"Surrendering to hopes that you can escape this reality." - Yuyoyuppe & Kran
It was strange to be returning to the place where so many things had gone wrong. Ice coursed through Hinata's veins as she stared at the charred door in front of her, pearlescent eyes running over the pattern of black that was now a part of the door. She took a sharp inhale of breath, telling herself that she had to get going if she was going to be there when Itachi woke up for dinner in a few hours.
A swift movement of sticking in her key and promptly opening what used to be her front door were the only noises that could be heard. Not even her careful steps made a single noise as she entered the apartment.
The place she shared with Itachi felt so foreign now; tainted even. It was almost like she no longer belonged there and she knew it had nothing to do with the black and mostly ruined items that they owned.
Hinata's eyes swept over the living room as she entered it, noting that the only salvageable items she could take right now were a handful of photo albums, books, and framed photographs. They were a bit blackened at the edges here and there, but certainly looked in better shape than the rest of the items they held there.
Stacking them in a box as neatly as she could, her eyes lingered on a photo, and a heavy mixture of sadness and guilt began to pull at her heart. It was of her and her husband with smiles on their faces, looking as happy as they could be. Mikoto had taken it on their wedding day, claiming it was perhaps the most happy she had seen her son in a long time.
If she was honest, Hinata hadn't looked at it in what seemed like years although it had truthfully only been about five months. She couldn't even stand to look at her own face in it, choosing instead to focus on Itachi's face. Tears pricked at her eyes as she studied his expression, guilt eating at her even more now as she stared at his loving gaze.
This was all her fault. Itachi's pain and the fire had been all her fault.
She very reluctantly stuck the framed photograph in the box, taking it in her arms as she moved around the apartment and began collecting other things. Honestly, the five boxes she had brought with her today seemed almost pointless as everything she had managed to save so far could fit in this one large box she had. Everything else was beyond saving.
The only two places left to check was their room and... that room.
Logically, it made sense that there would be barely anything worth saving in either room as they were right across each other. The fire, after all, had started in that room and nothing but cinders likely remained.
Deciding to leave the other room for last, Hinata entered their former bedroom. Like she had originally thought, mostly everything in there had been burned to a crisp. The fire had consumed all the flammable items, leaving the room black and bare. Even so, she rummaged through their dressers and closet, taking everything she could and placing the items in their own box.
Upon moving to her vanity to take her jewelry box, she made the mistake of looking at the mirror. Even through the smokey and black surface, she could make out the red and jagged scars that littered her face.
This face was where all her problems had started.
For a moment, Hinata's mind wandered to the event that lead to the scars. She had been a ballerina, one of Japan's most prominent ones at that. While it had been some of the best years of her life, she should've known that being in the spotlight would've brought her trouble. And it had in the form of one of her company members. Foolishly, she had thought it was a silly little crush and that he would eventually leave her alone. Despite the fears of her family and Itachi, she had told them everything would be fine.
Only, they hadn't been fine at all.
The man had caught her after one of the company's practices, cornering her in the locker room. She had been terrified and had foolishly hoped that someone would save her when he drew closer, claiming that she was doing a terrible injustice to him by ignoring how much he loved her. No amount of reasoning got through to him and he had begun to beat her for daring to make a fool out of him in front of the entire company. Naturally, she had tried to fight back and escape, but a swift and heavy blow to the face had been more than enough to disorient her.
And as if beating her hadn't been enough, he had cut up her face and told her that no one would want someone so ugly now. That would she belonged to him.
Hinata glared at the mirror as she remembered the day clearly, grabbing one of the ruined hairbrushes and throwing it at the mirror with as much strength as she could muster. She could still feel the bruises on her even though they were long gone; they still felt as real as the scars on her face. Even now, eight months after the incident, she could still feel them.
The doctors had told her, her family, and Itachi that it would take her time to heal both mentally and physically. And like the wonderful husband he had always been, Itachi had been there every step of the way. He gave her space when she needed it and was always there when she needed to be close to him. He had been there through her nightmares, holding her and always gently telling her that he wouldn't let anyone hurt her again. Every appointment she had, he was right there with her.
At the time, it hadn't hit her that Itachi had stopped taking most of the commissions that came his way. He was an artist and his work was always heavily desired, and yet he had taken so few during that time in order to make sure he was at her beck and call. Even when he did take the commissions, he made sure they never took him too far away from home for her sake. He had sacrificed his work and time to just be there for her.
He loved her so much and had put her above all else.
The tears that had pricked at her eyes earlier fell down her cheeks, guilt threatening to eat her whole as she stared at the cracked surface of the mirror. How had she been so selfish these past two months when he had been there for her? How could she push him away when he had been nothing but wonderful and loving towards her? How had she let him slip into this darkness when he never once let her do the same?
Itachi's pain was her fault. Entirely her fault. And the fire was her fault... Or at least, a part of it was.
Hinata rubbed at her face roughly with her sleeve as she took the jewelry box and shoved it into the box before walking out of the room with it. The only place left to check for anything was that room.
Itachi's work room.
There was no way that anything had survived in there. All his paints, easels, and other materials likely perished in the fire. At least, that's what she told herself as she tried to open the door. Her hands trembled as she twisted the doorknob, taking a tentative step inside.
Upon initially inspection, it had seemed like everything had fallen victim to the fire's hunger. There was even a dark spot on the floor that was no doubt blood. However, there on the opposite wall stood the bane of her existence and it shook her down to her very core.
The painting.
It hadn't been a simple old painting either. It was a painting of her smiling surrounded by flowers in a multitude of colors that her husband had initially started to cheer her up. He had started it two months ago, very shortly after she had begun to push him away. She had quit her dream of being a ballerina and began working her family's company, not telling Itachi once that she had quit dancing because the dance company wasn't sure that they would attract an audience with how scarred her face was now. No, he had just assumed that she didn't want to return to the place of her attack. This was the reason for the painting.
Every day that she went to work, Itachi worked diligently on the painting. Hinata had been intrigued at first, taking a short time to watch him work for the first few weeks. He had been working on the flowers at the time, taking a painstaking amount of time to perfect each flower before moving onto the next. It was when he began to paint her that she stopped watching him work. Because while it was her face in the painting, it was a reflection of what she looked like prior to the attack.
Even now, Hinata couldn't bare to look at her own face in the painting. So when he had done that then, she grew cold with him and tried to put distance between them. She spent very little time at home, blaming it on a large amount of work that she was helping Ko with at the company. And when she had been at home, she did her best to avoid her husband. Eventually, whenever she came home, she found the door to his work room closed and often didn't see him until she was going to bed.
It was three weeks ago on a Saturday morning that she woke up and found Itachi's side of the bed untouched. She had clearly heard his voice, sounding as if he was talking to someone. At first, she had shrugged it off, figuring that he was perhaps talking to someone on the phone or the computer. Her mind had quickly changed when he said her name and proceeded to speak as if he was talking to her. Like any curious individual, she had gotten out of bed and was going to enter his work room when she caught him talking to her.
Only, he wasn't talking to her at all. He was talking to the painting.
The door had been open just a crack and she had watched as he spoke to the painting, diligently working on the details of the face. The tone of his voice had reminded her of when he used to comfort during her nightmares; full of love and reverence. Something akin to jealousy had filled her at the time and she had dared to open the door. It had been a grave mistake on her part as he had verbally lashed out at her for disturbing his time with his hime as if he had forgotten who she was.
Looking back at it now, Hinata probably knew that something was wrong with Itachi at that moment. But she had let him apologize while he put the blame on a lack of sleep and stress of new commissions he was finishing. That morning, they had shared breakfast and things almost seemed normal. Except that he went back to his room when nighttime came around and began talking to the painting again. She had caught him apologizing to it, telling it how his wife wouldn't bother them now. That he loved his hime.
The week that had followed had been a strange one as Hinata found that Itachi hardly ever left his work room at all. When he did, he seemed like a completely different person. His eyes were sunken in with a lack of sleep and the stress lines on his face were deeper. He had hardly recognized her, regarding her as a stranger with his hime's face. He had been quick to lash out at her if she had so dared to mention him taking a break from the painting. It had been hell trying to get him to eat or drink anything without him yelling at her.
It had seemed as if he was out of touch with reality. It was if his reality was the painting and he was hardly functional out of it.
Hinata had thought about getting him help, but a quick phone call to his father had left her thinking otherwise. Fugaku had assured her that he used to act the very same way when he was too focused on perfecting something. She had had her doubts, but she had left it be.
If she had known that this would have been the outcome, she would've gotten him help the very moment he started acting this way.
Even so, it amazed her how the painting had not a single mark on it while everything else in the room had burned. It remained totally untouched as if the fire could not burn it. While it was beautiful, it left Hinata feeling cold and full of dread.
It was as if it was mocking her with all its beauty.
Anger filled her the more she stared at it and she could swear that she could hear it laughing at her. Laughing at how she had been too much of a failure to keep Itachi from falling into the darkness, poking fun at how it had been all her fault. But while Hinata agreed that it indeed was her fault that Itachi was in pain now, she blamed the painting for the fire.
The painting had caused Itachi's insanity and for it, Hinata would make sure it would fall to ruins.
Without so much as thinking about it twice, she stomped to her way to the boxes and grabbed a pair of scissors she had saved. Quickly, she returned to the painting and began to tear into the canvas. And if she had heard it laughing at her before, she could hear it cackling loudly in her ears now. It was taunting her with each and every time she cut it. Regardless, she didn't stop until the painting was near unrecognizable and shredded all over the place.
The heaviness that Hinata once felt had lifted then, prompting her to throw the scissors away to the floor and collecting the boxes before leaving her former home.
"Oh Hinata-chan, you're back! Just in time for dinner too," Mikoto chirped kindly as always, helping her daughter-in-law with one of the boxes and placing it in a closet. "Itachi just woke up a short time ago. He was looking for you."
Tiredly, Hinata nodded before presenting a smile. "I'll bring him his food then. You can eat with Sasuke-kun and father then."
Mikoto stared at her quizzically then, curiosity evident in her charcoal gray eyes. "Is everything okay? You didn't have a hard time going back to the apartment, did you?"
"N-No! Nothing like that," Hinata shook her head, offering another tired smile. "It was... I just didn't realize how bad the fire had been."
The Uchiha matriarch nodded then, gently placing a comforting hand on Hinata's shoulder. It made her want to cry at just how gentle the older woman was with her despite being the reason why Itachi was in such a predicament.
"Don't worry. We'll be here to help you and my son just as I'm sure your family will be willing to help," Mikoto hummed, turning her head towards the dining room when Fugaku called for her. "Dinner will be cold if we don't hurry, Hinata-chan."
As soon as she said it, Mikoto disappeared to the dining room while Hinata headed to the kitchen. With a practiced hand, she quickly served food for herself and her husband before heading to Itachi's room.
Unsurprisingly, she found it hard to enter due to the fear of him not recognizing her. So far, he had done well with a bit of prompting, but it still seemed like he was detached from reality when anyone else tried to interact with him.
A sigh passed her lips as she stood up straighter and opened the door, finding Itachi sitting up in bed unmoving. His eyes were still covered by bandages and would probably remain so until the operations to reattach them were over with. But even so, it seemed like he was staring into space. He didn't move a muscle even as she set the tray down with a small clatter on his bedside table.
It hurt her to see what she had done to him.
"Itachi? I brought you food," Hinata called, her voice gentle as she tried to keep the pain out of it. When he didn't respond, she placed her hands over his. "Itachi? It's me. It's Hinata."
As if someone had flipped a switch on, Itachi turned towards the direction of her voice and his lips formed his typical smile. "You came back."
"Yes, I did," she murmured softly, watching as he took her hands in his and tangled their fingers together.
"Everything... is gone?" His voice was hesitant, but Hinata knew what he was asking. He was wondering about the painting.
"Not everything, but everything in your room is. I couldn't save any of it," she spoke as evenly as possible, feeling terrible for lying to him and was grateful he couldn't see the guilt written on her face.
It was silent for a moment as he mulled it over. It was as if he was trying to accept that the painting was gone now and he seemed upset by that fact. It certainly didn't help her when she knew he had lashed out terribly when he had gotten to the hospital, demanding that he be returned to the painting because he couldn't be separated from his hime.
He hadn't cared that he almost died in the fire. He certainly hadn't cared that he had torn out his own eyes so he didn't have to see reality. He wanted to be with the painting and everyone else be damned.
But now, it seemed a little different. Itachi still wasn't himself at all, but the doctors had told her and his family that it would be a very slow process anyways. Still, it did very little to wash away the guilt she felt for leading him to his current state.
"But... I still have you, right? I still have Hinata?" he asked quietly, his hands holding onto hers a little bit tighter.
She let out a sob then, nodding and giving his hands a reassuring squeeze. Because despite it all, she still very much loved him and she would be there for him like he had been for her. "Y-Yes, you still have me, Itachi."
His placed a kiss on the back of one of her hands before moving his other and placing it on her cheek, lovingly touching her skin and gently caressing the scars. "My... Hinata."
Tears were running down her face, finding herself unable to understand how he could be so tender and loving with her even now. How he could speak her name with such love when she had been so unkind to him.
She would never hurt him like this ever again. She swore on her life she would never do it again.