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His hands were dripping in sin.
The moon had weep its silver tears upon him as a ghostly wave of death loomed over the village. It was silent, cold and still. Not even a whisper from the ghastly wind could be heard. Itachi had done it. He had paid the price for breathing as an Uchiha, a curse yet a terrible blessing bestowed upon him. His clan had been massacred.
At first, he wished that his flowers could forever bloom, but when his life fell apart, he wanted to rip it and let it bleed until it shriveled into a dry corpse. There was nothing left, what was the point? His feet could no longer run anymore even if he wanted to, but there was nothing left. Nothing. But somehow, even in this fucked up world, his feet was met by the doorstep to her bedroom. His glassy eyes stared at her.
"Don't leave me."
She whispered, almost stuttering when the tears spilled and stained her cheeks beneath the moonlight. How was it possible that this girl could always say the words that he wanted her to say? Even if the night was dead, even if the world was crashing down, even if he wanted to dig his flowers a grave, Itachi had fallen in love over and over again like it was the first day he met her.
"I don't know what I'd do when my heart is already clawing out from my chest. You can't leave me, not like this, you can't. So please, stay with me."
Itachi had never seen her cry so much before, and when she did, his flowers began to cry as well. He wanted to engulf his arms around her body, pull her closer until he could hear her heart beat fluttering against his. He wanted to if he could; his fingers already screaming to touch her. But with these two bare hands, the hands of a grim reaper soaked in sin, he did not dare to touch her.
"I must leave—"
Ah, the things she can do that could make this young teenager flustered. She had silenced his words with her lips moulded against his. It was like two perfectly fitted puzzles; two lips crafted from the heavens above them. He could taste her flowers spilling onto his tongue as they wrote a series of poems inside the mouths of two, naive teenagers. He could hardly even breathe when he tasted the delightfully sugary flavour of her lips. If there even was a God up there, Itachi wished for one thing.
