This idea spawned from having a Skater!Shisui. Much thanks to my friend Vicky for providing the plot for this first chapter, without her I'd be totally lost. Enjoy this first chapter, more wonderful ShiIta to come. Please review if you liked it!
Trigger warnings for this story: It is rated M for sex, violence, self-harm, self-starving, suicidal ideation.
GUERNICA
He only bothered to take AP French because he liked the teacher – that was all. Perhaps his not taking the class might have broken a tacit tradition, but Shisui convinced himself otherwise. Uchiha Itachi, he firmly believed, was far from the reason he took AP French. If anything, the other boy pissed him off – Shisui would actually be top of the French class if it weren't for Itachi and his impeccable grammar and pronunciation.
"Je pense que cette chemise ne soit pas bonne pour vous."
"Quoi?" Shisui hated listening in French. The words meshed together like a river, with only a few hints dropping haphazardly like skipping stones.
More slowly, Itachi repeated, "Je pense que cette chemise ne soit pas bonne pour vous."
"Pourquoi? Mes bras se sentent forts dans cette chemise."
"Peut-être vous êtes le problème, pas la chemise." Visibly irked, Itachi closed his book as Kakashi-sensei called time on the speaking exercise. "Next time, follow the prompts." The bell, shrill as ever, rang, and Itachi was gone before Shisui could retort some chosen French curse words.
High school was almost over for him – why should he care? He spat the remainder of his negative feelings on the floor, changed into his Vans, and pulled his longboard out of his locker, littered with leftover energy drinks. He boarded his way across the school, much to the principal Tsunade's discontent, leapt down the entrance steps and zipped across Konoha, basking in the cloudy sky.
Once outside of school, any thoughts about distant cousin Uchiha Itachi and tests and homework slipped away. He waved hello to those he passed, yelled "'Scuse!" to pedestrians who didn't notice him, and cussed out any driver who put up their middle finger towards him. No fucks given, was Shisui's motto, and he was glad to live by it freely once he was out of the hellhole called institutionalized education.
"Home," Shisui called as he disembarked right at the door, basically sliding into the house.
His father, Kagami, tsked, but laughed. "I need help at the garage today; you up to it?" Shisui, ignoring the last-minute bundles of homework the teachers handed out before AP testing, piped an enthusiastic yes. His father drove, Shisui boarded, and somehow the traffic would always thwart the former into losing the unspoken race. "You're crazy, with that longboard of yours."
"Who, Nakano?" Shisui stroked the wooden length of the board lovingly. "Fuck yeah, she's basically an extension of my feet."
Kagami rolled his eyes, but threw his son a wrench. "A little work on these disarmed babies and you're free to roll around wherever you want to."
"Gladly," he responded, tying a dirty bandana around his head to keep his curls in check. Thus was his life, one that was probably considered low, considering his clan's usual standards. But he was satisfied – as long as he was with his father, things were good. They understood each other well, Shisui and Kagami, and strove to survive and thrived happily while doing so. Such was his life, and damn it if Shisui wanted to keep things that way.
"Home," Itachi exhaled, as if pretending not to have said it at all. The house was too large for anyone to actually acknowledge his presence, anyway. He neatly put his walking shoes aside and trudged to his room, ignoring the pangs of hunger that nagged at him since his skimpy lunch meal. Itachi passed by his mother's room, where she sat at the bay window reading. "I'm home," he repeated. Mikoto looked up and smiled tiredly at him before returning to Frankenstein. Itachi, having received the minimum amount of acknowledgement, disappeared into the dark arms of his bedroom.
His bag slid off his shoulder and toppled on the floor loudly. Itachi, knowing he had plenty of work to do, chose to lie down on his bed instead. He was tired.
Where was Sasuke? Ah yes, he's probably with his friends. Not that Itachi was jealous – Sasuke deserved this escape hatch. But a bit of companionship would be a lovely balm to the pain. Once, more for his own pleasure than for the kitten's own good, he attempted to adopt a pet. His father lied through his teeth that he was allergic and demanded that the kitten be thrown out. Often, Itachi wondered where it wandered off to.
But that was then, and this is now, and Itachi was no longer a child in need of a friend. Now, as a young man, he needed a direction.
Itachi sat up and opened his laptop. He gazed distant-mindedly at the two tabs left open on his web browser. It was high time he chose. Neither made him feel satisfied. But he had the five hundred ryo check to deposit in his hands – never before had he felt so powerful within the realm of his own destiny.
He sent the money via electronic check. One step at a time. He was going to college.
Red gowns blazed alight for their high school graduation. Shisui admitted to himself that he looked quite handsome, and that he would look even handsomer with the hard-earned diploma in his hand. "It's almost over!" he whispered to his friend Anko, who smiled noticeably every time he said a word to her.
Itachi stood and approached the podium. He, despite his being the black sheep of the class, was valedictorian, and was chosen to represent the class in a farewell speech. Looking at him, Shisui had to confess, he looked rather gaunt.
Half of the speech was composed of formalities – thank-yous addressed to teachers and to family and friends. The second half changed in mood entirely, as Uchiha Itachi announced his college of choice. "I will be attending Konoha University come fall," he said firmly. The crowd murmured – everyone knew that Uchihas typically spend their college years abroad, in an Ivy League. Konoha University was average, at best. Itachi continued, unsurprised yet unabashed, "I know I will continue to succeed in our wonderful hometown as I have in the past."
Adjusting his tone, he transitioned into thanking the (admittedly few) friends he had made in Konoha High School. "Despite your name, I am drunk with your water. Thank you for keeping me alive. I love you, I truly do." It was all yada-yada to Shisui, eloquent words addressed to no-one in particular. Itachi finished and sat down – the diplomas came out, and Shisui grinned. "T minus ten seconds," he whispered, and Anko giggled.
When Itachi's name was called, he took the diploma with a look of great dignity, and looked not at the crowd as he descended the stairs. Shisui, on the other hand, grasped Tsunade's hand tightly and said a warm thank you before flashing the crowd some Richard Nixon-esque peace signs.
"It's over!" Shisui and a gaggle of his friends congregated at the reception area after the ceremony was through. "I'm going to miss you guys" and "Let's go boarding across Konoha during breaks like we used to" and "Don't be a stranger, Shisui" rang through his friends.
Anko gave Shisui a big kiss on the cheek, which he accepted as platonically as possible. "What's with Uchiha Itachi?" she said, noticing him enter the room in quiet solitude. "If that wasn't a confession, I don't know what is."
He blinked. "What confession?"
"He was all 'punny' with your name," Anko pointed out. "'Despite your name, I am drunk with your water.' A-plus bullshit, I call it. Honestly, he looks like he's about to die."
Shisui paused to take the new information in. "Itachi said he loved me in his speech?"
Anko playfully hit him on his arm. "Wake up, Shisui. Hello, the guy has been head over heels since seventh grade. Don't you remember the plate of dango on your desk in eighth grade? The little love slash thank-you notes in freshmen year? All Itachi. After all this time, he still likes you."
"No one fucking told me!" Shisui rubbed his arm where Anko hit him, and stared straight in the direction of Itachi, who stood with his tall, solemn family. His younger brother, Uchiha Sasuke, the absentminded texter of the room, shrugged off his brother's arm when Itachi placed it on his shoulder. Unphased by the snub, Itachi turned his sights elsewhere – and rested his dark eyes on Shisui.
He hastily looked away. "How do you know it was Itachi?"
Anko shrugged. "Everyone knows it was Itachi."
"What do you mean, everyone?" Anko gave a nervous laugh and nodded. "The whole damn school!?" Shisui, embarrassed solely by his ignorance, gave a loud curse, at which all his friends laughed. "You knew about this? And you? What the fuck!"
Inuzuka Hana asked warily, "Why are you getting so agitated? So your long lost cousin has a weird thing for you. It's not like you're stuck in school with him anymore." Conceding to those wise words, Shisui inhaled, paused, and exhaled. Uchiha Itachi, he figured, was the last of his short list of worries. After saying his goodbyes to his friends, he located his father (who was ecstatic at the concept of free refreshments) and asked to leave. He had enough of Konoha High School to last a lifetime.
No matter how many times Shisui mentally washed his hands of it, Itachi plagued him. He dreamt of his face, of kissing his cheekbones and his lean neck until they bloomed with bruises. He could have sworn that the moans and the teeth and the breath at his ear were real. Feeling Itachi's hands on his face, through each fiber of hair, he heard him say, "I love you, I truly do."
When Shisui woke up, he cursed at his dampened sheets and, unsure of how to react, half cursed, half blessed Uchiha Itachi – or at least the incubus that visited him in the darkness.
The rain started heavy, as if the sky was salivating grey for some drama. Shisui cursed himself for not checking the weather reports before he went boarding on errands for his father. One happy-faced plastic bag in his hand, the other over his head, he got off his board – it wasn't equipped to ride in the rain – and ran, like a middle aged fool caught without an umbrella. He eventually reached an overpass where he could have a breather and wait for the rain to die down.
Another person had the same idea. On the other side of the one-way street sat a young person, ambiguous in gender, yet clearly soaked to the bone. Shisui guessed from the large, haphazardly packed duffle bag that this person was a hobo. Hobo or not, this person was company.
"Hey," Shisui approached carefully, knowing some of Konoha's homeless were often raging drug addicts. "You okay?"
The person – a young man by the sound of his voice, responded with a vague hum. As Shisui's advance closed in, he noticed he had long hair that could tickle his waist, thin arms, and neat clothing that definitely did not qualify as a hobo. "Hey," Shisui repeated, shaking him slightly with one hand.
"What do you want, Shisui-kun?"
It was Uchiha Itachi. Of course. Shisui should have known – not a lot of guys had hair longer than a typical female. It had been two weeks since graduation, and Itachi looked at least a year older, thinner, more bones and skin than anything else. His hair dripped water across his face, meaningfully down his cheek. Shisui struggled to interpret whether or not he was crying.
"I want nothing, man, just to know you're okay," Shisui responded to the half hostile Itachi. He gestured to the bag. "Running away?"
Itachi stood and shouldered his bag as if he were guarding it. "Something like that."
"No worries. I ran away a lot, too. Always came back, though, didn't know how good I had it. You probably have it good. Better than you think, anyway."
Offended by Shisui's casual interpretation of his determination, Itachi replied tersely, "Don't try to convince me otherwise."
Shisui raised his hands in gentle surrender. "I wouldn't try to convince you if you looked equipped to handle life on the streets. You look like you're on a one-way street to the emergency room." More concerned, he added, "When was the last time you ate?"
As if waiting for words associated with food, Itachi's stomach groaned. Self-conscious, he put his hand to it. "I can manage," Itachi responded, clearly lying through his pretty white teeth. Then, he started, as if to begin a trek through the rain. He would have continued had Shisui not seized his arm. When Itachi's attempt to wrench himself away failed, he settled on glaring at his oppressor. "Let go."
Ignoring the spineless command, Shisui pulled Itachi closer and put a hand to his forehead. "You're running a fever. I'm no doctor, but I wouldn't prescribe a heavy dosage of rain." He wiped some wetness off Itachi's forehead before releasing him. Like an angry, but frightened feline, Itachi backed away, body tensed. "When the rain lets up," Shisui continued, "You can come with me."
"I have nothing to give you."
"I didn't ask for anything. I'm just a kind passerby with a roof and some food." Shisui held out his hand, as if he were coaxing a stray to return to domestic life. "Do I have to remind you that we were classmates? So it's not like you're taking an offer from a total stranger. If I were in your position, I'd be grateful."
Shisui's words stung at some of Itachi's emotional wounds, which were still open and sore. "I'm not obligated to feel anything for you," he replied. The tapping of the rain on the pavement slowed in tempo; he looked out as if to make a break for it. Instead, much to Shisui's surprise, he conceded. "I'll come with you."
They walked in silence; Shisui nearly forgot that Itachi was following him. He opened the door, yelled out a "I'm home!" though he knew his father was at the garage. Kicking off his shoes and setting his board aside, he waited for Itachi, who was paces behind, to catch up. "C'mon, sickly slow poke," he teased as he passed inside. "Well, this is home."
Itachi's eyes sweeped the building, studying the corners as if he were in enemy territory. Every tabletop was cluttered with food and utensils, every sofa draped over with a fleece blanket. "It's cozy," he commented meaninglessly.
"Right, right, you only want your rest and your food and then you're audi," Shisui said, surprised that Itachi had even said anything at all. He placed the grocery bags on the table and began filing each food item into the refrigerator while simultaneously wondering what to cook. "Do you like anything in particular?" Silence. "Well, I can't go wrong with comfort food."
While Shisui toiled away in the kitchen, he noticed that Itachi was mesmerized by the many framed photos adorning random coffee tables and desktops. Then, the belated reminder bubbled in his head: Itachi liked him. He must be secretly ecstatic, having been dragged to the house of his crush. If he was, he was doing a damn good job not showing it.
"Okay, I made it real fast, so don't judge," Shisui said, setting the small meal on the table. Itachi approached, but looked confused as to what to do. "Um, sit down? Eat?" Shisui suggested. "It's a messy croquet madame, like, like a French grilled cheese with an egg. Not poisonous. As an added plus, you can watch me pour a drink for you."
Though Itachi was a polite eater, Shisui could tell that the boy was hungry. He said nothing and didn't complain or protest to Shisui's kindness. He finished in a matter of minutes, after which he covered his mouth with his hand and seemed embarrassed that he ate in another person's presence.
"You can take a shower, and I'll set out some clothes for you," Shisui said. Looking Itachi up and down, he added, "They'll be big, but whatever."
Itachi took the towel that Shisui held out for him, not before asking, "Why are you being so kind?"
"I want to earn kudos in heaven for being a good Samaritan," Shisui joked. "Now quit complaining."
Once Itachi disappeared into the bathroom, Shisui rushed into his room to clean up. He knew it would only be polite to let Itachi stay here for the night, and he didn't want Mr. Kid-Genius finding something dishonorable in his room. He tucked his clothes, strewn across the floor, into drawers. He cleared his bedside table's drawer of condoms and lube, instead hiding them underneath his bed, in a shoe box. When Itachi emerged from the shower, one towel around his waist and another gathering up his long hair, Shisui's room was as pristine as he ever saw it.
Trying not to look too hard at Itachi, Shisui pointed at the neatly folded pajamas on the bed. He exited to let him changed, and held in a loud sigh. Itachi would have been too attractive, had it not been for how thin he was.
"I know this is a long shot, but," Itachi emerged from the room, looking small in Shisui's broad-shouldered clothing, "You wouldn't happen to have a hair tie? Mine broke."
At that, Shisui laughed. "No, but I'll buy you some tomorrow." With his hair tumbling over his shoulders, Shisui was tempted to call him cute. "Let me take your temperature while we're at it."
Itachi shook his head. "I'm going to just rest." Slightly taken aback, Shisui agreed, and let him disappear into his bedroom.
The night's bones creaked when Shisui, who was sleeping comfortably on the couch with multiple fleece blankets, was awakened by his father. "Is that Uchiha Itachi sleeping in your bed?" Kagami asked, somewhat exasperated. "Yeah, I'm glad to see you didn't sleep with him, but still—"
Shisui mumbled, "Chill, dad, he's just staying for a bit. I found him sick under the overpass, and yeah, I couldn't just leave him."
Kagami sat down on the couch with a heaving sigh, as if something he had anticipated had finally come to pass. "Shisui, promise me this."
"What, what, yeah? Anything."
With eyes fixed on his son, Kagami said, "Promise me you won't try to save the boy."
"Pfft," Shisui groaned into the pillow, "Yeah, I promise, now let me sleep."
After messing up the already messed-up curls on the head of his son, Kagami stood up and left him to sleep. The morning would be a new ordeal.