Don't Remember

AN: Another role play with my love, turned story. If you dislike whores or stripers... or any of the like, then this story isn't the one for you.

Disclaimer: I don’t own Naruto. I also don’t condone the use of drugs. I mean, when your friends can convince you that you’re Jesus, and you walk down the street, mostly naked, blessing houses in only a Power Ranger sheet... yeah. That was when I learned that we are evil, and drugs are only fun when people around you are doing them, so you can laugh at the weird outcome of the night. *cough* I mean, drugs are bad.



A day without a buzz was a day that never was. That idiotic saying ran through Itachi’s mind as he drank more, listening to those around him snicker and repeat equally stupid sayings. He wasn’t even sure where he was, even his basic senses were skewed. He tasted pizza and a salty solution in his mouth, but it had been a day since he last ate. At least... he thought it had been a day. Itachi leaned heavily against the wall the bed had been shoved against, drifting in and out of consciousness. There were people around him, some that he knew and some that he did not. He felt like he was laying in water, limbs tingling and senses swimming. The act of reaching for a new cigarette was now a precise science of timing and required all of his concentration.

The men in the room turned to him, one stepping forward. Itachi knew his job, even if his name escaped him sometimes. His pimp made a sign behind the other man’s back, and Itachi nodded drunkenly, shifting to his knees. Maybe after this, he would finally get some real damn food. Sexual acts had long since lost their meaning, other than the price value of certain tricks. Food was a little more precious to him, as silly as it sounded in his own mind. As he bobbed his head, he thought more about getting ingredients to make a real meal, something he and the others could share. There were no passions in his life anymore, but saving up to go to school and become a chef used to be one. At a quiet moment, he would be able to pretend that he was more than what he was.

Once over, Itachi leaned against the wall again. It would have been rude to spit the man’s seed from his mouth, but given the sneer on the customer’s lips, he felt the need to be rude. The man yelled something that Itachi didn’t pay attention to, and as he wiped the back of his hand over his mouth, his pimp, the Leader of their little band, came forward and back handed him. Really, Itachi was not the type to be a hooker. He was strong willed and did not respect the rules of whatever pimp had decided to claim him. Managing to stand up, he smirked as his the punch he threw connected with flesh. It hadn’t been not nearly as hard as he could have hit, but it was enough to make the older man stumble back, cursing under his breath.

Itachi really should tell more people that he did not play well with others. The men jumped at him, one bringing him down while the other received a kick to the throat. As that man gasped for breath, Itachi fought with the one over him. There was a flash, and Itachi saw a knife out of the corner of his eyes. Jerking quickly, the blade sunk into the back of the man on him, said man screaming at Leader. The knife was pulled out, and Itachi shoved the man away, getting once more to his feet. The room conspired against him, bucking and rocking this way and that. Itachi only had time to grab the blade as it came down on him, blood oozing from the slice on his palm. A possible move came to his mind, an attack he disliked using--it was rather unmanly--but at the moment, survival was more important. Gathering all of his strength, he kicked, shin connecting with Leader’s groin. The older man fell to his knees, clutching the area. Itachi smirked then stumbled out of the room. It seemed to be a good time to find employment elsewhere.

Finding a rag on the ground, Itachi wrapped it around the still bleeding cut, tying a knot at the back of his hand. The bastard, as if he needed another challenge in his life. He hoped it wouldn’t get infected... and a little bit of him hoped it did, so the pile of crap called his life would be over. Itachi shook his head, driving those thoughts away. He was stubborn, he would live to piss on all those who tried to keep him down when he was a successful chef.

A few blocks later, and Itachi felt as though someone had turned his skin inside out. Tired, high and liquor leaving his system, he felt the bruises and strained muscles screaming at him. Luckily, he found a homeless man with a full bottle of scotch. That would help. Filching the bottle from the passed out man’s hands, Itachi stumbled away. Another night of sleeping on the streets, oh so aware of your own body’s scent. The pavement was colder than it had any right to be, and rough on his skin. The shirt he had on barely covered his stomach, tattered at the ends. His coat was thick but dirty, cigarette burns here and there... His cigarettes, shit... he forgot his smokes. Itachi frowned and laid into the bottle, swallowing half of its contents. It burned his stomach and throat, but it was a comforting feeling. Finally he stumbled to the main drag, falling to his knees. His body’s way of telling him where to sleep, no doubt. Itachi leaned against the wall of the building, bricks biting into his back, legs sprawled out over the sidewalk. He finished off the bottle, then promptly passed out.


Cursing, Sasuke flipped off the sky as best he could while juggling two paper bags. Of course it would wait to rain until he was done with his shopping. The grocery store had been out of plastic bags; he’d felt lucky it actually had food that was not expired, and had bagged his groceries in paper, which was now soaked through. If he didn’t hurry, it would probably rip. Could the day get any better?

Just at the sarcastic question sprang to mind, the bottom of his grocery bag burst, cans and other food items scuttling across the pavement. Closing his eyes, Sasuke struggled to keep from throwing the other bag down. It wasn’t worth trashing all of his food. Cradling the remaining bag, Sasuke picked up the errant cans and placed them in the bag, scooting forward for the next and the one after that, stopping as he caught sight of the last. The chicken soup was nuzzled against the leg of a dirty looking homeless man. Wrinkling his nose, Sasuke crept closer.

The light on the man’s face made Sasuke take a closer look. There was something familiar about him, behind the grime. Sasuke nudged the man gently, wincing as he coughed noisily, not covering his mouth. Wonderful, curiosity would bring him a disease. The rain washed some of the man’s black matted hair from his face, exposing more of what sent chills down Sasuke’s spine. They looked very similar in ways that ruled out coincidence. The idea wasn’t foreign; his father was a wretched man who’d probably cheated on their mother enough times to have another child. The man looked older than himself, might have been someone from before Sasuke’s mother. Or he was a full blooded brother; Sasuke’s past was mostly a blank. If he had a brother back then, he wouldn’t have remembered it.

Sasuke nudged the man again. “Oi, who are you?” The man remained silent. Reluctantly, Sasuke took his shoulder and shook it roughly. “Wake up.”

Itachi was dimly aware that someone was interfering with his sleep. The liquor had brought back a somewhat buzzed feeling, one which whoever was shaking him was clearing from his head. “What?!”

Surprised at the sudden outburst, Sasuke jumped slightly. He re-gathered his wits quickly, glaring at the homeless man. “What’s your name?”

Grunting, Itachi glanced down at the bottle; it said Jack Daniels. Maybe that was his name. “Jack… No.” He smirked, memory clearing. “Itachi.” The last pimp did not know it, he only called him by curses and whistles. Itachi was glad he he’d not only left, but also kneed the man in the nuts.

“Itachi...” It sounded so familiar to him, but Sasuke couldn’t quite grasp why.

Through his drug and liquor fogged mind, something kicked Itachi’s brain, it felt, and made him pay more attention to the annoying man in front of him. More like a boy, really, younger than himself, but not horribly so. He narrowed his eyes, looking closer at the face. Sasuke... there was no way that it could be his brother. That little boy was in a life he left long ago, and had probably been killed by their father after Itachi was sent away.

Dark eyes flickered down to the bottle, then back up to Itachi’s face. If he were a relative, then it would have been wrong to leave him there alone and drunk. Sasuke knew he would probably hate himself for doing this, but also knew he had to do it or his conscience would bug him later. “Come on.”

“I’m closed tonight. Ask again tomorrow night.”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about. I meant come back to my apartment and clean yourself up. You look awful.”

Itachi blinked. “Gee, thanks.” His words were slightly slurred, and difficult to form. Sleep kept tugging at the back of his mind.

Rolling his eyes, Sasuke grabbed the remaining can of food and shoved it as well as the remaining paper bag into Itachi’s arms. “Hold that. If you drop anything, I drop you.” Sasuke slid his arms under Itachi’s knees, then behind him, picking the dirty man up with a grunt.

“As you say, master.”

Sasuke ignored the sarcastic comment and began to walk toward his apartment. The man was obviously underfed, judging by how light he was. Light he might be, it was still hard to juggle his groceries and the man. “You said your name was Itachi?”

“Yeah... What’s yours?” Itachi didn’t look up at him, eyes on the bag he cradled in his lap. What were the chances that he would actually run into his brother?

“It’s Sasuke. Have I met you somewhere before?”

Itachi held back a bitter laugh. Alright, so the chances were slim, but apparently this was his one bit of good luck. Though Sasuke didn’t remember him... He’d thought that he was more important than that to his little brother. Still, given their past, if Sasuke forgot it all, it would be a good thing. “No, never.”

“That’s weird;” Sasuke shook his head. “Your name seems so familiar... and we look alike, actually.”

“Yeah well... dad was an asshole, I’m sure he’s cheated enough to make a lotta babies.”

“I see... What’s your last name?”

Itachi wondered if it was a good idea to tell him. Not knowing him, and possibly the memories that accompanied their past, would definitely be in Sasuke‘s favor. Even Itachi did’t want to remember all of it. Then again, Itachi was tired and ached something fierce; he ceased to care. “Uchiha.” At the mention of their shared surname, Sasuke stumbled, and Itachi clutched at the grocery bags. “Oi! If I can’t keep this crap in my hands because of you, you’d better not drop me for it.”

“Sorry, it’s just... well, that’s my last name.”

Itachi faked ignorance, shrugging a little. “Ah. Well that makes us related then, I suppose.” Picking up one of the cans that was shoved into his lap, Itachi examined it. Beets... how boring.

“I guess so.” Finally he was at his apartment door, the grey paint sloughing off in spots. Sasuke always thought it looked like the door had a sunburn, and was peeling. The primer showed in the spots that had lost paint, almost giving it a freckled appearance. At least, that was an optimistic term that the building manager had given it, adding on that it gave the door more personality. Cheap bastard; if he ever saw a rat, and the man replied that he could consider it a small cat, he would punch him square in the jaw.

The rain had made Sasuke’s hair slick and hang in front of his eyes, not very helpful while trying to juggle a man, get his keys and make out where the lock was. He always figured that he would be able to find it blindly, but that never seemed to be the case. Finally he unlocked the door with a triumphant cry, fingers slipping a little on the brass knob as he opened it, then kicked it so he would have enough room to enter. The man in his arms coughed, body shaking from the effort. At least he covered his mouth, lessening the chances of spreading whatever god awful disease he probably had. Sasuke set the man down on his couch, then took the groceries from him.

“Nice place.”

“Thanks,” Sasuke mumbled as he disappeared into the kitchen to put his food away. “The bathroom is down the hall, second door on the right. If you can stand, go take a shower.” Clean would be an improvement, he would not have to worry about Itachi staining the furniture.

Itachi stood, stumbling a little. “Okay...” His body felt weird, but then he might have been coming down from whatever that last customer had given him. Stripping on his way down the hall, he couldn’t help but see the irony in meeting his brother this way. The boy that used to cling to him, whom he used to defend, had just found his drunken whore of a brother and took him home. Karma... yeah, that made more sense. Fate sounded stupid, but karma worked. The world took a sudden turn, but thankfully it made Itachi stumble into the right room.

Finished with the groceries, Sasuke returned from the kitchen to see wet clothes strewn all over the hallway. Lovely; a drunken slob. He honestly had no clue why he would actually take someone into his home like this. For all he knew, Itachi was some sort of homicidal homeless guy who would kill him in his sleep. Then again, this was the only tie that he had left to a blood relation. Sasuke stooped to pick up the clothes, calling through the bathroom door, “Next time wait until you’re in the bathroom to take off your clothes, like a normal person.”

Starting the shower, he stepped in, sighing happily at the warm water. “I’m not normal, deal.”

Sasuke snorted. “That much is obvious.”

Itachi eyed the soap in the shower, then picked it up, rubbing it to get enough suds worked up. “Can I use your soap?” Asking was a polite formality. Even if Sasuke said no, he would still use it.

“Yeah.” The one nice amenity of the apartment was its own washer and drier combination. So much better than having to go down to a laundry mat and wait to use a machine, and deal with the weirdos there. Sasuke shoved Itachi’s clothes into the washer, then stripped, adding his own when done. Pouring in a liberal amount of soap, he silently promised himself to wash them twice, not knowing what sort of crap was on the homeless man’s clothing. Starting the washer, he retreated to his room to get dressed.

Itachi hissed as he undid the makeshift bandage on his hand, parts of the clothing sticking to the scab. “Fucker,” he grumbled as he washed it a few times, hoping it wouldn’t get infected. That finally finished, he worked on his hair, then his body. God, clean never felt so good. He pushed in the knob to turn off the water, leaning against the tiled wall for a moment.

Dressed in only sleep pants, Sasuke knocked on the door. “Can I come in?”

“Yeah, go ahead.” Itachi pushed back the curtain, grabbing a towel to dry himself with. His brother opened the door, glancing at Itachi for a moment before quickly averting his eyes.

“Here,” he said, setting some of his larger clothing on the counter, “you can wear those for now, I put your clothes in the washer. And let me know when you’re done in here, I still need a shower.”

“Right. Not much of me to dry, won’t take long... Do you have any liquor on you? I seem to have lost my bottle.”

“None that I’m going to let you have.” Sasuke turned and walked out. Let the drunk have more liquor? Yeah, right.

“Why not?” Itachi stepped out of the shower, reaching for the clothes. They barely fit him, but were still more soft and comfortable than what he had been wearing.

“Because I really don’t think you need any right now. Besides the fact that I don’t want you drinking all of my liquor.” Booze wasn’t cheap, and it would be silly to waste that much money on someone he hardly knew. Sasuke plopped down in a chair and waited for Itachi to finish getting dressed.

Itachi stuck his tongue out at the door, ignoring the shirt that was given to him as well. “Do you have a rag or something?”

“Cabinet under the sink.”

Retrieving a long red rag, Itachi examined his wound, stumbling out of the bathroom. His path to the living room was stumble free; damn, he must be sobering up a little. Every breath made his chest ache, though he gladly took the pain, liking the clean smell of himself.

“What are you going to do with that?” Sasuke asked, glancing up. Itachi held out his palm to show off the nasty looking wound. “How did that happen?”

Shrugging, Itachi sat down on the couch he had been dumped on earlier. “Got in a fight with a guy and a knife.”

He should have left it alone, but Sasuke couldn’t help but want to aid his new brother. Sighing, he stood, walking toward the bathroom. “Hold on, let me get some peroxide or alcohol to clean it out. Which would you rather?”

Rather drink the alcohol, Itachi almost muttered. “Either or, doesn’t matter.”

Sasuke returned with a bottle of peroxide, kneeling in front of Itachi. “This’ll burn less.”

“I probably won’t feel it anyway.”

“Why not?”

“I’ve felt worse.” Itachi watched as Sasuke carefully took his hand. “Plus, I’m pretty drunk.”

“Very true.” Sasuke took the rag and held it under Itachi’s hand, then opened the bottle of peroxide and poured a little onto the cut. The older man didn’t flinch, the slightest sound of a quick inhale the only indication of pain. Sasuke gave it a moment to work, examining the bubbles rising from the liquid. After they had stopped, he dabbed at it lightly with the rag.

Itachi watched with detached amusement. “Doesn’t the bubbling mean there was bad crap in there?” Ah, the extent of his vocabulary while drunk was amazing to behold.

“Yeah, I think so.” Sasuke poured more peroxide on, watching as it bubbled slightly less than the first time.

“Ah. Good thing you came along. Wouldn’t have wanted to lose that hand.”

“I don’t know if you would have lost it.”

Itachi shrugged. “There are major arteries near there, if it got infected badly enough, it would have spread quickly.”

“I guess that’s true... I don’t know much about that kind of thing.” Clean the wound, then bandage it. That was the extent of Sasuke’s medical knowledge. He finished with Itachi’s hand, then let go of his wrist, screwing the top back onto the bottle of peroxide.

Blowing on the wound, Itachi resisted the urge to shake it. “Yeah, well I had lots of time to read.”

“So,” Sasuke stood, returning to his seat on the chair. “Do you think we’re cousins, or brothers?”

“Dad didn’t have any siblings.” Itachi hastily added, “I think I remember that, I mean.”

“Oh... then maybe we are brothers. Half brothers or something. I don’t remember anything about my family, really, so I wouldn’t know.”

“Yeah... nothing to remember, from what I know.” Their life wasn’t worth remembering. Especially after the things Sasuke had witnessed.

“I’m gonna get a shower. I have a spare bedroom, for friends to crash while visiting. You can sleep in there, or on the couch.”

“Are you sure you’re not willing to let me bum a beer off of you?”

“Oh, I’m very sure.” Standing, Sasuke stretched a little before heading toward the bathroom.

Itachi sighed loudly, glancing around the room for the remote to the tv. There were three on the coffee table in front of him; two black, one silver. Wonderful, he got to play remote roulette. Picking the one on the far right, he pointed it at the television. The stereo started immediately, filling the room with loud music. Itachi weighed his options; try the other two, or wait until Sasuke returned to ask him which one it was. The music was not half bad, so he decided to wait.

Twenty minutes later Sasuke returned, hair slick against his skull. “Are you hungry?” He had yet to have dinner, but was too tired to spend much time on making something for himself and Itachi.

“Yeah, a lot...”

“Come on, I don’t have much, but you can pick what you want.” Not waiting for Itachi to follow, he ducked into the kitchen. Itachi appeared not long after, shoulders shaking as he coughed again. Opening the refrigerator, Sasuke bent to examine the contents. “Are you sick?”

Itachi sniffled. “Guess so. What do you have to eat?”

“Uh,” he frowned, looking behind a few items for any signs of food that would make a good meal. “Sandwich meat... bread’s over there,” he pointed behind him to a half-full loaf of bread. “Um, some spaghetti from yesterday... and I probably have cereal in that cabinet over there.”

“I’ll take the spaghetti. Er... please,” he tacked on, hoping it sounded at least somewhat sincere.

“Heh. I feel like a waiter.” Sasuke grabbed the container of leftovers and handed it to Itachi. “Just get as much out as you want, and put it in the microwave.” Bending back over, Sasuke snatched the milk off of the middle shelf. Cereal would be his dinner, tonight.

“Okay, plates?”

Sasuke pointed to a cabinet. “In there. I have tea in the fridge, and you can use the milk after I’m done with it.” Grabbing a box off the fridge, he shook it to test how much cereal was left then put it back, taking another one. It was more full than the first, perfect for a dinner size. While Sasuke fixed himself a bowl of cereal, Itachi puttered around the kitchen, getting a plate out and putting most of the spaghetti on it. Finished with his preparations, Sasuke retreated to the living room. He turned off the stereo then snatched the right remote from the table, curling up in his large chair as he turned on the tv.

Itachi found where the glasses were and got a large one out to fill with tea. It wasn’t sweetened, much to Itachi’s delight. He joined Sasuke in the living room, waiting for his food to finish cooking. “What’s on?”

“Nothing, really,” Sasuke sighed, flipping through the channels. There was never anything on Sunday night. He found something that, to him, was not too boring or annoying, and put the remote down to eat his food. Itachi leaned over the back of the couch, resting his elbows on the top, sipping his tea. Sasuke was too tired to analyze the man properly. Hopefully he would not rob him in the middle of the night.

“Hmph. It’s never that easy.”

Sasuke blinked, looking up. “What?” Or a reasonable facsimile to that word passed his lips, as full as his mouth was.
Gesturing to the tv with his cup, Itachi continued. “Due process. And all that crap. It’s never that easy. But then, they didn’t show a time frame, so I guess they can claim that it took a few hours. Really, when they arrest you, it takes them forever. They fill out the paper work, then you have to have a mug shot, and then they fingerprint you... Eventually they strip you down and usually do a full cavity search, and I’m not talking about the sugary kind. Its usually done by either a really cranky man or a rather large woman. But then, if I had to snap rubber gloves on and look up someone’s ass every day, I’d be a little cranky, too.” Although, that wasn’t too far from his current job. “I think it would just be quicker to strip, barcode your ass, then toss you into a cell.” Itachi shrugged, then returned his attention to the screen, watching the police drama unfold.

Sasuke suddenly remembered to chew, still staring at his brother. Wonderful, Itachi had a criminal past. Or he was a cop... Though the chances of that were slim, considering where Sasuke had found him. Why had he done something as stupid as picking up a man off the streets? Swallowing, Sasuke sipped the milk from the bowl to further clear his mouth. “...So you’re saying you’ve been through it all before?”

“Yeah.”

“Wonderful,” Sasuke grumbled, putting the bowl and spoon on the table next to his chair.

“I wouldn’t hurt you. Or steal anything. Well... maybe a beer.” Itachi finished his tea, staring at the glass. Commercials sure had not changed over time. They were still boring.

“Well, I guess I’ll have to take your word on that.” As tired as Sasuke was, he wouldn’t stress over what Itachi was doing for long.

Itachi remained silent, turning his head to watch Sasuke. The boy had grown up, and filled out. It made sense that he had, of course, but Itachi had always pictured him as the short and cute little boy who would hug his leg and pout when he didn’t spend enough time with him. Now that child was independent, had his own place, probably his own job. A good one, at that, to afford all of this.

Noticing Itachi’s eyes on him, Sasuke returned the stare. His brother quickly looked away. Shrugging, Sasuke went back to watching the television. “Your spaghetti is probably done.”

“Right.” Itachi pushed away from the couch, walking back into the kitchen. Staring at his brother; he must still be drunk.

The spaghetti was... mostly done. It was warm, in most of the parts, that was all he cared about. Better than nothing, or fully frozen. Shifting through various drawers, Itachi found a fork. After his glass had been refilled, he left the kitchen, settling on the couch with his food.

“Anything you want to watch?” Anything other than something that would remind him of crime.

“I haven’t seen what’s on tv in...” Itachi blinked. “Five years.”

“What? Why not?” There were televisions in jail, weren’t there?

Spearing the noddles in the center of the plate, Itachi twirled his fork, wrapping the noodles around the prongs. “Not enough time...” Right, because his pimp was an asshole, and barely let Itachi sleep between tricks. That was something he would enjoy telling his brother about.

“Why not?”

“My job kept me busy.” Taking the large gathering of noodles, Itachi shoved it into his mouth, nearly purring at the taste.

“Ah... what did you do?”

It was good that Itachi had time to think of a response to that, after chewing and swallowing the large portion of food. “I... uh... Sales.” He smiled then gathered another large mass of noodles and stuffed it into his mouth. It wasn’t the best pasta he had ever had, but it tasted like heaven. He didn’t care what people said; pop tarts and instant breakfast did not satisfy a human’s basic needs. Sighing, Itachi reveled in the feeling of his stomach actually quieting. “Food...”

“...How long has it been since you’ve eaten?”

Eating was not too horribly important before. It wasted money, and skipping meals kept the whores thin. They ate just barely enough to make it through. “Two days? I think. Maybe three. Liquor doesn’t like me as much then.” On a full stomach, he didn’t get drunk fast enough.

Sasuke rolled his eyes. “You shouldn’t drink so much, and you should eat more.”

“I knew friends who had liquor, but they didn’t have any food.” What was he supposed to do? Ask them to trade in the booze for enough money for a hamburger?

“Stupid.” Sasuke shook his head.

“What? They were alchys.” Alcoholics were the best suppliers of booze; why would they ever run out?

Sasuke shook his head again, stretching lightly, toes pointing as he strained his legs. His brother’s weird friends... he hoped he wouldn’t get to meet them. They all sounded like losers, to him.

Itachi watched him stretch, eyes following the slight curves of his brother’s chest, the bones pressing through skin, but in a healthy way. Yes, that described him perfectly... healthy. Not too lean, not too heavy. Well, he was a bit scrawny, but he looked like he ate regularly. Definitely an attractive man now... Itachi frowned, shifting the plate over his lap and looking away. Those stupid thoughts, he thought he had gotten over them when he was a kid. Though in his own defense, Sasuke was hard not to be found attractive.

Glancing at the clock, Sasuke sat up suddenly. “Shit... its later than I thought. I have to get up for work tomorrow.” Standing, he stretched his arms over his head, yawning.

This time, Itachi made sure he was watching his food. “Yeah? I can find my way to the spare bedroom... Just give me the remote.”

“Alright.” Finished with stretching, Sasuke dropped the remote into Itachi’s lap.

“Thanks...” Itachi had only had access to a tv back when they were young, and the remote designs had changed since then. Well, one time a customer of his passed out at his home, so he was able to watch tv, but that had been quite some time ago. “Simple to use, ne?”

Sasuke raised an eyebrow. “Well...” Leaning over him, he pointed to a few buttons. “Those buttons change the channel. These ones here, control the volume.”

“Ah, thanks. So the power one turns it off, right?”

“Right.” Straightening, Sasuke wandered back to his chair, picking up the bowl and taking it to the kitchen.

“So if you were to have liquor, where would it be kept?”

Sasuke dropped the bowl into the sink, shaking his head. Once back inside the living room, he took Itachi’s face in his hands, making sure the man could read his lips. “No. Liquor.”

Annoyed at being treated so childishly, Itachi glared at the boy. “Fine. I’ll go to bed sober.”

Disgusted with what Itachi said and tired from his long day, Sasuke dropped his hands, eyeing his brother with contempt. “God, you’re like an alcoholic.” Probably was, but then everyone had their own problems. Sasuke was not going to fix something that ran deep in just one night, with a simple denial of liquor. He would tackle the problem, if he saw fit, after resting.

Itachi snorted, looking away from Sasuke’s reproachful eyes. “My reality is best seen through blurred lenses.”

Rolling his eyes, Sasuke decided he’d had enough and headed toward his bedroom. “‘Night.”

“Yeah. Later.”

After an hour of gnawing his noodles to death, and the rest that he fixed after the first plate, Itachi’s stomach was finally satiated. Despite his lack of liquor, there were other things that occupied his attention. So much so, that he couldn’t decide which to spend more time thinking on. It was like being offered two things one had always wanted, and now had the chance to play with. Television, even if it was late, was amusing to watch. There was even porn on a few channels. That amused him to no end; dinner and a show, not half bad. Though the stars of the porn were a little too stiff looking, too rehearsed. A so called amateur was up next, and Itachi was torn between watching, or curling up under the clean sheets of a more than likely soft bed. With a pillow even. The bed seemed a lot more inviting; besides the fact that the amateurs they had flashed in the beginning of the film were not all that appealing to him. Boobs were boobs; you’ve seen one, you’ve seen them all. Miffed at the lack of male on male porn, Itachi stood, turning off the tv.

Walking down a hallway that sadly didn’t buck or tip--it sucked to be sober--Itachi ran his hand along the wall. He stopped at Sasuke’s room, glancing through the slight crack of the half open door. The boy was facing him, arms wrapped around a pillow, face pressed against it. Still a cuddly sleeper... that was somehow reassuring. That pillow used to be Itachi; when their parents would fight, and Sasuke would sneak into his room, his little brother would snuggle as close as he could.

Sighing, Itachi turned from the doorway. He didn’t realize just how much he’d missed his brother until now. Most of his life was a daze, and he tried to keep it that way. If it wasn’t for those memories of Sasuke, he probably would have forgotten his past by now. There was nothing left to remember, but him.

Itachi flopped onto the soft bed, rubbing his face against the clean smelling sheets. Ecstasy, tonight at least, was feeling clean and being in a clean bed. It pulled at his eyelids, weighing them down. As soon as he was snuggled against his own pillow, he gave in, and let sleep claim him.