The cold September wind made his hair dance in a forced eloquence. This is the first time Itachi went out alone in a long time, much less for a walk. In the asylum, you couldn't even walk the halls alone, much less enjoy the crisp, freezing air of Virgo and Libra's playground. All you could ever do was pace the linoleum to the window that never opens and imagine you're free.

His hands were tucked into the front pockets of his hoodie, gracious on the teen's slightly effeminant curves, black and sleek cotten that did not much to keep the cold out. The dampened dry crusts of leaves crunched beneath his feet, protesting their mistreatment. As if they had a choice. The icy winds caressed his cheeks, slipping down to his jaw to massage the back of his neck with its cool fingers. He sighed a small, satisfied sigh. To his right, across the street two children jumped into a pile of leaves, their audiable amusement and happiness reaching his ear. A woman walked her Yorkie on the opposite sidewalk, who stopped to sniff in his direction, tugging against the leash in a futile attempt to reach him, then, presently, gave up, continuing on with his-her?-owner. A child rode by on her bike, adorned with a white basket and pink strands of sparkly, pink-crimped paper on the handles. As she pedaled past, he heard a bell chime. He looked up to see the girl look back at him, waving from her bike. Itachi smiled slightly and removed his hand from his pocket to wave back, the fading image of her pink against the gray September sky, leaving a cheery impression on his sights. The cold became warmer and the overcast of clouds didn't borther him as much as calm him. The cold that seeped in quelled the burning of his bloodied knuckles, the open wound on the skin.

Itachi smiled.

If you've felt depression, if you're diagnosed with it, or its manic counterpart, schizophrenia, felt the highs or lows, the twisting emotions, you know the feeling, the relief once you find a bit of sanity in the middle of the storm, the eye. A bubbly feeling of contentment in the pit of your stomach, a languid sense of joy as your heart flutters and you feel utterly weightless. Rare, and evanescent.

Itachi made his way home with the same feeling, smiling slightly. His grin became larger when his father's truck wasn't in the driveway. He walked up the stone-paved walkway to the door, mom's poppies and wildflowers blooming vivaciously, thriving despite the cold. He opened the door and was greeted with the warm sight of little Sasuke, a blanket draped over his drawn shoulders, sitting in front of the fire. He peered over his shoulder nervously, but smiled once he saw his older brother walk in.

"'Tachi! Welcome home!" He grinned at Itachi, a moustache of chocolate adorning his upper lip.

"Sasuke...you have a little...er...something, yeah..." he motioned towards his own lip, inadvertedly letting Sasuke know of the chocolatey stain. He made his way over to see what it was when he saw laced in Sasuke's small fingers a mug of molten, sweetened chocolate drink, a few marhsmallows stranded, drifting slowly, stained in brown cocoa. "Oh."

Sasuke smiled once again, beaming. "Yeah! Mom made it for me!"

Itachi nodded and went into the kitchen to find his mother at the stove, stirring noodles on the hot range, boiling. The scent of marinara and sausages, vinegar and boiling water, steam and contentment. The scent of home.

He could only think, Thank God for my Japanese-Italian heratige.

"Oh! Itachi. Welcome home, dear," she smiled, "How was your walk? Get some thinking done?" Mikoto turned back to the stove, stirring the bubbling noodles as they sputtered for her attention.

Mikoto let out a gasp in surprise as she felt someone wrap their arms around her waist, burying their face in her shoulder. She looked back to see a head of glossy dark brown hair spill over her shoulder and she smiled, turning off the burner and turning around, wrapping her arms around her eldest son.

"It was nice. I did get some thinking done, really." Itachi stood up from hugging her, smiling slightly. "I thought about a lot..."

Mikoto turned around to move the steaming water to the collender at the sink, "I'm glad, Itachi. You never have time to think around here, what, with Fugaku ordering you around all of the time...you're a teenage boy for God's sake...and you...you just..." Mikoto let the pot clatter slightly as it hit the counter, water sloshing out. Itachi held her as she cried into his chest.

"Mama, it's alright," he petted her hair lovingly, letting her fingers curl into the soft cotton of his hoodie, bawling into his chest. He smiled slightly, holding her.

Sasuke came skipping into the room, smiling, his mouth drenched in the sweet liquid. "Mom! Can I have mor-! Nii-san? What's wrong with Mom?"

Itachi smiled down at Sasuke, motioning for him to be quiet with his finger to his lips. Mikoto looked up, letting out another surprised gasp as she felt Sasuke cling to her leg in a tight hug. "Don't cry, Mom! Everything'll be alright!"

Mikoto smiled a sad, broken smile, reassured by her sons, and began to cry once more, but not of sorrow.

Hey What r u up 2?

Itachi recieved that text, announced with a loud vibration and Nirvana's "All Apologies," as the LCD screen lit up at 2:34. Printed across the screen, "Shisui".

Not much. Was trying to fall asleep. It didn't work.

XD Ttly. Dude, ur insomnia is freaking horrible. Wanna come over Sat.?

If I can. Why?

'Cause, dude. I get bored here. You get beaten up there. Perfect combo?

No.

Oh, fine. yah, just come over. itll be cool.

Alright, I'll see if I can.

Of course u can! Dude, seriously, ur mom is cool, in case you didnt notice.

I know, I know. I don't think she can hold up much longer, though. Dad is really taking a toll on her.

Aww, Itamichi, ur so sweet to ur mom, you know? Kyuti pai.

Damn Shisui with his damn Korean. Shut up.

U love me.

...Yeah I do. Bastard.

D'aww Itamichi. I love you.

I love you, too, Shisui.

Itachi looked to the calander on the wall, then to the clock. He'd go to Shisui's in exactly twelve hours. He couldn't wait.