Shisui/Itachi: Headlights On Dark Roads
Title: “Headlights On Dark Roads”
Author: Shaitanah
Rating: R
Summary: At some point Shisui couldn’t see past one night they had shared; and it was so easy to overlook the subtle change in his best friend’s behaviour. [Shisui/Itachi SLASH] Please R&R!
Disclaimer: Naruto belongs to Kishimoto Masashi. Title from the song by Snow Patrol.
A/N: I wrote this story a long time but for some reason never got around to completing it. I’m not sure how much older than Itachi Shisui really is. In this story I assume it’s a couple of years. Also, there are many versions of translation of Shisui’s nickname (Shunshin no Shisui). I decided to choose ‘the Mirage’.
HEADLIGHTS ON DARK ROADS
And fearlessly you deny your involvement in my demise…
Seether. ‘Simplest Mistake’
Years ago Itachi knew how to smile. He didn’t do it often, but he did it. A gentle curving of lips, a tiny spark flaring in his deep black eyes - that was Itachi smiling.
Years ago Itachi even knew how to laugh. Though that happened even less often than smiling. That was a deep, velveteen sound, a little too masculine for a child, annoying in a good way. Itachi never started laughing on his own accord. Shisui had to drag him into it. He had to start laughing himself, he had to start choking on it, and it would be contagious, and it would force laughter out of Itachi.
And years before that Itachi was curious, exploring and lively. Although no one remembered that now.
Years ago on the 23 of July Itachi left home and came to Shisui’s place. They sat together in silence, listening to the rain hammering over the window-sills and the trees sighing in the wind. A few hours later, in the dead of night, when the storm died down, Itachi got up and said:
“I guess it has to be over by now. I’d better get back.”
In a few days he grabbed Shisui by the wrist and took him to the nursery. They bent over the crib where the newborn was snoring quietly. Shisui had never seen babies this close before. The little thing amidst the white blankets was a miniature copy of all Uchihas in the Compound - smooth alabaster skin, light black fluff on his head and probably the same shining black eyes. Shisui reached out to poke him, but Itachi smacked him on the hand, knocking it aside resolutely.
“Don’t,” he whispered gravely. “If he wakes up, it’ll be like an emergency alarm going off!”
Shisui swallowed a grin and let Itachi pull him away from the crib. Mikoto-san would most likely frown upon Itachi making a show of his baby brother.
“Hey,” Shisui asked. “What do they call him?”
“Sasuke,” Itachi replied without looking at him.
At first Sasuke’s presence wasn’t really noticeable. Shisui failed to notice when the baby grew into a toddler, left his crib and started crawling around the house, and then he walked, and then he talked, and he claimed Itachi’s attention… Shisui liked his friend’s little brother - perhaps more than Itachi himself would have ever liked him.
One day Shisui was stubbornly training to walk up the tree. It was the only damn thing he failed at continually. Itachi was sitting underneath its branches, reading.
“Why don’t you give it a break? How about practicing on water, for example?”
Shisui gritted his teeth, sweat trickling down his face. “No! You can do it. I have to do it, too.”
“I can do a lot of things,” Itachi shrugged.
“Don’t be so full of yourself. I’m older, after all. One day I’ll beat you! That’s a promise, from one Uchiha to another.”
Itachi opened his mouth to say something, but Sasuke appeared next to him and tugged at his sleeve persistently. The boy was practically glowing with pride. Smiling cheerfully, he showed Itachi a clumsy drawing of the family with the oversized Uchiha fan in the background. Amused, Shisui watched the cold features of his friend melt into a soft smile. It flickered like starlight in a cloudy sky and disappeared just as swiftly.
* * *
Shisui was impressed by Itachi’s fast career growth. In the end, just as his father expected, he made ANBU…
And things began to change. The change was so subtle that Shisui failed to notice it and when he did he refused to believe it.
Missions flew by like days of thunder amidst the sunny mornings. Days and nights of agony, chasing, hunting, killing, drenched in blood, carrying out their duty. Hypnotized by Itachi’s cool precision, skills far beyond his age, Shisui could no longer compare them. This was a different person. An estranged alien. And sometimes Shusui was afraid of him.
Night veiled the stars. They were stranded in the woods, four squads of police force and ANBU scattered about during the restless halt. Shisui wished it would stop raining, but the night was muddy and fierce like a wounded she-wolf.
They found a rickety wooden shack; its walls reeked with moisture and oldness; the floor was cold, and the sound of rain dripping down of the roof made Shisui’s heart beat faster.
“Get under the blanket,” Itachi called.
Shisui looked around. It was a threadbare blanket they had found in a wardrobe full of holey dust-smelling clothes. But then again, better than no blanket at all.
Shisui lay still next to Itachi, his body painfully stiff. He was cold and had to restrain himself from giving in to shivers. Wordlessly, Itachi fell asleep. Shisui feasted his eyes upon his placid face. A late drop of rain slid down his temple, erupting the smoothness of the pale cheek, and vanished in the dark slit between his skin and the edge of the blanket. The smell of dust was conquered by the intoxicating fragrance of Itachi. The rain in his hair… the damp warmth of his skin…
Shisui brushed the tips of his fingers against Itachi’s cheek irresolutely. The skin burnt under his touch. He pressed his lips to where his hand had just traveled and glided them down.
Itachi opened his eyes.
A breath away from him Shisui tensed. Itachi wrapped his fingers around the youth’s wrist, preventing him from pulling away.
Their lips met. Shisui drew his breath in, his lips blending, melting into Itachi’s lips, his tongue parting them and colliding with Itachi’s tongue, sucking in the soft, barely perceptible taste…
Itachi never closed his eyes.
There was something feral in the way these two pools of ink splattered across the white of the first snow gleamed in the dark.
Shisui bit hard enough to force blood out of the split lip into their mouths, stirring it with their tongues, breathing noisily as small, sharp pain pierced their lips. Engaged in a ferocious battle for dominance, they gasped and groaned, and suddenly Itachi was on top of him straddling him, pressing himself hard into Shisui’s front. His eyes burnt and his lips bruised.
…The morning damped the ardour, and the days that followed washed it away. They barely talked now save for the customary greetings if they happened to pass each other in the department.
Itachi might have forgotten.
Shisui never had.
Not the feel of Itachi’s lips pressed roughly against his own. Not the hot insatiable ardour of his mouth. Not the brush of hands and the strain of their outcries…
* * *
Now was only now, in the end. Shisui eyed the calm waters of the Nakano River purling at his feet. The sun went down in tides of red and gold, and he thought about Itachi.
Did he know that Shisui was ordered to keep tabs on him? Did he remember that once they had been friends?
He was surprised, ever somewhat embarrassed to see Itachi walk up to him.
“Hey,” Itachi said a bit huskily. “Are you heading to the meeting?”
Shisui didn’t know what to say. Yes, he was. But he didn’t really want to go. A sudden rush of anger made him look away. His cheeks flushed. He, Shisui of the Mirage, was actually sulking because of…
“Take a walk with me,” Itachi suggested.
Shisui stared at him, his eyes wide with astonishment. They had barely spoken to each other for the past months. And yet…
The memory of that night hit again, and Shisui’s heart skipped a beat.
He remembered Itachi writhing over him, his nails grazing the dirty floor… how he slid up and down Shisui’s body…
And the memory might have been too much.
They walked along the river, and it was just like good old times except maybe the conversations because back then it was mostly Shisui who talked and now he didn’t feel like talking at all. The stars alight, the night was peaceful and quiet.
“Thank you,” Itachi said all of a sudden.
Shisui flashed him a look of surprise. Itachi’s voice was still husky and emotionless but the words he’d said… It was like they had come from the past. Shisui smiled.
“Eh… You’re welcome. Whatever for!”
“For this,” Itachi answered. Shisui didn’t understand, but his smile widened.
“It’s been a while since we talked like this, Itachi-kun. I miss those days. I don’t even know how you feel now… What you wish for.”
He looked at the river at his feet. The water was dark; patches of moonlight stained the perfection of the obsidian ribbon. Itachi was behind him; his hand came to rest on Shisui’s shoulder as he pulled him into a hug.
“Shisui-kun,” he said very quietly. “I want Mangekyou Sharingan.”
The Mirage’s body went numb. For a moment he thought he’d misheard. But the cold water was already closing in on him, his chest tight with the lack of oxygen. Excruciating pain gripped him, and he was no more.
Uchiha Itachi’s eyes flashed blood-red in the dark. In the end, the Mirage was a good friend. He was the first. Soon to be joined by the rest of the miserable clan.