Tag: ask

The palest of hands extends forth, belonging to it, a woman who looks of snow. Pristine, skin so white it is soft, perhaps cold. It is a blank canvas succumb to paint at the red of her lips, the bruised hue around violet eyes upon the lids. She is silent, clear that she will not bother with why’s. Except, it she felt this day is of some importance, but she knows him not. Even so, pinched between delicate fingers of black nail, the most peculiar of roses. Left to him, before she departs- a ghost.

Itachi will not fuss with gifts from spirits. It is not his time yet. The rose shall be left where it lands.

“it’s okay,” he said, Itachi didn’t have to apologise, and it was just a shirt, it could be cleaned or replaced, no problem. He watched as Itachi ate, and once the plate was down on the table again he leaned on to kiss his cheek. “I love you, and I’m happy to have you with me,” he said softly.

“You’re more than I deserve.” He whispers, forehead pressed gently against what remains of Sasuke’s left arm, careful not to stain the sleeve with anything else. 

“Happy birthday, Itachi.” Iruka wakes him up with a kiss to the cheek, a tray of food balanced carefully on the nightstand. They’ll have breakfast in bed today, Iruka has the afternoon off to spend with him and a little cake lined with dango ready to pick up for after dinner.

Itachi’s first thought in the morning is he really wishes things like his birth date would be left off his registration, or bingo book description. 

He can’t help but feel guilty, even knowing without a shred of a doubt that Iruka only means to treat him well, that this is something he’s accustomed to doing to people, or having done to him. 

This feels selfish, so he ends up sharing bits of his breakfast with Iruka. It placates him, keeps him comforted enough he doesn’t lose his appetite completely, and so he won’t appear ungrateful. 

(The cake, however, is not as lucky. Neither is Itachi’s stomach the next morning.)

Sasuke had been ready for it, so when Itachi turned and hugged him, he simply wrapped his arms around him, one hand gently rubbing up and down his back as he allowed his brother to cry. Not a word was spoken, not a single one. He looked around a bit. The couch was right next to them, so if he felt his brother’s strength leave him when he would quickly move them over there so that they could sit down.

He manages to collect himself in ten minutes. Murmur an apology for likely ruining his shirt, and turn to using his own to wipe away his tears, and his ugly, ugly snot. His face is red– it will stay like that for some time. 

He manages a small piece for now, and it doesn’t matter that Sasuke does not bake often, because he will forever swear it’s the best thing he’s ever had.

“Happy birthday,” a soft voice after all the hustle of guests finally leaving for the night. He gets a cheeky smile, finally feeling able to show some genuine emotion. “Would you like one part of your gift,” fingers intertwine with his as she makes her first suggestion, “maybe–sleeping in tomorrow?”

“My birthday doesn’t warrant me a day off.” No matter how much his Father suggested. Or Sasuke. (Even if Sasuke made quite the compelling case.)

But he still deeply appreciates the offer, giving Wy’s hand a small squeeze, thumb rubbing circles into the back of her hand. 

“I’ll take a gift when we turn in.” Unless– he has misread her intentions. 

He placed the cake down and went to get his brother a plate. He had noticed that the other was right on the edge of tears, it was okay, if he started to cry then he was right here to catch him. With the plate placed down on the table next to the cake he instead decided to keep a hand on Itachi’s back.

He can’t do it.

His hand shakes, quivers pathetically for a shinobi of his caliber.

How old was he when this last happened? Two, three? Anything before four is almost impossible to remember–

Itachi sets the butter knife down. Firmly, afraid he might drop it otherwise. He draws in breath, throat tight, and simply turns to face his brother, burying his face in his chest. He hopes that he can simply cry quietly. 

Today, happiness overweight his usual guilt. His crying will be good for him.

There was a small smile at the corners of Sasuke’s lips as he stepped over to his brother and placed a gentle kiss on his lips. As he pulled back he whispered: “Happy birthday.” He wasn’t going to make a huge thing out of this, but that didn’t mean he couldn’t give Itachi a gift and some extra attention and affection. “Wait here,” he said and left the room only to return with a cake, it might not be the prettiest cake out there as he wasn’t all that good at baking, but he had tried.

He’s going to cry… He didn’t deserve this. Sasuke went out of his way to make something he didn’t even like. Itachi swallows thickly, his smile genuine but threatening tears as he thanks his brother under his breath, searching out a dull knife for the cake.