————— itachi cannot explain how it had come he started to spend his time with nagato. may it be there was not much to do for him, what he is busy with can surely be shared in the presence of another; him. he cannot train for it’d exhaust him and training in ame-gakure means he would have to search for a place to first. wasted time this would be. theory itachi considers just as important as practical lessons, and so they sit here, reading in a dim light, then and now the shuffling of paper can be heard, few words are exchanged.
oddly, itachi finds calm in these times spent with nagato, the man had no rush in movements nor speech, a presence that had itachi feel at ease. usually tense, on edge, this was a time to be enjoyed, to remain in longer.
itachi, seated onto the ground and surrounded by several books and scrolls, puts away the paper he was reading, eyes tired and limbs sore. just a stretch he’d need, light brighter than what comes from the candles. nagato rather chose to sit at a table and perhaps he had gone over to the organization’s paperwork…itachi looks at him. gets up from the ground, stretches.
and he watches nagato scribbling, strangely fond of the way this man fulfills simple tasks; for a long time itachi had thought the face behind akatsuki must be a cruel one, an individual filled with the worst intentions, malice, spite. but… instead there is nagato, such a contrast to itachi’s views that he had discovered his beliefs to be shaken to their core; this is not about war, he had thought, but tranquility.
more days passed, they became weeks, and weeks became months, spent by nagato’s side at first out of curiosity; itachi should report. decided there is not much to say about nagato that he had discovered, not after months of being with him. what ever this means… itachi doesn’t think he knows what a relationship is.
( fact is, no, he cannot write about him. )
he thinks back to the years wasted in akatsuki without ever getting to know nagato closer, better— are there still certain parts left undiscovered and little explored, he dares tell to understand nagato. their beliefs do not differ. if a relationship means this, spending time, enjoying time together no matter the adventures, then what they have is one— feelings blossom from a strong connection that is not to be seen with your eye alone but rather felt, and solely for itachi and nagato to understand. itachi may know horribly little about relationship, love, but he knows that he does not want nagato to be alone. trusts him, trusts his determination. whatever is left of nagato itachi wants to save, and broken they both are.
itachi walks close, hand placed on nagato’s shoulder. he should take a break as well.
❝ five minutes only. ❞ truly, he cares. nagato looks at him, finds there is not a way he can argue with itachi: that itachi can see in the spark that’s within hyacinth eyes for a few moments, soon to fade. as much as nagato would want to continue, he knows a break won’t hurt.
❝ it is an excuse to get our cups filled. ❞ itachi says, its a promise and sealed with a smile. the littlest. it felt… right to smile sincere, not because people like to see a beautiful smile.
itachi says nothing else, then, lost in musings: we have done this before and it had felt… nice. the thought of kissing nagato did arrive on several occasions after their very first kiss; its been a messy one, noses had bumped. itachi can’tkiss. he feels funny thinking about it— he isn’t quite sure if nagato thinks the same about the first kiss; itachi remembers the other’s smile. bright, happy. heart-melting. this one he likes to see again, wants back the fuzzy feeling inside his belly, the fluttering heart and lightness in his head.
lips descend onto nagato’s, slowly, with hesitance and anxiety. above it all with a heart that thrums madly within its confined space, threatening to burst out— when his lips meet nagato’s itachi exhales and tilts his head some to the right— its as far as knowledge goes. a little kiss it is, lips upon each other, hand at nagato’s shoulder. the fuzziness is back. itachi doesn’t want it to stop.
It has been a long while since Itachi came to study here in his office. And it was so long ago that part of him didn’t even remember how it happened, how this young man became such a permanence in his life, a soul to share the silence with. Some days it felt as if such a thing never happened in this lifetime and this person has somehow always been here... always here...
And there were countless times where Nagato asked himself how did he let his vulnerable self be exposed to someone who was supposedly just a tool for the Masked Man’s intentions, after already being a tool of Konoha. And it was an outcome that could have costed him his life, and above anything else his goal. And yet Nagato let it happen, and he did not know Itachi...
He did not know Itachi as a man, nor his past...
But in his features Nagato read regret, loneliness and kindness, the kind of feelings he saw in his features when a mirror was there to reflect them. Gaunt features betrayed hardship, and the, oh, so powerful rinnegan, told the story of a man whose shapes weren’t so angular, and there was still a smile to belong on those lips. Sadness, loneliness and guilt has corrupted his once softer complexion, and now all that remained was a face that resembled that of death. Skin pale, dehydrated, glued to bones and damp red hair that seemed almost muddied by time and sin to become the color of blood: all as if to reflect the color of murder and the sickness growing inside.
And Itachi... Sharingan betrayed no emotion, hair raven as a murder of crows, no smile to be found on those lips... And as weeks passed by features thinned out, eyes grew tired, muscles go weak. It is more and more apparent that a suffering of the body has engulfed him too. And such a fate he cannot endure to see on anyone, much less someone as young...
It becomes obvious that death is inevitable for them both, the more time they had to spend together. And so time is shared in a united solitude, a shared silence. It was something their own, even if physical contact was not part of most meetings... at least in the beginning it was like this. But never before has he felt more comfortable than when around Itachi. It was almost odd, but he had faith in this man, and at the same time he wished no harm to come to him. And if tried his hardest to be his shield.
He was supposedly writing his paperwork, when he was swept in thought, before being pulled out by Itachi’s hand being laid on his shoulder.
He should indeed take a break, have a cup of nice warm tea, stretch his bones, his back was truthfully starting to ache, and his fingers seemed to be locked on the writing instrument. Relaxing his grip almost hurt. And somehow even this tiresome felt good.
He got up to join Itachi in the kitchen for another cup, however he found himself sitting in front of Itachi, unmoving, almost entranced. It still felt like some kind of dream...
And lips drew close, and brush against each other and noses bump ever so lightly, heads tilt seamlessly to the side. A kiss. He registers it only as it happens. It’s a kiss, soft, but louder than any words can speak. And a smile tugs at his lips. Yes, with Itachi he feels as if he can smile once again, and so often he does, even if features as bone-wrapped as his seemed incapable of such a genuine act. And he knows now. They have kissed once before. He remembers. he remembers fondly, but somehow this memory slipped his train of through from before.
A kiss he remembers. He knows now, and he probably always knew somewhere deep down - he was in love with Itachi, it was the same kind of drumming in his chest and void in his stomach that he felt once before and has heard to be felt when in the possession of such a feeling.
The kiss does not last long, however now he wished it had. Nothing felt more right...
“Itachi... May I kiss you again?...” His chest caught on fire.
