Where You Are
"It's a bit like the darkness," He begins.
You're listening very intently because you're interested as hell, and Uchiha Sasuke begins nothing. You stare at the frown that forms between his brow, the concentration displayed in his onyx eyes, and you try to understand. He pauses, unsure of his words, then seems to find them and looks up at you to continue.
"It's a bit like the darkness," He repeats, "Because you can't just touch darkness, you have to immerse yourself in it, you have to give everything you have – everything you are – to it."
Again he pauses, and this time you know it's because he's worried you don't understand, that you will judge him for his words. But you don't smile, because you know that that is not the right response, and Uchiha Sasuke knows that too. So you meet his onyx stare (which is hard) and you let him search your steady gaze for the reassurance he needs. He finds it, and with another frown and a quick glance, he takes a deep breath.
"You can't just use the darkness; it uses you. You can't just taste the darkness; it consumes you. If you try to control the darkness, it takes over your very being."
It's obvious that this conversation is not one he ever planned on having, and to be completely honest, neither did you. It's a conversation that has 'taboo' written all over it in big, bright letters and an attachment of awkwardness just to sweeten the deal. Buried deep in his words, you know, are heaps of emotions that will never see the light of day. You know that there are deeper, darker meanings to the seemingly simple words that he speaks, that there are things about this man – boy? – that you will never know.
But you don't care, and as he once more stares into your eyes, searching for proof that your words are not lies, you can tell that he sees that. He can tell that you have no ulterior motive for listening, that you are not there merely out of politeness, that his words are not going, well, in one ear and out the other. Every word he speaks, somehow Uchiha Sasuke knows that it is being absorbed and tested and tasted, and that brings him comfort.
It is the look in his eyes that prompts you to reach for his hand, a look that begs for comfort but is far too proud to ask. You take his hand and lift it, palm outward, and intertwine your fingers with his. He stares at your intertwined hands as if contemplating the meaning – or maybe the threat – behind the simple touch, and then he switches his gaze back to you and nods once.
"Yeah," You agree, "Love's a bit like the darkness."
Cataracta's Notes: Let me know what you think!