ღℳasked ℑdentityღ {Itachi Uchiha}

♥18♡

And just like the terror of the outside, the inside sends shivers down your spine as you step into your old home. Old is right...

Your eyes dart around in shock at the horrifying conditions: the indoor plants, greeting you on each side of the entrance, were dried to a crisp; the carpets marked in dirt and dry oil—probably from your dad's work boots, which apparently stopped the habit of taking them off before stepping into the house—were the sole reason to the iffy smell fulfilling the room. You cringed as the smell suddenly became stronger and pressed your palm at your lower belly.

There wasn't much furniture anymore, except a couple of coffee tables and bookcases were left empty, covered in dust as if a feather duster never met this home. Even your hands twitched, instinctively needing to service your own home.

"This place is creepy," you muse out loud as Dana beckons for the main living room. Only one recliner chair, carrying a basket of tools, sat in the spacious living room. The walls were still decorated with the same décor, except a couple of family photos were removed to mark the wall with light shades of missing frames. Hearing a low crunch at your feet, you look down to realize many search fliers are scattered all over the floor, when suddenly a boot gets in your way.

Your stumbling yelp earns Dana's attention. "Watch your step with the traps, [Name]," she warned, glancing over her shoulder to find Itachi's arm draped around your waist after tripping. "Your clumsiness is hazardous, Sister."

"This environment is hazardous," you rephrase, rumbling incoherent curses after.

As you walk past the hallway, you look over to the kitchen island only to freeze in place, causing Itachi to bump into you. "[Name]?" Ignoring his hand at your shoulder, you focus at the many trash bags, containing soda cans, pizza boxes, and any type of takeout-stacked up against the walls. Scowling, you exhale in frustration and move forward.

Dad is such an excellent cook, and extremely organized, what's up with these changes? The softness on your expression morphed into a flustered grimace as you begin feeling sick to your stomach from all the confusion, until a flight of stairs banish your thoughts. Dana turns to look at you with a small smile gracing her lips. "He's upstairs in his room. As always."

"Th-This is..." Sniffing, your nose wrinkled in a tickle and shield your mouth in time when a sneeze sprays out the dust that you inhaled. "Ah geez. This is ridiculous, Dana!" you grouch quietly, scratching away another tickle from your stuffy nose. "Why would Dad still live here? It's a threat to his hygiene, and it's very depressing."

"Don't worry; his room is safe, and it's not that he wanted it like this-he actually hates it, too," she countered. "Dad has planned on selling or renting the house out. We actually got a lot of candidates throughout the years, but he refused offers until..." she clicks her tongue, and flashes a toothy smile as she rephrases, "He's been waiting for you to come back, [Name]."

"For...for me?"

She nods. "Dad had faith that someday you'd come back. But he was afraid that you'd come back to find no one at home; so he's been caged here ever since to greet you whenever you did."

"Oh no," you whisper behind your palm, and smack your forehead. That's an immense amount of guilt piercing through you.

"I've pestered Dad about moving out since I graduated beauty school," Dana adds, "Boy is he stubborn, but fortunately, today is his last day. Finally..."

Gazing down at the dusty carpet, your hands curl at your sides, suddenly angry with yourself. In between seven years, not only did you hurt Itachi, but your own father-forcing him to live in these conditions as he patiently waited for your return while you held a pointless grudge, and played housemaid while flirting with your lover.