My Obsession, My Possession

~Chapter Five – Headlights~

He ran, faster than he had ever run in his life, even compared to the day he was chased through the alleyway after school.

He didn't know where he was going. Up the stairs, through the door. A hallway. Three doors to choose from, he chose the first on the left. More running, another hallway, another door on the left. It was a room filled with boxes, an old sofa and a bar stool. There was a window, but he didn't stop to look through it, though he probably should have.

He took the door next to it, but it was just another storage room. Finally, the door on the right opened up to a room that looked like a lounge, but there was no one inside. Sasuke entered, gasping for breath, and ran to the window. He was correct—the room he had been staying in was the basement, and this, thankfully, was the first floor. He peered out the window at what looked like a garden; nothing but grass, flowers and trees. Picturesque.

Adrenaline surged through his veins as he searched the room for something to break the glass with. There was nothing he could easily lift, so he grabbed a beautiful, delicate looking vase and smashed it against the window. As to be expected, the vase shattered, and the window survived with only a small crack. Frustrated, Sasuke banged his fist against it, hitting a bit harder than he meant to. The crack grew, but the glass did not break.

He glanced around the room again, until finally his eyes found their way to the curtain rod above the window. It was wooden, and not very fancy like everything else in the room. Not very effective, but his best option at this point. He quickly snatched it and ripped the flimsy white curtains off, then drove it through the glass like a sword. The crack erupted around the wooden pole, leaving a jagged hole as big as a basketball. Not big enough. Swinging the rod like a bat, Sasuke struck the glass and it shattered with a deafening crash. For a severe moment, Sasuke regretted it as shards of glass sprayed everywhere, some pieces imbedding themselves in his hands, arms and face. It stung, but the adrenaline roaring in his body subdued the pain. He had no time to worry about it—he would clean himself up once he was outside and a safe distance from this damned place.

"Hey—what the hell do you think you're doing?"

A voice, deep and accusatory pulled him away from his moment of triumph. He dropped the rod, it clattered noisily against the polished marble floor. Sasuke spun around, coming face to face with a man who looked just as irritated as he did amused. Sasuke was beside himself, it was as though his brain completely shut off. He didn't even consider the possibility that there would be other people in this building. And now he was confused. There were other people, wasn't that a good thing? Maybe they had no idea Itachi was keeping him here, maybe they would help him. But this man's eyes—well, eye, the other was covered by a lock of golden hair—did not seem friendly. If anything, Sasuke immediately felt as though this man immensely despised him. He seemed malevolent, as if he would go out of his way to ensure that Sasuke suffered terribly.

"Itachi's little brother?" the man asked as he stepped closer, surveying the damage from the broken window, the shattered vase, the torn curtains and the splintered curtain rod. "You look just like him."

At the mention of his brother's name, Sasuke felt his blood run cold, the adrenaline slipped away. Itachi. Before this week, no one had said that name in front of him for almost five years. It brought back his old feelings of grief and longing, but they were instantaneously swept aside by new feelings of fear and resentment. Itachi. That man really was Itachi, he could no longer deny it. The man who had kidnapped, imprisoned and humiliated him was definitely his long-lost older brother.

Suddenly, Sasuke's knees felt weak. Every muscle in his legs went slack, as if something had surged through his body and stolen all his energy. He felt so very tired, like he wanted to give up and slouch against the nearest wall. But he couldn't, not when his escape was so close, not when he was only a second away from being free, from going home.

The man stood a few feet in front of him and stared. He made no move to invade Sasuke's space or try to drag him back to the dungeon. Sasuke decided then and there, if he came any closer, he would attack. He would not be taken again without a fight.

But the man did not seem to want to get involved in his affairs. He simply watched, still amused, as Sasuke's mentality bounced around on the emotional spectrum. Sasuke half-expected him to pull up a chair and grab a bowl of popcorn; he seemed to want nothing more than to be a spectator in Sasuke's attempt to escape. Finally, he spoke,

"You'll cut yourself up pretty badly trying to climb through that window, y'know."

"That doesn't matter." It surprised him to hear his own voice; it sounded so much different from the quiet voice of his mind that whispered his thoughts.

"Why don't you use the door ?" the man asked, as if he was answering the stupidest and most obvious question he'd ever been asked.

Sasuke felt frustrated and emotionally drained as he replied, "I don't know where it is, and I don't have the time to go looking for it."

And then, the man smirked, and raised his right arm calmly to point to the door beside him.

"Go in there. Take the door on your left and go down the hallway. The door at the end leads to the foyer… and the front door."

Sasuke studied the man sceptically. Why should he believe him? He was Itachi's friend—probably—and he didn't seem to particularly care about his predicament. So warily, the boy asked, "Why are you helping me?"

And that question actually brought some emotion to the blonde man's face; suppressed rage, resentment and hostility. His one visible blue eye was swollen with unmitigated fury. "Do you want the truth?" and he crossed his arms and turned his head away, his voice dripping with bitterness. "I hate your brother."

And that was convincing enough for Sasuke. Whoever this man was, whoever he was to Itachi, the expression on his face and the timbre of his voice in that one moment completely wiped away any doubts he had that this man would ever help Itachi keep him prisoner, even if he despised Sasuke just for being related to Itachi.

So he said nothing more and followed the man's direction into the next room. It seemed to be a meeting room of some kind—there was a large rectangular table in the center, and the only other furniture in the room were about a dozen or so chairs. There was a door directly across from him, and as he turned to the left wall he was met by another dilemma—there were two left doors.

He opened the first one which led to a hallway. At the end of the hallway was, in fact, another door. Just to be sure, he checked the other door, and was bemused to discover it led to the exact same thing. God damn it.

He went back into the previous room, but the angry blonde man was already gone. Fuck, he was so screwed.

Relying on nothing but luck, Sasuke chose the one on the left of either of them, hoping that is what the man meant by "the door on your left". He walked briskly down the hallway, no longer having the energy to run, but before he could reach it the door opened, and there stood Itachi with a white bandage wrapped around his forehead.

Sasuke felt like his heart had stopped, but in reality it had begun beating so fast it was hammering against his ribs. Itachi looked just as surprised, and then his expression became unreadable, if not a little bit angry and disappointed.

Before either of them could say anything, the door behind Sasuke opened as well, and two men entered the hallway. The first, dressed in a rich designer suit with a wrinkled face and black, soon-to-be-gray hair, stopped immediately when he saw the two brothers. The man behind him, who was significantly taller and more muscular, grinned like a maniac at the scene, revealing a hideous mouth of sharpened teeth.

Itachi's face paled as he locked eyes with the shorter, older man, and that made Sasuke extremely nervous. He had never seen his brother look… anxious, much less intimidated by another human being.

It was unfamiliar and it made his skin crawl.

"Itachi." The man's voice was much deeper than Sasuke thought it would be, "Would you care to explain yourself?"

Sasuke looked back at his brother, who suddenly appeared to be very ill. His fists were clenching, and while Sasuke could not take his eyes away from the completely bizarre sight, he felt the other man's eyes burning into the back of his head.

"Madara," his voice was not as clear, nor as smooth. "It was an accident. It won't happen aga—"

"I've told you before, Itachi." the man's voice was deadly calm, it made both the brothers shiver. "I don't mind you keeping your brother here as long as he does not cause trouble. It's only been a few days, and yet he has already destroyed several pieces of my property." Sasuke could tell by the tone in the man's voice, he did not give a fuck about the broken furniture. It wasn't the damaged property he cared about at all—no, his problem was with Sasuke.

"This is your last warning, Itachi," and for a moment he locked eyes with Sasuke, and the boy immediately understood why his brother had turned so pale. The man's eyes were terrifying.

"If he causes anymore trouble, he dies."

Naruto hated himself more than he would ever admit.

He hated himself when Sasuke went missing, though he knew there was no way he could have prevented it. He hated himself for not telling Sasuke every single day that he was like a brother to him; that he would do anything to keep him safe and he loved him. He had never said it, not once, and now Sasuke was gone.

He hated himself when Sakura become mad with grief and refused to leave her room, and he could do nothing to comfort her. Her mother begged him to do anything, but he was no good to Sakura as long as his heart was also filled with grief.

And finally, he hated himself for his owns thoughts, his thoughts of whether or not he and Sakura were dating now.

Sasuke was kidnapped and he was thinking about his romance with Sakura. He hated himself.

It wasn't his fault really—when he had gone to see her, she had clung to him and begged him to make her feel better, and then kissed him. What was he supposed to do? He had loved Sakura since elementary school, and now here she was, clinging to him and begging him and kissing him. He was only human, after all. So he kissed back, and one thing led to another, and before he knew it they were lying naked, clinging to each other, and Sakura cried until she passed out from exhaustion and he was left there in silence to question their situation and hate himself.

He shouldn't even be here, he told himself. He should be running through the city streets, knocking on every single door until he found Sasuke, never resting or stopping until he had his friend back. Instead he was sleeping with their best friend and wallowing in his self pity like a pathetic child.

He really hated himself.

What if Sasuke was dead? What if, the moment he entered Sakura, Sasuke had been shot right in the head and died.

Suddenly he couldn't lie there anymore. He jumped from the bed and threw his clothes on—Sakura woke up, but she didn't even bother to look at him, she just curled into a ball and faced away—and then he was running from her bedroom, down the stairs and out the front door, crying like a snivelling little brat all the way home.

Sasuke wondered over and over again why he didn't run for it the moment he was alone with Itachi.

His brother was probably faster, he knew, but didn't he owe it to himself to try? Instead he walked silently behind his brother all the way back to the basement. Itachi's aura had changed, and he didn't like it. He couldn't tell if he was angry or depressed, but either way, he was silent and wouldn't look at Sasuke and that made him extremely uncomfortable.

When they reached the bottom of the stairs, Sasuke saw the door for the first time.

Chains. Chains criss-crossing over it in every direction, overlapping, intertwining. Chains bolted to the wall and fastened together with unbreakable metal clamps. Chains coiling around each other and pinning the door shut like a straightjacket.

Sasuke couldn't breathe. The anxiety of knowing exactly where he had been all this time swelled inside him; he truly was a prisoner, that door like something from a horror movie; the dungeon where a serial killer keeps his virgin victims locked up and waiting to be eviscerated.

Itachi began unfastening them, and Sasuke couldn't move. He couldn't even look away. His blood was racing rapidly through his veins, pounding in his ears, blurring his sight. His limbs felt heavy and dead, like liquid cement clinging to his fractured bones. He wanted to collapse on the floor and smash his face repeatedly into the carpeted concrete, leaving a gaping hole in his forehead and pieces of his mind literally shattered on the ground.

Itachi finished undoing all the locks and opened the door, looking back at his brother expectantly. Waiting for him to enter, the way the naïve virgin climbs into the back of the serial killer's truck, thinking he's really going to give her a lift home. Sasuke couldn't do it. He was scared. He was too scared to move even the tiniest muscle; even his brain began shutting down. Fight. Flight. Freeze.

Frozen, that was it; the way a deer freezes when you're driving towards it, and you honk your horn but the damn thing won't budge because it's too stupid and scared to realize that it's about to fucking die, and you're going too fast to hit the brakes so you speed up, because that's what you're supposed to do, so the damn thing won't crash through your windshield and kill your whole fucking family.

Itachi was about to crash into him and he couldn't move, so logically Itachi was going to speed up and gun him down, so that only one man died tonight.

Itachi was still looking at him expectantly. Keep staring, asshole. He was not going to enter. He was not going to run head-first into an oncoming vehicle. He would rather stand here and wait for impact. Any second now. Any second…

His brother grew impatient and grabbed his wrist, heaving his upper body to fling Sasuke ungracefully into the room. With a groan, the younger fell to his knees, nearly smacking his face into the floor and he knelt there, still too troubled to get up; too frenzied to realize when his brother locked the door and knelt behind him.

The cold hand on his bare back sent a jolt of numbness through his body. Itachi was shameless, sticking his hand beneath his shirt like that with no warning. But then again, this was nothing compared to everything else his brother had done. This wasn't even close.

Itachi ran his hand further up his brother's back, feeling the way the skin trembled and shivered to his touch, and wishing his brother would turn around and look at him. He could handle Sasuke being angry with him, even hating him, but he could not bear it if Sasuke wouldn't even acknowledge he was there, like he didn't exist. That was the worst. That was worse than anything else he could do.

Itachi removed his hand and stood, staring down at his brother with unreadable eyes. He lifted his shirt above his head and pulled it off, letting it fall to the floor. Sasuke still didn't look at him. He unfastened his belt, unzipped his pants and threw them down to his ankles where he stepped out of them, gently kicking them out of the way. He did the same with his boxers.

When he was completely naked, he got back down on his knees behind his brother. It was cold in here, he thought, but he would fix that soon.

Sasuke must look at him. He must see his brother's eyes, he didn't care what emotions whirled inside them.

All the waiting and the suffering. He just wanted Sasuke to look at him. He had to do something to get his attention.

He would accept hate. Hate was not the furthest thing from love, contrary to what people believed.

The opposite of love is indifference.

He slipped both of his hands inside his brother's shirt, running them up along his back to his shoulders. He kneaded the muscles gently, coaxing his brother to loosen up a little bit, but Sasuke remained frozen.

He brought his hands back down and grabbed the hem of the shirt, lifting it and pulling it over the boy's head. Sasuke seemed confused, but he still didn't look back, letting the shirt stay tangled up in his arms, only halfway off.

Itachi studied the sight of his brother's perfect back, every curve and the unmarred white skin, smooth and untouched. He wanted to touch it, but he wasn't done yet. He reached around to his brother's front, pulled the shirt off of his arms, like undressing a child. Sasuke was completely malleable at this point. He just did not care.

Leaving the shirt where it was on the floor, Itachi lowered his hand to the button on Sasuke's jeans, ready to open it. But Sasuke's own hand shot up quickly, grabbed his wrist, and Sasuke trembled once, tightening his grip. Itachi inclined his head in an attempt to meet his brother's eyes, but Sasuke looked away. He did not want to look.

His hand released the jeans' button and attempted to move away, so Sasuke let it go. The boy slumped back into his porcelain doll figure, much to Itachi's chagrin. He was hoping Sasuke would make a fuss. Oh well, he would just have to push him a bit further, right?

His left hand came around and snatched Sasuke's left wrist in a tight grip. Reflexively, Sasuke used his right hand to try and pull his other free, and Itachi took advantage of the opportunity and took hold of both the boy's wrists in one hand. Sasuke pulled and struggled to get free, but the more he pulled away from Itachi's hand, the closer he came to Itachi's naked body, and after brushing his back against his brother's nude chest for the third time, he surrendered to the fact that he was caught, and ceased to struggle for freedom.

Itachi moved in close, pressing his chest to his brother's back. He kissed the side of his brother's face tenderly, letting the feel of his lips linger, sensing the way it made Sasuke internally convulse. He began to litter kisses along the boy's neck and across his shoulder, his free hand trailing down the trembling torso to caress the skin above the pants' hem. Sasuke shifted, trying to wriggle his way out of his brother's grasp, away from the sickening touch, but he was trapped in his brother's hands. The muscles in his thighs twitched, his urge to run suppressed, his spine hardening like a statue. He wanted to scream so loud that the sound would be white and silent. He clenched his teeth.

His brother wasted no time; he unfastened the front of his pants and spread the fabric open, the cool air washed over the boy's crotch like ointment on a burn; sudden and shocking and unpleasantly pleasant. He shut his eyes, lowering his head to hide his ashamed face, as his elder brother spread the fabric wider to slip it easily down the boy's hips.

He lifted Sasuke up just a bit by his wrists so that he could effectively remove the pants and boxers beneath. When he had successfully pulled all clothing away from his treasure, he released his brother's wrists and pulled him back onto his lap. Sasuke fought to hold in his groans of discomfort, but a shocked gasp escaped from him when his lower back came into brute contact with his brother's cock, erect and ready for the moment Sasuke had been dreading.

Itachi should have been questioning his actions, but there was no time to think. The moment he felt his cock press against his brother's perfect naked skin, the reason and rationality slipped away from him all at once. He had pictured this moment in his head more times than he could count; his brother, obstinate, angry and confused, would scream obscenities as his older brother pinned him to the bed. He would struggle, but Itachi's weight would leave him immobile, and after a long while of futile resistance, he would surrender and go lifeless. He would realize that he had lost, and then Itachi would be free to commit his heinous sin. Whatever happened next was always censored in Itachi's mind. He could connect the dots; he knew what events took place, but the image of it was nonexistent; just a giant black cloud covering his inner sight.

When that part was over, his brother was always panting and naked, skin flushed several brilliant different shades. He would have that deliciously hollow look in his eyes, too tired from the act to say a thing, but beneath that exhausted visage, there would be a ghost of a smile—a tiny curl at the corner of his lips that reassured his brother that everything would be okay.

A voice in the back of Itachi's mind told him that that was completely unrealistic, that people did not smile after being raped unless they were completely deranged. He always ignored that voice. The very idea that this would end any differently was unconceivable to Itachi—in his mind, there was no way this could have a negative outcome. After all, didn't he know Sasuke better than anyone? And Sasuke loved him too, more than anybody else in the world. Things would go the way he wanted. There would be no consequences. It was perfect. Sasuke was perfect.

It was in this moment of consoling, that Itachi asked himself why he was doing this. Was it lust? Yes, that was partially it. Physically, he wanted Sasuke. Was it love? No, he did love Sasuke, but he would never hurt him like this in the name of love. Was it power? Itachi wondered that himself; was he just as bad as other rapists, who aren't really looking for sexual gratification, they just want to dominate something, make someone else be the victim. No, that wasn't it, either. Itachi knew he had more power than Sasuke. He didn't need to violate him to prove it.

Did he think that committing a sexual act would make Sasuke fall in love with him?

No. Itachi wasn't an idiot, he knew that that was ridiculous. It would never work. People don't fall in love with their rapists.

Itachi knew why. He didn't need to question himself like this.

Sasuke would never love him back, not in the same way. The chance of Sasuke falling in love with his estranged older brother—especially after all this—was impossible. Itachi believed this with every fibre of his being; there was nothing he could ever do that would make Sasuke love him back. They were brothers. He couldn't change that.

Maybe he couldn't make Sasuke love him, but he could make Sasuke need him. Sasuke had always depended on other people—his foster-father, his friends—and Itachi had destroyed that already, by taking him away from those people, forever. But there was one person Sasuke could still depend on—himself. Sasuke was independent and strong, and no matter how bad things got, he always found a way to pick himself back up. He was self-reliant, and while Itachi was proud of him for that, he had to destroy it. Sasuke couldn't be allowed to rely on anyone except Itachi. Not even himself.

There was no better way to take away someone's independence than by making them hate themselves. And there was no better way to make someone hate themselves than by making them uncomfortable inside their own body.

After this, Itachi knew Sasuke would never be right again. He wouldn't find any solace within himself; no comfort or inner peace. He would have nowhere to go where he could banish the terrible memories. He would hate himself. He would hate being inside his own body, the feel of his own skin would torment him. He would do anything to get away from the agony, and Itachi would be there for him; his only refuge, his only means of escape. And after a long time of teaching his little brother that the only person he could trust and depend on was Itachi, he'd be able to grant him some of his freedom back, and they would escape from Madara and find a place where they could live and die, in twisted happiness.

If Sasuke had nowhere else to turn, he would turn to his brother, and Itachi would become his only lifeline. It wasn't love, but it was better than nothing. Sasuke needing him was better than Sasuke not caring for him at all.

It was better than being just a brother.

His conscience absolved, Itachi lifted his brother and carried him over to the futon. Sasuke made no move to escape when he was dropped onto his back; he merely turned his head to hide his face from his brother's eyes. Itachi walked over to where he had left his pants in a messy heap, and fished through the pockets until he found the bottle of fancy oil he'd had earlier. Approaching the bed again, he crawled over his brother's motionless body, trying to make eye contact, but Sasuke wouldn't have it.

Itachi uncapped the bottle and poured its contents onto his hands, accidently dripping onto Sasuke's stomach. The boy flinched when the cold, slimy substance ran down his flat stomach and over his skin; thin rivulets washed down his sides, soaking into the sheets and cooling his back. Sasuke steeled his spine and clenched his fists when his older brother gently spread his legs, kneeling between them to give himself a close-up view of his brother's genitals.

Every muscle in Sasuke's body hardened, but he kept his face pressed as close to the mattress as he could, wishing he could just suffocate himself and get it over with. He didn't want to see his brother's face. He was scared of the look in his eyes. But Sasuke knew that Itachi wasn't looking at his face anymore. Not anymore…

He gritted his teeth together when a lubricated finger began prodding at his entrance. It slipped inside, and he failed to hold back his sounds of discomfort and Itachi didn't seem to notice. He continued his ministrations unabated, and Sasuke began breathing heavier and heavier, unable to regulate his flow of oxygen. The anxiety was choking him.

He groaned loudly when his brother added another finger. Sasuke wanted to look, but he didn't, he refused. He was frightened. He had no idea what Itachi was doing, but it was starting to hurt more. It felt like the lubrication was coming off, and just as he finished that thought, Itachi removed his fingers and replaced them with the ones on his other hand. The fresh lubrication made it hurt less, but the intrusion was still painful and unwelcomed.

Itachi continued his thrusting and twisting and prodding, and Sasuke couldn't stand it anymore. He wrapped his arms around himself, hating the feel of his damp skin and bloody palms. He held himself tighter, feeling nauseas, telling himself he would not throw up, he would not start sobbing, he would not beg Itachi to stop.

Itachi removed his now dry fingers, casting a wayward glance at the red, swollen hole that still looked too tight for him to fit inside. He would not apologize, but there was remorse in his bloodstream as he poured a generous amount of oil on his erection and pressed the head against his brother's opening. Sasuke's whole body tensed again, his fingers dug into his skin and drew blood as he hugged himself tighter, his lips pursed together, defiantly holding back his screams.

Itachi didn't have the self-control to go slow. It took everything he had to not ram relentlessly inside that empty doll, and even Sasuke lost some of his resolve and began making shrill sounds of pain that rapidly changed into sobs and coughs as he struggled to breathe. He was holding himself so tightly that there were red handprints on his arms and his skin was pale from the shoulders up because the flow of blood was constricted. Normally, Itachi would have noticed this. Normally, Itachi would have seen that it was time to stop; he didn't need to take this any farther.

But Itachi didn't notice. Itachi was inside his brother and all his blood was in his cock, leaving his brain idle and useless. He didn't notice the changes in his brother's body, or the moment of his spirit breaking quickly approaching. All Itachi noticed was the tight, wet feeling of those muscles wrapped around his erection and the way it sucked him in with every thrust and it was everything he had ever imagined, every twisted fantasy and none of them had been exaggerated in the slightest. He was deaf and blind to everything except the physical sensations enveloping his cock. He thrust and pounded with more speed and strength every time, clutching his brother's hips hard enough to draw blood. He had no thoughts in his head; no feeling in his mind or body except the delight in his groin. When he felt his orgasm approaching, he wanted to stop to savour the pleasure, but he couldn't. Instead he sped up, his body wanting to achiever that bliss, and in a few more thrusts he climaxed harder than he ever had in his entire life, feeling like every ounce of liquid was drained from his body and pumped inside his little brother, and in that one perfect second there was no agony, no remorse, no self-hating or need for affection, just pleasure and total satisfaction.

He didn't want to stop thrusting even after it was over, but the high was coming down, and reality was taking place again. The moment he came off cloud nine he hit the ground, and his body became unbearably exhausted and he collapsed onto his frozen little brother with little regard to the fact that he was probably crushing him.

Sasuke had his eyes closed and he was facing away from his brother, his face was damp with sweat and tears, and the muscles in his body had been tensed up so long that they forced themselves to loosen, and now it felt like he had no muscles at all; just damp skin and bones and traces of blood. He released his hold on himself, feeling the blood drying under his fingernails and wondering if it was as black as it felt. His arms hurt and he wished he could let them drop beside him, but Itachi was lying on top of him. He was probably passed out, but at least his weight was putting his arms to sleep and numbing the ache in his muscles.

Then Itachi stirred and began to lift himself off his brother's body, and Sasuke took advantage of the moment to rest his arms at his sides. Blood flowed back into them, and it was painful, in a relieving way. Itachi placed his forearms next to his brother's head, so that he could lean over him without crushing him, and gently he stroked his face, trying to coax him into looking at him. Sasuke didn't resist or react; he let his brother manipulate his body any way he wished. Itachi rubbed his thumb beneath Sasuke's eye to wipe away not-yet-dried tears, placing a chaste kiss on his lips while he tucked away some loose strands of hair out of his brother's face. Sasuke opened his eyes, revealing the hollow black pits Itachi had expected, a perfect replica of his imagination. But Sasuke was unseeing; his gaze aimed right past Itachi, landing in a corner of the room at the blank wall that matched his blank expression.

"Look at me, Sasuke," Itachi whispered, waiting silently for his brother to register his words and obey. Slowly, Sasuke turned his face towards his brother and lifted his eyes, staring directly at him with no more emotion than he had shown the wall.

Itachi let a small smile grace his lips, pretending nothing was wrong, even though his brother's utterly vacant appearance unnerved him a bit. He let his eyes wander every inch of that gorgeous face, but they were always drawn back to the black, empty eyes, the emotionless stare that cut through him like a knife to wet paper.

He leaned in and placed another kiss on his brother's mouth, and still Sasuke did nothing, he didn't even tense his muscles or turn his head away. Itachi pulled back, making sure to lock his eyes sternly with his brother's and said, in his smoothest and most confident voice, "I love you, Sasuke."

There was a flicker of emotion in Sasuke's eyes that lasted half a second before it was gone, and then his eyes became vacant again and he still didn't bother to move any part of his body even though he was uncomfortable. He didn't break eye-contact with his brother even as he whispered his reply, in a voice that was even more hollow than the rest of him.

"No you don't."

Itachi's expression didn't change, as if he had expected that answer. He gave his brother one last look before he pulled away and stood up, gathering his clothes from the floor. He used his shirt to wipe himself relatively clean, then dressed himself and left to take a shower.

Sasuke didn't move until he heard all the locks on the door put back into place, and then when the sound of his brother's footsteps up the stairs began to fade he curled up on his side and closed his eyes, wishing he could pass out but knowing that he wouldn't sleep again for a long time.

Author's Note: You fangirls are fucking scary.