"If I could, I would give you everything," he murmured.
In a sense, he already had. Just nearly.
He still had his fair share of secrets.
Settled upon the rogue Shinigami's lap, crimson gaze traced the other man's chiselled features, the striking depths contemplative—almost, no, saddened by what he saw. Itachi brushed away brown locks of hair that had fallen in front of Aizen's forehead, fingers working gently, as though cherishing, familiar with the sleek softness that each strand offered, aware of the pair of hands resting on his hipbones. His knees, the one hand that he used to support himself on the bed, placed by Aizen's side, sank into the fabric of the bed sheet, these actions managing to create multiple creases, crevasses, rivulets in the material. The thin sheen of moisture that canvassed their skin, the manner in which the sheets were arranged haphazardly across the normally tidy bed, and the somewhat intimate position that they were currently in, hinting as to the nature of their relationship, were some of the only indications as to what had occurred not too long ago.
Reddened marks stood out against fair skin, his neck bearing evidence to a few reminders of his partner's possessiveness. Itachi's hand had fallen to Aizen's cheek, tender, this mere gesture causing his heart to tighten painfully.
What had started out as nothing more than interest in his abilities had led to this, a twisted form of love- for how can it not be twisted with the way it had begun, and the things that he had been put through for them to reach this point? Torture, mind games, threats, defiance, interest turning into obsession to delve into the mind of Itachi Uchiha to unfold the many secrets and mysteries that surrounded him, the discovery of similarities that was shared between them, the wrenching away from his comrades, the isolating of him from others, forced submission, anger, pain… It had all led to this. Words unspoken, fingers intertwined with his partner's, that in itself said more than discourse could. And yet, Itachi could not bring himself to hate Aizen, anyone else would have.
All he felt was never ending sympathy for the man before him.
Everyone had a story behind them.
Aizen was no different.
Heart beats drummed calmly beneath the palm of his hand, Aizen's chest bare, he was unaware of the plan that the raven-haired male had been harbouring for quite some time now, or perhaps he already had his suspicions. It was within mahogany eyes that Itachi had found the first quality that they shared. Though Aizen had spoken – Itachi was barely listening, only noting the tone of concern, most likely for the touch of melancholy that stained his behaviour - he merely leaned forward, lips brushing gently across cheekbone without an answer offered. Loneliness. That was what it was. But it seemed that Aizen's had poisoned him, its claws embedded within him far too deep, his centuries of living with it being the cause of it. The distance it stretched was infinite.
Make no mistake, Itachi had tried. He had tried abating this. He really had. Knowing the berth in power and the insurmountable damage that Aizen could cause to others around him, to himself, Itachi had agreed to follow him. He had given in to his wishes, he had taken care of him, he had spent time with him, gotten to know him. The tears that had gathered in his eyes, that had clung to dark lashes finally fell upon Aizen's forehead, the moisture sliding down skin an amount. Moments, memories, embraces, kisses had been shared. But this was to end. It mattered not how much he had come to care, he could not go on living caged like this, nor could he allow Aizen to continue spreading the disease of pain to others.
So it was when their lips touched, eyelids fluttering close that Itachi put his plan into action, mind already retrieving the suitable course of events that he had chosen specifically for this.
Though he loathed resorting to a forbidden technique, this was for the better. For himself, everyone, Aizen included. He may remain trapped in a genjutsu loop for years, but the Shinigami would come out of this seeing the error of his ways, and would be able to live a far more fulfilling life. More than what Itachi could give prior to this. It may take years, centuries, but it was what Itachi wanted for him. It was for the better, he told himself.
Eyelids lifted, revealing his activated bloodline.
It was all he could give given the situation.
"This is goodbye, Sousuke."
And just like that, the light had gone from intelligent eyes. The technique had begun. Now motionless, he closed those eyes, and touched upon Aizen's forehead, lips then pressing against it like it had on many occasions prior to this. Loving. His heart clenched once more, a trail of moisture evident on his cheek.
"Perhaps we'll be able to see each other again one day."
Dior: Just a random scene that I needed to write out. Yeap yeap.