A/N: Soooo, I planned for this to be three chapters, but then I realized the third one was over 10k and it felt a little unreasonable, so I figured I'd split it into two! Hope everyone is up for something a little more risqué as that's kind of why this chapter got so out of hand. ◼︎ = POV switch.

Sasuke doesn't manage to sleep until light peeks through the curtains, too afraid that closing his eyes will mean opening them to find Itachi has left. Gone for good, this time, hidden away further than he can reach. This fear, at least, is unfounded. Upon waking, the first thing to pull at his consciousness is his brother's breath warming the skin of his neck. It's stale with booze, carries a sour undercurrent, and still fills Sasuke with relief from the nerves which have held his mind and body tight, denied him rest or the space to think of anything beyond this room.

Elegant fingers tease at his hair, Sasuke's chest aches at the simplicity of this moment, how right it feels. He lets himself lean back into his brother's chest, seeks safety from the only place he's never failed to find it. Itachi's other hand closes over his waist, just tight enough for Sasuke to feel the faintest echo of his own fear run between them. Reassuring, in a way, painful in another.

Turn around, he tells himself. Turn around. All night, he's thought of nothing but this moment. What to say, how to say it. Everything between them has felt so inevitable, up until this point. Why, he then wonders, is he so afraid of losing this? His brother's fingers brush across the soft skin of his temple to sweep his hair back, the way he always did when it started to grow beyond control as a child, and Sasuke is jarred by the threat of his own tears. He turns before he can lose his nerve, fisting his hands tight in his brother's shirt when he begins to draw back his hands.

"Don't let go," he hates how the fear which lances, painful, at his nerves is so plain to hear but thinks perhaps that's what they owe each other, now. Honesty. "Please," he begs. "I don't want you to disappear, again." He's never seen his brother's hands shake, before. Let alone felt it.

"I'm sorry," Itachi sounds tired beyond reason. Tired in a way Sasuke feels in his bones. "I wanted to protect you, little brother. You were never supposed to know."

"No." Sasuke feels his knuckles creak, it's a wonder the thin linen doesn't come apart under his grip. "Don't- I'm not sorry. I don't need you to be, either. I just want you to stay." His brother's smile is wry and weak but full of the love which has left a sinking hole in Sasuke's chest, these last six years.

"Stay for what, Sasuke? What's left of me to give that isn't already yours?" Sasuke laughs, bitter, unable to help himself. He wants to scream, he wants to cry. He wants to tell his brother he's full of shit. Everything. Everything is left. Sasuke has had nothing of him but a memory, a shadow. A dream. He wants everything that Itachi claims he already has and more. But mostly, he wants Itachi to understand. He wants Itachi to take, in return. He wants them to stop running, stop playing and give, instead.

"Stay for me," Itachi flinches at his words and fear swells in Sasuke's chest. He can't leave, not now. They've come too far. They're too close. Without thinking, he pushes his brother back and settles over him, leaning in close to hold the fine cut of his brother's jaw in his hand, lay bruises into smooth skin. "I don't want you to be sorry, I don't want you to protect me, I just want you to be here. With me. I'm in this, too."

"Sasuke," there's a desperate edge, there. Something sorrowful, haunted by want. "I can't do this to you."

"You don't have to," Sasuke's throat burns with the promise of the words. "I can."

Some distant part of him notes the strangeness which accompanies the soft crush of his brother's lips under his own. If he were to scour his memories, he's sure he'd find nothing in them which felt so natural, so inevitable, and that in itself is enough to shake him, send dizzy frissons of relief and want and belonging skittering out through his nerves. He expects Itachi to flinch back from this, too, but instead, he's met with a hunger which overwhelms him as Itachi surges against him and grips his hair hard. It's the type of desire which has to be given free rein, room to breathe, consume, expand. It feels like everything between them has felt since he found the letter. Too much from the start, and never enough.

◼︎

Itachi can feel the fear in his brother. It's in the bruises blooming against his jaw, the sharp hold over his scalp, the manic edge to his eyes when they pull back just enough to share breath. That fear is his salvation. It's the only thing that reminds him of who he is, who he has to be. It stops him from succumbing to the want, the love which pours between them, sweet enough to burn.

"Sasuke," it feels like the name should mar him in some way. So painful to say there should be some bruise or scar left in its wake. "What have I done to us?" Itachi can see in his eyes that if it weren't for the fact that he'd be heard, he'd scream. Instead, he collapses into him. Lays his full weight over Itachi and breathes heavily into his neck, gripping tight at the back of his ribs, clutching tight the same way he always has, given the chance. What's left to lose, I wonder, Itachi asks himself as he allows the small luxury of soothing his hands over his little brother's back, counting the notches of his spine under his palm.

"We can't go on like this," He feels the shape of the words against his neck and tries not to shudder. Sasuke pulls back enough to look at him. "You can't."

"It was the only way."

"I know," He dips down to press a too-soft kiss to his lips and Itachi hates himself for how helpless he is to resist, how easily he pushes up into it. "Not now, though. I don't want you to." It's not quite fair, is it? Indulging Sasuke has always been his first instinct. Indulging himself, a rare privilege. Here, now, he can do both. How is he meant to hold back?

The faintest sounds of their parents beginning their morning routines filter through the wall. Itachi wonders if it will be enough to pull the shades from Sasuke's eyes.

"This would ruin your life, Sasuke," the words are soft, but they feel like sandpaper over his tongue. "Think about it, little brother. If you promise me that, I'll do as you want."

"What about what you want?"

"You've already given me more than I deserve," he sees the determination cast across his brother's face, the desire to fight him on his words. "You have," he cuts him off with a promise. "Just think, Sasuke. That's all I ask."

Neither of them wants to let go, but he sends Sasuke to shower with the assurance that he'll be here when he finishes and a soft touch between his brows. The door to the washroom stays open, just a few inches, but it doesn't feel like a tease, like the game which has haunted him all week. It feels like an assurance. Closeness. Like Sasuke hates the thought of another wall up between them almost as much as he does. When it's Itachi's turn, he does the same.

◼︎

For once, time passes easily between them.

Sasuke thinks. He considers what would happen if his parents found out. In the best-case scenario, the most they could hope for, their parents would be so overwhelmed by the shame they'd simply bury it. Hold them at a distance, unable to bear the sight of them and take their disgrace with them to the grave in the name of saving face. In the worst-case scenario- nausea curls in Sasuke's gut but he forces himself to consider it, regardless. In the worst-case scenario, his parents don't listen to him. They convince themselves that this is something Itachi did to him, that he groomed him, hurt him, raised him to it, they see the distance which grew between them and the way Sasuke spent years souring when his brother's name was mentioned and they throw Itachi to the wolves. Sasuke spends the rest of his life being seen as the sad, sick boy who thinks he loves his abuser while Itachi rots.

They'll be careful, of course. Be discreet, date around, keep a careful distance from anyone who might look close enough to think the unthinkable. But still, he knows, there are no guarantees.

What happens, then, if they resist?

The distance between them grows permanent. They spend their lives performing, denying, and waste themselves wanting for the only love they're neither brave nor stupid enough to hold onto.

Sasuke thinks about this, the realities between them as he promised he would, but he already knows his answer.

They're in the airport, headed home, when Sasuke informs his parents that Itachi has invited him to spend the last week of his holidays visiting him. They're too pleased by their rekindled closeness to make much of a fuss over Sasuke travelling so far for only a few days and being jet-lagged when school starts. Itachi plays it so well that even Sasuke can almost believe this is something they've already discussed.

They only have one night at home before they leave for Itachi's.

"How did you find the letters?"

They're on Itachi's bed and Sasuke finds peace in the soft weight of his brother, reclined into his chest as they watch something on Sasuke's laptop. He couldn't say what it's about, hasn't paid attention to anything but the soft skin of Itachi's neck, the smell of him, easy to catch where Sasuke has his chin hooked over his shoulder. The way Itachi's hand rests over his thigh where his knee is bent up by his waist, keeping him close. The desire to touch more, take more, is there, but the yearning for this casual closeness is stronger. It's not such a burden to wait, to play at thinking as his brother asked him to until they can be truly alone.

"I would sleep here, sometimes." Sasuke swallows, aware Itachi will feel it, notice it, as he does everything, and hesitant to give him any more reason for remorse. Though, it can't make much difference, now. Things will be better for them both, soon. "When I missed you. It was too much, sometimes. I needed something." I needed you, he doesn't say. Itachi must understand, by now.

◼︎

There's more ease between them than Itachi expected.

Sasuke doesn't ask before leaving his bag in Itachi's room, doesn't shy away from undressing where Itachi might see before stepping into the ensuite shower. Itachi sits on the bed and doesn't shy away from looking. It feels voyeuristic, forbidden. His eyes trace the trails he knows, already, Sasuke will allow- beg- him to follow with touch, soon enough. The thought alone is enough to make him feel as though he's stolen something, made off with some illicit prize. He shouldn't be allowed to look, let alone touch or keep what shouldn't be his in the first place. The presumption that this is something he can keep is perverse, but he knows that once they touch, there will be no choice. He'll give himself over to whatever his brother will allow too completely to escape. Keep him close. He may have run from it, but he feels the ache of his own want reflected back at him when Sasuke looks at him and knows there will be no escaping this once it's begun. Wonders if there ever was, to begin with.

Itachi takes his own turn to wash away their travels, dresses in comfortable sweats and a simple t-shirt, and when he emerges Sasuke is sitting on his bed in soft sleep pants and a worn-out, sleeveless shirt he recognizes as his own, turning another, unopened letter over in his hands. His brother is a snoop.

"You kept writing them?" He doesn't look up at him as he asks. Itachi remains where he is, stood in the threshold.

"Only that one."

"What does it say?"

"You can read it if you'd like." Sasuke runs his finger along the bend of it, slowly, thoughtfully, before tossing it towards the nightstand. Neither of them looks to see if it's landed there.

He's been expecting more confessions, more grief. What Sasuke offers instead is this.

Itachi steps close, a moth to a flame, and Sasuke's fingertips run the edges of his t-shirt, slipping inside to run fire along his skin before his hands gather the cotton of his shirt and clench tight. He looks up at him, gorgeous, sweet as Itachi remembers, eyes pleading and wanting in the same way Itachi has always been powerless to deny. Itachi can't help himself, brings a hand up to smooth over his little brother's hair, another to cradle his jaw, run his thumb over the soft cut of his cheekbone.

"Take care of me," Sasuke pleads and Itachi feels the air in his lungs seize. "Please, please, Itachi." He pushes into Itachi's hand, runs his lips over his wrist, tugs at his shirt again.

"Sasuke," Itachi breathes.

"Itachi," Sasuke pleads, once more, and Itachi is finally, fully ready to leave everything outside of this, outside of the two of them, behind. He bends down close, feels Sasuke's hands close over his waist, registers the sharp flare of anticipation through his nerves when he feels Sasuke's breath across his lips just a split second before he tastes him. Sinking deeper into the kiss, into each other, comes naturally as breathing. Even more so, Itachi thinks, as he finds himself short of breath while tipping Sasuke back as he crawls over him, shudders as Sasuke's hands drag along the expanse of his back. The slip of Sasuke's tongue against his own, slick and messy, searching, too full of want for finesse. The heat of his skin under Itachi's hands as he allows himself to explore the expanse of his brother's body, the delicate skin of his neck, shoulders, more broad than he remembers, the way he shivers when Itachi slips a hand up under his shirt to drag over his stomach.

Sasuke hooks a leg up to pull Itachi down, close the remaining distance between them, and Itachi feels lost to the world outside of the boy below him, the boy who shares his soul.

"I'll take care of you, little brother." He swears into the skin of Sasuke's neck as Sasuke pants, brother, brother, tipping from his lips with all the reverence of prayer. "Forever, for as long as you'll let me."

"Always," Sasuke demands. "Always. You won't leave me, again." A plea. A threat. Anything he wants. The warmth between them is enough to make Itachi wonder at how they haven't yet burst into flame, it doesn't lessen any when Sasuke tugs onerously at his shirt until he pulls himself away enough to remove it entirely. He smooths his hands up Sasuke's sides, eyes flitting between the trail his hands run and the look on Sasuke's face as he goes, pulling it over his head so they can give themselves over to the fire between them, skin on skin.

It's easy to find a rhythm in the roll of Sasuke's body against his, and this, Itachi knows, is what's doomed them. Every touch, sigh, movement between them comes so easily, just as he'd feared it would. He knows there will be no escape, after this. Sasuke pulls the tie from his hair so it falls around them both, presses bruises into his scalp with one hand as he drags the other down to slip under his waistband and cup him where he's swollen with want, making him gasp into his little brother's mouth. A wave of heat brings with it the tight coil of tension, all settling heavy in his groin. It's good, too good, and he doesn't want to lose control of himself any time soon, but he wants-

"Sasuke," he groans.

"Just- wanted-" Sasuke mutters, nonsensical as he shifts below him, adjusting the angle to get an easier grip of his cock while Itachi pulls back, pushing himself up just enough to watch Sasuke's face as he touches him, feels the weight of him in his hand for the first time. He stares, dark eyes, swollen lips, want written across every line of his face. He can tell his brother doesn't know what to do with the scrutiny but he doesn't look away. "Wanted to know. Want you to feel good." As if there were any ever risk he wouldn't, with all his heart's desire here in his arms. His hips roll down into his brother's hand and he reaches up with one of his own to brush his fingers across his cheek. Hot to the touch.

"Cute." He whispers.

"Fuck off." Sasuke bits and Itachi huffs a laugh into his skin as he dips down to taste the skin of Sasuke's neck, drag his teeth along the sharp bone of his collar. Sasuke pants under him, embarrassment forgotten as his free hand comes up to brush through Itachi's long hair, gasping when he teases at his nipple with nimble fingers and sharp tongue. When he shifts down the bed entirely, savouring the soft heat of his brother's skin under his lips, tongue, fingertips as he explores his ribs, the dip of his abdomen, his naval, Sasuke is forced to let go of him, bringing both hands to his hair, instead. There's something sickly sweet in the familiarity of it, the way Sasuke's hands default to playing with his hair as he always wished to as a child, combing through and twining it along his fingers. Itachi can't bring himself to feel loathing over the warmth inside of him at the gesture, not now they've come this far. He glances up at his brother as he bites, just hard enough, into the jut of Sasuke's hip bone, chest going heavy at the way he grins back at him. He doesn't have to ask, then, before he steps back off the bed entirely, dragging Sasuke's bottoms off as he goes.

◼︎

Sasuke needs something to hold onto, to anchor him to the bed, keep him from dragging Itachi back to him, from touching himself and ending things too soon. He grips the sheets above his head and forces himself to lay back, breathe as Itachi runs attentive fingers down his thighs, the heat which follows the touch of his skin made worse by the intensity of the gaze that follows, and hooks his hands around the backs of his knees to drag him to the edge of the bed. It's a wonder his heart hasn't beat straight through his chest is all he can think as Itachi presses his legs back and apart, the exposure of it making him flush hot with embarrassment, enough to leave him dizzy as his brother takes pity on him and bends to kiss the back of his thigh, take his mind off his own vulnerability. He touches him everywhere, caressing along his calves, the line of his hips, nipping at the backs of his knees, the knot of his ankle. Everywhere that spurs further need but does nothing to quench it. It's not enough, but some part of him never wants Itachi to stop. Wants to feel the warmth of his breath, soft lips over every inch of his skin until there's no part of him left that Itachi hasn't tasted.

When Itachi sinks to his knees and wraps his hand around his cock, Sasuke allows himself to give in to the tension of it, allows it to pull him tight, make him buck into his brother's hand with a groan. He's not normally like this, but then, he doesn't normally feel this much, want this much, and even more than that, he wants his brother left with no room for doubt. He wants Itachi to see how badly he wants it, wants him. He doesn't want to leave him any room to think Sasuke is here under anything but the strength of his own desire.

"Itachi, come on." He begs, met with the soothing sound of his brother's voice.

"Anything you want, little brother," he promises, jerking him off slow and tight as he speaks, "I'll take care of you." And that's- yeah. Yeah. It hadn't been entirely intentional when he'd said it, but he'd felt the honesty in the shape of the words as they rolled off his tongue. If he thinks about it, truly, what more have either of them ever wanted? It makes it a little easier to lie back, roll his hips into Itachi's grip and accept whatever his brother gives him, trust it will be what he needs. Trust that he knows what's best for him, the same way he always has.

When Itachi leans forward, angles his cock so he can lick the underside of him from root to tip and swallow the head of him in a warm, open-mouthed kiss, a noise punches itself out of Sasuke's chest and he's unable to parse whether it's the sensation or the sight of it that makes everything inside of him ache so deep. Itachi pushes his mouth down the length of his cock with a soft sigh and there's something so horribly tender, affectionate about it that Sasuke can't help burying his fingers in Itachi's hair, sighing brother as he brushes it back from his face, weaving it between his fingers at the temple. Itachi doesn't stay where he is for long, just enough for it to ache when he pulls back, away from his cock and his hands, and Sasuke would complain if not for the feel of Itachi nipping at the swell of his ass, running his hands down his thighs to spread him open. Hot breath fans out across sensitive skin and Sasuke flushes with it even as he thinks yes, this is what he wants. Wants Itachi to see, touch, feel, own every part of him. Wants them to belong to each other, completely.

The first sweep of his tongue makes his body sing as a heavy force swells inside him and pushes down, searching for more, which Itachi gives, gladly. The wet slide of his tongue, his lips, the way he prods and teases at the rim of him, stretching him open just enough to feel it, to imagine what he must look like, taste like, before pulling back. Eventually, when Sasuke is sweating, grown painfully hard and leaking onto his own stomach, Itachi stands and takes hold of his hips, maneuvers him with gentle but sure movements onto his stomach. He registers the soft sound of Itachi's sweats dropping to the floor, the brief noise of his drawer being opened, slick skin, and then he's there, tugging him up onto his knees and urging him further forward onto the bed. Sasuke goes, entire body wrought tense with the need for something only his brother can give him, heavy with desire, and Itachi gently knocks his knees further open as he settles over him, heavy and warm against his back. Sasuke pants into the fold of his arms and luxuriates in the weight of his brother, the way he pants, hot and wet into his neck, his cock, already slick, brushing up behind Sasuke's balls, down the seam of him.

"Come on," Sasuke urges as his brother slips a hand into the narrow space between his hips and the mattress to cradle his cock, providing only a ghost of relief. "Don't want to wait anymore, 'tachi, please." Itachi presses a kiss into the back of his neck and presses his forehead there. When he speaks, he sounds as wrecked as Sasuke feels and if he were less desperate to feel his brother inside of him, he'd have the presence of mind to feel vindicated by it.

"I know." He promises, "No more waiting." Pulling his hips back enough to line himself up, breathing his name into his skin as he pushes forward. Sasuke reaches behind himself to fist one hand tight in Itachi's hair, feels the slow, strange stretch of his own body opening to allow him inside. The sensation, the relentless pressure of being held open, the weight of his cock inside of him, warming him from the inside as if he isn't already on fire.

"Sasuke," he feels the vibration of his own name reverberating out from Itachi's chest into his own back as Itachi brings his arms up to circle his waist, hold him tight, close as he pulls his hips back and rocks forward into him as deep as he can manage, wringing a gasp from them both. Sasuke wants to cry. He wants to scream and shout, wants Itachi deep, hard, fast, slow, wants everything, all at once. Too much to parse, overwhelmed by the presence of him, he lets go and gives himself into his brother's touch, trusting that he'll take care of him, as he promised. Sasuke, Itachi whispers, again and again, a prayer pressed into the skin of his neck, gone slick with sweat. Itachi rolls his hips forward again and Sasuke pushes back to meet them, brings his head up to breathe as they find a rhythm, burning where Itachi presses his teeth into the meat of his shoulder, long hair falling down around them both, surrounding Sasuke with the scent of him. Sasuke knows he's speaking, but he's lost track of his own words, of the world around them, of everything but the heavy slide of Itachi's body over and inside of him. He feels like he's being pulled apart, feels Itachi reaching deep inside of him, possessing him in a way that satisfies something so deep inside it quiets his mind, quells everything inside of him but the need for more, the pull between them carrying them further, deeper, until it feels impossible to tell where one ends and the other begins. Sasuke feels himself toeing the line of release and finds he's not quite ready to reach it, just yet.

◼︎

When Sasuke pulls away Itachi feels so blind with want it's almost impossible to let go, pull back from the bruises he's surely dug into his ribs, it's only the fear that he may have done something, pushed too far, taken too much, which allows him to give Sasuke any space. The fear is fleeting, gone when Sasuke pushes him back and crawls into his lap, hardly allowing Itachi a moment to catch his breath as he reaches back to grab hold of his cock and sinks down over him, into the cradle of his hips where he belongs. He's only given seconds to appreciate the sight his brother makes, hair a sweaty mess, skin glowing, eyes alight with desire, lip bleeding ever so slightly where he must have bitten into it before he tastes the copper of it for himself as Sasuke presses himself close, arms winding around his shoulders to keep him there as Itachi's own run along his thighs, his back, his neck, everywhere he can reach. They're sharing breath, tasting each other, more than they're actually kissing and Itachi can feel the hot, wet swell of Sasuke's cock crushed between them as they fall back into rhythm together.

◼︎

The grind of their hips, the way their skin sticks and catches with sweat, the way they've fallen so completely into sync, moving together, breathing together, Sasuke's willing to bet if he placed his hand over Itachi's chest, he'd feel his own heartbeat against his palm. He knows he won't last much longer and the way Itachi's fingers press, hard and desperate, into his hips tells him it's not just him. When Itachi breaks and tips them forward, rolling Sasuke onto his back, Sasuke anchors himself to his brother's body, locking his ankles over his back as Itachi pushes into him with a desperate vigour, reaching harder, deeper than he could before. Sasuke tugs at his hair, digs his nails into his back, and Itachi takes all of it, asks for more. Whispers into his skin that he'd take any mark Sasuke left him with, a treasured reminder of his touch, his want, however undeserving Itachi feels himself to be. He continues on, pressing words of worship into Sasuke's skin until he has to kiss him just to steal them off his tongue, unable to hear more. He wishes he could tell Itachi how he wants- needs him just as bad. How Itachi isn't and could never be unworthy when the simple truth is that they're made for each other, but every time he opens his mouth only his brother's name tumbles out.

This time, when he feels the tension seize him, he allows it to run him through. His thighs shake and his groin goes tight, abdomen aching with the hot clench of his release as his body clenches tight over his brother's cock. He feels Itachi's hips stutter against his as his own cock swells and pulses as he empties himself between them and feels a matching heat spreading inside of him.

The feeling of his brother inside him quickly becomes too much, but Itachi is careful not to linger, pulling away- Sasuke immediately misses the weight of him almost enough to beg him to stay- and wiping them both clean enough with the edge of the sheet that's come loose. There's half a moment where he hovers, knelt on the bed and looking concerned, where Sasuke knows he's waiting. Waiting for panic, for regret to set in and chase Sasuke from his arms, from his bed. Sasuke pulls him down to the bed, pushes him onto his back so he can tangle their legs together, settle against his chest, too hot but unwilling to care as the ache of his muscles slowly settles in and makes it easy to sink, heavy, into the solid weight of his brother. Slim fingers brush over Sasuke's scalp and down along his back as Itachi accepts that Sasuke isn't going anywhere and warm satisfaction hums through his chest at the action.

"Are you alright?" Itachi still doesn't sound entirely composed, entirely like himself, and Sasuke smiles, presses a kiss into his sternum as he tilts his face up to look at him, cheek resting over his breastbone.

"Mhm. You took good care of me, like you said."

Sasuke doesn't remember falling asleep, but he knows it must've been a deep one because when he wakes he has his face pressed into Itachi's clothed thigh and he can feel that he's been cleaned with something more substantial than just a sheet.

"How long have you been awake?" He stretches as he asks, pleased to find his brother has pulled his eyes from his book to watch when he rolls onto his side and rests his hand over Itachi's thigh, not driven so much by intent as the contentment of being allowed to do so.

"Not long." Itachi bends and Sasuke falls onto his back to hold him close and kiss him, luxuriating in the satisfied exhaustion that permeates his body as he wakes fully. Itachi pulls back too soon, and Sasuke hates the small frown he wears when he does. "We should talk, Sasuke."

"What's left to talk about?"

"Many things."

He showers, dresses in soft clothes from Itachi's wardrobe, and doesn't allow himself to worry about what Itachi is planning to speak to him about. He knows Itachi wants him, has had any iota of doubt driven from him by Itachi's own touch, nothing else matters. There are things, he knows, they'll need to be careful of. Itachi wasn't wrong when he said this could ruin his life, their lives, but then, Sasuke already knows that the risk is worth it. Even if they were exposed, shamed, ruined, it would be miserable, but it would be worth it. He could live through it all as long as he had Itachi. Any worries his brother has, he'll hear him but he won't let Itachi push him away, again.

A/N: Alright, I know that's quite a tonal shift, so hopefully, you all still enjoy it. I'll post the last chapter sometime tomorrow! Also, I just want to tell everyone who's left a review that you've all truly made my day and I love hearing what you think of the story