Your Body is a Battleground
(Dedicated to all who've been captivated by the complexity, beauty, and darkness of two characters, and then felt the need to ship them.)
"I once had an understanding that everything would go my way
But now we've come too far along for me to hold on to my own beliefs
I'm not in it for the fun of it but for the pain
I'm not at all interested in your temporary fame
I just want to see you stare
As I lay my soul bare for you
to crush upon with heavy feet
I'm in it for the beat…" –Delain, Here Come the Vultures
Blood.
The crimson, metallic, bitter liquid travelled down the ill Uchiha's wrist as he uncontrollably coughed, vomiting copious amounts of into his hand, all over himself and onto the floor, the separate puddles soon forming into one, becoming an evil, vauge, vanity mirror for him to gaze upon his blurred, unhealthy reflection.
His coughing seized just long enough for him to open his damaged eyes and glance down at the man who resided within the puddle, the frame decorated with scattered pills and other various medications. He made contact with his own nearly-blind eyes, those faded, cloudy orbs longing to weep, although having long forgotten how. Itachi once again had to face reality, the truth he could no longer deny.
He was dying.
The darkened, lonely room that surrounded him had become quite cold during that time of the night, due to him being unable to even muster the strength to walk the three paces to adjust the temperature. Every inch of his skin that remained exposed from the clothes he adorned was chilled to the bone. As he began another coughing fit into the fabric of his sleeve, the regurgitated blood warmed the freezing skin it came in contact with, in a nearly comforting way.
Pleasant as the hot fluid was, the pain caused by his overworked diaphragm had become too much to bear. The Uchiha instantly let go of every muscle keeping him up off the ground in his kneeling position, gravity against him as his head lead the rest of his frail body directly onto the hardwood floor with a small thud.
Pain flooded through him in place of chakra. This was the first time Itachi Uchiha had ever allowed himself to become so weak, so helpless. The illness had certainly taken its toll on him throughout the years, to the extent it was at that dire moment.
As he lie there, facing the underside of the bed on that cold, unforgiving floor, his mind began to wander back in time, to the few but happiest moments of his young life with his precious younger brother.
"S…sa…"
Not long after he tried to utter the name of the only person left in the world whom he truly loved, he began to spew even more of his lifeblood.
Although his suffering was great, his will to live still outweighed the sweet, desirable temptation to die. It was of most importance to remain alive; to live just long enough to face Sasuke in the younger Uchiha's battle for revenge. To be killed by his brother's hand. Sasuke would never guess, nor ever would he know, that Itachi loved him. He loved him more than life itself, more than anything, more than himself.
Because of that great love, he hid the truth of the Uchiha massacre from him. His true intentions to protect Konoha would never be discovered, in order to preserve his precious Sasuke's life. Even though it meant lying to him, twisting him, and forcing him to hate him more than anything…
He was going to protect Sasuke and die by his hand, no matter what.
The light of the moon leaked through the glass of the large, partially open window, bestowing its luminosity upon the weakened Uchiha. He faintly returned its gaze.
The ratio of blood outside his body to blood inside his body was dangerously unbalanced, and his chakra was all but nonexistent. Although he desired to live, he was in no place to regain the energy required to move.
His eyelids became heavy. The lack of blood partnered with the immense pain he bore gradually overpowered his consciousness. As he relaxed more of his body, his eyes began to close…perhaps for a final time…
"Sasuke…"
{End of chapter one.
In the next chapter, a visit from a certain missing-nin formerly of the Hidden Mist...
Characters belong to Masashi Kishimoto, story birthed from my mind.}