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“I just needed—ah. Hold on.”
There is the sound of some ruffling on the other end of the phone followed by Shisui’s muffled voice, as if he’s speaking with someone else. “Itachi, I’m gonna mute this for a while, okay?”
Itachi says yes, after which there is silence from the other end.
The night is quiet. The scent of changing seasons suffuses the air these days; it flits between the warmth of the September sun to the slight nip resembling October evenings, as if hesitating to cross doors. Itachi can imagine it, a quiet night just like his own on Shisui’s end, only he’s outside and walking home whereas Itachi is warm and lying in bed.
He turns on his back on the bed, staring at the ceiling that’s only lit by his lamp. The light has made a large circle there, the edges of which blur into shadow – Itachi stares at that undefined edge until his eyes water. There’s a weight to this light and it falls feather-like over his skin and his eyes – a tickle of exhaustion.
Itachi looks away, blinks rapidly and wills his sleepiness to abate for a little longer.
There is a sudden click from Itachi’s phone, then, “Can you hear me?” comes Shisui’s voice.
“Yes,” Itachi responds.
They don’t speak for some time. Itachi hears Shisui's faint steps on the pavement, his breathing, and then his gulps as Shisui swallows the drink he just bought.
“Ah… I needed that,” Shisui remarks.
Itachi’s own throat feels a little dry. He’s forgotten to bring his water bottle to bed. “Which flavor?” he asks.
“Peach.”
Itachi hums in response. Shisui usually sticks to oolong or green tea. On the rare occasion he does choose other flavors means he feels adventurous, that he’s in a good mood—it’s that high of finishing a project. Itachi knows the feeling, he finished the last paper of the semester just a few hours ago. He gazes at the books still piled over his desk, ones he doesn’t have the energy to clear out just yet.
“Gosh. What time is it?” Shisui says, then answers his own question with, “Oh wow, almost 3!” there is a pause, then, “I was surprised when you answered the phone, I didn’t wake you, did I?”
“I was up,” Itachi reassures him the second time that night, shifting the phone a little closer to his face on the pillow. In fact, he had tried to sleep and failed, tried to read then failed again. So Shisui’s call had barely rung when Itachi had answered.
“Well,” Shisui says, his voice smiling, “in that case.”
They settle into silence once again. The sounds of Shisui’s other movements permeate through the speakers: of him replacing the bottle’s cap back on, of the folds of his jacket rustling, the rhythm of his steps and his breathing. He sighs from time to time, a habit that surfaces whenever he’s tired. He’s been walking for a while now and at this point, he must be approaching the bus stop.
Itachi checks the call duration on the screen: twenty minutes, which is barely much compared to what they’re normally used to. Yet, he knows they’d have to hang up when Shisui takes the bus. It is strange how his mind gets more alert at that somehow, trying to hold on to a conversation before they can part ways.
“You could still join them,” Itachi searches for his words in the corners of his tired mind, “...your friends.”
Apparently, Shisui’s classmates had wanted to get some food and drinks after they had finished, in a place that would still be open that is. But Shisui had declined the offer.
“Eh,” he replies dismissively, “too tired. Also, I’ve been living in that studio with them for a week. I need a break from seeing the same faces.”
Itachi smiles, he can’t argue with that.
“Speaking of faces,” Shisui says, “show me yours.”
Itachi blinks as he takes in Shisui’s familiar request. He picks up his phone from the pillow and sees that Shisui’s already sent him the video request, which he accepts. The screen winks before showing him Shisui’s tired face.
He isn’t walking anymore, already seated on a bench to await the bus – Itachi can see the outline of a tree behind Shisui, the off-white starkness of a streetlamp overhead. His face and hair are illuminated by the heavy light – his hair strands look unusually limp, as if they’re also too tired to rise and fall as they usually do. There are dark circles beneath his eyes and his eyelids are already at half-mast, a step closer to sleep. Yet, Shisui still has a sparkle in his eyes as he smiles dopily at Itachi.
“Hey,” he says.
Itachi’s throat feels dry again. He should really get some water.
“Hi,” Itachi answers back, holding the phone up at arm's length, hoping it won’t fall on his face. He’s still lying on the bed, his hair loose and in disarray around him. He probably looks just as tired.
“This is so much better…” Shisui drawls, still grinning, as if unperturbed by the countless continuous hours spent on his work, as if he isn’t walking outside alone at three in the morning.
Well, technically he isn’t alone.
“‘Better’?” Itachi echoes, “how so?”
“Nothing, nothing,” Shisui demurs, a twinkle in his eyes that tells Itachi there’s more to it in his reply.
Itachi raises an eyebrow, but decides to let it go. He rolls onto his side, supporting the phone on the pillow and his hand. A hair strand feathers down his face and he tucks it away in habit. He sees that Shisui’s gazing at him with an intent expression, but before Itachi can question it, Shisui says, “Already in bed, huh?”
“Mm.”
Shisui hums, which turns into a grieved sound, “I’m jealous. Non-studio majors have it easier – I slept in that studio for three nights, you know that??”
“You don’t have to read a thousand pages a day,” Itachi counters.
Shisui chuckles, “Okay,” he agrees, “okay, fair point.”
Itachi settles in on their stalemate, then gives a deep sigh – Shisui’s habit has already gotten to him, apparently. His body feels incredibly heavy, heavy enough that it might sink through the bed, through the floor.
“When is the presentation?” Itachi asks to keep himself awake. Even as he says that, he gets distracted by Shisui’s hand, which is fiddling with the strings of his hoodie. He has pulled the hood over his head – a few tufts of curls have escaped from the top, swaying in the light breeze.
“At eight,” Shisui replies.
“Eight,” Itachi says in astonishment, “this morning?”
“Yup,” Shisui chirps unhappily, “not looking forward to giving it on two hours of sleep, but at least I’ll be free after that.”
“And then?” Itachi says, “for the break, you’re…?” Their two-week autumn break is something Itachi is very much looking forward to, to getting more sleep, specifically.
“Oh, yeah,” Shisui says, straightening on his seat, “I uh, decided to stay here. Just rest, you know?” there is a pause, then, “…you’re staying home too, right? Won’t be going anywhere?”
Itachi tries not to smile, tries not to give away the fact that he knows Shisui’s taking the 12pm train the next day, to give Itachi a ‘surprise’ visit.
“Yes, I told you last week.”
“Oh yeah, of course! Just confirming,” Shisui replies, then his gaze flits away, down, to the side, anywhere but on the phone, “I mean, you need your rest too. It’s been a crazy semester, traveling can be draining! So stay put.”
He’s a terrible liar. Itachi is not strong enough to restrain his smile this time. He angles the phone away, to hide, as he says, “Okay. Stay put.”
“Mm!” Shisui confirms, looking at the phone with a close-lipped smile, his dimple digging deep. Then he glances to the side, “Oh, the bus is here.”
Itachi gets more alert too, and only now notices his hand holding the phone is a little stiff—only now feels the quiet din of his room behind him, the weight of the lone light over him, “…Shall we hang up?”
“Hm? Why?” Shisui asks distractedly as he stands and grabs his things. His view of the camera swerves maddeningly this way and that, making Itachi dizzy.
“You can’t speak on the—”
Just as the whirr of the bus’ engine and brakes cut him off. Itachi can only see Shisui’s mouth at a tilted angle as he says,“I can’t talk on the bus, but you can. Yeah?” and then he steps on the bus before Itachi can protest.
Itachi sighs in defeat. It isn’t the first time this has happened, when Shisui stops for a while, insisting that he talks too much – which isn’t true – and says, ‘Your turn.’ He wants Itachi to share his part too, or at least, that is always Shisui’s explanation. And now not being able to speak on the bus is a convenient excuse.
Itachi doesn’t mind, even finds it relieving as he shares even the most mundane aspects of his life which Shisui seems to be genuinely interested in. But it isn’t something he’s quite used to yet. He taps at the edge of the phone, suddenly indecisive about what to say as he waits for Shisui to get seated. He can hear the hiss of the automatic doors of the vehicle closing, the way it echoes signaling that the bus must be largely empty.
He sees that Shisui has chosen the back seat – he uses his hood as cushioning for his head against the window. He still gazes at Itachi tiredly, his distinct eyelashes heavy and drooping over his eyes. Even so, his gaze has a layered silence to it, a focused awareness that seems to speak more than when he’s speaking.
Itachi averts his gaze, his restlessness mounting. Eventually, he makes a decision. He gets up and pads towards the kitchen. Neither of them have spoken yet – the silence of the night is littered with the faint humming of the bus’ engines from Shisui’s end, and now some cabinets opening and closing as Itachi rummages in them. He notices latently that Shisui has sent him a message:
What are you doing??
Itachi smiles, then looks at his recently restocked cabinets. Ever since he’d found out that Shisui is ‘not’ coming to visit him, he’d made a point to buy Shisui’s favorite snacks. He looks past the packets now to retrieve a salad bowl.
“I’m fixing lunch,” Itachi replies, leaning his phone against the rice cooker so that Shisui can still see him. He opens the fridge and says, “or—” knowing for a fact that he’d be waking up late, “—brunch, rather.”
Shisui makes a small sound of confusion.
Itachi smiles, “For later today,” he explains, then shrugs, “getting one job done.”
There is another message even before he places the ingredients down on the counter:
Salad? :p
Itachi sighs at Shisui’s wide smile, “Am I that predictable?”
Shisui doesn’t reply of course, but his smile has turned into a grin. As Itachi starts preparing his lunch, Shisui glances out the window, noticing the bus has exited the university grounds and entered the village.
It’s a small locality of houses, mostly occupied by professors and university staff. They are dark at this part of the night (morning), but he sees that most houses have a light on in a room or the porch. It’s most likely for safety, but Shisui wonders about them now: could some of these residents be awake too? Could they be working on something? Maybe reading?
Shisui follows each house that passes by – this one is all dark; that one has a porch light on; another one has a lighted room on the ground floor—Shisui thinks he sees someone’s silhouette against the curtains. He glances at Itachi at times, whose torso and arms are the only parts of him visible in the video frame as he cuts open the cabbage. The sounds of him pottering about in the kitchen and the view of the passing sleepy houses makes Shisui’s vision hazy, lulls him into a daze.
They haven’t spoken yet, or at least Itachi hasn’t. Shisui can feel Itachi thinking though – it’s amusingly palpable, even through the tiny phone screen and the earphones. As he waits patiently, he takes a guess: whenever Itachi can’t come up with anything to say, he usually talks about work. Or Sasuke—
“Sasuke said he would visit this holiday.”
Shisui smirks. Sasuke it is, then. He makes a sound that means, go on.
“It’s been a while since he visited here,” Itachi continues as he dices the cabbage expertly, “when I told him I probably can’t make it home this year, he offered to visit instead.” Shisui can hear a smile at the end of that sentence, even though he can’t see it as Itachi’s face is out of frame. He makes his request known in the messages.
Itachi notices. He adjusts the phone and his face comes to view. It’s an awfully unflattering angle and yet his handsome face still wins out on this – despite the wear in it, despite the stark overhead light from the kitchen making wayward shadows across his features. His eyes are smiling and Shisui cannot look away.
“He says he might as well explore the university while he’s here,” Itachi continues, “for his ‘future plans’.”
Shisui raises his eyebrows even as he isn’t surprised. It’s just like Sasuke to be ambitious, even though he still has two more years of high school left. Having a genius older brother to compare to doesn’t help either. And, as if taking notice of Shisui’s amusement, Itachi says, “I know. I keep telling him he should enjoy his school days while he can. But–” he shrugs, gathering the cabbage and lettuce into the large bowl.
Shisui smiles. Can I come too? He sends Itachi, partly out of jest.
It takes a moment for Itachi to notice, so Shisui looks around again.
The bus has entered a patch of woods. The headlights illuminate passing trees and signposts as they glide almost soundlessly into this cave of darkened trees. The occasional metallic rattles echo within the bus’ hollow body as the seats are almost all empty, save for a few passengers:
A young woman taps away busily on her phone some rows ahead. A couple is seated near the front – one of them rests her head on her partner’s shoulder. They speak to each other in hushed whispers.
The surroundings blur out altogether as Shisui finds himself gazing at them absently. He doesn’t think he can assume they are—
“Yes,” Itachi says.
Shisui jumps, his attention jolting back to the screen even as his heart hammers. He croaks out a, “Huh?” which sounds louder than he’d intended. He brings the microphone closer to his lips and whispers, “Sorry, what was that?”
He can hear the faint sounds of water and utensils in the sink from the other end. Itachi takes his time as he finishes, then takes Shisui with him as he leaves the kitchen. “You asked if you could visit, right?” Itachi clarifies, “you can.”
Shisui’s tired brain recalibrates. “Oh.”
“Although, you should know,” Itachi says, his voice sounding closer, “you are always welcome here.”
Shisui’s mind goes unhelpfully blank again as he stares at the screen. Itachi’s face disappears into darkness as he turns off all the lights, but then the lamp in the bedroom illuminates his face gradually as he approaches the bed. Shisui wonders if he’s imagining the knowing smile on Itachi’s face and almost misses his stop in the process.
The chilled air greets him as he steps out, stirred only by the bus gliding away into the shadows. Shisui can see his small apartment complex, a mere five minute walk from the stop. It seems to beckon his body which has turned heavy with exhaustion, yet, Shisui stays put. His gaze is fixated on the phone screen, on Itachi, who’s back to being sprawled on his bed. The poor quality of the video cannot hide the sheen of his loose black hair swathed over the pillow, nor the warmth of the light casting a soft shadow under the swell of his lips.
The more Shisui remains standing, the more his head spins with exhaustion, and the more his body begs for him to sleep. And yet—
“You’re not walking,” Itachi notices.
Shisui makes a sound, gazing at the way Itachi’s long eyelashes are at half-mast, heavy with sleep, “You’re sleepy.”
Itachi closes his eyes as if in agreement. His lips part with a wet sound, “Tomorrow, will you bring me some of that tea, if you can?”
It takes a moment for Shisui to register his words but he’s already nodding to it – it’s the tea from the little shop down Shisui’s street. Itachi had praised their strong green tea before. But through the fog in Shisui’s brain, he finally sifts through Itachi’s words again and it gives him pause: ‘Tomorrow’?? How did he—
Realization dawns on him, as does a wide smile over his face. So much for his surprise, and he’d planned it so well too.
“Okay,” Shisui tells Itachi, his cheeks feeling warm despite the chill in the air.
Itachi hums, a deep sound – the satisfied note in it tugs at Shisui, and he can’t help but blurt out, “Stay with me until I get home?”
Itachi doesn’t seem to notice his own slip up from before, nor does he see Shisui’s face with his eyes still closed. He mumbles a soft yes.
Shisui starts walking. He has to shower. He needs to wash out the peach flavor in his mouth. He needs to get out of these clothes – it’s as if they weigh heavy with residual stress alongside the splashes of paint here and there. He narrates all this in half-sentences to Itachi as he makes his way up the building’s staircase; his steps echo against the walls, as does his voice – it is tuned low but remains a conspicuous presence in the stillness of the night. Itachi replies to him with a hum or a grunt at times, his own sleepy presence following Shisui up the staircase.
“You’re passing out, aren’t you?” Shisui accuses as he enters his apartment. He tries to be quiet: his roommate must be asleep (or in his room reading erotic novels, Shisui won’t be surprised).
Itachi rouses, his eyelashes fluttering away, “Sorry, I–”
Shisui chuckles, “Hey, I was kidding. You can go ahead and sleep.”
“You’re home?” Itachi squints at the screen.
“Yup,” Shisui replies, shuffling out of his shoes.
“Okay,” Itachi mumbles, closing his eyes again, but he doesn’t hang up. Shisui has to lean against the wall, make it take his weight for him as he looks down at his phone, at Itachi.
“Hey,” he says, because he can’t help it, “want me to get you anything else tomorrow?”
But Itachi doesn’t respond. Shisui can hear his soft, deep breathing – can see the edge of his lips, parted in sleep and glistening under lamplight.
“Okay,” Shisui echoes, a smile in his voice, “see you tomorrow, Itachi.”
He hangs up, but only a few moments later.