They'd been together almost six glorious years when his Father called him home.
In the time he'd attended university, Itachi had made the trip home exactly seventeen times. Sometimes it was to spend a traditional holiday with his family, extended or close, to make sure he was there for something Sasuke wanted him to see, or to visit a visiting. Then there was this.
Like every other time, he packed his bags whilst Shisui was out. If only because it was easier to focus on the things he would need to take with him, without his boyfriend unhelpfully 'losing' things he'd already packed to make the chore last well into the night. It had only happened once, and he learned – after finding his toothbrush on the highest shelf of the bookcase, his passport in the fridge and his house keys in the microwave.
Unfortunately, these days – although Itachi never planned to pack whilst the idiot was home, he couldn't go without telling him of his latest need to leave. Thankfully for Itachi, the tenth place he checked for his passport just happened to be under the welcome mat at the front of the little apartment they'd shared for the past three years.
It fell back in place with a soft thump, and despite his best efforts – Itachi spent precious moments just staring at the inanimate and suddenly incredibly invasive object. Perhaps the next time he stepped across it, he wouldn't be quite as welcome as the letters demanded.
When the door opened some time later he stopped zipping up his luggage, pausing to consider his luck at managing to finish before the distractions began. The mat at the front door fell back to the floor, and Shisui groaned loudly.
"Aww. You found it." The complaint was full of light amusement despite Shisui's intentions, and as painful as it was to consider what would be waiting for him upon his return, Itachi smiled. They'd managed to fit their lives so well together, for both their quirks, needs and demands. Before he had the time to school his thoughts, there were arms around his waist, and lips against the back of his neck.
"Did you find your toothbrush? What about the door keys?" He asked, words whispered in sultry tones right up against his ear that didn't fail to do what they intended. A shiver, and slowly Itachi allowed his hands to move and cover Shisui's about his middle.
"Highly uncreative. Are you running out of places to hide?"
"You found them? Seriously? I thought the biscuit tin would have you stumped, you only ever open it to fill it up." Shisui's chuckle was familiar, and to ignore the light in it was equivalent to being dead inside.
As it turned out, he might as well have been.
He left Shisui to fend for himself for only four days, and returned with an empty suitcase.
Normally he called ahead to let his boyfriend know he was due back, perhaps to give him a chance to tidy the house, clear it of the mess he would undoubtedly make in his absence. Their conversation had continued much in the same way as every other conversation they had each night whilst he was away. 'I miss you, be back soon, don't break the dishwasher, have you fed the rabbit, don't poke Sasuke's head too hard, I love you.'
The key in the door was the first Shisui knew about Itachi's return - because there was no one else but their land lord who had a set of keys. Scrambling up from the couch where he'd taken to laying out on alone and watching Avengers for the fifth time that week, he stood - hopeful in the middle of their living room. Thoughts swum, of course - as they were want to do. Was it an intruder? Maybe Itachi was surprising him? A romantic gesture!? They were uncommon, but not rare. This would take the biscuit though, fancy not telling him he was coming home at least.
Shisui's heart soared, and almost as soon as his smile spread across his face - it shrank.
Itachi didn't take a step over the threshold of their house, just held his keys carefully in his hand, suitcase at his side. It was so uncharacteristic of him, that the more Shisui moved around the couch to get to where he could see his boyfriend better, the more he fretted. He still wasn't coming in.
"Itachi?"
The elder of the two took a deep breath, making a move to pocket his keys—but gently setting them down on the table by the door instead.
"Shisui."
An uncomfortable mix of anxiety, fear, worry and- sickness filled him, but ever hopeful, he took another step closer, trying a smile for size.
"You didn't say you were coming home." It wasn't important, not really. He was home, and that was all that mattered, wasn't it?
"I'm not." Or not. As if all the air had left his body, Shisui just stared, breathless, motionless. He waited instead, and apparently Itachi took the cue.
"I came to collect my things..." He started, unsure of quite how he was supposed to break this news. It was immoral to tell him over the phone, and yet this seemed cruel. "Father has... arranged for me to be married."
Itachi swore he saw the lead weight settle in Shisui's stomach, whilst the colour drained from that gorgeous face. Looking became too difficult, which explained why he turned his gaze to the floor.
"I'll just get- my clothes. I-" Whatever else he was going to do was cut short, and understandably so he supposed – which was helpful, because he really didn't know what else it was that he intended to accomplish right now.
"Married? You can't get married. Itachi." The last syllable quavered, and instinctively he looked. Hated himself, hated his Father, hated his legacy. Somewhere behind Shisui something was happening on the television, but even the special effects didn't quite manage to sum up the explosion of emotion inside his chest. "Itachi."
He shook his head, looking away again and picking up his suitcase. "I need to pack."
"Pack? Pack!? The fuck you do! You- You can't just leave me." Any attempt to move had been foiled, and there were two sets of fingers gripping his shirt.
"I'm sorry." The words were sincere enough, but he couldn't maintain any kind of eye contact that Shisui was worthy of. His fingers had already dropped to gently pull Shisui's from the fabric of his shirt. "Please."
The grip just tightened though, and a forehead pressed against his chest. The sobs that followed were to be expected, and yet after five years of loving Shisui completely and wholly - he had dearly hoped it wouldn't end like this. Keeping his composure wasn't easy, he had no more tears to shed - the drive had been a particularly long one.
"I'm not giving up." Shisui finally muttered, through staggered sobs that shook his back. When he lifted his head, the determination in Shisui's eyes was intense enough to shake Itachi's resolve. This wasn't his choice, was beyond his control, and they both knew that. "I won't give up." He whispered, tugging at Itachi's shirt until he bent at the waist. The kiss was to be expected- given the circumstance, but he didn't expect Shisui to distance himself so suddenly.
"... When?" He meek voice was difficult to hear, there were only a handful of times that he'd heard Shisui's voice in that soft, quiet tone and every time it had torn him up inside.
"Next Thursday." He whispered, as if it was a death sentence, and quite honestly it was. Leaving this wonderful life behind, and trading it for fake smiles, fake happiness, fake emotions. All for the good of his Father, for the continuity of the prestigious Uchiha line.
There was silence, for such a long time that Itachi almost thought that somehow, impossibly time had stopped for the both of them, but it was broken - and Shisui gently moved to sit down on the floor. "Are you leaving tonight?"
"I thought it would be best." It's a cry for help, albeit, an incredibly disguised one, despite his desperate need for Shisui to realise. He wants this no more than Shisui. No more than he would desire to kill every last member of his family.
"Stay." Shisui's eyes are on him again, and he knows, instinctively that the understanding is there. Before he has the chance to change his mind, Shisui is on his feet again, reaching out to grasp both of Itachi's. He does nothing to stop the gesture, and whilst lips press against his again he thinks not of his promise to his Father. He should have known that returning would be bad for his sensibilities. Shisui has always had a way of swaying his decisions though, whether it be a conscious effort, or some ethereal force bending fate to it's whim.
When they fall in bed together no less than ten minutes later, he wonders vaguely whether this is going to make matters worse. Shisui is about as stubborn as he, and hopefully, hopefully this fight won't tear them apart.