Welcome! This is the second fanfic I'm writing since getting back into it! If you've read my Body Swap No Jutsu fanfic, just know that this story is a compleeeetely different vibe! It's more angsty, hurt/comfort, tense, romance vibes (Don't worry, I'll probably write more lighthearted stories in the future! I just couldn't get this story out of my head).

Also, this story takes place during early Konoha! Anyways, enjoy!

Warning: This story will get spicy/smutty at times and does contain sexually explicit content! So, if you don't like reading stuff like this then… you have been warned.

Disclaimer: Naruto does not belong to me.

Chapter 1: Don't leave me

"Hashirama… Your light is too bright," Madara thought to himself, his cheek resting on the heel of his gloved hand as he watched his tipsy friend take a swig of his sake. The two were sitting at a wooden table in a dimly lit bustling pub in the middle of Konoha. Madara intently listened to Hashirama vent about his day as he slowly traced the handsome features of his face with his gaze.

Madara admired Hashirama, his body, and his soul. He admired the way his soft brown locks fell gracefully down the side of his face. The way his dark brown eyes radiated a welcoming warmth, no matter what mood he was in. The way his thick, brown eyelashes framed his captivating eyes. The way his full, pink lips curved upwards with every smile. Hashirama was beautiful.

Slightly buzzed from drinking his own beer, Madara bit down on the inside of his lip, drawing blood, holding back the longing he had for Hashirama.

Madara doesn't remember when it all started—when he started growing feelings for his best friend. One day, he was skipping rocks across the river during their childhood, the next day they were enemies of war, soon after they were building up Konoha together, and now they're here. At some point during all of that, Madara could feel himself falling deeper and deeper in love with Hashirama, with no way to turn back.

Over the years, Hashirama gained. He gained incredible strength and led his clan through war. He gained a life with his younger brother by his side. He gained respect from his clan. He gained respect from the village. He gained a wife. He gained a life full of love, happiness, and a strong community.

Unfortunately for Madara, his life was the opposite, and he suffered losses over the years. He lost all his younger siblings to war. He lost respect from his clan while advocating for the Uchiha by attempting to speak against some of Tobirama's policies. He never truly gained respect from all the villagers. His life was full of hatred and loneliness, and he wasn't able to build a strong community.

The only person Madara felt he had left was Hashirama, but even Hashirama's light was too bright for him. He exuded a light meant to shine over his family, his wife, and the entire village, pulling him further and further away from Madara. A light Madara eventually felt like he had no right to access. Hashirama was way beyond him now.

The distance between them grew wider with time; Hashirama gradually became more occupied with his loved ones and the village. It was becoming rare for Madara to get the chance to spend time with him, spar with him, eat with him, and laugh with him. Thus, Madara cherished moments like these: when he's able to sit down with Hashirama and listen to him vent about his problems. He didn't mind it, really, if that meant he could have his attention and admire his presence.

"Madara? Did you hear me?" Hashirama asked as he tried to get Madara's attention.

"Hmm?" Madara quickly snapped back into reality. He didn't realize he was lost in his own thoughts just now.

"I said, Mito's upset with me." Hashirama pouted.

Madara quirked an eyebrow. "Again?"

Hashirama took another swig of his sake and slammed the cup down on the table. "Yes, again," he groaned. "But she just doesn't understand how much work being the Hokage is! She's always upset about me coming home late but I'm trying my best. I didn't know being Hokage would be this stressful. If I'd known this, I would've let someone else take it."

The drunken man then pointed at Madara, "I would've let you take it!"

Madara snorted. "The villagers wanted you, you idiot."

Hashirama dropped his head to the table and groaned, "I know…" He then shot back up and started gesturing with his hands. "And Tobirama! Tobirama's nagging! I can't do another day of it."

Madara softly chuckled. "You'll be okay, Hashi." With a teasing grin, he continued, "You know… instead of being here, you could actually be at home with your wife."

Hashirama flinched before sinking into his chair in defeat. He admitted Madara had a point but… "I don't want to," he responded.

"Oh? Why not?"

"…Because… I don't want to face her wrath."

Madara erupted into laughter; he watched as Hashirama pushed his lower lip out in a pout. There was something endearing about that expression—it made him almost irresistibly cute. Madara tried to push that thought out of his head quickly before he could entertain it any further.

"It's not funny, Madara. She's scary when she's angry."

Madara's laughter slowly calmed down. "But you love her right?"

Hashirama's eyes slightly widened before he turned his head to the side, avoiding eye contact with Madara. "Of course I do…" he murmured, his voice barely above a whisper.

Madara tilted his head to the side. "That didn't sound very confident," he thought.

Hashirama waved down a passing waiter. "Excuse me! Another one, please?" he asked as he mimed the motion of drinking sake with a charming smile. The waiter nodded in response, immediately walking over to the bar to get him another drink.

Madara watched as the waiter promptly left, then turned his gaze back to Hashirama. "Oi, Oi, are you sure you should be drinking this much? You're the Hokage now, you know."

"I'll be fine," Hashirama said through slurred words and his sheepish smile.

A smile flickered across Madara's face. "Yes, you will be fine, Hashirama. You'll be just fine after I leave," he thought. Not too long ago, Madara officially decided he was leaving the village. He felt like he had nothing left here and was ready to leave to turn his own dreams into a reality: to achieve true peace. He hadn't told Hashirama this though because, of course, he would be strongly against it. Ignorance is bliss, and Madara planned on disappearing one night, without a word.

"Anyway… enough about me. How have you been, Madara?" Hashirama asked.

Madara lowered his gaze to his glass of beer, unsure what to say. He ran his gloved finger down the side of his wet glass, searching for the words to respond with. He hadn't been doing well but couldn't trouble Hashirama with his worries.

"Fine," is all Madara could manage to say.

Hashirama raised an eyebrow, "Just fine?"

Madara nodded, unwavering. "Just fine."

Hashirama's eyes narrowed. He knew Madara long enough to know that he was lying.

"You're not being honest," Hashirama said firmly.

Madara briefly hesitated. "Y-yes I am," he stuttered.

"No, you're not."

"Yes, I am."

"Are you?"

Madara sighed, "I'm fine, Hashirama. I've just been tired these days."

"Tired of what?"

Madara grinned. "Tired of you," he said jokingly.

Hashirama chuckled softly as he rested his cheek on his palm, supporting his head. His gaze gradually wandered down to Madara's lips, unintentionally keeping his focus locked onto that alluring curve.

Madara could feel his cheeks grow warm when he realized Hashirama was staring at his lips and quickly rubbed at them with the back of his gloved hand.

"Is there something on my lips?" Madara asked.

Hashirama nodded. "Mhmm, but you got it off," he lied. There was nothing on his lips.

Madara's initial excitement quickly dissipated. Of course, that was the case. It was foolish of him to think otherwise.

The waiter from earlier returned with another drink for Hashirama, who enthusiastically accepted it. He brought the cup to his parted lips before quickly putting it back down, feeling the familiar buildup of excess saliva inside his mouth.

"What?" Madara asked curiously when he noticed Hashirama's changed demeanor. He almost looked… sick?

"I think I'm going to throw up…" Hashirama mumbled, panic settling in.

Madara flinched, "Don't just sit here, go to the bathroom!"

Hashirama quickly covered his mouth, shot up out of his chair, and stumbled toward the bathroom. He frantically looked for an open stall until he was able to successfully push a door open and drop down to his knees before throwing up into the toilet.

Madara sighed and shook his head while getting up from the table. He walked over to the bar and requested a cup of water. Upon receiving the full glass, he walked over to the bathroom entrance and waited just outside the door for Hashirama.

Hashirama stumbled out of the bathroom, gently swaying with each step he took. He looked to his left to see Madara holding out a cup of water.

"Here, hydrate, you idiot."

Hashirama eagerly accepted the cup with an exaggerated grateful expression on his face, "Oh, Madara! You're so kind!" He chugged the water until there was nothing left and sighed. Refreshing.

The two soon made their way out of the bar after closing their tabs. Madara figured it was time to take Hashirama home before he drank more and got worse. He allowed Hashirama to use him as support, wrapping his arm around his waist to prevent him from swaying out of line. Hashirama had his arm wrapped around Madara's neck, subconsciously pulling him as close to his body as possible.

They strolled down the streets of Konoha as they headed towards Hashirama's home.

"Jeez, I can't believe you Hashirama," Madara muttered.

"Sorry, sorry." Hashirama awkwardly laughed, very aware of the situation.

"How are you feeling?"

"I'm still a little nauseous…"

"Don't you dare throw up on me."

A mischievous smile spread across Hashirama's face. He faked a gag, which led Madara to push him off, causing him to stumble and fall to the ground. He quickly erupted into laughter, clutching his stomach from the intensity of it all.

"I was kidding!" Hashirama exclaimed.

"Don't joke with me!" Madara yelled, pointing at the laughing drunken man on the ground. He sucked his teeth, waiting for the man to stop laughing. "Hashirama, get up, you look ridiculous."

"Can you help me? The world is spinning," Hashirama said through his laughter.

"Forget it, help yourself," Madara turned around and started walking off.

"Madara…"

"What?!" Madara forcefully turned back around.

"I… I really can't get up."

Madara rolled his eyes and walked back over to Hashirama before helping him up and supporting his weight once again.

"If you do that again, you're sleeping on the streets."

Hashirama flinched. "Got it."

They finally arrived at Hashirama's front door. Neither of them could sense Mito's presence inside, and so assumed she stepped out. As Hashirama swayed towards the front door, he fumbled in his pocket in search of his keys. Once found, he unlocked the door and stepped inside. He turned to face Madara, who was standing right outside the door giving him a disapproving look.

"Will you be okay from here on?"

Hashirama nodded. All he had to do was somehow make his way to the bedroom and collapse onto his bed. Easy-peasy.

"Good." There was a hint of pain in Madara's voice. He hated it when he had to part with Hashirama after spending time with him because he never knew when he'd be able to see him again. Hashirama was a busy man and gradually had no time for Madara anymore. Madara wasn't sure when he would have another chance to be with Hashirama like this. It could be a couple of days or weeks. Hell, this might be the last time he even sees Hashirama before he leaves the village.

Madara sighed, cursing his reality. But he's learning to accept it because that's how he'll be able to maintain his resolve to leave the village. He had to accept it.

"Have a good night, Hashi," Madara said before turning around to take his leave.

Madara felt a strong grip around his wrist that pulled him in. Suddenly, his body was pressed against Hashirama and wrapped in strong arms in a warm embrace. Hashirama's face was buried into Madara's shoulder, his brown hair tickling the side of Madara's cheek.

Madara's eyes gaped in shock. "H-Hashirama, what are you—"

"Don't leave me…" Hashirama whispered.

"What?" Madara responded, confused. "What is he talking about?" he thought.

"Madara… don't leave me," Hashirama repeated, the deep vibrato from his voice sending shivers down Madara's spine.

"H-Hashirama, I'm just dropping you off at your house," Madara said as he attempted to break free from Hashirama's grasp but was met with resistance. Hashirama was taller, bigger, and stronger than Madara. He's never been hugged so tightly by Hashirama like this before. This stirred something inside of Madara, but he didn't want to let his delusions get the best of him.

Madara sighed. "Hashirama, you're drunk."

There was no response from Hashirama.

"Okay, I have decided that you will not be okay from here on, so I will help you get to bed," Madara concluded.

He tried not to take Hashirama's words too seriously, he's drunk after all. Besides, Madara never told him about leaving the village anyway so he must be talking about something else, or talking straight nonsense, neither of which would be a surprise to Madara.

Hashirama finally let go of Madara once he felt Madara attempt to force his way inside. He used Madara to support himself as they both slowly made their way to his bedroom.

"Okay, now get in bed."

"I'm thirsty."

Madara's eye twitched. "What am I, your maid?" he thought. He sighed and gave in to Hashirama's indirect request. "I'll go get you some water. In the meantime, get in bed."

"I'll come with—"

"Get in bed," Madara nagged.

He left Hashirama's bedroom to get water. By the time he returned, Hashirama's shirt was off, and he was in the process of removing his pants as well.

"W-what are you doing?" Madara asked, tightening his briefly loosened grip around the glass of water. He was taken aback and tried to stop his gaze from traveling anywhere past Hashirama's shoulders.

Hashirama looked up. "What? I always sleep like this," Hashirama responded while tossing his pants to the side, now wearing nothing but his dark green trunks.

Of course. Madara sighed and walked up to Hashirama, offering him the water. Hashirama gladly accepted it and quickly began to chug the water to quench his thirst. Madara watched as a droplet of water fell from the corner of Hashirama's lips, dripped down his chiseled chin, and landed on his chest. The sight aroused Madara as he allowed himself to finally appreciate Hashirama's heavenly body.

Hashirama finished his water and wiped the side of his mouth with the back of his hand.

"Thank you, Madara."

"Mm, now get in bed. I'll get you more water for the night, so you don't have to get back up if you're thirsty. I don't want you to fall and bust your head open," Madara said as he accepted the empty cup and immediately left the bedroom.

Hashirama chuckled while clumsily getting in bed and pulling the covers over his lap. He watched as Madara returned with another full glass of water and placed it on his nearby nightstand.

"Thank you."

"Mhmm, Goodnight," Madara responded while walking away, but he was once again stopped by Hashirama's grasp around his wrist. He turned around, now growing irritated. "What?"

"Don't leave me… please," Hashirama urged.

"What? I brought you home, I helped you get to bed. What else do you want from me? Do you want me to read you a bedtime story?"

Hashirama slowly shook his head, while he tugged at Madara's wrist.

Madara could feel himself slowly getting pulled in by Hashirama's grasp. He resisted his force, but accidentally stumbled forward, landing on the bed with his knees and left hand supporting his weight. His right hand was still in Hashirama's grasp, and his face was just inches away from Hashirama's. A tense silence filled the air.

Madara could feel his cheeks grow hot as he stared into Hashirama's deep brown eyes, which were staring back at him intently, pulling him in. Despite being this close, Hashirama didn't seem to mind. Madara dropped his gaze to Hashirama's slightly parted lips. He felt so tempted to lean in and steal a kiss, to give in to his unreciprocated love and lust for his best friend. Hashirama was all he had left, the only thing that kept him in Konoha. But since he's finally made the decision to leave, there's nothing left to lose, right?

Madara could feel himself slowly leaning in, and he wasn't completely sure, but he thought he saw Hashirama doing the same.

Suddenly, they both heard the front door open, causing Madara to quickly slip his hand out of Hashirama's grasp and stand up off the bed. They watched as Mito walked into the bedroom.

"Oh, Madara!" Mito greeted him as she bowed.

"Good evening, Mito." Madara cleared his throat, internally recovering from the moment he just had with Hashirama. "I was just helping Hashirama get home. He drank a little too much tonight."

Madara looked over to Hashirama, who appeared a bit… disappointed? Was it because they were fighting? Madara remembered Hashirama's rant earlier while they were at the pub and grinned.

"And you and I both know he's an idiot, but he's doing his best. Take it easy on him," Madara added.

Mito giggled at his words while Hashirama flinched, feeling offended.

"I'm not an idi—!"

"Good night," Madara waved off while he exited the room. He slipped his shoes back on and left the house, walking towards the street. Before he could get very far, he heard Hashirama's front door swing open.

"Madara!"

Madara turned towards the familiar voice.

"Don't leave me."

Madara could feel his eyebrow twitch. God, this man is persistent. "Fine, fine! I won't leave you." Is that what he wanted to hear?

A smile slowly crept onto Hashirama's face. "Thank you for listening to me tonight. Get home safe, good night," he said through slightly slurred words as he closed the door.

"Get home safe? Is he underestimating who the Madara Uchiha is?" Madara thought.

xxx

Madara slowly walked the streets of Konoha with his head held low, deep in thought. What was that all about? Does Hashirama know he's planning on leaving the village? Impossible, he's just drunk. Was there something else Hashirama knew that Madara didn't?

As Madara strolled down Konoha, he blocked out the sounds of the villagers. Upon entering the Uchiha compound, he pretended like he didn't hear the whispers of his clansmen as he passed by. He knew they were talking about him; he wasn't oblivious.

Before Konoha, during times of war, the clansmen didn't appreciate that Madara tended to prioritize Izuna during battle, often fleeing and leaving them behind when Izuna got injured. Now in the age of Konoha, they still believe Madara was being selfish by trying to convince them that Tobirama's policies are unfair towards the Uchiha. However, Madara believed they were too blinded by the idea of false peace to even see it for themselves. It's not like Madara didn't want peace, he wanted that more than ever. But he could tell Tobirama still harbored prejudice towards the Uchiha clan.

Whatever, Madara tried to do his part, but that came at the cost of losing the clan's trust and respect. It won't matter to him anymore once he leaves the village and achieves his dream.

Once he arrived home, he opened the door and was greeted by a picture sitting at a small table near the entrance—it was of him and Izuna. He gently lifted the picture frame and eyed it.

"I'm home…," Madara whispered before putting the frame back down.

He slipped off his gloves and gently set them down next to the picture frame before making his way to his bedroom. He collapsed onto the bed, not even bothering to change his clothes. He found himself staring up at the ceiling, recalling the events of the night.

His thoughts gradually drifted to Hashirama. Oh, how he looked so good tonight. He recalled the way Hashirama's hair brushed across his sun-kissed skin, the infectious charm of his sheepish smile. The way his deep voice sent a thrill through his body during their embrace, and the warmth of his breath against his neck lingered in his mind. He remembered his rich, musky scent mingled with earthy notes. When the water dripped down his chin and onto his chest, Madara wanted to lick up its trail—up his chest, up his neck, up his chin, and finally pull him into a hungry kiss.

As Madara allowed his mind to wander, he could feel increasing pressure around his crotch, arousal stirring inside of him.

"Fuck, Madara, not now," he thought to himself, but his body felt differently.

Before he knew it, he had already begun to run his hand down his stomach, and under the band of his pants and trunks, he needed release. Gripping his length, he started stroking up and down, letting out a soft moan. His grip tightened as he pumped, bucking his hips forward from the intensifying pleasure as he thought about Hashirama's soft, pink lips pressed around him.

Soon he could feel the wetness of his pre-cum drip down his tip, coating his head with every pass of his hand. He quickened his pace as he felt his arousal begin to reach its peak.

"Fuck... Mmm… Hashi…" Madara moaned through his parted lips. He tightened his grip and stroked faster, feeling the pleasure start to peak. He wanted Hashirama. He needed him—his lips, his tongue, his touch, his body, his cock… his love, his smile, his warmth, his charm, his care, his… light.

Reaching his climax, he threw his head back as his body tensed and let out a deep moan, spilling his warm seed into his hand.

As he steadied his heavy breath, Madara brought his hand up in front of him and watched as his cum dripped down his wrist. He dropped his hand back down to his side and sighed, feeling ashamed and embarrassed that things had come to this.

Propping himself out of bed, Madara slowly walked to the bathroom and cleaned himself up. After washing and drying his hands, he headed back to his bedroom, still lacking the energy to change out of his day clothes. He collapsed onto the bed and found himself staring back up at the ceiling, getting lost in his thoughts once again.

Madara still didn't know what Hashirama meant when he asked him not to leave. And what was that hug about? Madara once again recalled Hashirama's warm embrace, enough to make him melt. He recalled almost kissing Hashirama, and how he thought Hashirama might've wanted it. Madara shook his head at the ridiculous thought. He figured he was just being delusional. Hashirama was drunk and probably had no clue what he was doing. If he really was leaning in, he was probably just losing his balance.

Madara sighed and closed his eyes. Was he really about to take advantage of a man in his vulnerable state? Oh, Madara, you've reached a new low.

He turned to lie on his side and felt a lump form in his throat as he thought about how Hashirama would probably never reciprocate his love. Good things never happened to Madara after all. He attracted darkness, and his loved ones always slipped away from him, and Hashirama was no different.

"Your light is too bright, Hashirama. It was never meant for me," Madara whispered as he slowly drifted off to sleep.

Hope you enjoyed! Tune in for the next chapter!