mirageflicker (mirageflicker) wrote in strangergamesrp, @ 2012-04-26 22:45:00 |
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Entry tags: | closed, log, uchiha itachi, uchiha shisui |
Confessions
Who: Uchiha Itachi, Uchiha Shisui
When: April 13th
Where: Dorms
What: Shisui is a brat, and sticks to Itachi like a barnacle. Itachi is happier than he lets on. They talk and snark, and Itachi tells Shisui a bedtime story.
Warnings: Cursing
Open or Closed: Closed
Observable: No
Good news: Itachi was getting out of the infirmary.
Bad news: he still couldn’t deck Shisui and make the boy leave him alone.
On the plus side, he could make Shisui carry the flowers from Hope and the remaining chocolate. Itachi was convinced he could walk on his own. He carried only a bottle of pills tucked into the sling they’d given him for his cast. It was heavy and his shoulder was still sore. His stomach was much better, but it still hurt when he stood and tried to walk.
Mostly, it hurt because they’d taken him from the hard meds and put him on a softer dose that would allow him to function and live in his dorm. That also meant he’d be out of it when he took them, and then cranky and in pain by the time he was ready for the next dose--at least for the next few days. Itachi knew that because they’d weaned him off the IV meds and placed him on the pills over the last twelve hours. Now he had three red circle on his neck and five on his arms from the IV stickers.
Now, Itachi was cursing elevators and getting paler with every little twitch of the elevator floor. His braid was coming undone, and he was anxious to get out of the scrubs. It made him feel more like a target. It made him feel like Shisui close might be a good idea, and that was bad.
Shisui felt like he was seven years old all over again, watching after an unsteady, four year old Itachi. He didn’t really mind carrying the flowers or the chocolates, though he was hoping that he could hide them before Itachi took his next dose. No, he didn’t like chocolates being pushed at his mouth. Drugged up cousins were fun.
While he kept a very close eye on Itachi, he hadn’t tried to pick him up, drag him or insist too much on being a crutch yet. Shisui was worried about how he was looking now, though, all pasty and sick-looking. He looked eleven, in a way, though he was still taller than Shisui.
The elevator didn’t bother him too much, if he focused on the fact that it was moving. It would come to an end. What Shisui really wanted, though, was to have some sort of glass wall to actually see it move, so he could decide just how fast it was going. He parted the wall of flowers with his nose, peering through them to look at Itachi solemnly, before giving him a tiny smile. “At least you’re out now.” And at least Shisui had filled Itachi’s room with bottled water. The elevator doors opened, and Shisui darted out fast and got out of Itachi’s way. Nope, no one in the hall.
Itachi shot Shisui a glare, but he was already gone. Itachi made an annoyed noise in the back of his throat and gingerly crawled from the elevator, walking as carefully as possible to keep his stomach from moving too much. It didn’t work very well. Itachi started the slow shuffle to his room. Even this little walk was making him tired, or perhaps it was the drugs kicking in. He’d probably make it to his bed and collapse.
Shisui quietly followed him, keeping to the other side of the hall. When they got in sight of the room, he stepped forward quickly and pulled the door open, holding it for Itachi. No, there would be no brownie points for this, it just meant that Shisui was being a worrier. But at least there was someone to worry after Itachi. He gave him another smile. Itachi looked tired, so he could sleep. Shisui would watch.
Itachi stopped at glared at Shisui, but he couldn’t banish him before Shisui had set his things down. Itachi shuffled into the room and sat down on his bed, biting his lip. Ow. He set the purple bottle of pills on the bedside table, where they mocked him. He couldn’t open the childproof cap with one hand. Itachi gave up and gingerly lay down on the bed, relaxing his abdominal muscles. He would love to have a real, hot bath, but that wasn’t going to happen for a while.
Itachi carefully breathed out. He wanted to get out of these scrubs and into some pajamas
...he had a yukata. It had big sleeves. It would be hard to tie, but it would be easier.
Putting the vase of flowers on the night table, and going off to hide the chocolates, Shisui glanced back at Itachi. “Want me to getya something?” Be nice, pleasent. Itachi was feeling like crap. It was easy to see him as a fragile four year old all over. Maybe five. Not a word uttered from his mouth until then, and only in private with Shisui. Gods, he was regressing.
Itachi started to shake his head, then he sighed. Itachi gave Shisui a baleful look and grimaced. No, he did not like asking for help. No, this did not mean he conceded anything to Shisui.
“I need help getting my shirt off.”
Shisui nodded and stepped close, sitting down next to Itachi and considering the shirt and Itachi’s sling. “Here, I’m gonna undo the sling, and then we’ll get your good arm out of there and your head.” His hand was already moving to unfasten the sling, the words more for the sake of talking. But Itachi should know, because he probably didn’t remember the seamless way they worked, Itachi and Shisui used to. Did.
Itachi glared on reflex, but he moved also on reflex to allow Shisui to take the sling. He sat up slowly, grimacing against the pain. Itachi then had to wait for Shisui, because he couldn’t get his good arm out without looking like an idiot.
Shisui slid Itachi’s shirt up so it would press against his ribs rather than his side and stomach when he tugged the other side, and then did so, scrunching it up and holding it out for Itachi’s elbow to slide through. He would have to fold his arm, but better than stretching things out. He glanced at Itachi carefully, making sure this wasn’t too painful for him.
Itachi stuck out his tongue and slid his arm out. He then reached up himself and pulled the shirt over his head. Itachi began trying to maneuver the sleeve over his cast. “You can go.”
Itachi shot Shisui another glare.
“I’ll cut it off,” Shisui threatened. He paused and looked at Itachi, before reaching out and unmercifully yanking the shirt off of his cast. “Like I’m leaving you alone. You’re doped up, and you probably wouldn’t be able to get up on your own if you rolled off the bed. Like an old person.” He smiled.
Itachi hissed then kicked Shisui. That hurt, little crackles of aches and pains all up and down his arm. Itachi braced his casted elbow with good hand and moved to lean against the wall. “I will not. Get. OUT.”
Shisui grimaced, but threw the shirt in what he was pretty sure was the laundry basket, before standing up and ignoring Itachi. “Are you sleeping without a shirt, or what do you want me to get you?”
Itachi glowered, but realized he couldn’t unseal the yukata. Itachi sighed and reached for the scroll. Itachi offered it to Shisui. “Third seal.” He wasn’t going to tell Shisui how to unseal it. He could figure it out himself.
Shisui took the scroll and flicked it around his fingers, before undoing it. It didn’t seem overly complicated, but he still assessed the seals around it. Putting it down, he tried a rat seal, carefully forming his braced hand and good one into the seal. After a few moments, he just poked it, considered the ink inscription, and then flipped through four signs--theeeere it went. This type of seal was general, good for storing expendable items. Baseline. Nothing worth taking would be in that one. Shisui shook out the yukata and turned around, offering it to Itachi.
“Aww, that was easy.” Shisui stuck out his tongue.
Itachi rolled his eyes and pulled off his pants before taking the yukata. This he could easily slip his arms into. It was also worn and soft. Familiar. Itachi held out his hand for the obi. “You taught me those seals. You should know them.”
Stupid.
“Hush, makes it more fun that way,” Shisui grinned a little and handed him the obi, sitting next to him while he did so and glancing at his hair. “...Let me re-braid your hair?” He had found a very interesting one in the Mist he’d wanted to show Itachi--the eleven year old Itachi. “Please?”
Itachi didn’t answer. He concentrated on getting the obi sloppily tied, and smoothed out the yukata. Actually, it was one Shisui had brought him from Mist. Itachi rubbed the fabric between his fingers and sighed.
“Fine.”
Why did all the comfortable things he still owned come from Shisui?
Shisui grinned happily and scooted back onto the bed, folding his legs and moving behind Itachi. He pulled all of his hair back, and then gently tugged the hair-tie out. Sitting up, he pulled the two longest strands he could find at the ends and held them out, before fussing with Itachi’s hair a little. He had to comb through it with his fingers a few times before he decided that it was good enough.
“There’s water everywhere if you want, you know,” Shisui told Itachi as he started the fishtail braid, toes wiggling a little.
“You need to stop this, Shisui. I’m not the Itachi you want. You’re going to keep being disappointed.” Itachi leaned his head back a little. “And hurry up.” Because sitting up made his stomach hurt, and there wasn’t enough scalp rubbing going on to counteract that pain.
“You’re Itachi. That’s all I want.” Not exactly the truth, not exactly a lie. Yes, he wanted his Itachi, but this one... This was Itachi too. Itachi was important no matter what. Even if this one could beat him bloody, he doubted he would care. “Alright, alright,” He did hurry up as fast as he could manage, slipping his eyes into the sharingan.
Yes, he had watched a braid be done with the sharingan so he could do it for Itachi. So Shisui loved his little cousin, what was the problem with that? It made him go fast.
“No, you want me to be like I was, and I’m not. I don’t--” Itachi reached back and felt the braid, fingers freezing and body pulling tight. He remembered. He remembered the exact day Shisui had braided this into his hair before. He’d been eleven. His mouth had tasted of dango. His feet had been dangling in the nakano as Shisui babbled his mission and told Itachi to stay still--just a little longer, you’ll see.
And the smile. That smile. I have brought you something. I have something for you. Itachi had never really needed anything from Shisui beyond the time and affection he got in spades, but Shisui had always brought more to the table. He was a good big brother--had been.
Then...
Then.
“I hate you.” Itachi’s voice was hoarse. It hurt. His body hurt. Everything hurt. His eyes burned. “I hate you.” Believe me, it, the words spoken without force but twisted emotion, because Shisui had ruined every memory. Every smile. Every thought.
Because Shisui was the one who had abandoned Itachi to the world with that smile Itachi could never refuse.
“No, you’re not like how you were...” Shisui was just finishing the braid as Itachi went tight. He tied it in time to hear Itachi’s words. His twisted words, the ones that wrenched Shisui’s heart out through his mouth and settled it on his tongue. He tried to swallow the sensation down. It didn’t work. His hands slid from Itachi’s braid to fist the back of the yukata lightly, and his head bowed to gently rest against the back of his neck. “I know.” But what could he do more? He couldn’t leave, couldn’t any more than he could make himself stop breathing.
“Done. You can go to sleep now,” Shisui dropped his hands, and paused. “I’m sorry, okay? I’m sorry that I can’t...” Itachi wouldn’t care. He pulled back and then peeled back the covers. He felt numb, but that was probably better than Itachi felt. “Go sleep.” He stood up and brushed a lock of hair away from his ear.
“No.” He didn’t want to sleep. Rest, yes. Maybe. He wanted this to be better, and it was never going to be. He couldn’t treat Shisui as he deserved. He should be trying to take care of his cousin, as Shisui had taken care of him, but he couldn’t. he couldn’t make himself. The thought as as horrifying as it was attractive, but he had to play his role. He was a killer. He held no remorse.
Only bitter, vicious regrets he needed to shed before they poisoned him.
He needed someone right now, so why not Shisui? Why not do as he had for Sasuke when this was all ended and tell Shisui he’d only been using him?
Because Shisui wouldn’t believe it. Shisui was stubborn, and much more certain about his view of Itachi and what Itachi was--what he’d made Itachi into.
“Everything I am, you made me.” He’d made the choices he’d thought best exemplified Shisui’s ideals in life. He’d killed his clan and hidden their shame while heaping it on his own head. He’d set Sasuke on a path to discover the destructive power of hatred, and what a hollow shell power was. He’d given him a purpose and his dead clan a chance and redemption. He’d planned out his life to the end, where the bad man would get justice, and the hero would win. He kept himself in the shadows--the unseen menace lurking over things. He’d sacrifice everything to preserve peace.
Maybe it would take a lifetime to come to peace with mass murder and the man who’d left him to it. Right now, in this moment, cut off from purpose and unable to do anything but sit still and think drug sodden thoughts, Itachi had no peace. He had nothing but disgust and hate, and all the things that had led the clan to do what they had done. He would become them, the angry, empty incarnation of those he had killed, or he would find his life and meaning beyond his own selfish emotions and accept things for what they were.
Should he start here, with Shisui? He did not deserve it. he shouldn’t even attempt the comfort, but Shisui...Shisui hurt. Every word, every motion, and Itachi was achingly tired of being cold and alone. Hate was a cold fire. His anger always burned cold.
And Shisui’s hand were always warm (when he was well). Always welcome. Always pulsing with warmth and life. Always. Until the end. His death. Everything else.
Itachi wanted to curl in on himself. He couldn’t. He could only slowly lower himself onto his back, aching body and mind as he tried to know what he was supposed to do.
“There’s nothing I can say that would make you leave, is there?” Say no, because not even death had pried Shisui away from him.
“Whatever you’d like to do, then,” Shisui looked at Itachi for a few moments, eyes glazing over for a moment as he thought, before sitting down on the floor next to the bed. What could he say to Itachi’s words? He felt like a bad parent, as silly as it sounded.
But it wasn’t silly. It was sad. “That’s not a good thing, is it?” Suddenly, Shisui felt a loathing for his older self, himself even. How had he fucked up that bad? In some way, his suicide had driven Itachi to killing the clan. That was the way he took it, anyway, with Itachi’s reactions. But it could be more, less. Maybe Shisui had learned of Itachi’s intentions and committed suicide, but...
Itachi came over the Uchiha clan. His heart beat harder against his tongue, and Shisui swore he could taste the salty blood.
“No, love,” He murmured, leaning forward and resting his chin on the bed for a moment, before ducking his head and leaning his cheek against the wood of the bed.
Itachi shifted, unable to get comfortable. “So your answer is to inflict your painful presence on me? Very clever, Shisui. Best way to win me over.” He needed a pillow to prop up his arm.
Shisui looked at Itachi’s arm for a moment, before tugging a stray pillow that had made its way under the bad and put it on his chest. “Tell me then, what’s gonna win you over? Flowers? Chocolates? Dango delivery? Serenading you? Ignoring did nothing, and it’ll keep doing nothing. And you know me anyway, too well for subtleness.” Shisui’s eyes darted around Itachi’s face as he spoke, and then without thinking, he reached forward and smoothed back his bangs.
“Nothing.” You couldn’t win what you already had, right? No, that wasn’t right. Itachi frowned, close to being upset but not quite there. He was just...okay, maybe he was upset. Agitated. He blamed the drugs and the pain and the Shisui.
Itachi fussily set the pillow where it would prop up his arm. It wasn’t quite tall enough. “I think I told you something about not being able to undo the past or make rivers flow backwards...”
“Mm-mm.” Shisui just hummed, and looked at the pillow before scooting over and grabbing the set of scrubs, putting them under to get extra height. “Well, I could always fuck with your memories, but that would be cheating,” He told Itachi, trying to get the extra few centimeters spread out under the pillow. “No, you just have to focus on the future. You can change the course if you have the willpower and enough shovels.”
“My future is to die when Sasuke stops being such a failure as has enough strength to make a moderately decent try at killing me--Oh, I probably should have said something inspirational. Oops.” Itachi rolled over a little and arranged the scrubs himself.
“People like me don’t get futures. We get gravestones,” Itachi said seriously, remembering that he was lying on Shisui’s gift to an eleven year-old child who adored him. “Not even the greatest heroes can change that.”
Shisui rolled his eyes. “I was aiming for hypothetical talk,” Itachi lied a lot. That was the only thing he could hinge on just now, because Itachi shouldn’t have Shisui on top of him and shaking him into the bed until he got his answers.
“Well,” Shisui told him, pulling his hands back and looking at Itachi. “Looks like you’ve done a better job and having a future than I have. Guess I am like you after all.” He shouldn’t be arguing with a drugged up Itachi. “...Or you’re like me, I guess.” He didn’t know how that would come off to Itachi, but he doubted it was good. Shisui pressed his face into the blankets, and had the urge to tear at his own hair.
“Idealistic fatalism must be catching.” Itachi didn’t have the strength for sniping. He closed his eyes and twitched his good fingers.
“I’m going to tell you a fucked up bed time story, then you’re going to go away, and I’m going to sleep.” Because getting rid of Shisui would be that easy.
“This is all fucked up, what’s wrong with one more piece?” Shisui asked him, and then stood up, avoiding touching Itachi as he crawled to the other side of the bed and stretched out on his side. “Let me stay here, then, if you really think I’ll go away once it’s over.” He didn’t feel like smiling, so he used his arm as a pillow and hid everything below his nose in it.
“No. I tell you, then you go away. It’s a trade off.” Itachi rolled his eyes and shot Shisui a glare. Idiot.
“I meant on the bed while you’re telling it.” Shisui clarified. Itachi was stupid. “Eleven year old you had the excuse, but now I think you’re just sad.” Maybe being a teenager did that.
...Shit, was he, Shisui going to be that...sullen? Teenager-ish? Not understanding simple phrases? NO! It couldn’t happen, Shisui wouldn’t let it! He groaned and hid his mouth in his arm again.
Itachi reached over and placed his hand on Shisui’s face, since the other had hidden his mouth. jerk. “Once upon a time there was a nice little ninja village that had just finished a very nasty war...” Itachi gave Shisui a pointed look. Listening? Itachi was only going to tell it once.
Shisui crossed his eyes, and then ducked his head a little to be able to speak. “Which ninja village? How small? Konoha’s not small. When was this? What war? Like, every damn village has been through a fucked up war, gotta be specific.” He grinned. Brat? Yes he was. With no regrets.
Itachi moved him hand and clamped it over Shisui’s mouth, sealing it with chakra. “And in this village there was a little clan that was in charge of keeping things peaceful. It was in important job, but they didn’t think it was important enough. They thought people were taking advantage of them, and they didn’t like it.”
Itachi sent Shisui another smouldering glare. Get it?
For a few moments, Shisui kept trying to talk, before shutting his mouth and looking at him with bright eyes. He nodded, more of a head-bob, eyes still fixed on Itachi. Yes, the Uchiha clan. Their family. This was a true story.
…
The brightness in his eyes faded, and when Shisui looked at Itachi, they were just wide.
Itachi held Shisui’s gaze for a moment, then sighed and looked away. It was an old, tired story, though no one else knew it. “Despite being so important, they were actually a very small clan, and they kept getting smaller. Besides their reputation, all they had were two children. Two geniuses that would propel them to greatness.
“So they used them.
“They sent the first out on missions, and they waited for the second to grow up. The longer they waited, the more dissatisfied they were with the way they were being treated, so when the second was old enough...
“They sent him into ANBU, and told him to spy on their enemies their, so they would know how to act.”
Shisui went rather still as Itachi spoke, looking at him. He’d known how they had felt, had attended meetings and the like, doing his part to openly support them, protest the treatment, but never being quite with it.
But.
Comprehension dawned on him, and Shisui had a sick feeling that he knew why Itachi had killed them. They were threatening war, but there could have been other ways, no?
Maybe Shisui didn’t know the situation. Of course he didn’t. But that and his suicide tied together, didn’t it? (Shisui had to keep his suicide separate from him, so he didn’t think of it as something he would do, but something someone else had done.)
Itachi glanced at Shisui. Yes, he knew what was going on now. “But, the clan started to worry about their little genius being all along in the middle of their enemy. he started acting oddly, and they asked the first genius to spy on the second--which he did.
“They asked because the two geniuses were very good friends, which shows they didn’t know much about what went on between the two. So the two started talking about how they could use this to fix the problems, but they couldn’t. They didn’t come up with anything that would work before it was too late.
“Then,” Itachi paused and swallowed. “Then someone took something important from the first genius, and he knew that it would be an excuse used to destroy the peace he adored. So, he found a way out. He made...he made it look like he had destroyed the important things, and then he asked his friend to...”
Itachi swallowed. He’d held his hand over Shisui’s mouth and nose until he’d passed out, so he wouldn’t feel the pain and terror of drinking in the water.
Expressionless. That was the best Shisui could do right now as he watched Itachi, watched him swallow. Actually, he didn’t know what to do, what to feel. What could he do--
Shisui had asked that question too many times. He raised his hand and tapped one eyelid, before looking at Itachi again, utterly solemn.
He had asked Itachi to take his eye--his remaining eye--and kill him. By drowning or smothering, he bet. The worst thing, though, was that Shisui could see it. Knew like that, that Itachi was the only one he would trust if things came to that, to kill him. There seemed to be things wrong with it--why hadn’t they found another way? Why had it come to someone stealing his eye? It wasn’t the Uchiha, so who had it been? He wanted to ask.
Shisui wanted to hold Itachi and never let him go, and had the almost manic urge to proclaim that staying here was better than going back. Hide from that future, because what if he couldn’t change it? What if things crumpled down, and he did that to Itachi again?
He could tell. However noble the cause, Shisui had dashed Itachi into little bits. How could he do that, leave him to do that, even with his eye gone? Why, why why. He placed his hand on Itachi’s wrist, and just looked at him. Itachi had a right to hate him, even if peace had to be in front of everything. He had every right to, didn’t he?
“He asked his friend to kill him, and take his other eye,” Itachi’s voice dropped, dipping into an almost sing-song tone as he remembered everything. He could feel it all to the small twitch of Shisui’s dying body. The agonal breath.
“So he did, because his friend had asked. Then he went and told those in charge of the village what the clan was planning, and they gave him a solution that would keep the peace. They told him to kill his clan to keep the peace, and he did. But, he let his little brother live, and let himself be exiled to keep the clan’s name clean and hide their crimes.” Itachi looked at Shisui and then removed his hand.
“That’s the story.” Now Shisui would leave. Itachi placed his hand above his stitches and waited.
Shisui looked at Itachi. Just looked at him, even after he took his hand away. His mind, whirring before, now felt like it hitched. Hitched and stopped over and over again. After a moment, he brought his hand up and rested the back of it against Itachi’s cheek. “Itachi,” A smooth slide up, close to the ear. “Itachi.” Down towards the nose, gentle. A litany of Itachi’s name, and Shisui felt cold. “Dear. You...” His voice faltered, and his knuckles flexed against Itachi’s cheek. “You really have every reason to hate me, don’t you?” He understood the implications. He had abandoned Itachi, even if at this age, he hadn’t.
He had abandoned Itachi for peace. The idea that meant to most to Shisui had taken over the person that meant the most to Shisui, when the worst came to worst. It had dashed Itachi to bits, but Shisui could see it. He just wished that they had found some other way. The only thing he could do now was make sure that he fixed things, did his best to.
Itachi pushed Shisui’s hand away and slid his body away. “You said you’d go.” Not really, but he had implied it, hadn’t he. Itachi turned his head away. He’d meant...he’d meant to somehow give Shisui some kind of peace with the truth, so he could see how it all had fallen down. It hadn’t. Shisui looked even more devastated. Itachi had just messed everything up.
Again.
“You know fully hating you is impossible.” Itachi scowled.
Shisui backed off and sat up. “Do you want me to go, Ita?” He didn’t think he would either way, but better to know what Itachi was thinking. He curled his knees up and set his chin on them, still looking at Itachi. After a moment, he gave Itachi the tiniest smile. “Then being really pissed off at me?”
“”I have told you repeatedly to go.” Itachi tried not to miss the warmth and told himself it was the medication.
“You were easier not to hate when you were dead.” Because hating the dead seemed so petty and ridiculous. Also, it seemed a terrible return for all Shisui had done for him. Now Shisui was alive, and he could do it all over again. Yay.
“That’s not an answer,” Shisui told him, because it wasn’t. He leaned his head on his knees. He was tired--hadn’t slept much while Itachi was in the infirmary, for fear of bashing him in the middle of a nightmare. Reaching forward, he curled the end of Itachi’s braid around his finger. “According to you, I’m dead,” The hair flicked a little if he drew his finger in the opposite direction that it curled. It was rather amusing.
“I really don’t know what I think anymore, Shisui.” Honesty was the name of the game, right? Itachi looked at Shisui and reached up to push on his curly head. “Because, it’s all going to happen again, and I can’t do it.” Wouldn’t. Couldn’t. Don’t make him, but he would. Some things you could not change. How long would they be here anyway? Years? He could deal with it all again. Joy.
“...I don’t either...” Shisui let Itachi push, and then came rocking back to keep playing with his hair. Glanced at him. “It’s... I can change it. When I go back, I’ll change it, somehow,” He studied Itachi for a moment. “That’s not what you mean, is it?” Something different, something that he was missing.
“No.” As long as Shisui didn’t ask him to kill him, would it be okay? Itachi looked at Shisui, too tired to glare. “Are you leaving?”
Shisui didn’t ask more. He could guess. He shook his head, but stood up and moved over Itachi, going to the other bed. “I can keep outa your way, but I’m not going.”
“Then you need to be close enough that I can smell you,” Itachi slowly admitted. Without the heavy drugs, he’d be able to sense someone was near, which would keep him up if he didn’t know who it was.
Shisui hesitated, and then came back, crawling to his original place and then edging himself under the covers, lying on his side and close to Itachi, but not actually touching him. “Is this okay?” He was a little cold.
“It doesn’t hurt.” Which as all Itachi would allow. The space between them made him all too conscious of that fact that Shisui wasn’t touching him. Itachi slid himself over that little bit and closed his eyes. He hadn’t moved.
Nope.
Shisui hid a smile and shifted so his chin was against Itachi’s shoulder, and he was sharing the pillow, and just settled against Itachi as best as he could through the blanket. He would try not to sleep.
At least, that was what he had hoped, but five minutes later, Shisui was deeply asleep. A hand had creeped up and curled against Itachi’s chest.
Itachi sighed. He shifted and got his good arm under Shisui’s head, curling his fingers into Shisui’s hair and absently rubbing Shisui’s scalp. He didn’t do it for Shisui. Shisui was sleeping, after all. It calmed Itachi down. It made him relax.
Eventually, it put him to sleep.