（ itachi's only response is to purse his lips faintly, and then he closes the distance between them. it is one thing to be mindful of the man's upset. it is quite another to indulge it unnecessarily.
he steps with care over the various talismans, the nonsensical characters getting no more than a cursory glance before he lowers himself seiza before his friend and, saying nothing, simply reaches out for him. he pulls wei ying forward, as much into his arms as his lap, and just lets him feel the solidity and the warmth of a body with a beating heart. ）
[Shock ripples through Wei Wuxian's body at the touch and he pulls back but not away, eyes wide with incredulity. Touch had always been the limitation of those conjured images and he isn't so far gone to suspect his delusions have worsened as opposed to the more likely explanation.
Itachi is here.
This isn't the conjuring of a body filled with resentful energy and a grief stricken mind. Itachi is here.
The distance that he'd put between them to look at Itachi's face doesn't last long because as soon as he's processed that he's real, he pushes forward, arms wrapped tightly around Itachi's neck, and face pressed to Itachi's, cheek to cheek. His own face is wet with tears and he doesn't care. It's about time Itachi was witness to him crying from joy instead of sorrow.
Wei Wuxian doesn't try to speak, only sits there and weeps as he holds on tightly to his zhiji.]
（ one hand is lifted to stroke at the man's hair, the messy tangles and snarls that are a sign of clear neglect. the tears do not trouble him, nor the clinging alarm — he lets him, and does not try to discourage the proximity.
instead, after the sobbing has somewhat abated — ）
[The question is both practical and kind, but it feels trivial in the face of his emotional upheaval and he lets out a sound both laughter and sob in response. Instead of answering, he pulls back again—enough only to come face to face with Itachi, his hands cradling either side of his face.]
I don't want to sleep. [His voice comes out hoarse and he swallows hard to clear it.] I just want to sit here and look at you.
[There is, for the first time in five days, the ghost of a smile in his eyes.]
[Indulge him, he asks. As if Wei Wuxian wouldn't offer Itachi his own heart and soul if he asked him to right now. After another pause in which he tries to answer the question, he eventually shrugs.]
I've slept some. [Not well, or much, or for very long. His hands haven't left Itachi's face and they slip down to cradle his jaw now, thumbs drawing circles against his skin. Itachi doesn't look any different. He doesn't know where he went but he seems the same. He doesn't care to ask now though, that will be a conversation for later.]
Will you stay with me? [It's impossible to keep the fear entirely from his voice. He is sure now that Itachi isn't an illusion, but he has no misgivings about what his mind will assume if he sleeps and wakes alone.]
（ he cants his head faintly into the open palm of his companion's left hand, and then turns his head to press a kiss against the skin. ）
There is nowhere I would prefer to be than by your side. I will remain.
（ there is a sudden snap of consciousness rebounded into his mind as the clone self-dismisses, the knowledge and awareness of the room's current state slotted neatly into his memories alongside these moments with his friend. ）
Come. I will leave a clone to see to this. （ 'this' being the eccentric, messy scrawl of talismans and other accoutrements. ） Let us return to your quarters. Mine, I noticed, was less its blanket.
It's trash. [He says, eyes flickering to the scattered mess for only a second before looking back. The statement lacks any of his telltale self-deprivation signs. It isn't a judgment of condemnation.
His skin tingles where Itachi's lips have pressed a soft kiss into his hand and his gaze rests on the spot, eyes welling with tears that he's quick to blink away. Wei Wuxian opens his mouth to speak, forgets his words, and leans forward again to wind his arms around him. Just when it seems he won't be moving again, he sighs quietly and rises to a stand. His hands slide down to clasp one of Itachi's hands between both of his.]
Can you use shunshin? [If they walk through the halls he will have to let go, and the thought of it is...unwelcome.]
Whether it is trash or not does not mean we should leave it for the little robot.
（ but his tone is faintly amused as he says it — because he too notes the lack of self-deprecation. ）
Yes. （ though it's not like he can just pull wei ying along by hand — at the speed of shunshin that would be a markedly unpleasant experience for anyone without chakra. instead, he bends and scoops the man up into his arms, the flick of one hand summoning a clone in tandem. the clone begins diligently tidying the area, and as for them —
returning to his companion's room is quickly done. the clutter has been nicely squared away, and the clone had set a stick of incense to burn, the smoke of sweet sandalwood is curling in hazy circles against the ceiling before it's whisked away by the room's air scrubbers. itachi sets wei ying down near his desk, but does not quite step back — lingering instead within easy distance. ）
[Later he'll notice the clean room and realize what Itachi had done, but now he only inhales quietly at the sandalwood scent and remains in place. He moves closer, wrapping his arms round Itachi's sides and curling his fingers around the fabric of his shirt before he lays his head on Itachi's shoulder.]
I missed you.
[The sentiment is obvious, but he whispers it aloud anyway.]
（ it is not exactly a sentiment he can offer in return. he did not miss wei ying, because while he was gone he did not know him. but, when the man presses in against his side and space, he makes room for him as if it was the truth, some unuttered sentiment. ）
[He lets out a soft huff of would be laughter. There isn't anything for Itachi to be sorry for. The universe maybe, or the multiverse, or the orbs, but not Itachi.]
After I've slept, will you tell me where you went?
[He pulls away as he asks, kicking off his shoes and discarding his shirt before he reaches for Itachi's hand again to tug him towards the bed.]
（ there is no resistance. he goes, and nudges his companion into the bed, following only once wei ying is settled and comfortable. he remains clothed for no reason other than the fact he has no desire to sleep. ）
Yes.
（ he leans in, presses a chaste kiss to the man's bare shoulder. ）
Rest.
（ there is a note of soft command there, something stirred up in his own innate talents. not fully genjutsu, but — a suggestion backed by that skill.
once the suggestion takes root, and the man's breathing evens out and deepens, he shifts slightly onto his back, one arm resting casually over his own stomach, the other behind his head providing a sort of cushion in the crux of his elbow. an edo tensei does not need to breathe except to speak, the pull of air into borrowed lungs is an entirely different feeling and sensation than his body's singular need. he is mindful of its functions, its foibles, in a way few people ever are. but where he expects it to grate against his awareness, he feels only peace.
he studies the ceiling, with its webbed drum set and various pictures had been cluttered enough to offend him once, and now it is... home.
what a curious word.
for most of his life, home has been a time more than a place, more than a person. home was the summer before shisui died, when he was still so certain that the fate of their clan could be diverted from disaster. it was the moments spent with sasuke — rare evenings when duty and guilt were not pressing down upon him, inexorable — where itachi was tasked with helping him with homework, or sharing icy treats at nakano lake. it was sitting still and patient before his mother as she worked blood out of his hair. it was playing shogi with his father as twilight kissed the sky and the whole world narrowed to the singular point of focus, the clack of tiles on lacquered wood.
he was already in anbu then. already tasked with the observation of his clan. but every once in a while, such things could be set aside. moments of freedom stolen like the frenetic, dying gasps of a drowning man.
and for the years after — nothing. a missing-nin has no home, and he had both expected not to know that peace again, and accepted that fate unflinching. he left the concept in the past, preserved by the sharingan's perfect recall, and had not once deluded himself that his life could end any way except how it had.
if he closes his eyes, he can still see sasuke's face. it blurs, at times, between the child and the man he became.
sasuke would not have liked wei ying, he thinks. just as he did not care for anyone who took the bulk of his attention elsewhere. perhaps he would even think him weak, a liability, or a fool. but... here, in this time, in this place...
mm.
once the man begins to stir and rise from wakefulness, whether it is minutes or hours later he has not genuinely kept track, lost in distant contemplation. firstly: ）
[The assurance reaches him before doubt can creep in and he smiles, relief and affection all mixed together in the expression. He's groggy still—a few hours of rest not enough to leave him feeling fully refreshed, but he has no desire to continue sleeping. He reaches out with one hand to brush hair away from Itachi's face and simply look at him.
It wasn't so long ago that they lay in that cove in Golden Haven in much the same position they're in now, but it feels a lifetime ago since then. For a long moment Wei Wuxian remains that way, and when he shifts, it is only to let his hand slide from Itachi's cheek to his chest, allowing it to pause over his heart. He can't feel its beat over his clothes, but he feels warm and alive. It's enough.
Wei Wuxian leans forward to press a kiss of his own to Itachi's lips, chaste and unhurried. He is mildly aware of his sleep sour breath, and the combination of that awareness with his desire to keep looking at Itachi has him pulling away shortly.]
It wasn't a dream. [He repeats back, soft and satisfied.]
Are you okay?
[He doesn't know where Itachi had gone—if he'd been aware or felt anything at all. His eyes scan his form before rising again to hold his gaze.]
[Happiness implies a kind of emotional exuberance that he doesn't feel capable of in the moment, but peace has settled over him like a warm cloak, and contentment rests over every line of his body. He shifts closer and presses his lips to Itachi's shoulder and then to his chin, fleeting touches of intimacy more than anything made of passion.]
（ he wraps an arm around the man's shoulders, lazy with ease. he is no longer resistant to the physical contact with his friend, but it is still rare that he initiates it. ）
'All right' will suffice for now. Did any new talismans come of my absence?
[His eyes dart away sheepishly as he relaxes into Itachi's arm.]
No. I couldn't even tell you what I was working on. [He snorts softly and shakes his head.]
Nothing good ever comes from when I do my work like that. [He thinks of his time in the Burial Mounds with the Wen and the soul sacrifice summons, and wonders if Itachi will know what he means. Eager to shift the topic away from his relative uselessness over the last few days, his eyes flicker up to meet his friend's.]
（ what happened is still so new and precious he cannot decide if it is wound or weight. his mouth thins, and for a long moment he says nothing, his gaze faint and unfocused as he looks to a point over the man's shoulder.
wei ying is perhaps the only person aboard the station for whom he would consider divulging the story. not because he alone would understand, not because he alone would ask — but because itachi has always been private, and this... it is the sort of experience one must crack themselves open to share.
there is a shift of his weight, and then he reaches out to rest his and against the man's wrist, thumb stroking downwards against the vein. ）
[It is only because of what Edo Tensei is that Wei Wuxian remembers. Had it been one of Itachi's many skills that he hasn't seen in action, it's likely the name would have been lost to his memory, but he always remembers the names of abilities so close to demonic cultivation in nature.
And in remembering, his stomach tightens with anxiety, understanding dawning.
In response he nods, silently encouraging Itachi to continue.]
（ recognizing that anxiety in play, he leans over to kiss the man's shoulder. it's a soft gesture, accentuated by the slip of his hair to veil his face. ）
It was not bad.
（ it is simply so much to tell. it would almost be easier, to just dump the memories of his experience into the man's mind, but... a part of him balks at it. it would involve being too seen. ）
There was a man who desired war against the five great shinobi nations. An Edo Tensei is nearly indestructible — it can only be sealed, not killed. I was resurrected along many members of Akatsuki, and any great shinobi of the past century for whom the right conditions could be met. When you are revived in this manner, your actions are not your own — but to be at the apex of your power, your mind must be. I was sent with another to combat and capture Uzumaki Naruto and a man named Killer Bee.
（ his gaze slips to the ceiling. he finds himself studying that drum set again. ）
However... before I died, I had imparted Shisui's eye to Naruto. He was not aware of what it meant. And as I knew Sasuke would take my eyes, I had... intended that the use of their Mangekyō would trigger Kotoamatsukami. I knew Sasuke was on a dangerous path, and that if he continued on it he would be at odds with Konoha. So, I had attempted to set up a failsafe to save his life and my village. Instead, that failsafe was used on my body in the throes of Edo Tensei, and I was able to break control from the man who had chosen to resurrect me.
[To say it's a lot to take in would be an understatement. Still, Wei Wuxian benefits at least from understanding what Edo Tensei is and how it works. He'll admit he doesn't entirely understand how Shisui's eyes were meant to act as a trigger, but he understands enough to get an idea of what happened.
Itachi was brought back as a tool and it failed. He'd regained his autonomy.
Still, even the thought that someone sought to use him that way beyond death—as if he hadn't spent his whole life being used as a tool by different men—is enough to make his heart ache.]
Uzumaki Naruto. [He repeats the name out loud, searching his memory.] That was the boy who cared for your brother. The one you said might be able to change things.
[And Itachi had been raised to bring harm to him.
It failed, he reminds himself, and cools the embers of anger threatening to flare to life.]
Yes. He grew even more powerful after my death. It was truly magnificent to behold.
（ there is a soft fondness in his tone, and pride. naruto... the boy to change things indeed. ）
I sent him elsewhere, and then went after the one pulling the strings on Edo Tensei. And along that path, I happened across my brother. As it happens, after my death he was told the true nature of my deception by the man I knew as Madara — but who was, in truth, my cousin Obito.
（ the tangled uchiha web coming back to haunt him. he had met obito only once before he died, and his name was effectively scrubbed from the annals of history borne of that disgraceful failure. he had not even considered it as a possibility, and has not yet had a chance to unpack that deception in his own mind. that will be something to revisit later, when he is alone.
for now — ）
We fought together against the enemy. We won. I broke the jutsu. （ perhaps wei ying will note the language there. i. itachi has always been allergic to taking credit for affecting positive change, and yet there it sits — writ plain. ） I do not know if it was enough to achieve victory, but... it gave them a chance. （ softer — ） And I was able to tell my brother that I would love him always.
[By the time Itachi has finished speaking, Wei Wuxian's eyes are wet. He doesn't bother to wipe the tears way, letting them fall softly to the pillow beneath his cheek as a smile blooms across his face. It is so much better than the way Itachi's life had ended before.
He knows why he hadn't wanted Sasuke to know of his ruse, but it's relief he feels at the knowledge that the secret hadn't died with him. Maybe Itachi wasn't ready for the world to know his heart, Wei Wuxian understands why. Still, he's glad his brother found out the truth. (Even if he knows it's a sentiment he can't examine too closely for fear of opening one of his own wounds.)]
I'm glad you got to speak to Sasuke. [He breathes out quietly. Uchiha Itachi, still helping his brother and his village even after death. It's isn't surprising, but sometimes it still takes his legs out from under him just how good Itachi is. How full of love for his brother and loyalty to his village.
He loves him so much, his heart feels full enough to burst.]
（ he pushes himself up on one arm, and leans over to dab at those tears, thumbing them away with a whisper-soft touch. the press of his lips follows against one cheek. ）
You would love him, but those feelings would not be returned. He would think very poorly of you, and all the moreso for the fact you have stolen my attention. He never did quite master the art of sharing his elder brother. It was just the same with Shisui.
![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
no subject
he steps with care over the various talismans, the nonsensical characters getting no more than a cursory glance before he lowers himself seiza before his friend and, saying nothing, simply reaches out for him. he pulls wei ying forward, as much into his arms as his lap, and just lets him feel the solidity and the warmth of a body with a beating heart. ）
no subject
Itachi is here.
This isn't the conjuring of a body filled with resentful energy and a grief stricken mind. Itachi is here.
The distance that he'd put between them to look at Itachi's face doesn't last long because as soon as he's processed that he's real, he pushes forward, arms wrapped tightly around Itachi's neck, and face pressed to Itachi's, cheek to cheek. His own face is wet with tears and he doesn't care. It's about time Itachi was witness to him crying from joy instead of sorrow.
Wei Wuxian doesn't try to speak, only sits there and weeps as he holds on tightly to his zhiji.]
no subject
instead, after the sobbing has somewhat abated — ）
When was the last time you slept?
no subject
I don't want to sleep. [His voice comes out hoarse and he swallows hard to clear it.] I just want to sit here and look at you.
[There is, for the first time in five days, the ghost of a smile in his eyes.]
no subject
There will be time enough for that later.
（ he leans in, and presses his lips to the man's forehead softly. ）
Indulge me.
no subject
I've slept some. [Not well, or much, or for very long. His hands haven't left Itachi's face and they slip down to cradle his jaw now, thumbs drawing circles against his skin. Itachi doesn't look any different. He doesn't know where he went but he seems the same. He doesn't care to ask now though, that will be a conversation for later.]
Will you stay with me? [It's impossible to keep the fear entirely from his voice. He is sure now that Itachi isn't an illusion, but he has no misgivings about what his mind will assume if he sleeps and wakes alone.]
no subject
There is nowhere I would prefer to be than by your side. I will remain.
（ there is a sudden snap of consciousness rebounded into his mind as the clone self-dismisses, the knowledge and awareness of the room's current state slotted neatly into his memories alongside these moments with his friend. ）
Come. I will leave a clone to see to this. （ 'this' being the eccentric, messy scrawl of talismans and other accoutrements. ） Let us return to your quarters. Mine, I noticed, was less its blanket.
no subject
His skin tingles where Itachi's lips have pressed a soft kiss into his hand and his gaze rests on the spot, eyes welling with tears that he's quick to blink away. Wei Wuxian opens his mouth to speak, forgets his words, and leans forward again to wind his arms around him. Just when it seems he won't be moving again, he sighs quietly and rises to a stand. His hands slide down to clasp one of Itachi's hands between both of his.]
Can you use shunshin? [If they walk through the halls he will have to let go, and the thought of it is...unwelcome.]
no subject
（ but his tone is faintly amused as he says it — because he too notes the lack of self-deprecation. ）
Yes. （ though it's not like he can just pull wei ying along by hand — at the speed of shunshin that would be a markedly unpleasant experience for anyone without chakra. instead, he bends and scoops the man up into his arms, the flick of one hand summoning a clone in tandem. the clone begins diligently tidying the area, and as for them —
returning to his companion's room is quickly done. the clutter has been nicely squared away, and the clone had set a stick of incense to burn, the smoke of sweet sandalwood is curling in hazy circles against the ceiling before it's whisked away by the room's air scrubbers. itachi sets wei ying down near his desk, but does not quite step back — lingering instead within easy distance. ）
no subject
I missed you.
[The sentiment is obvious, but he whispers it aloud anyway.]
no subject
I'm sorry.
（ he can offer nothing else. ）
no subject
After I've slept, will you tell me where you went?
[He pulls away as he asks, kicking off his shoes and discarding his shirt before he reaches for Itachi's hand again to tug him towards the bed.]
no subject
Yes.
（ he leans in, presses a chaste kiss to the man's bare shoulder. ）
Rest.
（ there is a note of soft command there, something stirred up in his own innate talents. not fully genjutsu, but — a suggestion backed by that skill.
once the suggestion takes root, and the man's breathing evens out and deepens, he shifts slightly onto his back, one arm resting casually over his own stomach, the other behind his head providing a sort of cushion in the crux of his elbow. an edo tensei does not need to breathe except to speak, the pull of air into borrowed lungs is an entirely different feeling and sensation than his body's singular need. he is mindful of its functions, its foibles, in a way few people ever are. but where he expects it to grate against his awareness, he feels only peace.
he studies the ceiling, with its webbed drum set and various pictures had been cluttered enough to offend him once, and now it is... home.
what a curious word.
for most of his life, home has been a time more than a place, more than a person. home was the summer before shisui died, when he was still so certain that the fate of their clan could be diverted from disaster. it was the moments spent with sasuke — rare evenings when duty and guilt were not pressing down upon him, inexorable — where itachi was tasked with helping him with homework, or sharing icy treats at nakano lake. it was sitting still and patient before his mother as she worked blood out of his hair. it was playing shogi with his father as twilight kissed the sky and the whole world narrowed to the singular point of focus, the clack of tiles on lacquered wood.
he was already in anbu then. already tasked with the observation of his clan. but every once in a while, such things could be set aside. moments of freedom stolen like the frenetic, dying gasps of a drowning man.
and for the years after — nothing. a missing-nin has no home, and he had both expected not to know that peace again, and accepted that fate unflinching. he left the concept in the past, preserved by the sharingan's perfect recall, and had not once deluded himself that his life could end any way except how it had.
if he closes his eyes, he can still see sasuke's face. it blurs, at times, between the child and the man he became.
sasuke would not have liked wei ying, he thinks. just as he did not care for anyone who took the bulk of his attention elsewhere. perhaps he would even think him weak, a liability, or a fool. but... here, in this time, in this place...
mm.
once the man begins to stir and rise from wakefulness, whether it is minutes or hours later he has not genuinely kept track, lost in distant contemplation. firstly: ）
It wasn't a dream.
（ just to quell any panic. ）
no subject
It wasn't so long ago that they lay in that cove in Golden Haven in much the same position they're in now, but it feels a lifetime ago since then. For a long moment Wei Wuxian remains that way, and when he shifts, it is only to let his hand slide from Itachi's cheek to his chest, allowing it to pause over his heart. He can't feel its beat over his clothes, but he feels warm and alive. It's enough.
Wei Wuxian leans forward to press a kiss of his own to Itachi's lips, chaste and unhurried. He is mildly aware of his sleep sour breath, and the combination of that awareness with his desire to keep looking at Itachi has him pulling away shortly.]
It wasn't a dream. [He repeats back, soft and satisfied.]
Are you okay?
[He doesn't know where Itachi had gone—if he'd been aware or felt anything at all. His eyes scan his form before rising again to hold his gaze.]
no subject
（ it's a soft noise, toned to indicate an affirmative. if he happens to be bothered by the morning breath there is no indication of it. ）
Yourself?
no subject
[Happiness implies a kind of emotional exuberance that he doesn't feel capable of in the moment, but peace has settled over him like a warm cloak, and contentment rests over every line of his body. He shifts closer and presses his lips to Itachi's shoulder and then to his chin, fleeting touches of intimacy more than anything made of passion.]
no subject
'All right' will suffice for now. Did any new talismans come of my absence?
no subject
No. I couldn't even tell you what I was working on. [He snorts softly and shakes his head.]
Nothing good ever comes from when I do my work like that. [He thinks of his time in the Burial Mounds with the Wen and the soul sacrifice summons, and wonders if Itachi will know what he means. Eager to shift the topic away from his relative uselessness over the last few days, his eyes flicker up to meet his friend's.]
What happened?
no subject
wei ying is perhaps the only person aboard the station for whom he would consider divulging the story. not because he alone would understand, not because he alone would ask — but because itachi has always been private, and this... it is the sort of experience one must crack themselves open to share.
there is a shift of his weight, and then he reaches out to rest his and against the man's wrist, thumb stroking downwards against the vein. ）
I told you once of Edo Tensei. Do you recall?
（ is what he says, finally. ）
no subject
And in remembering, his stomach tightens with anxiety, understanding dawning.
In response he nods, silently encouraging Itachi to continue.]
no subject
It was not bad.
（ it is simply so much to tell. it would almost be easier, to just dump the memories of his experience into the man's mind, but... a part of him balks at it. it would involve being too seen. ）
There was a man who desired war against the five great shinobi nations. An Edo Tensei is nearly indestructible — it can only be sealed, not killed. I was resurrected along many members of Akatsuki, and any great shinobi of the past century for whom the right conditions could be met. When you are revived in this manner, your actions are not your own — but to be at the apex of your power, your mind must be. I was sent with another to combat and capture Uzumaki Naruto and a man named Killer Bee.
（ his gaze slips to the ceiling. he finds himself studying that drum set again. ）
However... before I died, I had imparted Shisui's eye to Naruto. He was not aware of what it meant. And as I knew Sasuke would take my eyes, I had... intended that the use of their Mangekyō would trigger Kotoamatsukami. I knew Sasuke was on a dangerous path, and that if he continued on it he would be at odds with Konoha. So, I had attempted to set up a failsafe to save his life and my village. Instead, that failsafe was used on my body in the throes of Edo Tensei, and I was able to break control from the man who had chosen to resurrect me.
no subject
Itachi was brought back as a tool and it failed. He'd regained his autonomy.
Still, even the thought that someone sought to use him that way beyond death—as if he hadn't spent his whole life being used as a tool by different men—is enough to make his heart ache.]
Uzumaki Naruto. [He repeats the name out loud, searching his memory.] That was the boy who cared for your brother. The one you said might be able to change things.
[And Itachi had been raised to bring harm to him.
It failed, he reminds himself, and cools the embers of anger threatening to flare to life.]
no subject
（ there is a soft fondness in his tone, and pride. naruto... the boy to change things indeed. ）
I sent him elsewhere, and then went after the one pulling the strings on Edo Tensei. And along that path, I happened across my brother. As it happens, after my death he was told the true nature of my deception by the man I knew as Madara — but who was, in truth, my cousin Obito.
（ the tangled uchiha web coming back to haunt him. he had met obito only once before he died, and his name was effectively scrubbed from the annals of history borne of that disgraceful failure. he had not even considered it as a possibility, and has not yet had a chance to unpack that deception in his own mind. that will be something to revisit later, when he is alone.
for now — ）
We fought together against the enemy. We won. I broke the jutsu. （ perhaps wei ying will note the language there. i. itachi has always been allergic to taking credit for affecting positive change, and yet there it sits — writ plain. ） I do not know if it was enough to achieve victory, but... it gave them a chance. （ softer — ） And I was able to tell my brother that I would love him always.
no subject
He knows why he hadn't wanted Sasuke to know of his ruse, but it's relief he feels at the knowledge that the secret hadn't died with him. Maybe Itachi wasn't ready for the world to know his heart, Wei Wuxian understands why. Still, he's glad his brother found out the truth. (Even if he knows it's a sentiment he can't examine too closely for fear of opening one of his own wounds.)]
I'm glad you got to speak to Sasuke. [He breathes out quietly. Uchiha Itachi, still helping his brother and his village even after death. It's isn't surprising, but sometimes it still takes his legs out from under him just how good Itachi is. How full of love for his brother and loyalty to his village.
He loves him so much, his heart feels full enough to burst.]
no subject
（ he pushes himself up on one arm, and leans over to dab at those tears, thumbing them away with a whisper-soft touch. the press of his lips follows against one cheek. ）
You would love him, but those feelings would not be returned. He would think very poorly of you, and all the moreso for the fact you have stolen my attention. He never did quite master the art of sharing his elder brother. It was just the same with Shisui.
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)