Chapter Six

"Thank you, I'm stuffed," I said as Itachi took away the halfway eaten pasta filled plate to the sink to wash it. I half ran to the freezer and took out the Cherry Popsicle, hoping the taste would cleanse my palette. I vowed to never let him cook for me again.

"Why didn't you eat?" I asked him, but I knew I was glad he didn't eat. If he had, it would have been so embarrassing for him to taste that and know I had eaten it too…at least, I would have been embarrassed.

"I ate before I came." He said, although a bit too quickly, like it was an automatic answer to the question I asked.

"Oh…" I said.

"I will be outside your window. Goodnight, Sakura." He said, getting up and walking towards the door.

"Er…Itachi?" he turned around to face me. "Thank you again for the dinner." He nodded and walked outside.

The door shut, and I walked upstairs to my bathroom. The first thing I did was brush my teeth, attempting to rid any traces of my dinner out of my mouth. I stepped in the shower, washing my hair and body quickly, but I stayed in the water until it started to cool, my hands pruny and my feet tinted red from the heat. I wrapped the towel around my body; usually, at this time of night, I would just walk naked from my bathroom to my room and just get dressed with my towel still wrapped around my head. Now that I had Uchiha boys and…men running around my house, I felt it appropriate that I kept all parts of me covered at all times. Well, with the exception of this morning and the whole Sasuke-nightdress incident. I blushed at the memory.

I turned my light off and cracked my door open, keeping the hallway light on. I'd always slept that way since my childhood. I wasn't so much scared of the dark anymore as it was a habit. I slid onto my bed, a relieved sigh escaping from my lips until my foot hit something hard at the end of the bed. My laptop! My homework! I groaned as I sat up, pulling the laptop into my lap and touching the mouse pad so it awoke from sleep mode.

I turned the brightness down because it hurt my eyes, but my whole room was still lit up with the soft glow. At least I liked to write; it made writing an analytical paper on Nathaniel Hawthorne all that more bearable. I began to type about melancholy moods and his dark settings, completely preoccupied with what I was doing. Completely concentrated on my paper, I didn't feel the warm presence near my right arm, and I jumped when he spoke.

"What are you writing?" I looked up at him, his head cocked to read my paper. I flushed and put the top down a little so he couldn't read. I disliked when anyone read my writing before it was finished; it was still rough and unfinished. He chuckled. "Is it that bad?"

"No, I just don't like people reading my unfinished works." I said, smiling apologetically. I noticed Itachi was close enough to see me clearly, but there was a good few feet between him and the bed. The last time Itachi had been in my room, I had been clutching him after my nightmare. I felt the heat on my face…how embarrassing. Perhaps that's why he refused to get closer.

"Are you like that with everything?" Itachi asked, his head still cocked in a quirky, curious manner. A confused expression twisted my face.

"What do you mean?"

"Well…" Itachi began, clearly hesitant to tell me what he meant. I noticed his stance…straight back, arms behind his back. If he were wearing a suit with tails, a hat and a monocle he could have been stepping straight out of the nineteenth century. A smile graced my lips at the thought of him speaking in a british accent instead of his sultry voice I had come to adore. He must have found my smile to be an encouraging one because he continued. "When I was first assigned to be your night watch, I did a little…walk through of your room." He stopped there, waiting for a reaction from me. It did irk me; I valued my privacy very much and he hadn't even asked. But, I hated to say that I was curious to what he was trying to say and ultimately, because it was Itachi, I didn't care. And that bothered me. If Sasuke was to look through my things…an image of me strangling him while holding him half outside my open window put a darker grin on my face. Itachi's eyebrow rose but he began speaking again. "I know it was rude of me, I should have asked your permission but to be honest, at the time I felt I had the right because I was protecting you. I'm sorry."

"It's fine," I told him, and I knew it really was. "

"I saw your paintings and sketches. I was…impressed. You're a very accomplished girl." Itachi's compliment made my heart beat faster. "But I noticed that the ones you are finished with you have out in the open, where they are visible. The ones you haven't finished you hide." I put my head down, but looked up at him through my lashes, slowly nodding.

"Yes, I prefer people to see them after I've completed them." I told him.

"Michelangelo was the same," He told me. "It took him almost four years to complete the ceiling of the Sistine Chapel. No one was allowed in except his assistants for the whole four years it took him to complete it." I wasn't as interested in his story as I was just hearing him talk, but I would nod my head every now and then to let him know I was paying attention. I wondered if he was making this up…he appeared to be able to cook and then he couldn't. Was this really history or was he mistaking painters? I decided I'd look it up later.

"Are you interested in art too?" I asked him sinking down into my covers again and folding my hands onto my stomach. I used to sit like this, staring up at my mother instead of Itachi when she would tell me bed time stories. They were always about a little pink haired princess who, instead of waited in towers to be rescued, would go out on adventures and save the kingdom herself. Then she would fall in love with a lowly squire, who was the only one to accept her because she was the one doing the saving. As I grew older I knew this to be an impossibility; what man would want to be with someone who didn't need him? I found it funny that I was so unlike the strong princess my mother probably imagined to be when I grew up. I was constantly dependent on the people around me; Tsunade, Sasuke, the Hawks, Gaara…and Itachi. Did he feel as inconvenienced as I feared he felt?

"To be honest, I've never had the passion for art and sculpture as much as I'm sure my family would want me to be. In a family like mine, being accomplished is almost forced down your throat. I have swallowed it more gracefully than Sasuke has. I—oddly—admire him for his rebelliousness," he said, the corners of his mouth edging up in a half smile. "Except when it puts you in danger." He added, his eyes locking onto mine. My breath caught in my throat. "For some reason, though your art I find very intriguing." I turned on my side, resting my head in the crook of my elbow.

"What about it do you find so fascinating?" I asked, a smile playing on my lips. I was genuinely curious, mainly because he was intrigued by something I had done.

"It seems like it has…two sides," he started, though it seemed as if he was choosing his words very meticulously. "Like your painting of the flowers in your front yard. It's very beautiful, and the colors used are light…mmm, almost flashy colors. But if you weren't looking for it, you wouldn't see the butterfly, which appears to be resting on a flower in the background, is actually caught in a spider's web. I'm not sure if that was done on purpose, or if it was simply the scene you were painting. It's a very happy picture, but with a very dark portrayal of life." I frowned a little. The way he was describing it, it made me sound like I was some sadistic painter who only valued painting art that showed the darker side of life.

"You're angry with my critique." He stated more than questioned, but amusement was still exposed in his eyes.

"No, I'm not angry." I said quickly. I could never be angry with him… "It's just, I didn't mean to make it dark. I just paint what my hand tells me to."

"Interesting," he said, and I could feel that our conversation was over. I didn't want it to be over so badly that it physically hurt. I scanned my brain, trying to think of anything to talk about in this awkward silence but I couldn't, I was too flustered.

"What do you like to do, Itachi?" I asked, placing my two hands in a praying position under my head, propping it higher up so I could see him better. He was now leaning against my bedside table, facing away from me, yet his eyes still focused on me.

"Read," he told me. My ears perked at his answer. I liked to read, too. "About everything. Fiction, non-fiction it doesn't really matter. But only about things that interest me."

"What interests you?" I asked him in almost a whisper; I was getting tremendously sleepy.

"A lot of things. Biographies interest me, but not of normal people. Mostly serial killers; nothing a girl should have to read." He said, smiling a little. "I find it captivating, the way they think of things. Why they want to kill so willingly…no one has ordered them to kill another person, they weren't forced. How can they voluntarily end the life of another human being?"

"You'd be surprised how easy it is," I mumbled. "When I was younger, I promised myself that if I ever caught the guy who killed my parents…" I trailed off, zoning in and out of consciousness. The last thing I felt—though I wasn't positive—was a light hand brushing my bangs out of my face and then gliding down my face to my chin.

I woke up earlier than usual, which surprised me since I stayed up so late talking with Itachi. Itachi! I sat up and looked around my room. My laptop sat on my bedside table, and he had pulled my sheets up onto my body. I sat there for a while, rethinking what had happened last night. I had a full conversation with Itachi. I smiled then giggled like a child, throwing myself into my pillow to laugh harder. I didn't know what it was; I hardly knew him. Was it because he was good looking? I didn't know, but something pulled me to him; the only thing I could think of to describe the feeling was gravity and the earth. Did he feel the same? Or was I a foolish schoolgirl who jumped on anything that moved? All I knew is that I wanted to become closer to Itachi, who mystified me like no other. He was so business like and stoic that I felt I was hoping too much on learning more about him. I sighed and got up to go to my bathroom. I felt like putting on make-up today. I tried to convince myself that it wasn't to impress anyone, I just felt like I should but that wasn't fooling anyone.

The next week, I didn't even remember school anymore. It was monotonous; Sasuke picked me up, took me to school, took me home. Because we were still angry with each other, it left little room for conversation. I lived to go home, to wait until nightfall for Itachi to come. We would sit and talk until 2 in the morning, and I would either fall asleep or he would tell me to rest so I would.

Some of our conversations would begin to get deep and interesting, but Itachi always pulled it back up to surface conversation. Everyday, I felt like I was chipping away at the professional, emotionally wall-separating Itachi, but sometimes I could feel the wall there still. It was on our eighth late night conversation when Itachi's wall was broken…but it seemed only like moments.

"I think our childhoods were similar," I had begun. "Without parents. I mean, you still had your father but you know what it's like to lose one." I said, fidgeting with my discomfort.

"No," Itachi said, his voice growing cold. "When my mother died, I lost my father as well. He was always an unattached man but when we lost my mother, any paternal care he had for us vanished. A new person…cruel and controlling, trying to mold us into perfect heirs for his perfect company. Always we had unrelenting training, schooling and punishments for the smallest things." He was no longer looking at me, but his clenched hands. I had never noticed the small white patches of scarred skin on the palms of his hands. They looked almost like…crosses. It was too dark in my room to be sure. My hand instinctively found his, gripping it. It was meant to be a comforting gesture but he stood up and my hand fell to my side.

"You should sleep," he mumbled, and left. I sighed with discontent as he left. So close to breaking that barrier, and then failure.

Itachi didn't come and speak with me the next night. I began to worry…did I say something? Miss something? I tip-toed over to my window, trying to be a surreptitious as possible as I checked to make sure the window wasn't locked. It wasn't. I went over to my bed and stayed awake until three, finally falling to sleep when my body just couldn't take waiting any longer.

-Itachi's Point of View

I saw a pink head bob up from the bottom of the window and I smiled. What was she doing now? If she was trying to be inconspicuous she was doing a horrible job. My smile faded from my lips. I knew she was wondering why I wasn't talking to her, but I had broken a very important code yesterday. I had gotten emotionally attached to Sakura. I had trusted her enough to tell her about my father. If anyone from Akatsuki found out about this…

That's why I couldn't face her today. I couldn't talk as much with her anymore, as much as I found her completely captivating, and not just her looks. True, she was a gorgeous girl. Her big, curious green eyes, her pale complexion. But the way she presented herself. With her confidence, inquisitive deposition and kind acceptance. But it was also the way she looked at me. She probably didn't notice, but sometimes a frustrated look would come on her face when she looked at me. Was she angry with me? Was she perturbed with something I said? I didn't know, which fascinated me even more. She was also a client. And I wasn't doing my job by sitting there talking with her. I should be out here, protecting her from the people who were trying to harm her. I wouldn't let it happen.

sorry for the shortness of this chapter, something came up to cut it short but I really wanted to get this out for you guys, so i apologize again. Suggestions, comments, concerns anything is encouraged. (: