This was wrong. All of this was wrong. Tobirama dragging him into the hug, the tightened arms around him, those words. So many words, so many emotions tangled up in the syllables and none of them comforting in the truth. Had he ever told Izuna that much about him before? How he felt? What he wanted to say? Had he ever said—

You’re worrying me, he wanted to say, but it sounded weak in his head. Scared. And maybe he was because Tobirama never sounded like this, never confessed like this. It was talk of a dying man, someone taking their last breaths, walking to the gallows and knowing their fate. But they were fine, Tobirama wasn’t bleeding, wasn’t wounded, and Izuna couldn’t di—

Slowly, a low level of dread started to climb up his spine, wondering what was coming, fearing what could be. Tobirama could dispel this, but he wouldn’t. He wouldn’t. There was no way he would kill Izuna twice, lay him to rest and send him off to the Pure Lands for a second time. Why would he? There was no reason, especially not if he loved him so much, felt even half of what he was confessing to him. They…were supposed to be happy now.

Maybe he was just saying all the things he had meant to say earlier, before their fight. Maybe this was to let go of the guilt. Of course. That made—

--absolutely no sense.

Izuna pulled back enough to look at him, but not enough to break the hold of the arms around him. His palm found the curve of the other’s cheek, his thumb rubbing over the skin near the top. Was it comforting? Probably not with his skin’s different texture, but he ignored that logic for a moment. He didn’t want to think of himself as different, but the same.

“Why are you telling me this?” he whispered. “Look at me, Tobirama. What happened?”