Itachi stared up at the ceiling of his room, unable to sleep. His mind just simply would not stop. All the voices, all the faces- he grunted in an effort to force his thoughts out of his mind, tossing over to his side, his long, silky raven-like hair falling over his face. He didn't bother to move it out of his line of sight.
Now staring out the window, looking up at the full moon, he could almost feel his mind circling over the thousands of different subjects, topics, opinions, and circling back to the voices, the faces...
He pressed his forefinger and his thumb against the bridge of his nose, desperate for at least some sort of relief. He hated the way his mind worked- the way he could never stop analyzing, the way he could never just relax. It was enough to make a grown man cry, the feeling of being a slave to his own mind. He could only control how he appeared to others: cool and collected at all times. However, only one person knew how much he struggled with himself on a daily basis. And that man was sleeping soundly next to him.
The steady, deep, rising and falling of Shisui's chest as he slept was one of the only things that could ease Itachi's troubles, however that night was one of the rare nights that even his presence didn't help any.
He couldn't take it anymore.
Years of having to submit to his father's wishes and expectations had weighed heavily on Itachi's shoulders, and not once was he ever allowed to express his own dreams and wishes. As an Uchiha, and as the genius boy from the main branch, he was doomed from birth to be driven mad by what everyone else wanted of him. Between Fugaku, his father, and Hiruzen, the third Hokage, he felt that his duties to the clan and the village far outweighed his own personal needs. In fact, he had begun to feel that his needs were indeed selfish.
This was to be expected as a result of the intensive training given by the ANBU Black Ops. As an ANBU member, he was not allowed to question command. He was to shut up and do as he was told, and execute his missions better than everyone else. It always felt like a competition to be the best, throughout the rest of the ANBU, throughout his clan, throughout the village – however it was a competition he had never signed up for.
No, he was thrown into it.
And he had had enough.
He knew he was gifted; he knew he was the most intelligent in his clan, if not the entire village. However, it seemed that only he knew of the consequences of being born with such gifts: the agony of being much too self aware, the psychotic break downs he had to hide from everyone, the debilitating depression he had no other choice but to power through for the sake of expectations. His gift was his curse, and ironically, the very thing that enslaved him was the only thing that saved him.
Expectations.
But Itachi didn't want to deal with them anymore.
Itachi flew up into a sitting position, gripping on to the edge of the bed until his knuckles whitened. His hair falling almost completely in front of his face, he looked down, biting his lip in an attempt to make himself feel something other than the sheer anguish that was building inside of his gut. He was feeling impulsive now; he just wanted to make the pain go away. He didn't want to remember all the faces of the people he killed, he didn't want to remember seeing his beloved brother spiral downward in his own self loathing while being able to do nothing, he didn't want to continue feeling like he had no control.
But this, he had control over.
He could make a decision, right here, right now, that would change everything. But did he have the courage to follow through? He knew how badly the village would suffer from his loss, and more over how shamed his family would be from having to live with the fact that their son simply couldn't abide anymore, and had resorted to suicide.
Yes, he was well aware of how Fugaku's status would shatter before him, for the rest of his life, if it was found out by the rest of the clan. He was well aware of how hurt Sasuke would be; of how his mother would sob for days on end, never lifting herself out of bed to cook a meal for her family, if her precious son was dead. It would be different if his life had been taken from him; it was the duty of every ninja to go into missions willing to die defending their village. But this would be different. It would have been his choice. His choice.
However he was also aware of the pain that would undoubtedly rest in Shisui's heart for the rest of his life. He knew Shisui was much too passionate of a person to be able to hide something as devastating as the loss of his lover from public view, however that was also something that Itachi could no longer bear: having to hide the fact that he and his own clan member, let alone cousin, loved each other. They had been hiding it for years; Shisui would go out on dates with many girls he absolutely could not stand per Itachi's request, so that it seemed like them living together was purely for financial benefit. They even had a second room set up for when they had visitors, to emphasize the appearance of them having no romantic interests in each other.
But no one knew they slept together every night since before they even moved in together. No one knew how Shisui would sneak out in the middle of the night and climb through Itachi's window, just to have to roll out of bed before Fugaku awoke to high tail it back to his place. Shisui hadn't had a solid night's sleep in years before they had moved in together, and no one ever knew.
But Itachi knew that as soon as he was found, Shisui would lose all reason, and their secrets would be exposed. It's not like he would have wished for Shisui to have to shoulder the pain of keeping it hushed anyways. He loved Shisui too much to be able to die being okay with him living in agony like that.
A tear welled and slowly rolled down Itachi's cheek. He didn't move, allowing it to continue it's path down his chin, until it dripped onto the fabric of his pajama bottoms. He wouldn't hesitate if it wasn't for Shisui.
Damn it.
Itachi clenched his teeth, exhaling through his nose forcefully, glancing back at his sleeping lover. He couldn't help but admire his soft, short hair; it was so wavy that it was almost curly, much unlike his own hair, which was annoyingly straight and held almost no shape nor body whatsoever.
Shisui constantly commented on how feminine Itachi looked, but he had soft features as well. In fact, the only defining facial features he had were his nose and his jaw line, but even then, he had full, almost rosy cheeks, and full lips to accompany them. His eyes were soft and kind, and he had smile lines from how often he laughed. Itachi would miss being able to call all of that his.
Itachi slowly stood up and made his way evasively out of the bedroom, being careful not to wake his beloved, knowing exactly where his destination in the house was. In the family room, he kept his katana on a hilt on the wall; it was the centerpiece of the room. He silently removed the sword from it's holding place, not unsheathing it until he sat back on his knees, resting his weight fully on his heels, facing the sliding glass door that presented nature's play outside.
The light of the moon seemed almost welcoming of his decision. He took a deep breath in to admire the last scene he would witness, taking in every detail of the cherry blossom tree just outside, and paying close attention to the way the cicadas sung in the cool autumn night.
After some time, he decided he was ready.
Unsheathing his katana, he examined it gracefully, gently fingering the edge of the blade, to make sure it was sharp enough. He determined it was, then positioned the blade so that it lay flat against his palms, so he could admire the engravings that his father had personally gone to get inscribed on it. He was thankful that, of all things, at least his father told him he was proud of him.
Closing his eyes, he then positioned the blade pointing towards him, his arms, grasping the handle, held out, so that he could push the sword into the center of his stomach, directly under his rib cage, ready to commit Seppuku. He pressed the tip of his katana against his stomach, so he could feel the edge of the blade against his skin. He took a deep breath in, and then...
The lights flipped on. Itachi's eyes flew open, not expecting Shisui to have woken up, but remaining frozen in his position. He dared not glance over, and instead, chose to stare straight ahead of him, nature's cinema resuming right outside the window, paying no attention to the men inside.
He heard nothing for a moment, then soft foot falls approaching him. His finger twitched on the handle of his katana. He then felt Shisui's presence directly behind him, as Shisui sat down, pressing his torso against Itachi's back, also on his knees. Itachi couldn't process what was going on.
Shisui gently ran his fingertips over Itachi's shoulders, leaning forward to press his soft lips against the back of Itachi's raven-esque head, and then walked his fingers over Itachi's arms, placing his palms atop of Itachi's hands.
They remained like that for a moment, until Shisui whispered,
"If you kill yourself, then you kill me, too."
Itachi's heart skipped a beat as he took in what Shisui had said. Shisui's grip tightened around his hands, his lips now brushing against the nape of Itachi's neck, sending warm chills down his spine. Itachi begun to feel a tightness in his throat, realizing that Shisui would have preferred they both die than to be left alone in a world without him.
He immediately felt guilty, and lowered the blade into his lap. He couldn't help but to tremble under Shisui's touch, and had to swallow hard to keep himself from crying. He lowered his head in shame.
Shisui guided Itachi's hands aside, moving the katana away so that Itachi couldn't decide at any last second that he would indeed take both of their lives, and then wrapped his arms around his torso tenderly.
"It's okay to cry," he whispered again, knowing very well that Itachi probably needed to scream and let out all of his pain.
Only a moment passed before Itachi's small trembles turned into violent convulsions as he began to sob desperately, moving his legs out from under him and leaning back, rotating on his side, into Shisui's body. Shisui moved his arms so that one arm was over him and the other was still holding him from under.
"I'm sorry," Itachi clenched onto Shisui as tight as he could. "I'm sorry I'm so weak," he continued through tears, his smooth voice cracking.
Shisui hushed him and began to run his fingers gently through his long, smooth hair. Even at his worst, he was still the textbook definition of perfection.
"You aren't weak," he soothed. "You are the strongest person I know. No one could blame you for how you feel."
Itachi didn't speak after that. All he could do was cry as he continued to see the faces and hear the screams of those he killed, as he continued to blame himself for his brother's self destruction, as he continued to put his own health aside for his duties.
He knew there needed to be change, and with Shisui by his side, he always felt like it was possible. He only just needed to hold out a little longer.