A/N: Written for akitotsubaki during Dark Month. Day 25, exorcisms.
"You do know that you don't actually want me to go, right?"
Shisui speaks quietly, the inquiry purred right into his ear as if he's trying not to draw the priest's attention to him. When Itachi turns, just a fraction, they're close enough that he should feel the heat of Shisui's breath on his lips. He does not, knows that there's no way he'd be able to, knows that missing that heat- that slight tickle is ridiculous.
Before him, Shisui's form cracks and flickers, reforms.
Shisui looks angry.
"I cannot believe that you called a priest, Itachi," he hisses, spitting sparks. On the wall, a picture rattles in its frame- a picture of them, two years ago at the family lake house. They're happy, Shisui grinning with an arm thrown around his shoulders. Itachi thinks that it might have been his mother who had taken the photo.
The lake house is familiar, too familiar, and Itachi wonders if Shisui realizes the inadvertent target of his rage is a photograph taken on the day that Itachi killed him.
"You," Shisui continues, stalking across the floor towards the priest as if he can really do anything at all. The man just goes on, prayers spilling from his lips like poison. Shisui trembles and the floor quakes. "An exorcism, Itachi? Really?" he sneers, pale lips curling back in derision. He flicks a finger through Father Reynold's forehead, grins when the man reels backward.
Itachi frowns. He hadn't been able to touch things this morning.
Quietly, he steps forward. Hands the Father his fee and pushes him towards the door while Shisui smolders behind him.
"Are you quite sure, Itachi? I'm not sure if it's," the old man pauses, casts an eye around the empty apartment- overturned lamps, charred mats, a shredded futon. "-safe, right now." Itachi nods, smiles politely- reassures him that it will be fine.
After one last blessing, the man finally leaves, wandering down the barren hallway without a backwards glance. Itachi shuts the door, leans back on it. Closes his eyes.
Moments pass and his skin prickles, gooseflesh- the fine hairs of his arm standing on end. A moment more and the touch solidifies a bit, the press of Shisui's hand on his arm like touching an open socket. It hurts.
When he opens his eyes, Shisui is there, expression a bit sheepish. "You do know that, right Itachi? That you don't want me to leave?"
His voice is quiet, calm. Itachi feels like he is going mad, because he cannot say anything to that, can't deny it, because Shisui is right.
The lake had been so cold that day, the river that emptied into it even colder from the thawing of the mountain's snow. But Shisui had insisted, C'mon Itachi, midnight swim. They'll never know. And Itachi had smiled and given up the warmth of their shared futon to follow Shisui out to the river. It was dark, and quiet, no moon in the sky and Itachi had let Shisui get in first- turned his back to remove his shirt and when he'd looked back, Shisui was gone.
They found his body three days later, bloated from river water and pale, lifeless. Too strong currents, icy waters, drowning.
When Itachi had finally ventured back to their shared apartment, Shisui had been waiting for him.
It had been nice at first. They didn't talk about it, didn't talk about that lake house or that trip. All the same, it was nice to be near him again. To see him and hear his laugh, even if his form flickered like static and he had a tendency to forget himself and drop right through the floor.
"I didn't mean to."
Quiet, barely breathed. He wonders if Shisui heard him.
The grip on his arm solidifies more, less of an open outlet, more of an electrical storm. A kiss that tastes of ozone and graveyard soil brushes against his lips and he sighs and pushes the guilt aside when Shisui smiles and says, "I know. I never blamed you."
Benediction. Exorcisms become unnecessary.