lover's suicide with only one lover, pt. 1

they are moving now.  the sun rises sullenly over the horizon, showering the ashen world with piercing arrows of light.  it makes the world lighten, yes, but only by a few shades.  everything is still gray.  everything is still burnt and molded into fragile sculptures of dissociating resemblences of skies, clouds, trees, houses.  people.1

eyes, blue and endless and dying like the clear autumn before the slaughtering winter, are turned upwards again.  his eyes are waiting.  which, was why they are moving.  they are moving because of the way he looks about their surroundings in constant and hopeful narcissistic obsessesion.  they are moving because if anyone were to stop and indulge him, he would expand in painful and tragic ecstatic pleasure.2

and run.3

he looked at the boy beside him who drifted lifelessly like a translucent ghost by his side.  lost was the luster of his gleaming golden hair, replaced instead by tired and damp copper wires.  stolen forever was the sunny hue of his soft glowing skin, in its stead a pale and papery complexion.  and yet, he still had to strength to search and wait and hope as he trailed behind tirelessly.  it was all that he could do now--hope and wait and search with those rotting gems of eyes.4

it threatened itachi.5

itachi, who loved to break things with his hands.  he liked to grasp them first, feeling over the edges, sometimes jagged and pricking, sometimes smooth and soothing.  then he would squeeze them in his fist and hold them for a long time until they were nearly dead of suffocation.  and then he would hurl them.  against a wall, against the floor, it didn't matter, as long as they broke.  and he would revel in the millions of pieces that would shower upon the world, bouncing off the ceiling, ramming into his body, spinning across the glass of the coffee table.  he loved being able to drag their secrets out as he watched through half-lidded eyes the patterns of their twirling fragments.  he understood people best when they broke.6

it threatened itachi that naruto would not break.7

and those innocent words would still run through his head whenever he looked at the boy:  do you love me?  he had said that sitting in the mess of blankets that was their bed, cheeks still stiff with the salt of tears, blonde hair poking out like wires, eyes red, not eerily so, but prettily so.  like he had drowned in something.  itachi had simply looked at the other then, watching the candles play with the shadows of his eyelashes, which loomed down over the hollows of his cheeks.  dark eyes travelled over the bones that made up the other's neck and the darkness that pooled in the dip between his collarbones and the bulb of his shoulder.8

drowning was a popular method of lover's suicide, he had thought absentmindedly then.9

they are moving now, almost running, but really just moving.10

naruto looks behind them, eyes huge like a child's as he is carried through the foilage of the trees, cradled in itachi's arms like a treasure.  a scissored insect flies past them, carefully snipping away a lock of blonde hair, which immediately dissolves into nothingness in the whirl of the wind in his ears.  another shoots at them, spiralling with the ballistics of it all, heading for a sturdy shoulder.11

he knew who they were from.12

itachi did too.13

grunting, the boy tucked himself into the calming warmth of the other's cloak as he felt them fly, disappearing into the air as if they had never existed.14

sasuke.15