sasuke's lips, pressing in lightly against the threat of bile and spittle and heaving stomach. He pulled his brother back, free arm winding loose and strong around Sasuke's midsection, dragging him back against the smell of musk and smoke and calm, frustrated ozone. Like sparking wires.
"Sasuke ..." He murmured the boy's name against hair that smelled like sweat, and dropped a very hidden kiss near one clammy, damp temple.
"Breathe."
Sasuke breathed. He hated the smell of the cigarettes. The smokey smell made him feel slightly dizzy, but Itachi...it was comforting. He closed his eyes, trying to get himself to relax more as Itachi lightly kissed his temple. His lips felt almost cold, and he vaguely wondered if he had gotten a fever.
After a few moments more of staying in his brother's warm embrace he mumbled, his voice still scratchy, "I...need to get Sakura to help. I think my bruise is getting worse."
He sounded relaxed now, and as much as he wanted to continue talking with Itachi, he needed to repair his body. He would definitely talk to him more. He needed to.
If Itachi allowed it. He seemed reluctant to speak with him, to the point of borderline hostility. He nodded once and pulled away, discreetly wiping the fluids from his palm on the floor. It clung to him, bitter-sick stench, but any shinobi of true merit could handle it. Itachi lacked a weak stomach.
"Fine."
Perhaps Sasuke would eat something, it wasn't Itachi's concern any longer. After all, what could he do? Itachi felt truly useless, even his death had solved nothing, had accounted for nothing. The strong thing to do, the best thing, would be to sever Sasuke awy from him.
He couldn't even manage to do that.
Itachi let Sasuke loose and stood, feeling vaguely sick himself, though for vastly different reasons.
Sasuke pushed off of the floor and stood shakily, trying to prove to Itachi that he was strong. Even during weakness. He looked to Itachi, not being able to distinguish any emotions. His fist tightened again before it relaxed. He couldn't waste energy on that for right now. He had to get back down to his floor, and ask for help.
"I want to talk to you again after I'm better," He whispered, looking down the hall. to the stairs.
"Human nature consists primarily of desires for things, lusts and wants and whims. The reality is that you cannot have everything you desire."
Itachi moved away towards the stairs and slid his hands into his pockets, unsure just what to do with them. Without his cloak, his robes, folding them over his chest looked too defensive and brittle.
He wasn't one to show weaknesses. He made a mental note to have Dilandau's stolen robes cleaned immediately.
Sasuke walked back to the opposite set of stairs. Itachi was right. A person couldn't just want things. They had to make them happen. He would. He would make sure he talked to Itachi again after he was well again. And he would be stronger. He wouldn't just throw up at being called weak. He wouldn't be frail. He would be an Uchiha. For his brother and for his own pride. Sasuke swallowed back another wave of sickness as he began the climb back down to his room. He needed to get better faster.