It wasn't. It wasn't what he wanted. Or rather, it was, but it wasn't what he completely wanted. He wanted to stick his fingers in that hair and comb it back and feel it, smell it, kiss the head it belonged to. He wanted to breathe in the feeling of that too-warm body against him, bigger than his own, perfect for his own. He wanted to remember what kissing him felt like.
Yes, seeing his brother was important, vital, but the look he shared to Tobirama proved that neither one of them was particularly yearning for it at the moment.
His eyes closed as he dropped his hand, the sound a slap against uneven ground. It echoed in the room, and he heard it in his head, just like those words. They hung between them like a chasm that ended nowhere. Teeth bit his bottom lip.
"Are you going to take me out of here, then?" he whispered, wanting to look around, but unable to wrench his eyes from the look in Tobirama's, that need, that want. He should have stood up, stood and gone back to prowling; it was humiliating for an Uchiha to be on their knees, even a dead one. But he couldn't help himself; he didn't want to move away.
Madara could fix this. Madara could make him whole. Madara could...do something.
But it wasn't Madara that had brought him back. It was Tobirama. Was he a tool or a regret? Was he bribe or something to fix the pain of loss? What...was he?
"Would..." He stopped, quieted, then looked away. He knew the answer, Would you have let me kill you; Tobirama wouldn't offer unless he meant it. "Why...did you let me do that?"
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branchandroot
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Date: 2015-09-12 03:28 am (UTC)Yes, seeing his brother was important, vital, but the look he shared to Tobirama proved that neither one of them was particularly yearning for it at the moment.
His eyes closed as he dropped his hand, the sound a slap against uneven ground. It echoed in the room, and he heard it in his head, just like those words. They hung between them like a chasm that ended nowhere. Teeth bit his bottom lip.
"Are you going to take me out of here, then?" he whispered, wanting to look around, but unable to wrench his eyes from the look in Tobirama's, that need, that want. He should have stood up, stood and gone back to prowling; it was humiliating for an Uchiha to be on their knees, even a dead one. But he couldn't help himself; he didn't want to move away.
Madara could fix this. Madara could make him whole. Madara could...do something.
But it wasn't Madara that had brought him back. It was Tobirama. Was he a tool or a regret? Was he bribe or something to fix the pain of loss? What...was he?
"Would..." He stopped, quieted, then looked away. He knew the answer, Would you have let me kill you; Tobirama wouldn't offer unless he meant it. "Why...did you let me do that?"