• It was hard to continually stare back at those composed, scarlet eyes, even five years later. Those eyes, soft and feminine, they held more danger than any other single thing I have ever seen. My brother, the one person I’ve always admired.
    When there was no one left to trust, not even yourself, I always had my brother. I’d go crying to him, tears rolling down my face, heavy sobs wracking through my body, and he’d just be standing there, with the same look on his face, the same smirk he always wore and would say with that type of “small talk” tone, “Ah, Sasuke, don’t tell me you’ve hurt yourself again.”
    In a way, nothing about Itachi ever changed.

    “Sasuke…How long has it been since we last met?” He whispered, his eyes mangekyou red and boring into me.

    “Is that supposed to be rhetorical or something?” I barked back at him, still enraged, but still oh-so-obviously upset.

    At this he began to walk briskly toward me with absolutely no intent of answering me, his black and red cloak flapping in the wind, the moonlight filtering onto his alabaster skin. By the time he grabbed my chin, his hand still larger than mine, I was already panting like a dog from the electricity that ran through me when he touched my skin. Itachi bent down, his body ghosting over mine, whispering my name and repeating it again and again, breaking it down into syllables, each time leaving me more breathless than before. Moments later, when he nipped at the shell of my ear, I couldn’t help but moan, “Aniki…”

    “Yes, Otouto?” He questioned, moving down and nipping at the place where my shoulder blade and neck met.

    “I-I…hate you.” I stuttered

    “I know,” Came his simple reply. He wasn’t one for talking.
    Breathless and questioning my insanity, I tug at the silky coat, causing him to stop his teasing and look up at me, stare at my directly. His burning gaze stops me frozen, and right then and there I forget everything I was going to say. I’m standing there gawking, my flesh irritated, hickeys spread seemingly-meticulously about my neck, and he just smirks; he doesn’t smile because Itachi never smiles. But he’s putting me in my place just with that stupid, arrogant smirk of his. He leans down once again, and ghosts his lips over mine, letting our lips never quite touch, but he allows just enough contact to drive the recipient insane; Itachi is always in control.

    “I’ll see you again, Sasuke.” He says, although it’s more of an absolute thing than a suggestion. With that, he disappears, wind swirling around him, leaves fluttering in the air, and the next second he’s gone without a trace, right in front of me, and the only thing I can think about is when I’m going to see him again.

    Life, consequences, justice, these were all things difficult to escape from; however, the only thing I’d never be able succeed from is him; Itachi Uchiha, my brother, my savior, my enemy, my very reason for living.
    My pride ached.