I think he is upset with me...

     Itachi was late. Late for what? Well, he was late for a dinner date. One that he and Naruto had planned for months. It wasn't like he wanted to be late, oh no, but his annoying shark-like Akatsuki partner Kisame just wouldn't stop talking. Of course he could have just left the blathering twit to his musings, but he knew, he knew it would be taken as an insult to the shark-like man's ego. That's not to say he prioritizes his 'friends' over his own boyfriend.

     At least, that's how he saw it. So he was in a slight panic to get to the restaurant. He wanted to see his boyfriend's sweet smile on his delicately soft face. An expression only he was privy to. His angelic features were a sight to behold in close quarters and Itachi would do anything to keep his love happy. Even if it meant his own happiness would suffer just a little.

     So when he finally made it to the restaurant, thirty minutes late, and in his henge he and Naruto had agreed on ( He was a rouge-nin and was hunted by the Elemental Nations ), he did his absolute best to look apologetic. But he stopped in his tracks when the lady at the front desk denied him entry.

     "I'm sorry Mister, your date has already left, and your reservation is used up." Itachi let the strained smile on his face fall as he was guided back out of the front doors. They closed silently behind him and he had to blink away the stinging in his eyes. No, he would not cry, not now. He had to see Naruto, he had to explain why he was late.

     The walk home was quick, his pace brisk and only speeding up as his anxiety rose. How would Naruto respond to his sloppiness? Would he be cold and calculating? His blue eyes glossed over with ice and betrayal. A look he's seen only twice, terrifyingly cold, freezing him to the depths of his core.

     Or would he be angry? Fiery temper getting the best of him. He would probably scream and yell, force Itachi to explain everything he did that day. Who he saw, what he was doing, what he felt. It would burn him, singe his heart strings, make him feel woefully useless under his lover's hand. But it would be better than the silence, the coldness that creeped into his veins, the look of betrayal he would most likely receive even as he prayed for the opposite outcome.

     It's odd, truly it is, Itachi Uchiha, one of the most feared people of his time, so strong and wilful, completely under the thumb of his lover. Of course it wasn't always like that, but people change when certain things are exposed to them. Naruto was the cause of such a change. The once powerful Itachi bowed to no one, not even his own clan, but that all changed when it came to Naruto Uzumaki.

     He paused in his musings as he reached his hand towards the door knob. Was he ready to do this? Perhaps he should let Naruto blow off some steam first. Then again it would probably just make the situation worse. He pondered for a moment before carefully twisting the knob and opening the door.

      It was dark, incredibly so, to the point he wondered if his love was even home. But he knew Naruto would be here. It was rare that Naruto left the house of his own accord. He much preferred to stay and mediate. Perhaps if they needed groceries he would walk to the shop two streets down. But that was the furthest he would go. Not that Itachi blamed him, of course. The villagers of Konoha hated him so much...

     The clicking of his shoes was the only thing he could hear in the silent house as he dispelled his henge. His eyes struggled to adjust to the darkness and he barely caught the movement in the corner of his eye. He turned towards the flicker of light too late as a stab of pain bloomed from his neck through the rest of his body. His form suddenly dropping to the floor like a puppet whose strings have been cut.

     The pain was brutal, tight in his chest and burning through his veins. His limbs spasmed as his brain struggled to comprehend what was attacking him. Unable to understand that he was being harmed from within. It lasted for what felt like hours but the sound of stressed pacing contradicted such a thought. What was happening? What was he injected with? Why?