Tobirama hadn’t fought him. He hadn’t pushed him away, hadn’t punched him in the face, hadn’t done anything other than take it. No, no, that wasn’t true; Tobirama had touched his face. He could feel the battle-roughened palms of his hand against his reconstructed cheek, could feel the flinch of the other man. That Senju bastard flinched at nothing, not at him, not at anything he could do.
Were his eyes…?
But it didn’t matter because the fight was out of Izuna as he sat there on his knees, caught between laughing, crying, hating himself, hating the other man across from him. He couldn’t do it. Even now, he couldn’t do it. And sure, he could have fed himself with some stupid tale of how he was making Tobirama suffer with the choices he made, or how he was worried of not being able to leave if he killed him, but that wasn’t it at all. That wasn’t any of this.
Izuna could hear the rasp in the other’s voice, and he wondered if he did any permanent damage. The bruises around his neck… how would he hide those from his brother? Explain those? It brought him back to the lurid games they played, marking one another with lovebites in places where their families couldn’t find it. But this was different. This was horribly different.
I love you. How many times would Tobirama say it? How many times would he say it when it was a knife in Izuna’s heart, stabbing him endlessl?. I love you, and his side hurt. I love you, and he could taste the blood in his mouth, like ryo on his tongue. His head tilted a little, looking through his bangs at the other man, watching him, watching those lips move as he breathed those words.
I’m sorry. For not saying it sooner, or for killing him? Or, even more, bringing him back?
He raised his hand, reaching out to touch that white hair. Things felt muted from this skin, as if there was a blanket between himself and everyone else. Was it shock? The jutsu? What? Poised in the air, his hand hovered, unwilling to go any closer, but unwilling to pull away. Fingers twitched, but he didn’t touch him.
“I…” love you hate you can’t forgive you love you hate you love you His chest was tight, like fingers clawing their way out from the inside, and he trembled slightly. He wanted to rail against him as much as he wanted to embrace him.
I love…
“I want to see my brother,” he whispered. But that wasn't what he really wanted either.
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branchandroot
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Date: 2015-09-11 02:31 am (UTC)Were his eyes…?
But it didn’t matter because the fight was out of Izuna as he sat there on his knees, caught between laughing, crying, hating himself, hating the other man across from him. He couldn’t do it. Even now, he couldn’t do it. And sure, he could have fed himself with some stupid tale of how he was making Tobirama suffer with the choices he made, or how he was worried of not being able to leave if he killed him, but that wasn’t it at all. That wasn’t any of this.
Izuna could hear the rasp in the other’s voice, and he wondered if he did any permanent damage. The bruises around his neck… how would he hide those from his brother? Explain those? It brought him back to the lurid games they played, marking one another with lovebites in places where their families couldn’t find it. But this was different. This was horribly different.
I love you. How many times would Tobirama say it? How many times would he say it when it was a knife in Izuna’s heart, stabbing him endlessl?. I love you, and his side hurt. I love you, and he could taste the blood in his mouth, like ryo on his tongue. His head tilted a little, looking through his bangs at the other man, watching him, watching those lips move as he breathed those words.
I’m sorry. For not saying it sooner, or for killing him? Or, even more, bringing him back?
He raised his hand, reaching out to touch that white hair. Things felt muted from this skin, as if there was a blanket between himself and everyone else. Was it shock? The jutsu? What? Poised in the air, his hand hovered, unwilling to go any closer, but unwilling to pull away. Fingers twitched, but he didn’t touch him.
“I…” love you hate you can’t forgive you love you hate you love you His chest was tight, like fingers clawing their way out from the inside, and he trembled slightly. He wanted to rail against him as much as he wanted to embrace him.
I love…
“I want to see my brother,” he whispered. But that wasn't what he really wanted either.