It was always times like this that made him nostalgic. The scent of crisp, beautiful autumn drifting in the air, the mosaic, the array of colors decorating the ground, the leaves, the trees, the skies...He inhaled deeply. The forest was almost quiet. A bird, occasionally a crow, would call out, almost to hear itself speak, to fill the silence. The gaping silence would surround him until the wind would blow, rustling the leaves and stirring that painful longing in the pit of his stomach once more. Closing his eyes, he readied himself, took a deep breath, felt the remorse swell in his chest, and continued down the golden footpath.

-o-

The first thing he remembered was how Itachi's face lit up at the sight of the forest, the golds, reds, browns, yellows all intermingling in the air, dancing in the wind for the little five-year-old. Itachi looked so pleased. He called it "autumn" instead of "fall" and gazed at the trees as if he had never seen them before. He had a much deeper appreciation for the changing seasons than anybody Shisui had seen before even at such a young age. The sunlight filtered through the leaves, leaving a vermillion glow on the two boys as they walked through the woods behind the house, the footpath rough and familiar; unchanging. The footpath sloped down into a grove of trees that seemed to gather around the center, where a single stump, large enough to hold both boys at once, even as they got older, rest.

"Y'know," the eight-year-old Shisui divulged, "There use'ta be a huuuge oak here. Like, bigger than the house, like! And it was wider'an this," he held out his lean arms to demonstrate, "and used to have animals innit and stuff."

"What happened to it?" Itachi asked worriedly, glancing at the stump with a contemplative gaze.

"They went'n cut it down. Like, it broke their axes at first, but they got a chainsaw and went an' sawed it down. It's sad, but Momma said that it was, like, a hundred and somethin' years old. She said that if you count the rings on the trees, like, when you cut 'em down, that's the age."

Itachi blinked, surprised. "Really?"

"Uh-huh. Let's count 'em!"

Shisui chuckled as he remembered how they only got to twenty before he grew bored of the task, leaving Itachi to continue while he busied himself with nothing in particular, kicking leaves and digging around for acorns to throw at the birds that flew overhead. Eventually, he grew bored of that, too, and urged Itachi to join him. He only heard the younger child continue to count under his breath, "eighty-nine, ninety, ninety-one…" and scowled.

In defiance, Shisui gathered an armful of twigs and leaves, dropping them onto the stump (and Itachi) as Itachi counted. Itachi glanced up with a scowl and said indignantly, "I was counting."

"C'mon…we can find somethin' funner. Wanna build a fort?"

-o-

At first, it was only a tarp nailed to a few close trees with some pillows underneath it. They would lay the pillows in a large square and curl up on them, listening to the trees and telling jokes. The boys would perch absently on the cushions and fill the silence with the growing friendship between them, an aching happiness so tangible, it made them grin until their cheeks hurt. But as they got older, the fort grew. Eventually, the tarp was extended, reaching a span of seven trees, becoming strong enough to keep out the strongest rain, and keeping their pillows dry. The pillows became different seats when they added a hammock, cutting out a piece of the tarp and covering it with transparent plastic so they could see the stars.

One day, eight years older, eight years later, the fort still stood, great and intact and a remnant of childhood friendship. Eight years older, eight years later, Itachi confided, "Father has hit me before."

Shisui sat up suddenly. "What made ya say that?"

"…" Itachi's lips pressed into a tight line, his eyebrows furrowed, and he shrugged slightly. "I don't know," he rasped out. "…I just thought I could tell you."

Shisui looked down at Itachi's face and noticed he was tearing up. "Of course you could. I just want to know what the Hell took so long."

Itachi stared at Shisui through the tears and bit his lip. "I just don't know what to do."

Shisui's brows furrowed as he took Itachi's hand, urged him close, and held him. He noticed how cold Itachi felt, even through the scarf and sweater his mother made him wear.

-o-

They only went to the fort in autumn. That's the only time it seemed appropriate; a fall getaway, of sorts, with a romantic air about it. From the beginning of August to the end of September they went every day, staying out until the stars loomed overhead, one of their mothers yelled that it was time to come in, and then walked home together.

Two years after Shisui's admission into Itachi's mind, they lay beneath the fort, the light filtering in with a bright orange glow. Itachi turned his head to Shisui and muttered with an air of hesitance, "Y'know…I'm not completely straight."

Shisui blinked twice, then smiled. "Me neither."

Itachi blushed and folded his hands behind his head. "…okay."

"Okay," Shisui returned with a smile. His gaze wandered over Itachi's body, the lithe form beneath the thick sweater, the long legs clothed in worn denim, the long, gorgeous, effeminate hair…he scooted over to Itachi, pressing close to his side, taking his hand. Itachi closed his eyes in relief, smiling lightly. "I've liked you for a while."

"…really?"

"Yep," Shisui conceded, "Quite a while."

Itachi smiled a bit wider, meeting Shisui's gaze. "Then…" Itachi glanced away, then, with a breath, returned his eyes. "Can we kiss?"

Shisui grinned, turning his head and pressing his lips to the corner of Itachi's mouth. Itachi blushed and returned the kiss, their lips moving shyly, unnaturally, and honestly against the other's. Shisui's hand slipped up beneath Itachi's sweater, his hand resting innocently on Itachi's warm abdomen, hand caressing the flesh there lightly as they kissed languorously. When they finally pulled away, Itachi grinned again.

"….wow…" he said breathlessly with a chuckle.

"Yeah…" Shisui returned. "We're…kind of a thing now, aren't we?"

"I…if you wanna be."

"Yeah."

"Then, yeah."

-o-

The day Shisui left for college, they stood beneath the fort holding hands, leaves falling around them in the various hues of fall. Itachi gave Shisui an honest smile and said bashfully, "Don't fall in love with anybody else while you're away."

"Winter break is coming up soon," Shisui assured, but saw the pang in Itachi's eyes through the haze of grey. "And I promise that I won't," he conceded with an air of fake irritation.

Itachi's jaw clenched and he grinned a little, giving Shisui a knowing look. "Older brother…" Itachi warned, and Shisui rolled his eyes.

"You know I wouldn't, Itachi," and he smiled, pulling Itachi into a warm embrace. He glanced away and his eyes lit up. "Let's count the rings on the stump."

Itachi blinked twice, then smirked. "Promise you won't throw leaves all over me again?"

"Promise."

-o-

"A hundred and twenty nine years old…" Itachi murmured, astonished.

"Proves that some things can really last forever, if they aren't hindered…"

"Or dead," Itachi provided.

"Yeah," Shisui nodded, then produced a pocket knife, carving their initials into the rings of the stump. "We're immortal, too…"

Itachi nodded, smiling gently. His eyes held an honesty that Shisui hadn't seen before, so genuine that it was all he could do to keep himself from throwing himself over the stump and taking Itachi then. But he chided himself that it could wait until Itachi was older and instead leaned over, kissing Itachi passionately until Mikoto called that it was time to go.

-o-

Shisui grinned sadly. That was the last time he kissed Itachi, seen him, thinking naively that he would see his love again. He fingered the urn in his pocket affectionately, walking along the footpath as if he was going to see Itachi sitting there again, waiting patiently with a lovely smile, just for him. But he wasn't, Shisui knew already, and didn't tell himself otherwise.

Eventually, he reached the slope and stopped, the nostalgia hitting him in the chest, knocking the breath out of him. Shisui paused, squeezing his eyes shut, forcing himself to continue. He kept his eyes closed as he went until he felt the ground even out, then made himself open his eyes. He held his breath as he saw that the sacred land was still there, the fort still intact and perfect, the hammock still hanging beneath it, the leaves covering the ground, the stump still standing proudly in the middle with the pocket knife wedged in the wood. Shisui stared down at the stump impassively, kneeling down beside it and brushing the leaves from the surface. He choked back a sob as he saw the carving in the stump, their initials still there after all those years. Now twenty-three, Shisui couldn't help it as he covered his mouth, muffling the sobs as he cried, squeezing his eyes shut as the painful feeling of loss washed over him, smothering him and suffocating him until he was bawling into the heart-shaped carving in the wood, unable to hold himself back, feeling like a child but not caring all that much.

Eyes red and damp, he pulled away from the surface of the stump and wiped his eyes on his sleeve, staring at the carving with a lamenting smile. "If you were wrong about anything in your life, Ita-…" he stopped, taking a breath. "If you were wrong about anything in your life, Itachi…it was this. You're…" he steadied himself, taking the urn out of his pocket and holding it to his chest, "…well…but I still love you…I'll love you forever…I promise…I promise, Itachi…I kept my promise," he smiled, "And I've never loved and never will love anybody else but you…"

Shisui glanced at the fort and could see them laying on the pillows side-by-side, confessing their love, spilling their hearts, kissing their sorrows away, intermingling in each other's presence, smiling and laughing and feeling their love grow, grow, grow while the world slipped away steadily, leaving nothing to them but one and the other and that fort and the fall.

Autumn, he corrected himself. He opened the urn and took a handful of the ashes, glancing up at the sky as the leaves blew in the sudden wind.

"You're there, aren't you, Itachi?" he whispered, throwing handfuls of ashes into the autumn air. "This is the only place I can remember you. You and me…"

He smiled solemnly. Fifteen years older, fifteen years later, he was still alive, the fort was still there, and he survived as only half of a whole. After that final autumn day, he never returned to the fort, leaving it to fade in his past like a dissolving tablet, the taste lingering on his tongue and never quite leaving. He knew what it was like to live with one lung, one chamber of the heart, one ear, one eye. He knew how it felt to lose everything and start from nothing, and learned that life is the worst thing about it. And he never returned to that fort, but always let his mind wander back to those days, never hindering the tears that flowed into his ears as he lay on his back, staring at the ceiling and imagining Itachi laying next to him in comfortable silence, gazing at the stars past the autumn leaves through the transparent plastic in the hole of the ceiling of their childhood fort.