Okay! Finally got this chapter finished! I'm not as pleased with it as I wish I were, but then, I've never been good at keeping chapterfics going. Lots of stress and stuff lately, so I've been pretty busy, to the point where I almost lost this story entirely. But here it is! (I get the feeling that these chapters keep getting shorter, sigh.)
It was one month and six days later that brought the Uchiha massacre's sole survivor back once more to the place that housed most, if not all, of his hated memories.

The moon was full and high outside, casting eerie shadows through long-broken windows and insect-eaten screen doors that creaked in their tracks. He was tired from too many sleepless nights and exhausting dreams, wandering the halls of the manor with slow, heavy steps and half-lidded eyes. There would be but one other person who would come here, and he could only wonder at the almost-wish that he would run into him (maybe then he could ask "why?").

Leaning heavily against the wall next to Itachi's room, he closed his eyes and let the memories of soft lips and butterfly kisses and false kindness envelop him (here, right here, so many many nights outside this room). He frowned at the sound of creaking doors and slid down into a sitting position with a soft sigh, too tired to follow the clues this time as he stared across the hall (Itachi could find him if he wanted, he wasn't going to play that game again).

When he closed his eyes again it was like a lucid dream with the feel of a gentle breeze against his skin and the sound of cicadas that weren't there buzzing steadily in his ears.

"Take me back there..." he whispered to the not-so-empty house of ghosts and the not-quite-dream that pressed cool fingertips to his forehead and whisps of breath against his lips. He must've been feverish, the way the world tilted when his eyelids fluttered open once more, the swish of a cloak echoing loudly inside his head as he leaned against a cool touch that he couldn't find the source of. Letting his eyelids droop again, he sighed, only one word escaping in the faintest whisper as sleep finally claimed him.

"'tachi..."

Sasuke woke to nothing, feeling more rested than he had in weeks past and at the same time completely off. He realized moments later that he was in his old room, sitting up suddenly (too suddenly) and nearly falling back over when the entire room spun unmercifully.

It took him a full minute after that to notice the sound of running water (pathetic time for someone who should sense things by the second, he scolded himself), and another followed as he managed to steady himself on his feet. He must've been sick, he reasoned, if his senses were this off. But then, the past month he'd been tetering on the edge of it all; sanity, exhaustion. Break.

As he made his way down the hall (so different in the daytime, almost as if he would walk around a corner and there she'd be, smiling at him and handing him his lunch like she was never dead, like he'd never seen her blood spattered on the conference room walls), he wondered just how this abandoned place still had running water at all. It was coming from the bathroom, he noted, and despite the fact that he knew it was Itachi there, he couldn't bring himself to feel anything but listless (it was always so surreal, after all).

There was steam drifting from under the door, and Sasuke hesitated only a brief moment (eyes half closed, because his life was a dream anymore) before sliding it open to see exactly what he knew he would (and yet still didn't truly expect).

His brother was washing himself outside the bath, rinsing with his back to the door and not even flinching when he stepped inside. For the briefest of moments, he could see the blood rinsing from that tall frame, staining the bath tiles a watery pink, but it was gone in an instant.

It seemed like an eternity of watching those perfect muscles ripple under lightly tanned skin (always perfect in everything, that was Itachi) before the man finally turned to regard him, voice resounding off the tiles in a tone that spoke volumes of how he'd already won.

"Join me, Sasuke," that voice said, and he was too broken not to comply. Nothing ever made sense these days, he reasoned; reality itself was skewed for them. And it was with that in mind the younger Uchiha easily peeled off his own clothes, moving to join his brother just as they had when younger (though now he had barely half the lucidity and half the life in dull obsidian eyes and no smiles to give).

He washed himself silently, feeling all the time Itachi's eyes on him though whatever trance he was in kept him from caring. When he felt arms around his shoulders and fingers snatching the soap away, he let his back be washed, let the man behind him lather shampoo in his hair and let the water rinse it all away (his purity with it, because surely this was wrong in some way or another).

So many questions pounded inside his head, so many 'why's it was starting to give him a headache. And yet, at the same time, this strange feeling of a waking dream kept him from asking a thing when he felt damp hair tickle his shoulder and lips and teeth following shortly. It kept him silent (compliant) as he was pulled back against that firm chest, as he was turned, as lips met lips and Itachi's tongue explored all it wanted.

"Why don't you try to stop me this time, little brother?" came the murmur then, though he was so desensitized by now that he barely heard it and didn't have an answer to give. Half-closed eyes (always half-closed, drifting on in a lucid dream) gazed blankly into Itachi's, and then down past those distinctive lines to his lips, barely able to hear the words he read on them. "Have I broken you that much so quickly?"

Sasuke's legs chose that time to give out on him again, and he noted how his brother made no move to stop his fall, standing perfectly proud before him still as if to symbolize just how little he meant. After a moment, though, the man (boy? was he still a boy? was he ever a boy?) did reach down, pulling him up rather roughly and lifting him into the bath. He looked up long enough to watch as Itachi lowered himself into the hot water, frowning just slightly at the way they didn't quite fit in it as they used to, as he'd filled out a bit and become more lanky, sure signs of the approaching teenage years.

Limbs were sprawled awkwardly and tangled, and he had the thought that he should feel exposed before this man who used to be his brother but became the sort of person who would murder his flesh and blood and rape his little brother. The look in those crimson eyes only fueled his slight unease, but instead of fighting it, he simply gave in, closing the distance between them and latching on for dear life just to hear his name from those lips again. To make Itachi's control slip, even for a second, was a victory in itself.

"What are you doing, Sasuke?" that voice asked as he left his own marks behind.

"Isn't this what you want from me?" he returned, capturing Itachi's lips again and running his tongue over them, almost feeling the urge to laugh at the words that resonated against his own lips. "Is this what you really want?"

Why does it matter what I want? You've never cared before, he thought, moving down as he took in a breath.

As his mouth closed over heated flesh under the water, he resented the fact that Itachi would not let him drown.


So? Like? Don't? I notice I'm getting fewer reviews with each chapter, and it's kind of disappointing. I know the style has probably changed since the amazing first chapter, but that's why I tend to stay away from chapterfics in favor of oneshots and drabbles, so work with me here. Also, I may or may not do another chapter. I'm losing this thing fast, so I don't really know where to go from here if I continue.