Routine
Itachi knows that even the sturdiest eventually succumb to situations and events beyond their control. The question is, though, can they move on? In his case, he doesn't think he can.
Disclaimer: Naruto is the property of Masashi Kishimoto. This fanfic, however, belongs to me.
Rated T for later chapters.
.o.
Itachi always told him not to walk outside after dark. It was a bad neighborhood, he said, never mind the fact that no major crimes had occurred in the area for years. Itachi always told him to be aware of his surroundings, before reaching out and ruffling his hair. Like he always did.
Sasuke, proud little Sasuke, always pouted at that and, with a roll of his eyes, assured his brother that yes, he'd make sure to be back before dark and of course he'd be conscious of his surroundings. He was a big boy now, after all. Then, once his elder brother smiled in satisfaction at his answer, he'd grin back and playfully swat Itachi's hand away from his hair.
Just like he always did.
And he did exactly that every day, coming home when the sun was bathing the sky in iridescent oranges and reds, opening the front door to their flat with a cheery "I'm home, brother!" and a special hug just for his sibling who, like clockwork, would appear from around the corner to greet him.
The siblings would discuss how their day went over a warm and delicious dinner before cleaning up after themselves. And, like the countless days before, they would settle down on their comfy leather couch to watch some television before heading off to bed, each sibling content with this routine of theirs.
It was always Sasuke, proud little Sasuke, who would wake up first, and it was always Sasuke who made their coffee and grabbed the morning newspaper. Then he would count down the time (three minutes and twenty-two seconds) until its fresh aroma would draw his brother from slumber, hair disheveled and pajama pants twisted to the side.
And, just like he always did, Itachi made them breakfast before sending Sasuke off to a good day of school, ruffling his hair and placing a kiss to his forehead (which would always make his brother flail at him, cheeks tinged pink in embarrassment). Then, after finishing his cup of coffee with a fond chuckle, he would ready himself for his own day of work.
As with every other day that had gone by, Itachi was the one to get home first. But this day was not like the rest, as he would eventually come to realize, and their comfortably familiar routine would never be the same again.
Sasuke, proud, precious little Sasuke, would never make it home.
.o.
This is the introduction to my latest fanfic that, after much deliberation, I have hesitantly decided to post.
As always, reviews and constructive criticism are greatly appreciated! Good feedback will encourage me to continue this story.