[Ironically, a new item is also added to Itachi's mental To Do List: never reveal where he stays to Stiles.
He's quiet in the wake of that proclamation. A long moment passes this way, wherein Itachi remains focused on their direction, his eventual destination beginning to loom into sight. It isn't easy to miss. Colorful brickwork and tall spires jutting like teeth into the sky, Undermael College is huge and public, the ideal location to shed a persistent burr. And also potentially get some independent research done.]
Your criticism is meaningless. [Really, Stiles? You're bringing up their parents? Thin ice, buddy.] It cannot change the past. Nor should you attempt to place blame in a situation you hardly understand.
[This said in the sharpest tone he's used yet. Shutting that topic down.]
[ Both the building and that warning tone are disregarded. Expression tight with suppressed frustration, Stiles continues to assert his opinion where it isn’t wanted. ]
Okay, then explain the situation to me! I’m dying to hear it. But I bet you probably think it’s none of my damn business, right? As if one of my closest friends isn’t the product of that fucked-up world and its insane, unrealistic expectations of kids. As if he isn’t still carrying the weight of that lifestyle on his shoulders – to the point where he hates being touched and doesn’t even feel like he has the right to talk about his own family. It’s all “meaningless.” Why? Because you’re dead?
[ Darting ahead, Stiles circles around to the front of Itachi in order to stop the man from walking. ]
Yeah, I can put two and two together. [ These days, it’s all he can do, it feels. ] You’re dead in that world. So what. Sasuke isn’t – and you’re both here now. It’s not meaningless. Not when you can make a difference.
[ Stiles, mouth twisted with cold anger, gets right in Itachi’s face. ]
[There are several pieces of this reaction that become immediately obvious: the vibrant anger, a hot flame of emotion fanned higher with admonishment; the language and crude roughness carried throughout; the intelligence; and the verbiage within one of my closest friends. Fragments snapped together to paint a clearer picture, even if it is one which Itachi himself stands apart from, trapped in non-understanding. The demand is earnest and misguided. It doesn't know what it asks of him, because it doesn't know what it asks.
Stiles is in his face, seething, their eye level matched. The area surrounding them is not vacant; students who have risen early are in transit to their destinations, throwing curious glances as they pass.
Were he capable of it, Itachi would have vanished in a ploy of jutsu and black-winged birds. Here, there is no instant escape. All he has are words and reason.]
Enough. [Calm, quiet, a low and dragging tone of steely composure.] This subject has driven you to react emotionally. It would be best if you left, Stiles. I will not entertain the conversation further past this point.
[An appeal to his emotion. Sasuke, like weak threads pulling at the sewn knots of everything he is. Stiles can't know that. Konoha is safe, Sasuke is alive. Nothing else has ever mattered.]
Choose your words carefully in a public place.
[Then, gracefully, he makes to sidestep around Stiles and continue on the path.]
Edited (patented julia edit coming in hot) 2020-04-13 04:34 (UTC)
[ Eyes narrowed dangerously, he watches as the man steps around him to continue walking toward the school – seemingly composed despite the difficult subject matter. Stiles is reminded of their first meeting in the dream, of the uncanny calm and cool expression that met the accusing implications behind his question of, “Or is there another brother who practices familicide?” So far, the most emotion that he’s heard from Itachi was in response to the comment on shinobi culture. Or maybe Stiles misunderstood; maybe it was in response to him blaming the Uchiha parents. The same parents that this guy apparently killed, according to Sasuke. What the hell.
Stiles shakes his head, forever at a loss to understand the two brothers. Painstakingly aware of the growing physical distance separating him from Itachi now, he allows himself fifteen seconds to chill out before chasing after the man. ]
So, since you’re obviously not taking the leeks back to your place like you said, [ he begins, tone a little terse after the argument, but otherwise conversational, ] I’m guessing you plan on research?
[The look he turns on Stiles is chilly, a clear question of Why are you still here? Now to begin the gradual transition of tolerating the company to outright snubbing it. Itachi's pace doesn't change or yield, walking a direct line for the library ahead, tall stately doors held open by another passing student.
And he doesn't answer Stiles. It should be obvious, in any case, so why should he encourage conversation? Time to test that unstoppable force against this immovable object. Inside, if Stiles is inclined to follow, the air is cool and carries that musty, papery scent universal to a location housing endless rows of tomes and scrolls and books.
If he ignores Stiles long enough, maybe he'll give up. All that evident energy must lend quick to boredom.]
[ Stiles does indeed continue to follow Itachi, offering a brief thanks to the student in response to the doors held ajar. Though his curiosity flares up as they enter the building, he resolutely keeps his gaze pinned to the Witch’s back. Judging from what he gleaned during the shared dream, Itachi is the slippery type who’ll take off the moment Stiles looks away. With that in mind, he rolls up his sleeves to expose the trichobothria to the open air; the sooner he adjusts to the minimal vibrations that Itachi creates, the better chance he’ll have at tracking him. ]
I’m just going to remind you that I’m friends with your brother. [ His sneakers plod along so loudly in comparison to Itachi’s own footsteps. ] Who, by the way, is like a cactus in terms of personality. Normally I’d say something like, “no offense.” But, honestly? Full offense.
[ Where is this going, Stiles? ]
My point is… Do you really think you can freeze me out that easily? You’re gonna learn real fast that I can talk enough for two people, buddy.
[You're a nightmare, Stiles Stilinski. The encroaching regret of ever accepting this meeting is imminent...
Itachi doesn't speak again until he's reached the section of the library which is his main destination, entitled Witches and Magic, shelves all lined in neat and tidy categorical order. When he does, his gaze drifts to Stiles like a man leveling a blade. Patently unimpressed.]
[ Dragging one aimless finger along the spines of tomes and books, Stiles considers the question while simultaneously perusing literature titles. Fish Dust & Guts in Tantric Magic. Uh, gross? He pulls that book out. Just for research. ]
You’re Sasuke’s brother. [ As if that should explain everything. ] He clearly loves you, [ a word he doesn’t throw around casually, despite the ease with which he uses it now, ] which means you’re important to me too. So, deal with it. What’re we looking for? Cwyld stuff?
[As if that should explain everything. The way it's said is simple, uncolored by the decades of complexity that haunt their fraught relationship. Itachi gives no outward reaction to those words. He clearly loves you. Of course, it's impossible to believe them—not strictly because they're delivered by a person unaware of the truth between himself and Sasuke, but instead a fact of his own knowledge. Whatever Sasuke feels for him isn't easily defined by that concept.
Whether Itachi is aware of it or not, he has already assumed what is on his younger brother's mind and in his heart. It's not like they're ever going to talk about it...]
You and I are strangers. You should have more caution toward me. [We got a badass over here.] But no, I was searching for information on the different classes of magic. Specifically more minor spellcraft across all disciplines. They utilize such spells in this library for text translation, which I believe would be a useful tool in the future.
[Put your sex book back, Stiles, where is your sense of shame. Meanwhile, Itachi follows the aisle further, eyes scanning the visible spines.]
Whatever your feelings toward Sasuke, it doesn't concern me. [What a LIAR.]
[ The recommendation is dismissed; Stiles doesn’t need anyone telling him to be cautious, especially not a man he’s already harboring a healthy amount of wariness toward. Whether or not he trusts Itachi is irrelevant – Sasuke does, which means Stiles plans to keep an eye on the older brother going forward. Being important doesn’t mean he likes Itachi. After all, Theo was important to Stiles too. So, with a bland look, he ignores the first half of Itachi’s response (including the purpose of their visit, because he couldn’t care less, honestly) and instead focuses on the last statement. ]
That’s too bad, [ he says mildly, tossing the book at Itachi, careless if the Witch bothers to catch it or not, ] because your feelings toward him definitely concern me. Sucks to be you, I guess.
[He does catch it, unfortunately... A quick hand snaps it out of the air. Even a lack of chakra can't minimize on a lifetime spent honing sensitive reflexes. Itachi lowers a dark look onto Stiles – tucks the book back into the shelf where it belongs – and moves on.]
Are you lingering here to speak about anything in particular?
[Or just to make him want to snap your neck. Answer wisely.]
[ Bastard. As soon as Itachi has moved on, Stiles is pulling the title out from the shelf once again. Just to be contrary. ]
Not really. [ The book is leafed through, with Stiles stopping immediately when he sees a very risqué image depicting the application of fish guts to a man’s genitals. ] Mostly trying to get a sense of who you are, what you’re like, maybe stalk you back to your place so I know where you live. Y’know, average “friend of your younger brother” things.
[Why do you inflict this fish gut imagery upon me.]
... I see.
[Naruto was never this annoying, although partly due to the fact Itachi had chakra at his disposal and could vanish on a whim. Time to take matters into his own hands. He circles the shelf, traveling down the next aisle without another word. Waiting Stiles out? Forming a plan of escape? Hmmm.]
[ Wow, there’s even a helpful diagram that demonstrates the correct way to smear fish guts on a penis. They’ve thought of everything! The book recommends using blobfish guts at room temperature, though a footnote mentions catfish innards will work almost as well. ]
How old are you?
[ Hot on Itachi’s heels, Stiles follows him like a baby duckling its mother. ]
You’ve got one of those weird faces. [ lmao get fucked ] Like, I can’t tell if you’re twenty or thirty.
[I'm going to drop this thread if I have to keep reading about fish guts and dicks.
Itachi's shoulders draw a little tighter as he's followed with such close persistence, though he understands it was a hopeless effort. He hasn't yet been able to shake Stiles. There's a calculated part of this, that Stiles knows what he is doing and intends not to leave until he's satisfied his own bottomless curiosity. It is, perhaps, one of the first times in years Itachi has felt so cornered. His every move watched, his attention hounded... Even to a degree far less harmful than his childhood, it's dredging up an unwanted sensation of distress. The discomfort threatens to reach a point of crisis.
He turns another corner, keeping his pace even and calm so as not to clue Stiles into the state of his mind.]
Twenty-one. [This is short, clipped. Undoubtedly annoyed now.]
[ Somehow, it’s even younger than he expected – which isn’t because Stiles actually thinks Itachi looks older, but because of the practiced air of cool confidence and enigmatic intelligence that he exudes. Twenty-one is barely any older than he is. It’s younger than Derek. ]
Is there a shinobi drinking age? [ he asks next, still following around the next corner, utterly oblivious to his eminent fate; the public venue has given him an illusion of safety. ] Where I’m from, you can’t drink alcohol until you’re twenty-one.
[ Can’t believe you’re about to ruin this man’s whole career because you can’t handle 21 Questions, Itachi. ]
Yes. [Tragically, he doesn't tell Stiles what that is (it's twenty).] I'm old enough to drink.
[A breadcrumb, a little give, fully intending to use this as a manipulative tactic so Stiles will continue to stick close to him in conversation. By now he's woven their path around the bookshelves toward the back corner of this section, where an alcove connects to a dark annex. It must be a location accessed mainly by employees; at the moment, there is no one around. His ranging up-down path through the aisles gave him enough time to scope the area and determine how close the nearest pair of eyes lurked. Armed with this knowledge, knowing he'll need to take this opportunity while the window waits open, Itachi stops walking.]
Stiles.
[Keeping his voice low and calm, he turns, stepping forward into the younger man's space. It is willingly and uncharacteristically invasive for someone who covets physical separation and distance. Their gazes level, he inclines his head.]
I gave you a chance to walk away from this. [As soon as these ominous words are said, he moves with lightning speed, yanking Stiles forward with a hand on the front of his shirt—pulling him close, so that his opposite hand has the momentum and room to come down hard on the back of Stiles' neck. It's a clean and efficient strike. One he's delivered enough times to know its effect: short-lasting unconsciousness and a lingering headache but no other damage. When Stiles drops, Itachi is there to brace his weight in his arms, then begin hauling him into the attached passage.] You should have listened.
[A suitable, empty storage closet is found to set Stiles down and lean him up against the wall. Then he closes the door. And begins to walk very, very far away.]
text; the fact that i used "eminent" instead of "imminent" is going to haunt me until the day i die
[Itachi glances at this message when it comes, then slides his watch back into his pocket without even a pause and continues on with his blessedly quieter day. Good luck ever getting him to respond to you again, Stiles.]
![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
no subject
He's quiet in the wake of that proclamation. A long moment passes this way, wherein Itachi remains focused on their direction, his eventual destination beginning to loom into sight. It isn't easy to miss. Colorful brickwork and tall spires jutting like teeth into the sky, Undermael College is huge and public, the ideal location to shed a persistent burr. And also potentially get some independent research done.]
Your criticism is meaningless. [Really, Stiles? You're bringing up their parents? Thin ice, buddy.] It cannot change the past. Nor should you attempt to place blame in a situation you hardly understand.
[This said in the sharpest tone he's used yet. Shutting that topic down.]
no subject
Okay, then explain the situation to me! I’m dying to hear it. But I bet you probably think it’s none of my damn business, right? As if one of my closest friends isn’t the product of that fucked-up world and its insane, unrealistic expectations of kids. As if he isn’t still carrying the weight of that lifestyle on his shoulders – to the point where he hates being touched and doesn’t even feel like he has the right to talk about his own family. It’s all “meaningless.” Why? Because you’re dead?
[ Darting ahead, Stiles circles around to the front of Itachi in order to stop the man from walking. ]
Yeah, I can put two and two together. [ These days, it’s all he can do, it feels. ] You’re dead in that world. So what. Sasuke isn’t – and you’re both here now. It’s not meaningless. Not when you can make a difference.
[ Stiles, mouth twisted with cold anger, gets right in Itachi’s face. ]
You can make a difference for him!
no subject
Stiles is in his face, seething, their eye level matched. The area surrounding them is not vacant; students who have risen early are in transit to their destinations, throwing curious glances as they pass.
Were he capable of it, Itachi would have vanished in a ploy of jutsu and black-winged birds. Here, there is no instant escape. All he has are words and reason.]
Enough. [Calm, quiet, a low and dragging tone of steely composure.] This subject has driven you to react emotionally. It would be best if you left, Stiles. I will not entertain the conversation further past this point.
[An appeal to his emotion. Sasuke, like weak threads pulling at the sewn knots of everything he is. Stiles can't know that. Konoha is safe, Sasuke is alive. Nothing else has ever mattered.]
Choose your words carefully in a public place.
[Then, gracefully, he makes to sidestep around Stiles and continue on the path.]
no subject
Stiles shakes his head, forever at a loss to understand the two brothers. Painstakingly aware of the growing physical distance separating him from Itachi now, he allows himself fifteen seconds to chill out before chasing after the man. ]
So, since you’re obviously not taking the leeks back to your place like you said, [ he begins, tone a little terse after the argument, but otherwise conversational, ] I’m guessing you plan on research?
[ You won’t be rid of him that easily, Uchiha. ]
no subject
And he doesn't answer Stiles. It should be obvious, in any case, so why should he encourage conversation? Time to test that unstoppable force against this immovable object. Inside, if Stiles is inclined to follow, the air is cool and carries that musty, papery scent universal to a location housing endless rows of tomes and scrolls and books.
If he ignores Stiles long enough, maybe he'll give up. All that evident energy must lend quick to boredom.]
no subject
[ Stiles does indeed continue to follow Itachi, offering a brief thanks to the student in response to the doors held ajar. Though his curiosity flares up as they enter the building, he resolutely keeps his gaze pinned to the Witch’s back. Judging from what he gleaned during the shared dream, Itachi is the slippery type who’ll take off the moment Stiles looks away. With that in mind, he rolls up his sleeves to expose the trichobothria to the open air; the sooner he adjusts to the minimal vibrations that Itachi creates, the better chance he’ll have at tracking him. ]
I’m just going to remind you that I’m friends with your brother. [ His sneakers plod along so loudly in comparison to Itachi’s own footsteps. ] Who, by the way, is like a cactus in terms of personality. Normally I’d say something like, “no offense.” But, honestly? Full offense.
[ Where is this going, Stiles? ]
My point is… Do you really think you can freeze me out that easily? You’re gonna learn real fast that I can talk enough for two people, buddy.
no subject
Itachi doesn't speak again until he's reached the section of the library which is his main destination, entitled Witches and Magic, shelves all lined in neat and tidy categorical order. When he does, his gaze drifts to Stiles like a man leveling a blade. Patently unimpressed.]
Why?
[Just tell him why he has to suffer like this.]
no subject
You’re Sasuke’s brother. [ As if that should explain everything. ] He clearly loves you, [ a word he doesn’t throw around casually, despite the ease with which he uses it now, ] which means you’re important to me too. So, deal with it. What’re we looking for? Cwyld stuff?
no subject
Whether Itachi is aware of it or not, he has already assumed what is on his younger brother's mind and in his heart. It's not like they're ever going to talk about it...]
You and I are strangers. You should have more caution toward me. [We got a badass over here.] But no, I was searching for information on the different classes of magic. Specifically more minor spellcraft across all disciplines. They utilize such spells in this library for text translation, which I believe would be a useful tool in the future.
[Put your sex book back, Stiles, where is your sense of shame. Meanwhile, Itachi follows the aisle further, eyes scanning the visible spines.]
Whatever your feelings toward Sasuke, it doesn't concern me. [What a LIAR.]
no subject
That’s too bad, [ he says mildly, tossing the book at Itachi, careless if the Witch bothers to catch it or not, ] because your feelings toward him definitely concern me. Sucks to be you, I guess.
no subject
Are you lingering here to speak about anything in particular?
[Or just to make him want to snap your neck. Answer wisely.]
no subject
Not really. [ The book is leafed through, with Stiles stopping immediately when he sees a very risqué image depicting the application of fish guts to a man’s genitals. ] Mostly trying to get a sense of who you are, what you’re like, maybe stalk you back to your place so I know where you live. Y’know, average “friend of your younger brother” things.
[ At least he’s being honest?? ]
no subject
... I see.
[Naruto was never this annoying, although partly due to the fact Itachi had chakra at his disposal and could vanish on a whim. Time to take matters into his own hands. He circles the shelf, traveling down the next aisle without another word. Waiting Stiles out? Forming a plan of escape? Hmmm.]
no subject
How old are you?
[ Hot on Itachi’s heels, Stiles follows him like a baby duckling its mother. ]
You’ve got one of those weird faces. [ lmao get fucked ] Like, I can’t tell if you’re twenty or thirty.
no subject
Itachi's shoulders draw a little tighter as he's followed with such close persistence, though he understands it was a hopeless effort. He hasn't yet been able to shake Stiles. There's a calculated part of this, that Stiles knows what he is doing and intends not to leave until he's satisfied his own bottomless curiosity. It is, perhaps, one of the first times in years Itachi has felt so cornered. His every move watched, his attention hounded... Even to a degree far less harmful than his childhood, it's dredging up an unwanted sensation of distress. The discomfort threatens to reach a point of crisis.
He turns another corner, keeping his pace even and calm so as not to clue Stiles into the state of his mind.]
Twenty-one. [This is short, clipped. Undoubtedly annoyed now.]
chuckles, im in danger
Huh.
[ Somehow, it’s even younger than he expected – which isn’t because Stiles actually thinks Itachi looks older, but because of the practiced air of cool confidence and enigmatic intelligence that he exudes. Twenty-one is barely any older than he is. It’s younger than Derek. ]
Is there a shinobi drinking age? [ he asks next, still following around the next corner, utterly oblivious to his eminent fate; the public venue has given him an illusion of safety. ] Where I’m from, you can’t drink alcohol until you’re twenty-one.
[ Can’t believe you’re about to ruin this man’s whole career because you can’t handle 21 Questions, Itachi. ]
:}
[A breadcrumb, a little give, fully intending to use this as a manipulative tactic so Stiles will continue to stick close to him in conversation. By now he's woven their path around the bookshelves toward the back corner of this section, where an alcove connects to a dark annex. It must be a location accessed mainly by employees; at the moment, there is no one around. His ranging up-down path through the aisles gave him enough time to scope the area and determine how close the nearest pair of eyes lurked. Armed with this knowledge, knowing he'll need to take this opportunity while the window waits open, Itachi stops walking.]
Stiles.
[Keeping his voice low and calm, he turns, stepping forward into the younger man's space. It is willingly and uncharacteristically invasive for someone who covets physical separation and distance. Their gazes level, he inclines his head.]
I gave you a chance to walk away from this. [As soon as these ominous words are said, he moves with lightning speed, yanking Stiles forward with a hand on the front of his shirt—pulling him close, so that his opposite hand has the momentum and room to come down hard on the back of Stiles' neck. It's a clean and efficient strike. One he's delivered enough times to know its effect: short-lasting unconsciousness and a lingering headache but no other damage. When Stiles drops, Itachi is there to brace his weight in his arms, then begin hauling him into the attached passage.] You should have listened.
[A suitable, empty storage closet is found to set Stiles down and lean him up against the wall. Then he closes the door. And begins to walk very, very far away.]
text; the fact that i used "eminent" instead of "imminent" is going to haunt me until the day i die
Bitch.
[ Well, at least it's not a garbage dumpster this time. ]
i didn't even notice, but now i do