eyecanfixthat:

It takes everything in his power to reach out and touch him when he catches up to Itachi again, moving in front of him at lightning speed. Inhuman speed. Much faster than he used to accomplish when he’d been alive. But unlike back then when everything that he was was just sunshine and warmth, his touch now is icy cold. He wishes it wasn’t so, wishes he could change that about him, but he doesn’t know how. Doesn’t even think it’s possible.

Wispy fingers curl around Itachi’s arms, doing their best to try and stop him from walking away again. 

“Itachi, please….” And he knows why Itachi is trying to run away. Or hide behind that wall.  

“I’m not mad at you.” His voice is a whisper, but it’s loud enough and clear enough to be unmistakably Shisui. 

No, no, no–

Itachi’s heart rate spikes, the lump in his throat crawling up and making its way out in the form of a short, strangled, but quiet sob. His vision blurs, tears welling up and wetting his cheeks, and Itachi flinches as if he were fearing getting hit.

“Why didn’t you come when I called.” It’s the only thing in Itachi’s mind, on repeat, wailing itself hoarse. His voice breaks halfway through the sentence, and he twists his head, to the side and down, refusing to look at him, and, in a way, trying to hide the fact he was breaking down right infront of him.

Kisame is forgotten. At any point, his partner could awaken and worry about Itachi’s position, and see him like this. 

eyecanfixthat:

Shisui is saying something. But it doesn’t seem as though
Itachi can hear him. The moment Itachi opens his eyes, Shisui immediately
bursts into a smile: something familiar. It only feels like yesterday. It’s
still so easy to smile around him.

But Itachi doesn’t see him. Itachi doesn’t hear him. There’s
his hand moving under the pillow to grab at a kunai and Shisui tries to tell
him it’s only me. But it’s not like it changes anything. –Itachi’s already
moving away.

No, he pleads. Itachi, stay– It comes out garbled. It sounds
like voices trying to speak above the babbling of water, like voices trying to
reach the surface past miles and miles of water above. And Shisui yells. He tries
again.

Nothing.

The voices don’t come as easy as they used to. Itachi can’t
really hear him.

Frustrated, Shisui follows him out, padding across the room
but also letting dimensions spin, moving so fluidly that he merely appears somewhere outside. Wherever Itachi was now.

And he tries again, calmer this time: “Hey, Itachio…”

It’s finally clear, audible, and he musters up all the
energy around him that he can, using it to manifest himself. He appears the way
Itachi would remember him from days, maybe a few years, before his last: still
whole. It’s easier to smile in that form. It’s easier to let it feel like
sunshine after the rain when he was like this.

If only Itachi would turn to look.

It’s when he hears him again that he closes his eyes firmly shut, and performs a release. Itachi has to be inflicting this on himself, there’s no other explanation. It’s all too easy for him to cast genjutsu, and he wouldn’t be surprised if he was one of his own victims.

His sigh is shaky, finding it more and more difficult to keep his emotions reigned in. But he receives no peace when he turns, a minute later, in an attempt to return to the cots.

There he is. Like before. 

“Why can’t I let go–” he mouths to himself, vision blurring as his eyes fill with tears. A heel digs into the dirt, is used as a balance as he turns away again, walking out farther. It’s like a nightmare he had. Soon Shisui will begin cursing him out. I trusted you, and you killed us all.