Being alone and feeling alone are far from synonymous. Two small verbs linked to the same adjective not to make a nuance, but an abysmal difference. Loneliness can be a lifestyle choice, generally it comes when you start feeling saturated with anything. This buries us so much that we are no longer able to pay proper attention to the people around us, to the world and not even to ourselves. Solitude is sought in moments when the brain is so excited as to border on the loss of reason, in these cases nothing is better than the isolation chosen to clarify and be able to start relating to life again with the right serenity. On occasions like these, solitude is not painful for those who seek it, as it had been a need and not a constraint.
This had been the urge followed by Madara after it was too much for him. It was bad to admit it, but for him his family studded with misfortunes, contrasts and misunderstandings had been enough.
Starting with his younger brother Izuna, Madara had loved him madly, when he was born he had poured more or less all of his life and expectations on him. He had seen him as an ally to avoid those cold and severe parents who knew how to criticize as if only negative things existed while positive things were invisible.
Madara had always been an obedient boy, a model student and had quickly learned to stand on his own. When he brought impeccable report cards to his house, he received only a grunt from his father as an answer while he read while smoking a cigarette without deigning to look at him and his mother continued to wash the dishes without even turning around. This meant that he had done well and that he had achieved top marks everywhere. In the cases in which he had made some small slip in a subject, more for tiredness or health reasons than for anything else, Madara tried to memorize as accurately as possible both the cries and the slaps since they would have been the last attentions received from the parents in the span of entire weeks.
"What do you want it to be? It was a hiccup, he will definitely recover."
Well, the thing that had always hurt him the most was this. Not the blows and the reproaches, but the words that his mother addressed with loving smiles to the parents of classmates who seriously risked the failing.
Izuna's birth could not fail to fill him with hopes of giving and receiving that love that he was filled with but that he had never been able to express. His emotions had always been seen almost as a nuisance in the rigidity of that family.
As long as the minor had been quite small they had grown up in symbiosis, despite being totally opposite in character. Izuna was very noisy, lively, he made friends with everyone, so carefree as to be almost unconscious, the classic pain in the ass sweet as he loved to affectionately call him Madara. He followed the major with admiration and listened to all his teachings completely enraptured by him. The very strict parents of the little boy managed to forgive everything, even if he didn't shine that much at school.
It was Madara who felt entitled to take care of everything from him, even checking his notebooks to make sure he was doing all his homework. For the eldest this represented an immense pleasure, he was able to fill, thanks to the company of his brother, the lack of friends due to his shy character and the neglect received from his parents.
However, as Izuna grew up, he began to bond with his peers considering Madara intrusive and a real nuisance. He didn't like having his older brother on his tail forever while he went out with his friends feeling overly controlled. Madara made an effort to be understanding even if the frustration of being pushed aside by the minor found outlet in other ways. He lectured Izuna if he came home too late at night, accusing him of eating only rubbish as kids of that age often do. He was always advising himself not to ride a bike, that he should practice a serious sport, to stop dressing in jeans so ripped that they seemed to be in tatters and to fix his hair by cutting off that horrible unkempt pigtail.
"But if it's you who dresses like our grandfather!"
Izuna had slammed the door of his room, puffing to cut off the conversation, deeming the older brother totally incapable of understanding him. Scene then repeated several times until Izuna had arrived to leave his room just to eat. As soon as he could, he ran away from home with friends, all studied artfully in order to never find himself alone with Madara. The parents seemed not to see the attitude of the youngest son while Madara began to slip into what had always been somewhat considered the curse of the Uchiha family, every now and then an individual capable of giving unconditional love came out, only to risk touching the madness once the object of this love was missing or simply could not fully reciprocate that exclusive.
Madara's broken heart had turned away as best he could, he was still young and his soul wounds still managed to heal relatively quickly managing to maintain a fairly optimistic vision of the future. The attempts to fill the void left by Izuna, however, led him to unknowingly exceed in the search for those attentions of which he had felt unjustly defrauded.
One day his cousin Obito had come to dinner with their family at Christmas time. he was a year older than him and Madara had always considered him unattainable both for the age difference and for his being a dreamer eternally with his head in the clouds. It was always a bit difficult to understand what Obito was thinking, he loved to read and fantasize, however Madara was certain that these were very deep and interesting ideas. Madara had felt his cheeks burn all evening watching his cousin. He was hiding in his thick hair that was already starting to get really long realizing that it had already been a lot of years since he had last seen Obito during a summer vacation and then almost completely lost his life. He had grown into a very charming boy. The skin slightly darker than the milky one that had always characterized the whole family, made him warm and passionate by going to match perfectly with the black of the eyes and hair without entering into stark contrast. He had grown very tall with long, slender legs, but managed to remain rather thin, unlike Madara who tended to be more muscular.
Obito hadn't said anything about himself that evening, he had limited himself to polite formalities and getting carried away by everyone's laughter in front of the reckless Izuna who didn't make any effort to mask the boredom of participating in that dinner to which he had practically been forced.
Madara had hardly uttered a word as he was unable to swallow practically anything, he felt himself melting in his accelerated heartbeat and in the heat of the fireplace that only he perceived almost infernal. He was certain that Obito had noticed his reddened cheeks and shining eyes, which is why he had proposed to them, after dinner while their mothers were tidying up the kitchen and their fathers were playing a game of chess, encouraging themselves with the sound of bitters, to go up to the his room to browse his well-stocked library.
Izuna, who had isolated himself by hooking up to the video games in the living room, had hardly seen them as they climbed the dimly lit wooden stairs.
Madara possessed so many books and few clothes that he placed them inside what should have been a wardrobe door, Obito had spent a good fifteen minutes contemplating them without saying anything while Madara was completely paralyzed and unable to unlock the situation. He was shaking, Obito gave him a sharp sideways glance probably having noticed this before sitting on the bed.
"It's actually a bit cold, this house is a volcano on the lower level and an icebox on the upper level," Obito said without looking up from the Amazon book he was leafing through.
Madara offered him a hot tea, the cousin had accepted nodding with a grunt without ever looking at him even then. Madara had started downstairs thinking that he was shivering for a thousand reasons except from the cold. No one paid attention to him as he entered the kitchen and then came out with a cup in his hand. The now tipsy fathers, the mothers intent on gossiping and Izuna who seemed to soon merge with the monitor of his console.
Obito was still there, kidnapped from the Amazon. Madara plucked up the courage to sit on the bed next to him handing him that cup for which he didn't even receive a thank you. He slowly passed behind him moving lightly on the mattress while he had the impression of being surrounded by flames that were pleasantly warm and bright but without being scalding. He lifted the duvet off the bed and placed it on his shoulders before moving closer to Obito. Madara focused his black eyes shining like two glass spheres on the slender neck of his cousin who was still bent over reading between one sip of tea and another. Madara found him charming in that dark green sweater that suited him perfectly, the collar of a black shirt could be glimpsed from the neckline.
The moment is now.
His need to give love almost unconditionally had made him get so close behind Obito that he could feel the heat of his body even through both of their clothes. Madara had slowly placed the duvet on her shoulders making him guess, for now, only his intention to warm him up. The simple gesture that the major made of grabbing a corner of the blanket to wrap himself around his shoulders, yet without taking his eyes off the book, gave Madara new hope and courage. He still brought her body close to his cousin's back until they joined, it was a light, barely mentioned contact that didn't make Obito move, who still only enjoyed the fact of finding relief from the cold.
Madara was progressively probing the ground keeping those flames at bay more and more with difficulty that he felt flaring both outside and inside. He raised her arms wrapping Obito completely in the duvet while being careful that he didn't end up on his pages disturbing him. Although he continued to tremble, Madara felt looser and more self-confident enough to lean on his cousin's back, making us partially bear his weight. Obito squirmed slightly, a gesture Madara was unable to interpret. But since he was still lost between the pages of the somewhat relaxed book, Madara calmed down. The pressure of the bodies made Madara feel his ribs moving to the rhythm of his now accelerated breathing, the mania that gave him an erection in contact with the fabric of his clothes was about to slip dangerously out of his control. He spread his legs resting his thighs on Obito's and his head on his right shoulder. A few strands of his very long hair involuntarily descended on his cousin's abdomen. His growing arousal made him arch his back instinctively rubbing his sex against Obito's buttocks, his mattress creaking slightly under his thrust as a shaky sigh escaped him.
The crash of the cup smashing on the floor made him jump as he lifted his head from Obito's shoulder. Though Madara's heart and breath hadn't changed their rapid pace, the reason that moved them was no longer his passion. It had been swept away in an instant by fear first and pain immediately after. Obito freed himself of the duvet with an angry gesture as he jumped up from the bed on which he had thrown the book on the Amazon, the hand gesture also betraying contempt. Although he walked very fast to escape from the room, Obito managed not to make a sound from the black leather moccasins.
Madara had remained petrified under the light blue duvet, why had Obito had to take him up to that point before making him understand that he didn't want to? The enveloping red of the pleasant flames had been replaced by frost, Madara's numb muscles had managed to move after an interminable time, just enough to allow him to curl up like a miserable shapeless bundle under the covers from which only a few strands of hair came out. The dimension his sobbing body was in was on a different planet than the mirth below.
The laughter slowly faded followed by the greetings, Obito's family car had slipped away into the night making the gravel driveways crunch. Izuna's console had given way to the television that had remained on for a while longer in the living room until the parents had retired to their room.
The two brothers had always slept in the same room. Hearing the minor enter the room, Madara had tried in vain to hold back sobs, but he had had to let go of something or risked choking. Izuna had laid down in his bed starting to snore softly shortly after, his indifference had mortally skewered Madara once again. Again he wondered what was wrong with giving his all to love someone. He had never demanded anything in return, however he had the impression of being repaid only with distances and loneliness.
The answer had come to him a few weeks later when he learned that Obito had met a girl he had fallen in love with at first sight. Since his cousin had nothing personal against him and had sent him to go out together to introduce him to this Rin he constantly spoke to him about on the phone, Madara had once again been forced to accept that subtle violence intrinsic to understanding. He was aware that he couldn't force Obito to feel the same things he felt when he saw him, just as you can't force someone to love you. However, the acceptance of the beautiful and sincere friendship and absolute happiness that came from Obito when he looked at that girl so enthralling in her simplicity, pierced Madara like millions of swords every time. On those occasions he felt alone even though he wasn't materially so, a situation that had gradually become heavier to the point of forcing him to seek that solitude which instead represents a lifestyle choice to save himself from pain. The second love that had slipped through his fingers, the first time he had chosen isolation so as not to sink.
He had gone on with his life for three years in such an inertia that memories of that period had always remained difficult for him to recall in adulthood. Sometimes he happened to be amazed by chance reviewing some photographs taken at that time marveling at reviewing events of which he had been unable to record any memory. His days were all so identical that they bordered on madness, he even ended up forgetting what day it was to no longer be able to distinguish them from each other. He went to school, they all had lunch together before Izuna went out to follow one of his countless activities, sports, friends, some after school classes; in short, he seemed to have become much more enterprising than he was.
Madara locked himself in his room to study all day until evening, occasionally taking a break which, however, consisted of reading a book that wasn't scholastic. He continued to bring home excellent grades and for the parents there was nothing else that mattered.
In his absolute isolation, Madara had had the opportunity to reflect for a long time, coming to the conclusion that the affection he gave had always remained invisible. Because of this marginalization that he had imposed on himself in order not to suffer, his contacts with the other cousins had been progressively lost. He had spit on the newcomer, Sasuke, but had met him live very few times. The same had happened to Izuna, albeit for other reasons. The minor, in order to get away from Madara's suffocating attentions, had ended up doing the same with the rest of the family.
The events that occurred during his early childhood Madara had in mind much more clearly than the recent ones. Many had filled him with immense joy and desire to unconditionally bestow all the love with which his heart was full, like the birth of Itachi. He was four years old and with his family he had gone to visit that of his newborn cousin. Madara could never forget Mikoto's serene face turned towards him as she asked him if she wanted to hold the baby, she seemed bathed in light. And he could never forget how Itachi had fallen asleep sucking a button on his shirt and pressing his hands against his chest. Shisui and Izuna were also present that day, both two years old, consequently still too young to allow them to interact with the newborn. Shisui puffed out his cheeks as he watched Madara filled with envy. Madara only had time to squeeze the bundle once before it was tossed around like an unaddressed parcel from one doctor to another. Left alone without fully understanding the real reasons and with his resilience still held high by his energetic and combative character, it was also in this way that Madara ended up channeling all his feelings towards Izuna.
Madara, after being hurt by the situation with Obito, experienced entering high school as a radical life change that had given him a new sprint. He had started playing sports again continuing the Taekwondo courses started in childhood, he successfully carried out his studies also managing to become an institute representative. The misfortune suffered by Obito in that period had ended up filling the little free time he had, taking away the possibility of racking his brains on Izuna and the rest of the family, including the last born that he barely knew, Sasuke. Madara had always felt reprehensible to consciously formulate such a thought but it was the truth: moving to Obito's house to be close to him after the accident had been a big change from which his mood had benefited. He had been convinced that his hunger to give and receive love was subdued or in any case totally absorbed by the attention he paid to Obito, until he was suddenly awakened by a celestial bolt.
Lightning bolts are all that color actually, but this was a look and it had managed to strike Madara like a bolt of lightning. The wink he had given to that first undisciplined girl was for one person only, if he had to be completely honest it was always for that person who had entered that classroom that morning. Madara would never have said that his heart, already shattered several times at that age, could beat for someone again and so strongly. He had been enraptured by the way in which that boy, apparently shy and certainly with bad experiences behind him, had struggled with all of himself to pursue his feelings by letting people's judgments slip on him. It wasn't about something physical and carnal as had happened that evening many years ago with Obito, but something precious that was being built one brick at a time in which contact with the skin would arrive last.
Madara had had the impression that all the love given and never repaid had returned to him suddenly and in the most unexpected way. He had deluded himself that his newfound happiness was understood by Obito as he had accepted his love for Rin and the change that the misfortune he had just suffered had forced him to make. He was confident that they could all bond, him, Obito, Naruto, Kiba and Kisame and that this could help his cousin get rid of his demons maybe getting closer to Rin.
Madara had always guessed the real reason why the girl had momentarily moved away, what he hoped would have been the natural evolution of events that would have made everyone satisfied. However he hadn't counted on how difficult it could be for Obito to accept his new condition, and when this led him to slip into an insane envy of the people around him. As he melted with passion on Kisame's hot skin, Madara was devoured by the contact. Not being able to choose between the person he loved and his cousin, for several years he had desperately tried to arrange things so that he would not have to give up on either of them. He tried to leave Obito as much freedom as possible without being able to predict that his cousin would interpret this as a sign of neglect on his part.
Kisame was in pain even if he didn't show it, the night he felt bad at work had upset Madara so much that he made the decision to finally give his partner the life he had longed for practically automatically. Seeing Kisame finally happy had meant that for Madara the rest of the world ceased to exist for once. He wasn't really sure, the night he and Kisame had sex on the living room sofa, that Obito had actually dated, yet he found himself thinking that he didn't care at all. Between him and Kisame there was something special, he had realized that he risked losing everything but also that he couldn't allow it.
He scolded himself again harshly as Obito came to beat and hurt him. Madara, although he knew Taekwondo, hadn't reacted crushed by guilt feelings towards his cousin for not fully understanding his pain. He had heard the words that Kisame had been able to pronounce for Obito, despite the fact that it was a person he knew very little, he was just a boy but with an out of the ordinary sensitivity and wisdom. Madara knew that I love you would be branded on Kisame's heart, but he couldn't help but dedicate it to him.
It was true, Kisame had been the best thing that happened to him in his life, but he had to choose the path of solitude in order not to hurt anyone anymore, including himself. That was the desired solitude, the one that doesn't hurt, within which you don't feel alone and Madara had wanted it to be absolute.
Without notifying anyone, he had settled in a totally isolated country house, without telephone and internet connection, even the reception of radio and television stations was highly disturbed, he had thrown away his old cell phone to get a new one that could not be found by anyone, nobody knew that wrecked mule track that led to his house. He finished his studies in literature using a fictitious name so as not to be traced by his family.
Thanks to his naturally dominant and organizational character, in a few years he had managed to plant a vineyard and an olive grove which he managed independently and which represented his only source of livelihood. Solitude didn't hurt, on the contrary, it soothed the wounds that slowly seemed to heal.
He often thought about Kisame, Obito and the rest of his family, but while in the early years he wished them every happiness with a quiet smile in the sun, now at the age of thirty-six, he increasingly wondered what he had done of his life.
What did I ultimately accomplish?
The desire to find an answer to this question had become more and more urgent, added to it was the thought of his now elderly parents who would have risked not seeing if he had waited too long. Maybe Izuna had changed, Obito had finally managed to be happy with Rin, on the other hand their infinite mutual love had always been evident, that of the girl had only been a momentary estrangement dictated by pain. Perhaps the words addressed by Kisame to Obito on the last night he had seen them had managed to make inroads inside him.
And you Kisame, did you manage to forget me or did my memory prevent you from seizing any opportunity you would have liked?
And then Shisui had managed to make a full and satisfying life, Itachi to heal himself and Sasuke to not think that one of the older cousins had totally disinterested in him? How had Itachi and Sasuke handled the tragic loss of their parents? Had they managed to overcome it and recover?
All these thoughts had started to make Madara feel alone, this feeling took his breath away so much that it kept him awake at night making him feel terribly guilty for having abandoned them. He took away his appetite so much that lately he had lost a lot of weight, the day he noticed his clothes getting huge he had started to worry seriously. The wine that he himself produced only temporarily eased the suffering, however it was too ephemeral a relief to be the solution.
Loneliness and remorse threatened to drive him crazy every day making him feel cold even on hot summer days. His intelligence kept him from falling into a trap like this.
He had thrown away his old phone but not before jotting down all the numbers in an address book; it had a rough yellow cover and had been buried in a chest until three in the morning on a day in May. Madara had tossed and turned in vain in the blankets until that hour. Until he, sweating and panting and worn out with anguish, he had gone straight as a bolt to retrieve that address book. With shaking hands he dialed Obito's number, he didn't care that it was the middle of the night. If the cousin had had the phone off he could have fallen ill, his chest was already hurting.
"Hello?" the voice thick with sleep and annoyed answered after five rings. Probably the time it takes to wake up, chase away the last remnants of dreams and retrieve the phone from the bedside table.
Madara felt the life out of his body, as if he had suddenly become as thin as tissue paper. Yes, it was Obito. Hearing his voice after all those years had made him sob so hard he couldn't get a word out.
"Hello, who is speaking?" Obito was now annoyed, a woman's voice said something incomprehensible in the background.
Madara didn't know whether to laugh or cry, he was sure it was Rin.
"Obito…" he managed to murmur in a faint voice.
He pauses. Madara was sure he heard his cousin's hand shaking violently through the telephone.
"Madara!" Obito almost screamed.
They had exchanged only a few words and nothing but their names pronounced with different intonations, yet their wishes had reached their destination without needing to be explained.
"Madara... tell me where you are" now Obito's voice had been a light breath in which the cousin had perceived all that affection desired for a lifetime.
Madara gave him his address aware that he shouldn't have to wait for the sunlight to hug him again.