[THREAD] even though it hurts

[sagittariinae]

Who: Uchiha Itachi [ pogromanate ] & Kazama Souji [ sagittariinae ]
Where: Itachi's Estate, Elysium
When: Early evening
Summary: I didn't know if I could face you and the truth.
Rating: PG-13

Comments

[sagittariinae]

It was growing painfully obvious, now, that Itachi had been adversely affected by something -- most likely his death -- and while Itachi easily ignored the mess strewn about the floor, Kazama couldn't help but note each overturned bottle, each shard of glass that glimmered in the dim lighting, each ugly splash of ink that decorated the debris almost like blood. Walking with his head bowed, he breathed slowly, still trying to think of something to say, something to rectify the situation and undo the damage.

But his thoughts were still blank, unspeakable words still caught in his mouth when they came to a stop -- even when Itachi sank into the couch, seemingly at ease, Kazama stood almost at military attention, limbs tense and features forced into the usual blank, just barely hiding the turmoil of unexplainable emotions that he dearly wished he wasn't suffering from.

Each buried word that wasn't uttered elicited only the slightest twitch from him, and Kazama waited for some sort of command -- an order, a verdict, a judgment. But none came in the end, and he was left grasping only at silence. (Are you that disappointed in me?) Finally, all he could do was bow his head, voice almost painfully quiet as he murmured, just loud enough to hear -- "I'm sorry."

[pogromanate]

The tense posture and military was buried within Itachi’s own forced ignorance, not paying much attention but the familiar movements caused the Uchiha to let out a low breath. His forearm went over his eyes, almost out of fear for appearing so weak -- for being affected by his student’s death, and he could only mentally call himself a fool for appearing as he did, with his poor condition that made eyes seem much more hollow, skin more placid and physically neglected.

As well as the other’s stance, the apology went ignored; simply because it was not needed. Itachi would not accept it, and so it let it whisper into the back of his mind before it was forgotten and dismissed like a trivial matter. Then, Itachi sat up, his lips did not waver, and still his expression was purely typical blank.

With his elbows propped on his knees, hands cupping his tired and exhausted visage, Itachi lowered his head and muttered between fingers, "Who purchased you?" It was out of common curiosity, and perhaps out of concern -- and maybe, maybe the Uchiha would hunt them down, and it was selfish of himself to believe his own failures were to be directed to another.

[sagittariinae]

The quiet noises, the slow movements, the lack of response -- all of these factors bit deeply, and Kazama stood stock-still, waiting for a verdict. (Please, say something. Condemn me if necessary, I'll accept, I need to know that this won't linger. I don't wish to be characterized only by this weakness. Please, give me a chance to hide it once more.)

The question, though, made him look up abruptly, breath hitching in his chest for a moment. Because, because, the short period of time he'd spent under the senator's ownership was something he didn't wish to think back to. He'd been so weak, so terribly exposed before the man, and all that had been taken into stride -- it confused him endlessly, tore him apart from inside, and he paused for a moment, searching for the right way to answer.

"It doesn't matter." Quiet words, forced out one by one, and he let out a low exhale, looking up at Itachi, expression determined to move away from this subject as quickly as possible. "They freed me, I no longer belong to them." Hands clenched tight into fists, nails digging into palm.

[pogromanate]

Itachi would not question anymore. Out of respect for Kazama’s habit of being so wrapped up in his own fear of displaying his weakness -- yet, Itachi was sceptical of the whole ordeal. Another low breath emerged from the back of his throat when he heard of freedom, and he wondered to himself why would one play such a large sum only to release them afterwards.

Nonetheless, Itachi said nothing. Only let himself lower his head even further into self-blame and disappointment that was directed to mingle with the thoughts that weren’t coherent enough to appear individual and he did not bother to focus on them. Strained hand smoothed over his face lazily, running through his hair, but despite the movements, he still did not meet Kazama’s gaze.

"I see...then I won’t question it." Words that were of the same volume that spoke to him, equal with the monotone tone and laced with exhaustion.

[sagittariinae]

In a way, this was the worst possible response -- this absolute apathy, the lack of any solid indication towards anything, and he remained standing frozen before the elder, gaze forced into its usual blank, but unable to hide the faint flashes of hesitations. Itachi's continued reluctance to speak, this inactivity -- Kazama was good enough at reading body language, but Itachi, he could never quite decipher.

(What do you want me to do?)

Silence fell heavy over the state, and Kazama wavered for a moment -- almost considered simply turning around a fleeing -- before he finally moved, slowly, dropping to his knees on the floor. Head bowed, hands clenched to fists, he gave a deep nod in lieu of a bow, his words almost muffled by the actiong. "I'm sorry. Forgive me." It was all he could think to say, here, this pitiful apology.

[pogromanate]

It wasn’t until the indication of about to flee that caught Itachi’s attention. Scarlet hues rose to watch his student’s actions with slight interest that was buried deep underneath the layers of complete indifferent. A deep inhale, and when Kazama dropped onto his knees with absolute pity and self-humiliation that Itachi moved over, lowering his own head with a deep exhale.

Fingers reluctantly reached out to brush away dark locks as Itachi’s head placed itself on Kazama’s gently. Fingertips moved to Kazama’s cheek and the Uchiha closed his eyes. It was a faint gesture of comfort in a way, as subtle as it may be, it was nothing but genuine.

Then, he whispered softly, just enough for both of them to hear, "...There is nothing to forgive, Kazama." And with this, he gave his own silent apology.

[sagittariinae]

It wasn't that he was lacking in pride, or that he was purposefully humiliating himself -- to Kazama, this was only right, to follow the seeming hierarchy of status that was established between them. And for him to have succumbed to death so easily was an unforgivable weakness -- one that might have reflected upon Itachi, as well.

He knelt in silence, waiting for a verdict -- but received none, greeted instead only with the soft weight, the gentle whisper of fingers -- and a quiet murmur words that he had not expected.

For a long moment, his breath caught in his throat, and he only bowed his head, hands clenched to fists, nails digging into his skin almost hard enough to bleed. (Nothing to forgive?) "... I didn't mean to show such weakness." The low whisper was almost lost, as he shook his head. The unspoken implication being, (are you disappointed?)

[pogromanate]

The Uchiha let out a long breath against Kazama’s skull, wavering his own slightly until the weight was a little heavier. It did not matter to Itachi -- even if he was powerful, even if he was a killer himself that was submerged under the thoughts of his family’s murder, even if he was proclaimed as one that could kill without mercy and regret, there were always a weakness.

Itachi let a hand run through Kazama’s locks before tilting his head up, letting out a low murmur, "You were to die sooner or later." His monotone voice laced with brief reassurance, "It could not be helped."

Languidly, Itachi stood from the couch, his hand went to Kazama’s forehead to indicate his student to stand, and Itachi made his way through the subtle chaos of the estate -- ignoring the shards of glass he had stood on -- and made his way to the kitchen, "You are not to blame."

[sagittariinae]

Kazama could only close his eyes, statue-still, as narrow fingers weaved through his hair -- the tangle of thoughts that had occupied a large space in his mind slowly dissipating. In a way, he'd been terrified of further rejection -- scared that this display of weakness would force him to cut off further from what few ties he had left to the world.

And so this forgiveness, it almost confused him. (Were my fears for nothing?) The brush of fingertips against his forehead made him look up to the sight of Itachi stepping away into the kitchen, and he stared for a moment before slowly rising to his feet, feeling the prickle of blood rushing through his legs.

Following obediently, he avoided the scattered shards of glass, grimacing at the thought of Itachi wrecking such havoc. (Was it out of anger, then?)