A/N: Stressing for exams prompts weird fic-bits. Exploration of a possibility for Shisui and Itachi's relationship.
I'm going to hold your hand, and I'm never going to let go.
Shisui knows a thing or two about love and devotion. He knows the crook of Itachi's small, stubby pink around his own, and he knows that this is something special. Shisui's only ten, but he knows some things. He's seen war, and he knows his mother died in war, and his father's crazy, but it doesn't really matter. Shisui has Itachi, and he's always had Itachi, and he always will have Itachi. That's the only thing that matters, and the only thing he cares about.
Itachi smiles, and Shisui doesn't need anything else to live.
Because you are me, and I am you.
A lot of people need words for a promise. They need words to understand each other, and make sure the other understands them. Shisui watches his teammates have another screaming spat. They're a couple-supposed to be lovers and best friends and everything all wrapped into one, but they're always screaming at each other for stupid things the other has done. Shisui doesn't understand it. It annoys him. He wants them to shut up. They're not going to get any more practice done today, and those two really need it. Shisui leaves, and it's nothing and everything that has him walking up to the woods on the edge of the compound to find Itachi sprawled on the grass.
Shisui sits down in the sun dappled grass, and Itachi lifts his head. He's smeared with dirt and some blood. He's got cuts and bruises from a rough mission, but he doesn't say anything about it. Shisui knows Itachi doesn't want to talk about it, so Shisui doesn't talk. Itachi wriggles closer and pillows his head on Shisui's thigh before falling hard and fast asleep, little hand resting curled on Shisui's knee. Shisui runs and hand over Itachi's hair and watches the tension in Itachi's face smooth away in sleep.
He's not sure what the fuss about words is.
I will love you forever.
Itachi's been fighting with his parents. Shisui doesn't think anyone else even knows these things happen, but Shisui knows. Itachi fights in a quiet, furious way that's hard to understand-hard to recognize. Shisui knows it. Itachi's parents know it, and they fight. It's been going on for months, and Shisui's not sure if it's about Sasuke or if it's about becoming a Jounin, or if it's all of that rolled into one big problem that makes Itachi mad enough to fight. But he can only fight his parents so much, and then he finds Shisui, and then they fight.
But it's not really fighting, but Shisui can't call it sparring. They bruise each other and break the skin, and there's too much emotion in Itachi swirling red eyes as he tackles Shisui to the ground and rams a knee into his stomach. And it hurts, but Shisui is fifteen, and a ninja, so it doesn't hurt so much.
Itachi smiles and says he's sorry, but he really does feel better now.
No matter what you do.
Itachi sits on the river bank and Shisui wanders down to sit by him. There's a sake jug beside Itachi. Itachi doesn't drink-shouldn't drink. Shisui doesn't even ask as he lifts the half empty bottle to his own lips and downs a long swig from it. It tastes bitter. It tastes like blood. It tastes like bile. Shisui looks at Itachi, asking what's wrong-what's happened. Itachi's face is etched with dread and disgust. It's lined with something so close to fear, Shisui's almost afraid himself.
Shisui touches Itachi's cheek, and Itachi turns his head. His face is cold, his eyes are red, but that could be from overwork on ANBU missions or alcohol anything else. Itachi rubs at his eyes, and his hands are still slightly chubby, as they have always been. Shisui catches Itachi's pinky finger in his, and curls his much longer, calloused and scarred finger around Itachi's softer one. Itachi blinks. He then smiles like something inside him has broken, and curls his finger around Shisui's. It's a promise.
Itachi never says what's wrong.
No matter what people say.
Shisui's been listening to his father hate the world. He'd been listening to himself called by his mother's name. Itachi finds him sitting on the bank of the river, where they always find each other these days. Shisui has the bottle of sake this time. Itachi sits down and takes a drink. It's bad sake-bitter and vile, but they're not drinking it for taste. Shisui reaches over and ruffles Itachi's hair. Itachi lets the motion disturb him enough to fall against Shisui, his head pillowed on Shisui's bony shoulder. Shisui sits with his hand tangled in Itachi's hair, cradling his skull.
Shisui chuckles, and teases Itachi. His little cousin-baby cousin, darling cousin. They tease each other with the names other people throw at them to hurt, but what does it really matter what others call them? They know what they mean to each other, and that's all that has ever mattered. Shisui's body aches from too many missions, and his head hurts from everything. He wants to drink enough to sleep and forget everything, but he has to share with Itachi now. He teases Itachi instead, to get his-their minds off of things. To make Itachi laugh. To make the heavy night just a little lighter.
Itachi doesn't laugh this time.
No matter what you become.
Shisui's not really awake when Itachi kills him. He's drugged, and even if he weren't, he's not sure he would understand what is going on. Itachi is killing him-shoving his face down into the cold water of the river they've been so often drinking by. Maybe Shisui should have known it wasn't normal for someone like Itachi-someone Itachi's age to start drinking. Maybe he should have spent more time wondering why Itachi's face was getting to haggard, and why their fighting spars have turned more bloody and violent and desperate lately.
But now Shisui's struggling with his face under the water, and the hands around his neck are shaking more than they should. Realization hits with a cold, sick twist of Shisui's stomach and a wrenching of his heart. He fights, but he can't. He knows, but he doesn't understand, and all he can taste is the bitter tang of bad sake in his mouth and on his lips. Shisui hasn't had a drop to drink all night. Itachi drank the whole bottle before Shisui arrived.
Shisui opens his mouth and chokes.
We are the same.
Itachi opens his eyes. They're burning. He's crying, and it's thicker that tears. He rubs at the hot streaks, and his hands come away red. He looks at them as if he can't smell the tang of blood in the air, and he wonders why he's crying, and why it all hurts so much. He wonders why Shisui gave up before he was dead.
Itachi vomits on the wet grass. Sake on an empty stomach. Murder that feels like treason-suicide. It hurts. It hurts, and Itachi's hands dig into the wet grass as he gasps and tries to stop the Mangekyou from spinning in his eyes and drawing out the bloody tears that run down his face. Itachi swears he can hear Shisui's voice in his head, but it's just the echo of the words Shisui said when he found Itachi drunk and huddled by the river. Shisui's dead.
But Itachi can still hear his voice, softly whispering in his head.
And I will never leave you.