Your Lies | Itachi Uchiha x Reader

Chapter 24

POV – Y/n

The inn was too quiet.

I laid on the futon with my arms crossed, staring at the wooden ceiling. A single paper lantern flickered near the corner of the room, casting gentle shadows across the floor where Itachi sat with his back against the wall. He hadn't moved in what felt like an hour.

Neither had I.

I shifted and huffed. "You're still awake."

"Yes."

"...Are you going to sleep?"

"No."

I sat up slowly. "Do you ever?"

"When I need to."

"That's cryptic."

"I thought you liked mysteries."

I frowned. "I never said that."

"You didn't have to."

I rolled my eyes. "Okay, genius. What else do you think you know about me?"

Itachi didn't respond right away. The silence stretched. Then:

"You're impulsive. You pretend not to care what people think, but you carry every judgment like a weight. You say what you mean, but never everything you mean. You get mad when people underestimate you—but it scares you more when they don't."

I stared at him.

"...That's too much," I whispered. "You've been paying attention."

"Of course I have."

His voice was quiet, almost too soft to catch. Something in my chest stirred.

I stood up and crossed the room. He didn't look up when I sat beside him. He was still staring straight ahead, hands folded neatly on his lap. I leaned my back against the same wall.

For a moment, we didn't speak.

"Your turn," he said finally.

"What?"

"Tell me what you know about me."

I squinted. "That you're full of it?"

He actually smiled. Just barely.

I sighed. "You try to seem cold, but you're not. You notice everything, even things that don't matter. You act like nothing gets to you, but I think it all does—and you just learned how to hide it. You... shut people out before they can hurt you."

Silence again.

I looked down at my hands. "...And I think you're lonelier than you let on."

That struck something. His posture stiffened.

"Do you miss anyone?" I asked.

He didn't answer.

I leaned my head back and stared at the ceiling again. "I miss my sister. And my dumb little cousin. I miss the smell of our old house. I miss laughing without worrying it'll be the last time."

A long pause.

"...I miss silence," he said.

That startled me. "You're always in silence."

"Not like this."

I didn't know what he meant.

But I felt it anyway.

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Later

I rolled over in the futon again and sighed loudly. "This is impossible. I can't sleep."

Itachi was still sitting upright, meditating. Eyes closed. Breathing slow.

"You're really going to meditate all night?" I asked.

He opened one eye. "If it helps."

"You could sit somewhere else. Watching me sleep is creepy."

"I'm not watching you."

"You were literally watching me earlier."

He blinked. "You were glowing."

I blinked back. "What?"

He looked away. "Your chakra. It spiked when you got angry. It... lit the room for a second."

"Oh." I paused. "...That's poetic. Did you write that down in your little journal?"

"I don't keep a journal."

"Liar."

He didn't deny it.

I laughed quietly.

Then, unsure why, I rolled to face the wall. "...Do you want the futon?"

"No."

"I don't mind."

"I said no."

I pulled the blanket tighter around me. "...Fine."

The silence returned.

But it felt warmer now.

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POV – Itachi

She fell asleep facing the wall, knees curled up slightly. Her hair spilled across the pillow like ribbons of auburn ink.

I hadn't meant to stay this long. I told myself I'd just watch for a moment. But something about the way she softened in sleep—unguarded, peaceful—made it hard to turn away.

She twitched slightly in her sleep. A crease appeared between her brows.

A bad dream?

Without thinking, I moved closer.

I stopped myself before I touched her. Instead, I sat back down and kept watch.

It was safer this way.

For her. For me.

I didn't know when things had shifted. When she stopped being a target and started being a person I couldn't stop watching. Wondering about. Worrying about.

I had no right.

And yet.

I looked at the bracelet again—gleaming faintly in the moonlight. My compliment earlier had been a slip. I shouldn't have said it.

But it had suited her.

Everything did.