I added. I am actually planning to tie this story up if all goes well and my teachers don't murder me.

No incest this chapter.

The only warning is some shoddy narration because I'm too lazy to go back and give it more detail. I will, eventually.

Fulcrum

Sasuke was in high school when his parents tried to get back together. They had been divorced since Sasuke could remember, which was in actuality ten years ago, and were trying to revive some of that dead love. Sasuke didn't know why and, to this day, he'd simply shrug at you. Itachi had mentioned that they were trying for economic purposes: their father's business had recently expanded and, from some still living part of his heart, he had wanted Sasuke and his mother to experience this prosperity. Sasuke still thinks it's a load of bull.

He refused to live with them.

Itachi was already in graduate school, owned his apartment, and had a decent job as a TA. He offered to board Sasuke if he worked around the apartment and kept his grades up. Sasuke had thought it an inconvenience but the lesser of two evils, so he moved in sophomore year. Living with a brother you had only seen every once in five years and had lived on separate sides of the world (Sasuke had lived in Japan, Itachi lived in Boston),was a different sort of experience.

But, much to Sasuke's later dismay, it was a good kind of different.

He had moved in on a rainy Tuesday. Sasuke had two bags: a backpack and a rolling duffle. They had once been red but were now brown because he had walked too close to a bus and his bags' color met a muddy end. He is staring at them, his lip curling unintentionally, as he waits for Itachi to buzz him in. He checks his watch; he was meant to be here at 3 and it is a quarter after. Itachi wouldn't have left just because he had been 15 minutes late, right?

Sasuke is jolted from his thoughts when someone pushes past him, some kid with blond hair knotted at the top of his head. "Outta my way," he grunts, holding an awkward shaped portfolio. Sasuke glares at the passing blond, stereotyping him as the typical, rude American.

So far, Sasuke doesn't like America. He doesn't like the disorganization, the brick sidewalks, and people honking when they drive. It's kind of hard to miss a 2 ton vehicle- no need to beep every other second. Sasuke is also not a big fan of the smell of the air. There is something in it- something he can't quite place but has definitely confronted before. He vaguely remembers his friend, Neji, having joked that America reeks of greed. Sasuke hadn't cared then- he happened to be a very selfish individual as well.

He flicks his head, tossing his bangs out of his face. Even if he is meant to have some American mentality, he is definitely not as rough around the edges as the local population. He is more refined and calculating. He stares hard at the blond who is fighting with the door, his awkward portfolio making the task difficult. Sasuke laughs a little, but then he notices Itachi maneuvering around the blond. As his older brother steps into the dismal light by the front desk, Sasuke feels a cool wash of fear rock him. He feels severely out of his element, now.

Itachi is in a white button down shirt, the top two buttons undone. His hair is messily pulled into a bun behind his head and a few stray hairs linger on his graceful, long neck. He is wearing dark washed jeans with boat shoes. Sasuke then contrasts the outfit to what he's wearing: a black Neff hoodie and jeans with wear around the cuffs. He went for comfort because he had been traveling all day, but now he regrets it. He feels so belittled as Itachi warmly touches his shoulder, pressing him towards the door.

"You're late," the older one jests as they step into the stairwell. The accusation bounces around the cement walls, unnerving the youngest individual. Itachi, noticing the awkward carriage of the other, relieves him of the duffle bag and begins hauling it up the stairs. "I really missed you, Sasuke. It's good to see you again."

Sasuke grunts, diving into his usual despondency. All his confidence is gone because he finally remembers why his parents had split in the first place.

Just because Itachi is that smart, doesn't mean Sasuke has to be.

Sasuke has to act like a man, Mikoto, not some prissy boy you dress up!

Well Itachi doesn't have to be a cold hearted bastard like his father!

And they split, taking one kid each. Sasuke doesn't even remember if they had a custody hearing. He just remembers hiding in the car the night before they moved because his dad was so angry he was breaking everything he could get his hands on. When Itachi called him the next day, promising to call every day from then on, he sounded like he was hurt.

Sasuke stopped worrying about him, though, because after a month he stopped calling. His mother had said it was because his father and brother had moved to America and long distance was so expensive. But Sasuke knew it was because he wasn't good enough yet to deserve any part of Itachi's attention. Not even a phone call once a year.

"I am working on dinner right now, so feel free to make yourself comfortable," Itachi directs, swinging the door open to apartment 4B. Sasuke is overcome with the smell of tomatoes and sausage; Italian food. Itachi had remembered his favorite food and Sasuke feels like even less of a man. He can never compare to his brother. So he opts for grunting as he pushes forward into the lavish living room with its white carpet and coffee colored leather couches. A glass coffee table is fitted as the focal point with a bowl of bright green apples in the center.

The kitchen lies directly behind the living room, a cut out in the wall over the counter revealing the twin ovens in the back wall and a gas stove top. It is lightly colored like the living room: oak counters and white counter tops. He can't see the floor, but can make out the stairs tucked in the back left corner.

"Upstairs is your room" Itachi mentions as he carries the duffle bag to the edge of the stairs and leaves it there. "It is the second room on the right. The bathroom is across the hall and my room is the first one on the right," he pauses, thinking of what else to add, "There's another bathroom down here, right next to you." Sasuke looks to his left and sees two doors. "The other door is a closet, feel free to put your coats and shoes in there if you want."

Sasuke nods, drinking it in slowly. He's really overwhelmed, but now he's getting comfortable, especially as he puts distance between him and Itachi. Every step he takes on the wooden stairs brings a less polluted breath of air. His lungs expand comfortably as he steps onto the carpeted, upper level. He normally isn't this uncomfortable, but his older brother's presence is just so intimidating—he hadn't expected to find himself so needlessly jealous from just looking at him. Sasuke mentally notes he has to ask about where the public library is. He'll probably spend a lot of time there. Or else he'd probably go crazy spending so much time with the deific man downstairs.

Somehow, he doubts he can put off the inevitable.

Is that an emo Sasuke I see?

Well I'm not sure if he is OOC, but I think it works best with what I have so far regarding him in the plot's context. Itachi is simply beautiful, so he is obviously in character! Haha

On a personal note, I'm setting this story in Boston because that's where I'm living now. And when I mention the honking, I mean it. They honk for no reason and they honk all the time. All. The. Time. Where are my precious ZZzz's?