This chapter is a bit long, and probably tedious to read for some people, but come to the end, because you may like it as much as I liked writing it.
Also, it have some sexual material. Now, since you´re reading this story, this warning is a little... lol, but, yeah... you´re warned.
When they met again it was by sheer coincidence.
He had a few days off after working non-stop for two full weeks, during the first day those vacations he had tried to continue with his last case, one that had proven to be more complex than he thought at first, complications and false evidence were coming up faster and faster, which seemed to be creating a level of stress that he wasn't aware of but everyone else was, so his colleagues and bosses insisted he leave, reluctant to let him spend those few days doing anything more than resting.
But it was hard, he wasn't like that, he couldn't be locked up in his house for a long time because loneliness flooded him, he was also a workaholic, asking him to stop working was the same as asking him to stop breathing.
So, secretly, he went to the last location where the most recent clue led him: the Cultural District.
That was the artsy part of the whole city, full of museums, art galleries, open mic bars, some street act on every corner. By day it was bright and cheerful, by night dark and gloomy.
It was a little past noon, but the place was quite crowded. He was dressed in clothes he wouldn't normally wear: a sleeveless gray sweatshirt and skinny jeans paired with a pair of tennis shoes in the same shade of gray. He had tied his hair up in a high, loose bun, sunglasses shaded his eyes. All his secrets were revealed to the world, his right arm tattooed almost completely, those that only his oldest friends and Sasuke knew. In both of his ears a few piercings that he for some reason refused to let go. All this had been the result of an adolescence no one would ever imagine he had.
That morning when he stood in front of the mirror, he hardly recognized himself... not his current self, instead it was like looking at who he was a few years ago, perhaps a little more toned by the physical training he underwent, but in essence was… him.
He remembered looking at his arm and wondering if he should remove his tattoos – something he did more often than he would like to admit – but he dismissed that idea immediately, those tattoos reflected his history, his parents' history, Sasuke's history and soon he would add a few more letters to his book.
He spent almost an hour studying himself before leaving. It was a good thing that the houses in his neighborhood were fenced off and a bit far apart, since he would be leaving without his car, and it was likely that at least his older neighbors would call the police after seeing him leave his own house.
There was no shortage of looks on his way: curiosity, frowns, nerves.
When he got on the bus to go downtown, he noticed a group of girls looking at him and whispering, a mother who pushed her son aside as he passed by, but the one who stood out the most was a man in a suit and briefcase, who raised his voice loud enough for everyone to hear after he sat in the same row of seats as him, being only separated by the aisle.
—It's incredible how they let criminals enter any place these days —he said, with a disgusted face —they should go to the sewers, where they belong —and in light of this a few expressed their sympathy with those words.
This increased the man's ego.
— Why do working people like us have to share our space with these rats? We'll walk out of here dead or sick!
Itachi ignored him, he knew without a doubt that those words were not addressed only to him since there were also boys belonging to some of the many urban tribes that were in the city, most of them ignored him and looked out a window or stood busy with their cell phones, only a girl with loud makeup seemed to want to say something, but she didn't dare.
From a very young age he´d been taught not to judge by appearance or dress, coming from a family where most had similar or even the same careers, it was well known that clothes did not define anyone, they had met admirable people dressed in neighborhood and the worst criminals wearing suits, so as far as he was concerned, this bus could contain an equal percentage of both.
—Tell me, you…— said the man, addressing him, pushing him roughly by the shoulder. —What kind of drugs do you sell? To know what to tell my children that they shouldn´t consume
Itachi just looked at him, says nothing.
—Did the cat get your tongue or did everything you put up to your nose melt your brain? — he teased, letting out a slight 'ts' when he finished, then turning to the girl from earlier and shoving her head. —What about you? What do your parents think of you wearing makeup like a whore? — And he continued to push her head.
In a quick movement Itachi grabbed his wrist, applying pressure and then pulling said part behind the man's head, who continued to complain.
—But what…?!— But he couldn't finish speaking, instead letting out a groan of pain.
The entire bus went silent and breaths stopped when, with his other hand, he slightly lifted his sweatshirt, probably thinking he was going to look for some kind of weapon, which made him laugh inside and instead he reached for his cell phone and let go the man, walking towards the door of the vehicle when it stopped at his destination, while everyone looked at him letting the bus.
He was finally in the Cultural District, and without wasting time he headed downtown, to a small tea shop where the last clue came from.
He took a seat in the far corner and waited for any suspicious movement, ordering black tea and a couple of sandwiches to blend in with the environment. The wait was long and every time he thought something might happen or someone of interest might turn up, it turned out to be something completely different and irrelevant to the case.
The waitress looked at him as if he had three heads as he ordered a fourth cup of tea and his second plate of dangos.
—I really like it here— was all he could say shrugging.
Almost an hour and a half later something unexpected happened.
Through the door came his old partner and one of the new guys from the barracks. It was likely they had been assigned to the case while he was gone, and then the anxiety came back to him.
With a gesture he called the waitress back and the girl seemed ready to take another order, instead he asked her for the bill, which she went to get and when she handed it to him, he quickly paid cash, leaving as a tip spare.
His attitude seemed to be suspicious to her, because when he was leaving he noticed out of the corner of his eye how they, she and his colleagues were looking at him, he left remaining as casual as possible and immediately mixed with the crowd of a nearby street when he noticed how his former partner was following him. Well, the whole situation had been unexpected and if anyone at the station found out what he was doing, then he would be in trouble, because what he was doing was essentially illegal.
Although that was his case, being away on vacation and relieved of his obligations, his case had passed into the hands of someone else, and it was difficult for them to give it to him again when he returned, for which he was interfering in an official matter, The consequences could be many: losing his job, being fined, incarcerated...
He hadn't thought it through.
He kept pacing here and there, he was sure he had already lost the man, but he couldn't trust himself.
As he continued walking, he kept looking into the distance, in alert in case he saw his old partner, so aware of it that he didn't keep his eyes straight ahead and collided with someone.
—Excuse me— he murmured without really paying attention, instead he turned around, deciding that it would be better to go home and avoid problems, but a soft hand stopped him by grabbing his arm, and he turned to apologize again.
But nothing came out of his mouth.
What were the possibilities? Of all the places he could see her again, this had to be it.
—I... Itachi? —she asked, uncertain and surprised, and he was a little shocked that she recognized him that fast.
—Hinata— he greeted, taking off his glasses and confirming his presence, he didn't know why he did it.
She smiled at him with surprise still painted on her face.
—I... almost didn't recognize you
—Then I almost got it right— he teased, smiling a little.
That seemed to make her doubt.
— Are you working? — she asked worriedly, looking both ways.
—No, I'm free in fact —he sought to reassure her taking her by the shoulders and smiling at her — What are you doing here? —he asked to change the subject.
—Ah, I was supposed to meet with Tenten to go to a friend's art exhibition, but… —she raised her hand where she had her cell phone — she just canceled —she sighed.
Her shoulders and smile fell, even under his hands he could feel the despondency she carried, so, considering that he had already been very close to being caught doing something he shouldn't, he decided it was better to fix his attention on something else.
That was what he told himself.
—I can come with you, if you don't mind— he told her with a smile as he released her.
—Would you do that for me? —Her face lit up, just like that day four months ago in the cafeteria —I don't want to impose on your time
—You're not imposing yourself on anything, on the contrary— he said —unless you don't want me to go— he joked.
She just smiled wider and he took it as an affirmation, without saying anything else he bowed slightly and pointed the way for her to walk ahead to lead the way.
He watched her as he followed closely behind her, ignoring the few people who looked at him suspiciously. Her hair was braided to one side, revealing her ear, in which, he noted with interest, rested a small solitary piercing at the top of her ear that he was ashamed he hadn't seen moments before. Her outfit differed a bit from the place, she was wearing high beige pants which hid the bottom of her floral top under it, with low heeled black shoes on her feet.
They arrived early at the art gallery and entered without any problem, admiring the works in silence, exchanging their opinions, and arguing a little when they disagreed greatly. She introduced him to her friend, to the creator of those works that were exhibited there, he congratulated him and then they continued their journey.
While they rested a bit on a bench in the small garden of that gallery, something had happened that he kept playing over and over again in his mind.
He had let go of his hair for a moment to re-comb it, but even before he could grab it to tie it back into, Hinata's hand gently stopped his wrist and the two of them stared at each other for a few seconds that seemed like hours.
—D-don't do it —was what she said —y-you look good with your hair down… I like it —she smiled.
He accepted it without thought, and as his hand descended, hers, still in contact with him, slowly unraveled until the sensation of her slender fingers flooded his palm, tickling a little, but it felt nice. It seems that she had realized that his gaze remained glued to that union they shared because she suddenly moved away, when he looked at her, she was already in profile, with her eyes lowered and what seemed to be a blush on her cheeks, while combing some strands invisible by wearing them behind her ear.
He found himself missing the feeling.
Unbeknownst to either of them, they ended up spending the rest of the day together, and when it was finally time for them to go their separate ways, he offered to accompany her, and she accepted. They shared a taxi, and though she insisted it wasn't necessary, he also insisted on walking her to her door.
She invited him in and although he was tempted to accept, he refused, it wasn't right.
He thought to recognize in her face something akin as disappointment, but he dismissed the idea immediately and regretfully, because that must certainly be quite far from reality.
And yet, they remained there, at her entrance, leaning against the door, chatting about everything that had happened on the day they spent together, and when there was nothing else to talk about, the topics that would generally seem irrelevant were the ones that dragged on the most, those which elicited the heartiest laughs Itachi hadn't had in a long time.
He learned things about her, such as that her career choice was inspired by her deceased mother, the woman who had almost entirely designed the house in which she lived, the house of her dreams that she never finished, or saw come true because she had died before any of those things happened. He learned that she was adept at cooking and they both shared an insane taste for impossibly sweet desserts, he learned about the tortuous past of her relationship with her cousin and her family in general, which seemed to have changed for the better at that time. She told him about her dreams of traveling to as many places as possible once she graduated, and he made a little "joke" about how he would go with her as her bodyguard, although he secretly didn't want to say it that way.
He also told her things about him, about his past, about his tattoos, about his parents and about… Sasuke. They were small details; however, they were details that he had never told anyone and that here they came out of his mouth without being able to stop them. He told her about how his childhood had not been as happy as everyone believed, that despite having his father's undivided attention he envied and longed for the attention his mother had given Sasuke to balance the whole situation and that, while his mother didn't treat him like his father did with Sasuke and showering him with as much love as she could, he had still felt jealous of the strong bond his little brother shared with her. Despite all that, he always tried to be the best older brother he could be, being loving and strict whenever the situation warranted it, always being proud of his brother and how he had tried to make him the best man he could be, but that in the end seemed to have failed.
—No, you didn't — she interrupted while she looked at him —you didn't fail— she repeated, —you…. You could have abandoned him, you're his brother, but you had no obligation to stay… but you did —she said and smiled at him, then turning her gaze to the front, avoiding his eyes —Sasuke… he's a bit strange, his way of doing things are… peculiar , b-but he does everything with good intentions —her look seemed lost —he owns his own mistakes, it's something he always told me while…—she stopped, biting her lip and Itachi knew what she meant, although she did not know that he had that knowledge —It was what he told me w-whenever we were together
Silence reigned, the two looked into the darkness of the night, sunk in their thoughts, strangely, what she told him seemed to have calmed something inside him.
A few minutes later he was aware of the darkness.
—I should be going now— he said, frowning when he took out his cell phone to call a taxi and saw that it was almost nine o'clock at night.
—I-I…— she hesitated to speak, but after a sigh she continued —W-wait here a minute— she said and turned the doorknob, walking in and being careless enough to leave it open.
He frowned as he absently listened to the line ring, worried that the entire time the door seemed to be unlocked and fully aware that she had never even produced a key.
After talking to the operator and giving the address for them to send a cab, he waited until Hinata came back and was going to tell her his thoughts on how careless and dangerous it is to leave a door unlocked in a house like that, but it was all erased when he realized what she was carrying in her hands.
—I wrote these letters for Sasuke— she said, seeing to be a bit embarrassed as she held out the small stack to him —I-I wanted to give them to you earlier, b-but I didn't want to interrupt your work…
When he took them, he noticed some things, like some envelopes had different colors and not the traditional white, others had small designs and he also noticed the scent of perfume they seemed to give off.
—I-I wrote him one every week and-and— To be relaying that information seemed to be embarrassing for her, judging by the way she covered her face with one of her hands.
He tried not to frown, but he could feel the tension in his pursed lips as he counted the cards in his hands and sure enough there were sixteen.
Nevertheless…
—I'll see what I can do —he lied shamelessly and interrupted her when she seemed to want to say something —my taxi has to be almost there, I'll wait for it in front —and he started walking, without looking back and although he was sure she wouldn't follow him, he could still feel her gaze fixed on him even when the darkness must already prevent her from seeing him.
When he got to the gate, his taxi was waiting for him.
The first thing he did upon arrival his house was to throw the letters on his bed and immediately flee to the bathroom, turning on the shower and only managing to take off his shoes and sweatshirt. He let out a heavy sigh that he didn't know he was holding and after a few minutes he took off the rest of his clothes. He stayed like that for about twenty minutes, feeling the warm water on every space of his skin without making a move, catatonic until his brain turned on again.
He dried himself off and then wrapped the towel around his hip, feeling slightly lighter but still trapped. His gaze flicked back and forth to the bed, to the cards, but he didn't come closer. He went to his closet intending to look for nightwear, but instead found himself taking a shoebox and tossing the loafers inside carelessly onto the floor. With the box still in one hand he walked over to the bed and sat down, not before taking out the first letter she had written and putting it inside.
Still without clothes, only covered by the damp towel, he sat on the bed with his back against the headboard and began to read the letters one by one.
They all began with dear…, my love…, some varying to I miss you and ended with come back soon or I miss you, and even with I'm waiting for you.
And he couldn't help but think that everything was so… molded, it was as if she couldn't express anything else, they were all basically the same as the first letter she gave him, with few differences like vaguely explaining what she had done in the week.
As he finished with each letter, he placed them inside the box in chronological order according to the dates she had written them, sometimes he stopped to smell them and wondered what kind of perfume was that that smelled so much like her, but as soon as he realized what he was doing, he put the letters inside the box.
When he finished, the only thought he had was that he needed to know more, and he was convinced that it was just his detective instinct making an appearance.
Deep down, he knew it wasn't that.
He didn't know when it happened, but he found himself with Sasuke's phone in his hand, waiting with a little less than his usual patience for it to finish turning on, and when it did, he waited even less patiently for the system to be ready to use.
The first thing he checked were the accumulated messages, four months seemed to be enough to make his asocial brother's cell phone overflowing with messages.
He quickly dismissed the messages from Naruto, Sakura and the few from a few other people, making a mental note to explain the reason for Sasuke's absence and continued until he reached the one he was looking for, that nameless contact with an impressive number of 256 messages.
And he read them all, many of them were good morning and good night, others were some I love you, and those were usually the only ones sent on a given day, but other days it was two, three, even four messages and those used to be the longer, but they did not lose the sweet tone of writing. Some small poems caught his attention and he wondered if they were hers or some little-known author, he should look for them to be sure, at least that's how it was until he got to the photos.
Her wardrobe of the day, as indicated by the little messages, landscapes, animals, innocent images.
Until they weren't.
-I bought this new lipstick; do you like it?
Followed by a picture of her bright red lips, lightly biting his bottom lip as he smiled.
-I didn't remember he had these boots!
followed by an emoji sticking out his tongue and three images where she was wearing three different pairs of boots; In the first, they were beige ankle boots, which she wore while sitting on her bed, with one leg bent and her cheek resting on her knee, while taking the photo in front of a full-length mirror, she was only wearing short pajamas.
The second pair were red with thin heels, so long that they almost reached her knees, for this image she was standing, with her legs slightly open and her hips to one side, only her legs and pajama pants were slightly visible.
The third image was with a pair of boots of the same model as the previous ones, but black, she stood sideways in front of the mirror, with the leg closest to the glass bent up and grabbing the knee while with the other he took the photo, taking from her legs to her waist.
And there was no trace of cloth.
Another of the images had no message at all, just a lot of lace underwear on the bed.
There were other images, such as one in which she asked his opinion about getting a tattoo on her inner thigh, in which she was only wearing underwear. Sasuke would probably say no to prevent anyone else from gaining access to that area, he himself would certainly say no.
One image he didn't want to admit bothered her was one of her and her cousin, Neji, standing side by side, chest to chest as they smiled at each other, on what looked like a day at the beach judging by the palm trees and people in the background in addition to the obvious clothing of both, he in shorts and she in a black bikini.
They didn't seem to be aware that the picture had been taken, and maybe that was why his hand was on the lower back of her, a little too low.
However, the last photo was the one that really made him forget how to breathe.
Lying on her bed, face down, her head on one of her arms and her legs in the air, naked. He could see the tops of her breasts, round and flattened against the mattress, he could see the curve of her buttocks and her slender figure, but if someone asked him what it was that affected him, he I would say that…
Her eyes.
Her eyes, looking straight into the mirror, straight into him, mysterious, exotic, mesmerizing. A look so strong that he could feel it as if she were really there.
He shifted slightly and bit back a groan, looking down to where he already knew his remarkable erection would be under the towel.
And he should have stopped, he should have turned off the cell phone and gone for another rather cold bath this time, and if that hadn't worked, maybe going out in search of some random female company, it wouldn't be difficult.
Instead, he found himself untying the towel and grasping his cock with one hand, stroking lightly, while with the other he searched, a little more desperately than he cared to admit, for the photos, the videos, that he knew were there.
It didn't take long to find his favorites, the ones he had seen over and over again on his laptop after backing up all the files on Sasuke's cell phone before throwing it away for four months in a desk drawer. His brother really should at least try to secure his cell phone, they could have prevented this all.
From his small selection, he started in the same order he always did, beginning with the one in which she submissively unzipped Sasuke's pants and took his dick in her hands, smiling at the camera as she stroked him, he brushed her hair away from her face, brushing it to the back of her ear, just as he had tried to do that day, and she lowered her face, giving little teasing licks before introducing his cock into her mouth, first a little, but as time went on, more came in, and more, and more. They came to the point where he tucks her by her hair and hold her still as he thrust wildly into her mouth. It was his favorite part, and he repeated it until he felt he needed more of it.
The next one started with her being penetrated hard from behind. How had they gotten there? He didn't know, did it matter? Not quite, the only thing that really mattered was the glorious moans that came from her, or the protest noises when the pace grew tortuously slow, but nothing was better than the moans she let out when he spanked her at the same time as he fucked her with hard thrusts, it was something that almost made him come just by listening to it. At some point he thought that he should soundproof his room and get a couple of speakers so he could hear her loudly without his neighbors thinking he was a pervert.
The next video started with her riding him with such need that it hurt, it was beautiful to see those breasts bouncing erratically, it was even better when he connected his laptop to his flat screen. The positions then changed, and she was the one on her back on the bed, with her legs bent on either side of her seeking better penetration. Her breasts held all of his attention though. And then she came and so did he.
The last video, among all, was his favorite, an "I love you" that he would repeat until his ears bled if possible.
Then came the guilt, because he had done this, because it wasn't the first time and because he didn't think it would be the last. Guilt because even though he had avoided closing his eyes as much as possible, he had still imagined himself in Sasuke's place, he imagined himself being the recipient and giver of pleasure, because he wanted it to be him, not his brother. Guilt because, in simple terms, he was doing the same thing that Sasuke did, the same thing why he had pushed his brother out of the way, he had listened to his morals and now his morals were hanging in the balance, waiting for the moment when it would finally break. He was terrified to know what he would do the moment if that happened.
But he wanted to know.
he wanted to know what.
He wanted to know when.
He wanted to know where.
He wanted to know how.
Because if he knew, he could do it differently, he could do it better, then he would be better, his morale would be saved.
So, he would prepare better and be better.
After all, Itachi Uchiha was always better.
The Uchiha are crazy.
Thanks for the comments!
