Title: Achromatic Impasto
Author: amarx17 – Marx
Rating: R/NC-17 (M)
Pairing(s): KakaIta, SasuSaku
Warnings: Slash (obviously), violence (because teenagers like to fight), Hoshigaki Kisame (because he deserves a warning all by himself), and language. Oh yes, and smut, because smut is my friend.
Summary: AU. Slash/het; KakaIta and SasuSaku. All it takes is one second for lives to be devastated beyond recognition. It takes a lifetime of seconds to piece it back together again. Sometimes, though, there aren't enough seconds to make it okay again, and that's the bane of existence.
Author's Note: This isn't my first foray into the Naruto fandom, and most certainly won't be the last, but this plot bunny wouldn't leave me alone. Beware of angst and drama. And smut, but I think that's a given. Smut is good, smut is great, I love smut.

Chapter One
Texture and Line

"Man performs and engenders so much more than he can or should have to bear.
That's how he finds that he can bear anything."
William Faulkner

Itachi looked rather uncharacteristic to his usual default.

His long hair was pulled up into a messy, high ponytail, and yet he had missed quite a few strands during the process. They flowed around his cheeks in varying lengths and curved in gentle wisps around his ears, tucked there absently. The soft ebony locks glistened in the low light of the room, clean and shiny, but even from Sasuke's view from the doorway, he could see streaks and clumps of colour. Red, blue, green, yellow, white...even a black that somehow shone different than the dark surrounding it.

His hair wasn't the only aspect of Itachi's appearance that had been taken over by multitudes of colour. Even though Sasuke only had a profile view of his older brother, he could tell that his entire body had been affected somehow. There were smudges on Itachi's nose where the Uchiha heir had clearly rubbed an itch off-handedly with the back of his hand, and there was a thick dribble down his cheek and neck from where a wet paintbrush was tucked behind his ear. His clothes were utterly ruined with splatters or general spills of vibrancy, which probably wasn't much of a problem since Itachi had been painting in a gigantic white t-shirt and a pair of black Thai fisherman pants. His black, square-framed glasses were also speckled with paint, and Sasuke wasn't sure how Itachi could focus on his painting if he couldn't see properly.

Sasuke watched him for a while, a small smile on his lips. There was a certain tranquillity to it, with the soft golden light that filtered through the five massive windows to Itachi's right. It was peaceful in a way, to see that bit of normality after such an upheaval in their life.

They had just moved to a new home, they being Sasuke, Itachi, his mother Mikoto, and his father Fugaku. It was the first time in conscious memory that Sasuke had ever lived in the capital city of the Fire Country, Konohagakure, although they had stayed there on holiday occasionally, but unconsciously he had spent the first four years of his life there. Regardless, the home was new, so the experience was also new, and he had spent the first few hours exploring rather childishly.

Apparently during Sasuke's time memorising his new home, Itachi had set up shop. Made sense, really, considering that was always the first thing he did. They had lived in three other places across the world due to Fugaku's job — Sunagakure, Takigakure, and Iwagakure — and Itachi consistently just piled his bags in his chosen room and immediately set up his studio.

Mind, Sasuke wasn't any different when he found his own personal room, but he hadn't immediately started gaming either. He just checked it out, visualised what he was going to do with it, and then left for more exploring.

Itachi stopped for a moment, tilting his head to the side as if appraising his work, and then the paintbrush he was working with was shoved unceremoniously into the knot of his ponytail. Amused, Sasuke watched his brother's long, slender fingers reach up and dig into the thick paint, alternating between wild strokes to gentle caresses as he manipulated the colours to his liking. Sasuke wasn't sure what Itachi was trying to convey in the almost nonsensical painting, but it admittedly was uncommonly beautiful to look at. It didn't actually depict anything, really, instead just being a mad whirl of colours, line, and texture, but it was sort of calming through the insanity of it all.

Then Itachi absently scratched an itch under his eye, moving the glasses up and down with the movement, and smeared paint upon his face, so Sasuke decided to intervene. "Itachi," he greeted cordially, and then continued more naturally, "You've got paint on you."

Itachi's almost serene expression didn't change, but his smooth voice said quietly, "A rather ingenious observation on your part, Sasuke." Sasuke snorted, walking up behind his brother and watching as Itachi's left hand melded a mix of yellow, green, blue, and red into a dull brown, while his right made a yellow-green mess.

After a few moments, Sasuke decided to helpfully say, "Father wants to go out to dinner." Itachi didn't respond, too engrossed in what his hands were doing to speak, so Sasuke added, "This means you'll have to look presentable, you know. If you come out like that, Father won't be very pleased."

Itachi hummed under his breath, a low-pitched and absent sound, his soft charcoal eyes fully absorbed in his work. However, his hands slowed and eventually stopped, and he bit his lip with a small frown. "I don't feel like going out," said Itachi dully, eyes glancing at Sasuke.

Sasuke rolled his eyes. "Don't have much of a choice. Do you have anything to wear that doesn't look like it belongs on a homeless painter? Because you know he's going to want to eat at that steakhouse."

Itachi grimaced lightly, and for good reason: the man was a vegan. It was pretty lucky that they were rather well-off in the money department due to Fugaku's profession, because Itachi was ungodly strict about being vegan. His clothes, toiletries, bedding, and even his medicines and vaccinations were vegan. Hell, Itachi mixed his own paint and made his own paintbrushes by hands, because there were no real viable options on the market. Well, there probably were, but Itachi also said that it brought him a sense of pride to create the colours himself.

It was also rather lucky that the Uchiha family supported this strange lifestyle. The house was cleaned in vegan-friendly products, to give Itachi the peace of mind. He probably wouldn't have brought it up much, but the entire household accommodated him out of some sort of familial duty. Sasuke thought he was a bit mental, and very much enjoyed a medium-well steak, but he allowed it and tried not to be overly insensitive in front of his brother.

Itachi was a tree-hugging hippie, but Sasuke loved him anyway.

His older brother finally stood up in his usual graceful way, stretching his back. A small pop sounded in the room, and Itachi sighed, straightening himself out. Languidly, he pulled out the paintbrush lodged in his ponytail and dropped it into a glass filled with murky water, picking up the entire glass in his paint covered hands. "I have to wash all of these out," Itachi stated, starting to walk towards the sink in the corner. "But I'm sure I'll be somewhat presentable in about thirty minutes. Father can wait, I'm sure."

"You have a paintbrush behind your ear too," mentioned Sasuke off-handedly, smirking slightly when Itachi paused mid-step and grasped it. The elder Uchiha blinked and then began walking again, finally reaching the sink and beginning to clean out his brushes methodically. Sasuke continued, "I'm sure he will, though. It's not like he'll leave you behind by any means. Mother wouldn't allow it."

It had taken Fugaku and Itachi years to come to a comfortable agreement. For a long time, Fugaku had been rather stern with Itachi, only seeing the prospect of someone with Itachi's genius as the head of Uchiha International. Because of that, Sasuke had been inadvertently been ignored by his father in response to the 'grooming period' of Itachi's pending inheritance to the company. By the time Itachi was thirteen, however, it had become rather clear to the two of them that Itachi did not want anything to do with UI, and it had taken a series of rather uncharacteristic explosive fights for them to reach a truce.

Uncharacteristic indeed — Itachi never fought with tongue or fists, because he was a pacifist and deemed it ridiculous. Fight with the mind and intelligence, never with anger or violence, because it makes you a stronger, better man, Itachi had told Sasuke once (something that Sasuke still couldn't hold down, because he quite liked to punch people, really). However, when Itachi did fight with anger and violence, one could immediately tell that it was a serious problem. When Itachi rose his voice or used vulgar language, he was pissed and angry. When he got in someone's face or started throwing hands around in an effort to cause pain, he was literally exploding.

Sasuke had only heard of Itachi hitting someone once, and Sasuke had been there. Simply put, in December of the previous year, Itachi and Sasuke had been mugged. They had just stood there, letting the bastards take their wallets and jewellery, when one of the five guys had lost control for no apparent reason and had hit Sasuke once with a baseball bat. He had raised his hand to deliver another blow and Itachi had just lost it. Sasuke had quickly joined in regardless of his injury, because he had wanted to kick arse the second they had been surrounded.

Sasuke had sustained a broken arm from the hit and quite a few bruises. Itachi had been stabbed once in the abdomen, nowhere dangerous but terrifying on principle. The five guys, however, were in federal prison after being knocked unconscious. Surprisingly, Itachi was rather good at using violence. Well, Itachi was good at everything really, but after so long seeing Itachi as a non-violent man who wouldn't even eat animals because it was 'murder', it had been a shock. For obvious reasons.

Anyway, Itachi and Fugaku were still relatively amiable by the end of it but the doting was over, that was for sure. Itachi wanted to live somewhere glamorous and beautiful, painting all day and living life to its fullest, whereas Fugaku was rather complacent with his multi-million dollar technology company and wanted to continue his legacy. Itachi didn't fit into that vision any more, so Fugaku, in true Uchiha style, had evolved said vision.

So Sasuke, who was totally okay with the idea of being paid millions of pounds to mess with tech and boss people around, was the new protégé of Uchiha International. This was brilliant in his opinion, and being groomed for the position was nothing really note-worthy. His father would just have to wait a few more years before he could retire, which was relatively okay for the lot of them. Itachi was seventeen whereas Sasuke was fifteen; sure, Itachi was smarter and probably could've taken his A-levels at twelve, but he didn't apply himself except what was required to pass. Sasuke, on the other hand, worked hard and kicked ass at school, something he was really proud of.

Things had really changed in the years since Itachi had thrown away his right to inherit the family business. Sasuke was shadowed by Fugaku, whereas Itachi had found an easy relationship with his mother. Which was okay with him, honestly, because the family had more than enough love to go around, even if it didn't seem very affectionate.

It wasn't like some of the other Uchiha families, thankfully. Itachi's friend Shisui, whose father was the Deputy-Director of the Company, thought that to make the perfect child, one had to use harsh words and heavy hands. Actually, it was relatively common for domestic abuse in Uchiha families, probably due to the infamous temper. Sasuke was lucky his family was out of that norm.

They parted ways, Sasuke heading towards the family room while Itachi finished cleaning. He could hear the soft tones of his parents speaking when he approached, probably something to do with the movers, and that sound lulled him in the direction of their voices. He did love his parents, even if his father could be unnervingly stern and critical of things he didn't approve of.

Like Itachi's homosexuality, for instance. That had caused a right explosion in the Iwa house, which wasn't exactly surprising. Uchiha Fugaku had nothing against homosexuality, no, but Itachi had been twelve when he was airily come out in the middle of Sunday brunch, and back then Fugaku had been planning the future. Go to university and earn a computer science and business management degree, work at Uchiha International to prepare for taking over, marry a nice girl, take over the company, and have at least one child to have an heir to the business pretty much summed up Uchiha Fugaku's thoughts, honestly. Sasuke had had that drilled into his head quite a lot: that he had to get married and have kids to continue the lineage.

Obviously, back when Itachi had been the one to inherit the company, that had proposed a bit of a problem. Sure, Itachi could've used a surrogate, but it just wasn't the same, not really, especially since Itachi said that he never wanted kids anyway. Itachi didn't have much of a patience for them, honestly. He just wasn't suited for the parenting job.

He had been good to Sasuke during his toddler days, but that was probably because being related to Sasuke had forced him to amiable. Or something like that.

He stood outside the doorway for a while, just listening to his parents speaking. Despite everything, he really did love his family. They balanced each other out relatively well, and were quick to jump at another's need. They were a bit standoffish to outsiders, sure, but that was because most people just wanted to be photographed by a paper or be given free money. They were always there for each other with a bizarre, probably uncommon expression of love and companionship, and no one could really get in the way of that. They were a well-rounded family, composing of all ends of the spectrum, and they just worked.

God, he was getting overly sappy. He smacked himself against the cheek lightly to pull himself out of it and finally entered the family room.

His parents looked up at him. He gave them a half-hearted salute, one of those terrible ones that spoke of insubordination, but he didn't really feel like doing much more. He felt heavy, almost lethargic, and as he sat down on one of the new couches that would soon be broken in, he suddenly felt the need for a nap.

It was jet lag. He had spent twelve hours on an aeroplane, so he was entirely justified to have a snooze.

"Itachi's getting ready. He broke out the paint." Nothing else needed to be said about that, honestly. Fugaku closed his eyes as if frustrated and Mikoto just smiled, a soft one that made her look less like Sasuke himself. Sasuke and his mother looked rather a lot alike, but when she smiled, the similarities dwindled a bit. She smiled with her mouth and eyes, but it was dignified regardless of the emotional strength behind it. Sasuke, on the other hand, smiled with his entire body, really. It used to be embarrassing, but he had gotten over that years ago. His father did the same thing, too, to tell the truth. When Father smiled or laughed, it was with his whole body.

He stretched out his body on the couch, yawning widely, and listened to his parents continue their conversation. They were talking about the movers, who had apparently misplaced some of the master suite furniture. Figured. Even being a high-rated agency doing a job for a well-paying employer, people couldn't do their jobs right.

About twenty-five minutes later, Itachi decided to show up. Hair clean and pulled back into the customary low ponytail that left a fringe around his face, dark eyes fully visible due to contacts, smartly dressed in a greyscale vest suit with black tie...well, it could've been worse. He was being respectful towards the first meal back in their hometown. The last time they had been to a steakhouse, Itachi had worn a pink PETA t-shirt with a cartoon of a pig's face and words saying 'Love Me, Don't Eat Me.' Mind, that hadn't gone over well, until they had gotten to the restaurant. A fat, cherry red man had said obnoxiously, "There's room for all God's creatures...right next to my mashed potatoes, you fucking fairy."

It had gone over much better then, due to Fugaku standing up, blinking once, and promptly assaulting the guy. When they had bailed him out of jail after calling the family lawyers, he had said, 'Itachi, you did nothing wrong. I wasn't fond of that shirt either but you have the freedom of expression. That arsehole deserved what he got.'

Mikoto had replied, 'Violence is never the answer dear. It escalated to a point that it should've never gotten to. Call Mason and get ready for the resulting lawsuit.' Which she was ultimately right about: the guy had sued, it had gotten press attention, and then the Uchiha lawyers had proved victorious. It probably wouldn't have happened had they not gotten (through bribing, of course) an animal-friendly judge. It proved to everyone that Fugaku did have a heart as well as a temper, and that he did care for Itachi despite his disappointment.

Itachi had hugged him. They had been closer since then, thankfully.

That didn't mean that they were all going to start eating solely at vegan restaurants, but it was a start. One that apparently involved Itachi dressing perhaps a bit too formally for an informal dinner but nice just the same.

"Alright," said Fugaku, pushing himself up to his feet. He held out a hand for Mikoto, helping her up as well, and they all made the journey to the front door. They left the house in pairs, Itachi and Sasuke bumping shoulders and their parents hand-in-hand, a rare show of affection for all of them. Of course, this probably wouldn't last outside of the house, but hey, it was a nice change.

The Maybach was waiting for them, engine already running, and they all piled in, Fugaku at the wheel and the two brothers in the back.

They ended up eating at a vegan restaurant. Something about placating Itachi, who had half-heartedly threatened moving out when they had moved from Iwa to Konoha.

Itachi had smiled, a barely noticeable one but a smile just the same.

To say that Itachi didn't like Konohagakure was an understatement.

Sure, it was the capital of the Fire Country, and the biggest city in the world as well, so there were a lot of options. It was easy to blend into the masses with the twenty-five million plus people that inhabited the city, so being noticed as the ex-heir to Uchiha International was low. There were plenty of options for food and clothing that he could actually wear, the art and musical scene was massive, and yet it was a technological hot-spot that someone like Sasuke would thrive in.

It was fucking beautiful too. The atmosphere and scenery was jaw-dropping to look at, being a massive metropolis in the middle of a mountainous forest region. The metropolitan area was filled with gigantic skyscrapers that were elegant and fascinating to look at, whereas the rest of the city was a patchworked piece of art, really. There were buildings all around the city from literally every time period ever, and even the run-down areas had a gentle sort of charm.

It also had a relatively low crime rate considering that it was the biggest city in the world, so there was that. Much better than Iwa and better than Suna. Not as good as Taki, but the city was smaller too (and prettier, if one took scenery in regards, due to the waterfalls and canals).

He still wasn't happy about the move, though. He was never fond of moving, ever, because it meant that his entire life had to be brutally torn to shreds in the upheaval of relocation. He remembered living in Konoha and having schoolmates, and then throwing a right fit when they had moved after Itachi's sixth birthday. He remembered leaving Suna when he had been nine, and throwing a right fit because he didn't want to leave his art teacher. He remembered leaving Taki with a massive fit when he had been twelve, because for chrissakes, it was the most beautiful and inspiring city in the entire world and who would willingly leave it?

Then he remembered leaving Iwa just a few days ago, and he had thrown a fit as well. His version of a fit anyway, which consisted of silent treatments, sneaking out a lot to get his fill of the city as soon as possible, and rather stilted words with his father for a few weeks. Anyway, he hadn't really wanted to leave Iwa either. He had been fairly miserable there, because the city was militaristic in its design and the citizens were total arseholes, but it was still terrible. Mostly because he had a gym there that he liked and he had already memorised the layout of the city as well as the house they had lived in.

Itachi liked change when it benefited, not when it wrecked his normalcy.

He'd probably come to like Konoha though; honestly, there was no way he couldn't not like Konoha, because the place was brilliant. He was distantly familiar of it through business trips his father used to drag him to, so it wasn't completely new. He was aware of the potential, but that didn't make it any easier. He was also familiar with the steakhouse because his father had been frequenting it since before Itachi had even been born.

Almost as if it was a dream, Itachi could faintly remember sitting in class with the rest of the first years, crying because some little boy had taken his crayons and broke them into pieces. Maybe that was why he was livid about the move, because he had some repressed memories of being unjustly bullied by his classmates or something. Honestly, it probably had more to do with the majority of the Uchiha clan living in the city, because Itachi didn't have a good relationship with the rest of his family. He was a pacifist, a vegan, an artist, and gayer than a bag of rainbows stapled to a leprechaun's cock. Most of his clan was filled with egotistical meat-eaters that preferred shooting things with hunting rifles or looking down on others that were less than fortunate.

Or shooting daggers with the Senju or Hyuuga families, but that was just part of the dynamic. Three big names in one city didn't help with camaraderie. It just pissed people off and caused barfights.

The paint was warm beneath his fingertips as he melded the colours together in a textured swirl. He couldn't really explain the painting, except that it conveyed quite a few emotions that were lurking in his blood. It made his eyes hurt, but that might've been more the fault of the contacts rather than the chaos of the painting.

Itachi liked painting. He liked it because in a way, he could relate to it. To most people, paint was bought in one of the standard tubes: red, yellow, blue, black, and white. Then it could be mixed with other colours to create others: orange, green, purple, pink, baby blue, brown, grey, pale yellow, yellow-green...the possibilities were endless. People could relate to that, perhaps not consciously like Itachi did, but regardless, it was possible. People started out basic, and then they were moulded by circumstances like family or peers or work. They developed themselves into a unique colour that signified their lives, and either became a lighter tint or a darker shade until death. Itachi figured he was a red, and he liked to think that he was lighter rather than darker.

There were other ways of looking at it too. From Itachi's perspective, his life was like paint. He had been one of those basic colours, a red perhaps. His father had tried to add blackness in his life, because he had attempted to force Itachi into a life he didn't want. But then he had broken free of that; he had started by secretly adding other colours to his red, and then he had added white when he had finally admitted to his family and himself about his sexuality. However, his father still added blackness despite his work to be something vibrant and new, and then he had finally changed all of that. Instead of following his birthright, he had thrown out all of his paint, all of his previous conceptions of the life he was duty-bound to live, and he had created his own paint, his own colours from his own imagination. He had denied the company, had rather abruptly started an entire new path for himself. He was his own man, his own paint, and that was immensely satisfying.

Then again, he was probably just talking out of his arse, but it sounded good so he couldn't be faulted for that.

Before ever moving to a new home, Fugaku had everyone's respective rooms done, all of them on the top floor since the bottom was common area. His father and mother always had the east end of the obnoxiously large home, and then Sasuke and Itachi inhabited the west end. Furthermore, Sasuke always preferred the front of the house, whereas Itachi was fond of the back, so he could have the backyard view of the grounds. Consecutively, in every single home, this had been the case, which was a consistency that he appreciated.

His studio had been added by contractors for a nice little sum of catch. The southwest wing that was his designated area had a small living area, a bedroom, a rather luxurious bathroom, and then three rooms that had been revamped for his studio. Previously they had been a study, a bathroom, and a small den, but together it was a relatively good space for working.

Itachi loved it, to put it bluntly. His father had known that Itachi wasn't really pleased with the move so he hadn't cut any corners. It was bribing at its best, because that was the way the Uchiha Fugaku normally showed his love: through absurd amounts of money being spent. His father was materialistic man, just like most people who had inherited a fortune, because that was normal. It was much easier to buy love and compliance rather than sitting down and talking it out.

The white-walled space was brilliant though. There was a massive stainless-steel sink in the corner of the room, and the entire wall to the right of it was storage space in varying degrees. Supplies, paper types, canvas, brushes, chemicals...everything possibly imaginable that could be used was present in drawers, cabinets, horizontal cubicles, and vertical paper holders. Then there was a square, multilevel worktable, half of it low enough to sit down comfortably while the other half high enough where he didn't have to stoop nor reach for purchase. There were two easels in the northwest corner by the doorway, both of them from the old house in Iwa, but one more was in the centre of the room being broken in since it was brand new. In the northeast corner, there was a nice L-shaped couch, white in colour which would be quick and fun to destroy, and an empty bookshelf next to one end that was ready for art books. There was a filtration and ventilation system, to keep the room dust, fume, and odour-free, which Itachi could hear through a quiet hum.

Itachi gave it two weeks before it was a disaster area. He was a neat freak by nature but it was an art studio. He was allowed liberties.

He sat back on his stool, staring at the vine-like strokes of colour on his canvas. Not a single millimetre of white was visible through the layers of paint, which was okay by him, because this piece was for him, not for anyone else. Some works were just done to vent emotion, and the chaotic piece he stared at conveyed that enough for him.

After a few moments, he stood up and spared a glance at his ruined hands. Then he closed his eyes, took a deep, paint-tinted breath, and then walked blindly towards the sink. In a few weeks it would be nearly impossible to do such a menial thing, because there would obstacles everywhere, but he made it there then with no accidents. He quickly but thoroughly washed his hands, even though they were stained beyond recognition regardless due to him making his own paints, and cleaned up the few brushes he had soiled. It was methodical and thorough, because brushes had been ruined by less, so only whenever they were perfectly clean (albeit stained as well) did he stop.

He exited his studio into a small hallway. If he was to continue forwards, he would hit a guest bedroom before reaching Sasuke's area of the house. Itachi paused for a moment before opening the door to his bedroom directly to the right, watching as down the hallway an erratic flashing of lights seeped through the cracks of a doorway. Figured that Sasuke would finally break into all of his electronics in the dead of night. Itachi glanced half-heartedly at his watch and noted the time being a little after one in the morning, and then entered his room.

His room would have to be fiddled with a lot before he'd be happy with it. The walls were, predictably, white with a red border through the middle, but that was easily changed with a bit of paint. He would have to buy wall paint, because using his natural paints would do absolutely nothing to cover it evenly, but there were animal-friendly ones out there. Maybe he'd go grey this time, or perhaps a soft green. His last room had been a pale yellow, which had actually been nice, but that had took careful planning on designing the room for it to work around the colour.

He turned to his left to his adjoining bathroom, quickly taking off all his clothes and gently putting them inside a plastic lined hamper. He'd wash them in the morning, or attempt to at least, because there was a good chance they were ruined anyway. He was a rather messy painter in contrast to his usual anal disposition on cleanliness. He took a lot of pride in being a perfectionist with everything he did, even if it was something simple like making his bed, but when it came to being clean and precise with his paint, he was hopeless.

He turned on the shower, guessing at temperature since he wasn't used to the handle yet, and took the time to take out his contacts. Like a good majority of the Uchiha, eyesight was something not expected but instead coveted, especially for some. Itachi's eyes themselves were rather fucking terrible. One eye was far-sighted, the other near-sighted, and both had astigmatisms. His father had looked into refractive surgery, and had gotten LASIK done on himself with decent results, but even an absurd amount of money couldn't convince a surgeon to operate on someone under eighteen. Besides, Itachi had gotten his eyes looked at, and apparently his astigmatism was too bad for the possibility of full correction.

He didn't exactly need perfect vision. He didn't even mind glasses, although he was mildly adverse to contacts.

When his world had faded into a blurry, disorienting visual, he toed his way toward the shower and stuck a hand inside, cringing when the water was on the cold side of lukewarm. Squinting, he adjusted the temperature until steam billowed, and then gingerly stepped in. The water stung on his body, and he'd be a pink lobster when he (eventually) got out, but as it was, he just sighed in comfort and let the stream of water rush over him.

He quite liked taking showers. It was a good time to relax and think, and he took advantage of it. Although considering the fact that he was a painter, he was used to taking at least two a day. One in the morning, and one after covering himself with paint or working out. He liked being clean as well, so he took a lot of time making sure that he was. Besides, his hair took forever to wash, as it was so long and usually had paint caked in the strands. Due to some of this paints staining, mostly with the reds and blues he occasionally made with berries, he had to spend extra time on the skin dyed by them. He didn't even want to imagine what his hair would look like if it had been a colour other than dark brownish-black — he'd probably be a terrible mess to look at, with multicoloured hair.

He started his ritual of cleaning said hair while his thoughts wandered. They had a week to settle into Konoha before he would have to start school. Since the year had already started, he'd stand out even more than he would as a slightly-known face. Sasuke would thrive in that, even though he'd deny it like mad. Itachi's younger brother liked attention in his own dickish way, and Itachi could think that with utmost affection. He'd make friends that he would refuse to call friends in public rather quickly, as he always did.

He'd probably have fifty potential girlfriends within a week. Not that he'd do anything with them, because Sasuke not only had standards but he also was rather wary of giving out his affections scrupulously. Sasuke didn't do things like that easily or without thought, much like Itachi in that regard. It was for different reasons, yes, but neither one of them dated on a whim. That was probably a good attribute on both their parts, considering that their father was a very powerful man who was consistently in business magazines, and as his two children (with Sasuke being the next CEO and owner of UI), they were expected to do the name justice. Smearing the Uchiha family with drugs, alcohol, partying, and lots of sex wasn't in their best interests.

Simply put, Sasuke didn't have a lot of relationships because he wanted to make sure that women weren't dating him for money and popularity, and unfortunately a lot of people tried to do just that. He also didn't want to do anything stupid that would warrant interference with Fugaku or would disappoint the family, Itachi included (not that there was much Sasuke could do that would make Itachi disappointed...he loved the kid, no matter what he did).

In Itachi's case, he also was wary of the fact that people were out for fame and money, but for the most part, he was just scared. He'd never admit it out loud, but he was. He hadn't really been in a relationship before, because he was too introverted perhaps, but mostly he was scared of investing that much into a person only to be crushed and left to suffer. Maybe that was rather pessimistic of him, but he couldn't be blamed on what he had seen with his own eyes. Even in mature relationships, something always and without fail got in the way. Relationships — love, really — just caused pain and mistrust, even if the majority of said relationship was generally happy and full of sex.

There was so much to lose and nothing to gain in his perspective. The idea of laying on a balcony in some beautiful, remote beach town, nursing a cup of good coffee with a cultured, handsome young man was romantic and fanciful, but that also wouldn't be realistic to envision. Letting someone in to the point where words weren't necessary was simply terrifying. There was nothing particularly shameful or secretive in his closet, and certainly no skeletons or misplaced fears about his sexuality, but he just didn't want that. He didn't want that because eventually that cultured, handsome young man would turn on him. Cheating, gambling, spending all of Itachi's inheritance, growing distant or even bored, or something he couldn't even logically fathom in his inexperience in the cruelty of human beings...he simply and unmitigatedly did not want that. He did not need that.

He was going to die an old maid with twelve cats and a house full of pastels. Or whatever the masculine form of that was.

After nearly an hour in the steaming hot water, fully clean and disorientated due to the heat, he finally exited the shower and headed to bed without drying his hair.

Well, after putting on pyjamas. There was no telling when Sasuke, or worse his parents, would barge in without warning. It had happened before, and it would probably continue until he left for art school or to laze about on a beach somewhere, alone with his twelve cats and pastels.

He was asleep the second his wet head hit the pillow.