Kisame was not one to cry.
In his experience, Itachi had never once witnessed the shark-nin allow himself that kind of weakness; a sentiment that Itachi had largely shared. No matter the immensity of the pain that he was in, Kisame did not shed a tear; not a single salty droplet met the toned skin of his cheek, nor did it roll down his jaw in any manner of being.
The sight before him, therefore, was all too startling, all too destructive of Itachi's many defensive masks that he layered upon his own visage to keep safe.
There was no mistaking the quiver in large blue lips, no disguising the bowed head, the watering monochrome eyes; Kisame was, without a doubt, kneeling and in tears. Itachi could only watch, helpless, as the sadness consumed his partner, his lover; and then those sodden eyes shifted, face lifting to the sky as a yell of agony erupted from Kisame's throat, sent skyward as if his anger could be heard by the impassive gods of the heavens.
It was then that Itachi fell in front of him, arms sweeping him into as tight a hold as he could manage; cheek turned to press against the crook in the Hoshigaki's neck, the very same column that seemed to mold to his face, like a piece to a puzzle that fit in just the right spot. The wail continued, however; Kisame did not react to the raven's grip, and Itachi could do nothing about that.
"Why didn't you let me help?! Damn, damn you-"
"-AAARGHHHHHH!"
Blue fists curled, pounded against grass; became dotted with flecks of red that lay splintered upon the green blades. The wind moved them, rustling their Akatsuki cloaks; but Itachi's remained isolated, unaffected by his surroundings. He steps away from the grieving man, stands and watches him in silence; watches him clutch at his bloodied, still body, catches the whisper against his torn coat,
"Still warm. Are you watching, Itachi-?"
His head lifts again, and Itachi thinks his eyes are the colour of the ocean; the froth that rolls across sandy escapes, the deep sea where no light ever reaches. He knows that Kisame wishes to see him, wants to believe that he truly can. There is nothing he can do. His body lays in the grass; his soul is only an apparition that cannot be seen.
"I'm watching, Kisame."
The man was not assuaged by his soft words. He could not hear them. The wandering gaze did not once linger on his form for any longer than it lingered on their other surroundings; Itachi noted this with growing sorrow. He was truly one of the dead, now, fit only to observe.
Kisame's head once more dips to Itachi's corpses' coat, nose pressed flush against it. The wind must be cooling him by now, Itachi thinks; he knows that a body does not stay warm all that long, and the day is fairly breezy. Even as he watches, his vision grows bleak, colours beginning to drain away from his sight. He knows he doesn't have much time left. The raven opts to decisively kneels at Kisame's side again, then sits, placing a hand on his back, murmuring apologies; the likes of which he would never have said while alive.
He watches as Kisame pleads for it to be a joke, pressing his lips hastily to the corpses', begging for him to wake.
He watches as another wave of agony turns to anger, to the cursing of all the celestial bodies in existence.
He watches as Kisame once more places a kiss to lips that surely were cold by now, whispering all the things he had said when they were both alive and together, words that Itachi used to be so keen to hear. Soft I love yous and you're precious to mes and please, angel, never go to heaven without mes filled the air.
And when at last all colour had left Itachi's vision and a doorway of light opened in front of him he stood, making his way towards it. Some inclination told him to turn, though, and he met the sight of his lover lifting those striking eyes once more; eyes that were so much more beautiful now than he had ever noticed prior. There was something about the softness, the vulnerability of sadness; of such genuine, sincere mourning..
"I'm sorry, Kisame. I love you."
A smile, sad and slow, spreads across Itachi's lips, and something like shock appears on Kisame's face, which appeared fixated; but his vision was fading fast, and the Uchiha saw only a blur. The raven would never know if Kisame could truly have seen him then, but the thought that he had comforted him as he passed on, allowed himself to be engulfed by the scorchingly bright light.
The wail that split the air after Itachi had gone could not be compared to the ones in the past, for this one sounded of pure, unadulterated anguish.
It was always rumoured that animals were more sensitive to the dead than most.