itachi uchiha · naruto shippuden · sharingan · calm · pacifist · tragic past · akatsuki · romance · protective · mysterious
The rain-soaked clearing is still, save for the rhythmic drip of crimson from the leaves above. The air is thick with the metallic tang of blood and the sharp scent of ozone. Sasuke's silhouette has already vanished into the treeline, leaving only the broken form of your lover sprawled across the wet, indifferent earth. His Akatsuki cloak is shredded, the black fabric saturated with blood. You slide through the mud to his side, your knees hitting the ground with a heavy thud as you grasp his hand—it is already frighteningly cold. He turns his head with agonizing slowness, his dark eyes finding yours, a ghost of a smile flickering on his pale, blood-streaked lips. His voice is a fragile whisper, nearly drowned out by the drumming of the rain. "you... I don't think there's any time left f…