Songfic, Itachi Uchiha, Jin Furuya
Song: Better Than Me
Artist: Hinder
-I think you can do much better than me…After all the lies that I made you believe…-
"Shisui's dead, Midori." He'd said quietly. "Apparently it was suicide. He drowned himself."
Itachi could still see those tears…Her flooded eyes…
-The guilt kicks in and I start to see…the edge of the bed, where your nightgown used to be…-
The apartment was empty again when he opened the door. No warm greeting embrace. No Midori. Jin shrugged off his vest and began silently removing his weapons.
- I told myself I won't miss you…-
Itachi pulled his coat up around his neck, and pulled his arms back into their sleeves. How long had it been now? He'd stopped counting the days.
-But I remembered, what it feels like beside you…-
Jin clicked on his lights and went to lie on the couch. How many times had they done this together? He had lost count.
-I really miss your hair in my face…and the way your innocence tastes…-
Jin could remember how her white hair had always reminded him of snow, and had always been softer still against his cheek. He could remember that when he kissed her, she always smelled of sweet peach…
-And I think you should know this…You deserve much better than me…-
Itachi could recall how once she'd lived with that boy of hers…He'd seen them together, in their apartment. She'd looked so happy…He couldn't stand it. He was so weak, this boy of hers…and she had such power! Why hadn't he just killed her that day…
-When looking through your old box of notes…found those pictures I took that you were looking for…If there's one memory I don't wanna lose, that time at the mall, you and me in the dressing room…-
Jin got up from his relaxed position on the couch. There was a box of her things in the corner. He picked it up, and gazed at it for a moment, then opened it gingerly, and found that it was a box of notes, and memoirs. On thing, however, caught his eye. It was a picture, he could tell, in a frame, and all he could see was a corner with some faded words on it. His eyes widened as he looked at it, and his hand shook.
-I told myself I won't miss you, but I remembered what it feels like beside you…-
Itachi was walking the halls of the Akatsuki's headquarters to their dining room. He looked at the trees outside the windows, and the snow falling silently. She'd always loved winter…she'd always told him that. He almost half-expected to see her sitting amongst the bare trees, playing her flute. But he was better than thinking that.
- I really miss your hair in my face, and the way your innocence tastes…And I think you should know this, you deserve much better than me…-
Sitting down at a table with Deidara and Kisame, Itachi said nothing. Both looked up as he sat down, and he fancied that he must have a strange expression on his face, due to the looks on their faces. They hadn't known about Midori. They didn't know he'd once talked to her, as if he'd loved her. They didn't know that once in his life, he'd loved her as if he'd lose her.
-The bed I'm laying in is getting colder wish I never would have said it's over, and I can't pretend…-
Jin shut his eyes, but in the cool of his apartment, he realized he'd forgotten to turn the heater up further. Midori had always loved the cold…the wind and the snow…she always would spend hours outside in the wintertime. It was over now. He could no longer pretend she was going to come back from that mission one day. He picked up the picture again, and stood, going for the heater.
-I won't think about you when I'm older, 'Cause we never really had a closure…this can't be the end…-
She hadn't loved him. Not the way she loved that boy of hers. She would kiss that boy of hers. She would embrace that boy of hers. Maybe that was why he'd really killed her…maybe because he couldn't stand seeing her with him…He shut his eyes for a moment, and suddenly remembered a small detail from that night so long ago.
"I love you."
Jin suddenly gave an angry, broken cry, and his knees buckled. He pounded his fist on the wall, and left a crack and large dent. Tears streamed down his face as he slammed the picture against the wall, glass flying everywhere. Blood trickled down his wrist and through his fingers as he held it there. After a moment though, he let the frame fall, and the picture, now free of its holder, fluttered to the floor.
It was of a younger Midori and Itachi.
Itachi could not fathom why he was thinking about her so much. It was the snow…it had to be. It was even chilly in this room now…Deidara and Kisame saw the look in his eyes and suddenly jumped up, and it was a good thing, too, because he suddenly overturned the table in rage, and strode out of the room, and into the winter night.
-I really miss your hair in my face, and the way your innocence tastes…-
Jin snatched up the picture of Itachi and his former lover. She'd loved him…that had to have been why she'd taken on that damned mission when all other ANBU members had balked. She had loved him, and he had killed her. Murdered her, because he was just that. A murderer. He was Akatsuki now. He was a rogue. And Jin would find him, and he would make him pay for what he'd done to Midori. His hands were shaking...What was this? He darted out the door, and started through the snow. Midori had loved…
-And I think you should know this…-
Itachi was moving swiftly through the trees, until he came to a grove of barren trees that he knew well any time of year. In his mind's eye, he could see the trees, sakura tress, in full bloom.
Jin was up at about the same point, coming from the opposite side of the grove. Something caught his eye up ahead. He stopped dead only feet from a tall gravemarker.
Wind caught the dead branches, and the hair of the two, and the clothing of them both. Both stood stock-still. Neither spoke, neither looked away. Here was Midori's boy, and Midori's murderer.
-You deserve much better than me…-
Owari
---------------------------------------------------------------
There it is. I'm actually thinking of doing another...keeping the 'dark' theme...I'll need some suggestions, though. I'm open.
