Chapter Text
(It's just another) rainy night
Another long distance night alone
You leave me wanting, always leave me wanting more
Last word today, coming home to stay?
Wouldn't that be nice, for a while?
(Another Rainy Night (Without You), Queensrÿche)
Part 1
♣♣♣
Now
November 7, 202-, 09:05 AM
The weather forecast consulted half an hour ago, while she was on the Yurikamome line train, had given no signs of rain.
Now, sitting next to the bus shelter, on a trolley bag purchased for the occasion, the woman never stops glancing at that sky, totally blue at first, which featured a few gray clouds.
Even the color of the firmament had changed slightly to a washed out, almost greyish shade.
She doesn't know whether to take with certainty the inevitability of an evening immersed in torrential rain, to see Tokyo made ugly by the violent but fascinating spectacle of the storm. Maybe she misunderstood something, and the rest of the day would pass in an almost unchanged atmosphere.
Sometimes the rain was a harbinger of dark news, of important events. And intense fucks.
She sighs, putting a cigarette between her lips. How many fucks had she had on rainy days? Many. Each particularly piping hot with the partner she had on that occasion.
The sharp click of the lighter triggers the usual flame which gives life to that thin cylinder of death, the tip turning bright red, a reddish throbbing.
A second, then the lips painted with a peach pink part slightly to exhale a cloud of bluish smoke.
She absentmindedly smooths the skirt of the suit, free from unsightly creases.
Some pedestrians pass by her and give her perplexed looks, as if wondering why an attractive woman like her is there patiently waiting for someone or something, busy looking towards a window located on the third floor.
She smokes voluptuously, her mind wandering into unimportant thoughts.
She takes another peek at the still-closed curtains, but the result doesn't change. He is not here.
With a sigh she gets up, absentmindedly brushing the bottom of her skirt, ignoring the mischievous glances of the men she doesn't take into regard.
Now she should take a few steps in the direction of the entrance hall of the condominium, but keeps in a sort of passive immobility, her gaze absent and her mind enraptured by conflicting thoughts, wondering if it was really the case to go and stir up the waters of those last two years spent in a consolidated routine.
Bitter memories. She takes another puff, as if to dispel those dark visions.
Sweet memories. She hints a bittersweet smile, dripping with nostalgia, tenderness and a desperate, childish need to go back in time and dive back into that precise moment recalled, or to savor the sensations felt in another specific memory.
She lives foolishly on regrets, on wasted opportunities, on a murky stirring of memories, without having the courage to stir the cryptic mystery that is her life in that cauldron where the eerie mystery that is her life has not stopped boiling for some time.
With a hint of mild surprise she realizes that the cigarette filter has finished its function, that poisonous moment of pleasure is over.
Without distorting her absent expression even a millimetre, she drops the cigarette on the ground and with a precise flick of her heel reduces it to nothing.
Just like it had happened to her, a long time ago.
*
Furious drops crash against the pane.
Rivulets of various sizes streak the surface.
Darkness reigns supreme in the November evening; only the green and purple neon of a bar sign resists under that stormy fury.
With the day occupied by hours of work, those last remnants of dying afternoons can be considered as corners of paradise, a dignified period of time to dedicate to unnoticed moments for himself.
Or at least, that had been his thought the moment he entered the small apartment, the door silently closed behind him and against which he leaned his back, the back of his coat damp from the sudden downpour, falling once he leaves the station, it sticks to the wooden surface and small drops of rain spread a little here and a little there.
The gray shoulder bag, now black and with contents presumably to be thrown away although a faint hope of being able to save something of the books inside glimmers in his mind without too much conviction, slides to the ground with a muffled sound.
With a tired sigh, he raises his hand and drops the hood that had managed to protect his long dark hair neatly tied in a low ponytail. He gets rid of his coat, hanging it mechanically on the coat hangers located exactly to his left.
« Hello, Itachi. »
The latter slightly tilts his head against his shoulder as soon as he recognizes the low and melodious timbre that rises slowly into the air.
Two years.
The neon sign outside throws faint jets of light from the window, not enough to properly illuminate the room.
He slowly raises his hand, pressing the switch made yellowish by years of smoke from the previous tenants.
The halogen light from the chandelier illuminates the small living room, revealing the slim and supple figure of his ex-lover. The body wrapped in a powder pink suit, embellished with a pair of gray pumps. The trolley was next to the sofa where she had been sitting, patiently waiting, who knows how long.
The woman, her chin against her hand, her elbow buried against the armrest, bows her head slightly, studying him with detached curiosity from head to toe, but immediately those eyes that he had secretly loved flicker up, greedily drinking in the smallest details of his face.
As if she still loved him. As if it were still possible to nourish a feeling left to languish with the indifferent passing of days, months, years.
Itachi Uchiha blinks rapidly, his attractive face remaining unchanged until now in its everlasting impassivity. Only the multitudes of questions overflowing from the black eyes betray the tension, an involuntary curiosity. « How are you? » he asks, without particular inflections in his vocal timbre, taking a step forward and placing the keys in a copper bowl placed on a small lacquered table.
All without ever taking his eyes off Konan, who allows herself a brief, bored nod. « As always. »
He nods.
« How long have you been here waiting for me? » he then asks after a minute of silence, gesturing slightly towards the kitchen with a nod of his chin, his hands buried in the large pocket on the front of his black sweatshirt. « Do you want to eat something? »
Her amber eyes have an indefinable flicker, an almost annoyed flash.
Then the woman slowly stands up, still with that elegance that had distinguished her from the first moment the Uchiha saw her.
Itachi doesn't make the slightest movement, he calmly waits for a satisfactory answer, an explanation thrown in even just to appease him, instead all he gets is her cautious approach.
And when he finds her in front of him, so close to the point that the fragrance of an unknown perfume reaches his nostrils, he does nothing. Nothing, except looking at her straight in the eyes, his arms abandoned at his hips.
The furious drumming of the rain against the glass of the sliding window seems to become more intense, the roar of the thunder breaks the aseptic silence prevailing in the room.
For Itachi, that sudden atmospheric upheaval seems almost done on purpose, as if to put him at some crossroads to evaluate and choose with all the obstacles involved.
His breathing is synchronized to the same rhythm as hers.
His eyes scrutinize and question with the same intensity as hers.
Their lips are close, they touch each other repeatedly.
Then she exhales a reply, firm and soft. Authoritarian and unwilling to accept rejection.
« Give me just one night. »
« We've had nights like that. For a year and a half. »
« And do you think it's too late to make up it? » she questions him softly, a note of tenderness imbued in her voice.
His frown underlines the childishness of the question just raised.
To tell the truth, he is tempted to tell her a lie, a white lie that could reassure her about the feelings he still has towards her after all that time.
Which he thinks he feels.
He hesitates for a fraction of a second, his mind furiously sorting through some options and evaluating certain hypotheses.
« Then that's how it is. » the thirty-nine year old murmurs quietly, taking a single step away.
♣♣♣
Two years before
May 202-, 19:28 PM
The tip of the tongue picks up that spot of cream above the corner of the lips.
A rapid, catlike twirling of the muscular organ, almost lascivious to behold.
Without getting upset, Konan resumes focusing on that bowl of strawberries and whipped cream, the spoon that collects a certain quantity of the false fruit with phlegmatic pleasure.
With the background of an ambient music playlist via Youtube, she feels relaxed and at peace with the world, a state of mind that infuses into her veins every time she dedicates one evening a week to that little oasis of relaxation. A hot bath was a must to let the fatigue of a working day slip away.
Lazily, she shifts her gaze to Itachi, intent on reading something from the tablet screen. Leaning comfortably with his back against the tiled bathroom wall, the young man scrolls through some pages of the search engine, carefully checking the titles of some sites.
His long black hair was tied in a bun, his facial expression was relaxed.
A new song rises in the air, Konan barely touches the display of her cell phone, selecting the next one, which she finds more interesting, so much so that for several minutes she remains listening, her eyes closed and her head reclined against the wall.
« Have you ever thought concretely about the kind of treatment to try? »
She opens her eyes, meeting the Uchiha's gaze who openly returns it, the tablet slightly lowered.
« Honestly, no. That worm prevented me from opening the conversation during that one specialist visit granted to me only out of exhaustion. » she replies calmly, hiding her resentment towards her now ex-husband.
« I see. » he exclaims dryly, casting a fleeting glance at the device screen. « Have you ever thought about intrauterine insemination? »
« Isn't it usually offered in cases of male sterility? » Doubtful, Konan absentmindedly licks her cream-stained fingers.
« IVF? » the other subsequently suggests, without getting irritated at the objection.
« Could it be suitable for my problem? »
« I think so. Here it says... » Itachi swipes his finger across the lit screen, brow furrowing slightly in concentration. « So, in cases of endometriosis, immunological factors, ovulation disorders and tubal anomalies, which is why you have never been able to conceive. To be precise, yours is a tubal dysfunction. »
She nods, popping a strawberry into her mouth. « The functionality of the right fallopian tube is compromised. No attempted fertilization has ever been successful. My ex-husband has always objected to this... abnormality of mine. If he had listened to me, by now we would still be married, with a child... After starting the necessary treatments. » she sighs disheartenedly, shaking her head slightly, refusing to recall the features of that piece of shit.
But she recognizes that the pain he had inflicted on her, seven years earlier, had been necessary to allow her to overcome that disastrous period in her life.
She gestures with a vague motion of the hand to continue.
« Hm... In case we were to choose IVF, the steps are as follows: you will be subjected to hormone therapy to allow you to produce more eggs so that one, at most two, can reach obvious maturation and be finally released into the tubes during the ovulation; the administration of a specific hormone will allow the oocytes to mature, then they will be extracted through collection; sexual abstinence of, at least, four days for me, in order to collect the seminal fluid, selection of suitable sperm; in vitro fertilization, after which within three to five days the formed embryo will be implanted in your uterus, with additional hormonal drugs to be taken. And the last phase, i.e. the pregnancy test. » the Uchiha summarizes, then looks back to his girlfriend. « The possibility of a multiple pregnancy is also reported. But that shouldn't be a problem, right? » he continues, his mouth twisting into an uncertain grimace.
« Of course not. But what about you? »
A slow smile forms on his lips. « I like kids. And, if the news of a twin pregnancy were to come out, I would love my children doubly. » he underlines with a hearty laugh, thus dispelling the woman's fears, who smiles refreshed.
Their relationship had been going on for a year and a half and at the moment they were both fine with it, without overdoing it. They were in no hurry to clearly define the respective roles they held within their relationship, a "my girlfriend/boyfriend" was more than sufficient and underlined the seriousness of wanting to continue laying the foundations for a - now - more what a consolidated coexistence, to make cautious plans for the future. Marriage was certainly not part of their long-term plans, not for him who considered it a futile requirement for what were his ideals, his way of seeing their union; not for her, with what happened a few years ago and this had precluded any agreement on the matter, even if Itachi had shown himself to be understanding and tolerant enough to be able to bear such a burden, and he would have done it only for her.
« What do you say about ICSI? »
The thirty-seven year old waits for the continuation of the sentence.
« It's similar to IVF. » Itachi hands her the tablet. Having briefly placed the glass containing the strawberries on the edge of the tub, Konan takes it over, observing what is displayed on the screen. Ovarian stimulation – Oocyte retrieval – Sperm retrieval – ICSI injection – Embryo culture period of approximately five days – Transfer of one or two embryos into the uterus via catheter – Cryopreservation for further cycles in cases of pregnancy failure.
Thoughtful, she reads the various passages once again, wondering if that was the right way to trust and place all her hopes that have so far been dashed.
« Keep in mind that this technique should result in a good success rate. » he reminds her, scrutinizing her possible reaction.
That conversation may have been premature given the still growing duration of their relationship, but they preferred to discuss it to avoid future misunderstandings.
They had met on a leaden afternoon in the shop that offered sales and repairs of telephones and computers; Itachi at the time served there part-time in the afternoons while he spent the mornings at the university.
He had seen her from behind when he returned from the warehouse, attracted by her voice that had uttered a dubious greeting at the sight of the apparently deserted shop; the woman's unkempt and filthy appearance hadn't bothered him in the slightest, having sensed a probable unscheduled shower due to the rainy day. Her laptop was dead, he'd taken the time to realize it was all but gone, so why not buy a new one? And he had advised her while they both wandered among the high shelves, where he pointed out some models and explained their various characteristics in an apathetic tone.
That's it. He hadn't even looked closely at her face, he rarely imprinted the features of clients in his memory except in cases of regular visits. Which also happened with that woman, to tell the truth.
And the distracted greetings began every time they ran into each other outside the store; the real estate agency where Konan worked was located a few buildings away and therefore, in the rare moments of pause spent outside the place smoking a cigarette, it was completely obvious that they would end up exchanging some dispassionate chat.
Itachi had never given thought to that issue in the identical course of all the days spent between apartment, university and work. Not that he considered it annoying, but rather a part of his daily routine, a mechanical act such as getting dressed in the morning or putting new items on their shelves.
So he had quietly begun to accept her presence in his life, although he kept her at a wary distance.
Konan, now, had put down the tablet and was staring at him with a thoughtful expression, her arms accumulating a certain amount of foam on her breasts, as if she wanted to raise some sort of defensive wall.
« Look, I know it's rushed to discuss such a sensitive topic without even having celebrated something like five years together. » she begins, blowing a soap bubble and observing its uncertain flight. She brings her determined gaze back to him. « But it is more than certain that the two of us consider ourselves as a de facto couple. »
« We live together, we share expenses, we try to mutually compensate for some of our character difficulties. We make love every now and then. And many other things... So yes, I assume the couple concept is completely legit. »
« What is it that we are still missing? »
Yeah, what?
Konan no longer feels the youthful affection towards her partner, when back then, with Yahiko, she used to kiss his cheek, cuddle him after making love, take him under the arm during a walk and many other small affectionate gestures soon suppressed by the granitic indifference shown from the man she would marry a few years later. Now, with a divorce behind her and once again struggling with a romantic affair, she had no difficulty understanding that Itachi did so little in certain matters. Her young partner was so unaccustomed to demonstrating his love for her vocally that it no longer surprised her that he limited himself to doing so through gestures. Useful gifts like a sweater or a toaster, helping her keep the apartment tidy, things like that. He unblocked himself a little during or after intimacy, and there he kissed and caressed her without having too many worries about it.
« A cat? A bigger house? A parking space?» The subtle hint of irony in Itachi's voice vanishes completely as soon as he notices her smirk.
« Could a child help us dispel doubts about our relationship? »
« I don't think this is the point, rather to understand the desire. »
She blinks, her mind working on putting together some considerations, preparing the words to unfurl in order to explain to him what she has always felt in her heart.
Biting the inside of her cheek, she takes her time so as not to give in to the rush and deceive him with fallacious and unfounded words. « I know that you will probably take these words as an act of selfishness on my part. That having a child could turn out to be a petty deception to get me a part of your wealth, to impose your surname on him or her, to chain you to me even if we no longer love each other. This is not what I aspire to, but rather what we consider love. We never say those three words to each other... And it's enough for me when you prove it to me with facts. »
« We will not have a child to compensate for the hardships suffered during childhood. »
Konan shakes her head slowly, agreeing with what he has just said. « No, absolutely. What if it was a kind of... taking a stand on our responsibilities? A physical materialization of our love through its presence in the world? »
« I don't have a ready answer to this question. »
« Do you know what could cast a shadow on this aspect? My age is no longer very young. » Konan picks up a strawberry, bringing it to her mouth. She chews slowly, savoring that sweet flavor that takes her back to childhood. « We more than agree that it's best to wait a few more years, at least to ensure decent economic stability first, that our relationship has ended up being based on more than stable foundations, but there's no doubt that the ability to conceive will decline with the passing of the years. »
« I'm in no hurry. » Itachi leans forward to steal a strawberry from her, which he chews idly. « But I could never blame you for who knows what serious failure if we didn't manage to have children. At least we would have made one or more attempts. And only the two of us will remain. And I will always consider you the right person. »
« What if one day we discover that there's nothing left of our love? »
« We will part ways peacefully. This is something I like about you: your maturity towards certain aspects of life. »
She nods, confirming what he just said. « I feel good with you, after what happened to me I would never have given this turning point in my life a chance, but I understood that it is this type of relationship that makes me feel good. Which is ideal for someone like me. »
« So you could say that you finally feel happy? Next to me? »
Being happy.
She could be, with few demands.
This is what she is trying to do, sometimes with shyness, sometimes with such resolute resourcefulness as to be mistakenly arrogant in the eyes of others. She knows that she has acted in a way that wasn't exactly correct towards her ex-husband, but at the time that had seemed like the only possible solution to escape the prevailing tedium of what, now, had been nothing more than a false life, built on banal archetypes, ostentatious with opulent superficiality. So it had seemed natural to indulge in an extramarital affair... if it hadn't been for Obito's behavior. She had smelled something, on that last night, something cruel, spiteful, which had inevitably exploded once she returned home. Obito had pretended to accept the end of the contract that had bound them, to put an end to their perverse games, to degrade what was left of their legitimate relationships, he towards Rin, she towards her husband. Konan had dared to go beyond a limit never mentioned by the Uchiha, and he had repaid her without worrying about the consequences, disappearing into thin air, making himself untraceable.
Why, then?
The woman had mentally assumed some details that emerged during the sleepless nights spent in hospital, where she was unable to move thanks to the violence inflicted on her by her husband, a punishment that, cynically, she felt she had deserved to the last. The mind numbed by the drugs, the intermittent pains and the lack of sleep, she retraced without pause the unfortunate beginning of that anomalous turn that occurred in his life while Yahiko was sitting next to her bed, reading without much interest a book purchased for the occasion , and asked her from time to time if she wanted to drink some water or try to close her eyes and sleep.
Her father had been the most shocked of all. Since the scandal that had happened seven years earlier, he had never stopped fearing for his daughter's mental integrity, fearing a nervous collapse after everything that had happened to her. The beating suffered by her now ex-husband; the shame learned from the daughter's extramarital affair with another man even though the latter had taken revenge for purposes that are still indecipherable today; Konan's refusal to go out into the outside world during the first two months of convalescence to heal from the beatings he received, and many other things that, today, saddened him even though he seemed incurably optimistic. Not that Konan had behaved kindly then, and even she herself had been brutally frank in admitting her faults, but... he had understood her, he had understood her frustrations, her desire for escape. He had tried to protect his daughter, he had brought her back to the house where she grew up, and together with Yai he had looked after her to the best of his capacity.
Then, a summer day, Konan had timidly started to show the first signs of recovery: she had started going out again, at least taking a few short walks around the house. And slowly she began to plan her life again, calmly, examining some hypotheses, wondering within herself whether she was ready to attract the classic curious glances, the contempt of people, the cynicism inherent in the work environment...
And she had jumped without a parachute.
She returned to Tokyo in September, almost a year after the incident. She had moved to Odaiba, and her new house was completely different from the one she had lived in with her asshole ex-husband: large, certainly, but devoid of that crude and insipid luxury that had decorated the rooms of the marital home. For her who had decided to devote herself exclusively to work, it was ideal: the largest room was the kitchen, which soon became her refuge, where she spent most of her time, cooking, reading, occasionally watching something on television. For work she used the living room, which included a corner sofa, a desk, a wall with paintings and a half-full bookcase while the remaining walls were covered with decorative elements, plants, and even an aquarium where golden fish of the Ranchu type and Koi carp cataloged as Bekko were splashing around, the latter were white with black spots. The double bed had been evaluated over and over again at the time of purchase but, if one day she had been lucky enough to meet the right person to share her life with, it had finally been taken. The guest room was included and therefore was perfect for the rare stays granted to Yahiko and Nagato, when one of the two passed through those parts.
She had begun her career in the working environment as a real estate agent and therefore it was obvious that she would resume working in this field. Luckily, the real estate agency she went to on Yahiko's advice seemed more interested in her skills accumulated over the years than in gossip and the hiring came without any problems. Having to live as a commuter between Odaiba and Tokyo was probably tiring but it was worth it. Konan was inflexible and meticulous at work and so far no complaints had been expressed, to her great satisfaction, still burned by what happened; in private, she indulged in a few evenings with Yahiko, or with Nagato, or with both, commitments and family permitting, or spent a few hours in her favorite restaurant. All with discretion.
Discretion that she also used to indulge in a bit of fun. A one night stand was always welcome and she didn't let it slip away. She had every right to do what she wanted with her life and she had learned how best it was not to focus on the same man.
Sometimes, when she found herself alone in her house, demoralized due to alcohol intake, she wondered where she had gone wrong in all that story... whether hers had been an arrogance swallowed up by the snobbish and superficial attitudes of the wives of her ex-husband's work colleagues, or whether her sort of... of unconscious nymphomania had led her astray in that dissolute way, throwing the results achieved in her face and when it was now impossible to repair... What if Obito had orchestrated that little show with the sole purpose of punishing her for daring to put an end to their perverse games? What if she was, in reality, an "sinful" one, a whore? Many questions crowded her mind already dazed by the fumes of alcohol and she preferred to postpone the moment of irrefutable answers.
For five years she had carried on like this, with a different man in her bed every two months, a secure job, the company of her two closest friends and the support of her family. And a house.
A new course of her life, laboriously patched up and functioning again, like a toy toad trudging along in spurts.
« I am. » she states resolutely, listening to the even pouring of the rain, her eyes fixed on the twenty-two year old, who beckons her to come closer with a wave of his hand. She crawls towards him, who then helps her turn around, making her lie against him, keeping his knees raised to allow her to have some space.
« Would you like me to make some changes in terms of personality? Or in bed? »
« To please me on what terms? For now things are going well between us, we are in no hurry to make some decisions and we simply live from day to day... »
The young man smiles, shrugging his shoulders as if to indicate that her sentence was a sort of insignificant nonsense. « Sometimes I find, in our relationship, some pieces of what I experienced with Izumi. She was different from you, but she had a more... how to say, exuberant personality. And she managed to pull me into contexts that, on my own, I would never have given due attention. And you, likewise, are doing the same thing. » He enjoys the feel of her body against his, closing his eyes briefly.
« I wouldn't be so sure. Maybe my triggering the consequences that led to the beginning of our romance was more of a... a desire to experience something different. With Yahiko it was a period of initiation into first love, with Obito... well... you know. With you... perhaps mine is more of a perception, a desire to establish myself within a stable relationship, perhaps a little too calm, monotonous if you prefer. »
« What if I told you something like the need for affirmation of your being a woman? »
Konan looks up, turning her head slightly, puzzled. « Do you mean to make an observation regarding my awareness of being able to please men, that my femininity offered to you, who are younger than me, may have activated emotional feelings? » She shakes her head briefly, as if to think about it. « I never asked myself about the problem, to tell the truth, also because you never underlined, for example, how beautiful my hair was styled that way, or how splendid that dress was on my figure, things like that. You're not the type. »
« Yeah. » he replies to the last sentences uttered, dryly. He slowly brings his fingers to touch the locks of his girlfriend's blue hair. « Not very encouraging, right? »
« But I don't find these things important, honestly. »
The look he gives her is wary. Even the expression has lost a bit of the meekness it had acquired just now, slipping into a contraction of severe features, almost as if the dark-haired man suspected who knows what kind of trap.
« Do you remember those two weeks of vacation in Sapporo, at my parents' house? »
He gives a careful nod of assent. The year before they had taken advantage of their respective summer holidays to plan a little vacation in her hometown. And for the Uchiha it had been the right opportunity to meet the parents of the one he now secretly considered his partner; on the other hand, since then he had always refused to do the opposite, to bring Konan to his father's house and have her meet not with his own family but with the entire Uchiha family, since he had taken it for certain that such news would have the tour of all the clan houses and this would have given them the opportunity to stand up and issue sentences and judgments, orders and constraints, and he simply couldn't take it anymore.
That was the primary reason why he had decided to cut the umbilical cord that had united him to his family of origin and start living alone, gaining experience on his own in whatever field he could touch, whether it was paying the bills, dealing with the difficulties of first jobs, struggling to scrape together enough money to pay university tuition.
He had watched the way Konan interacted with her parents, and a warm feeling had spread through his chest. He had sensed that Tamashi and Yai cared a lot about Konan, a different way from the love expressed to him by his parents, although it justified their characters, his mother Mikoto was the affectionate and attentive component of the couple, while his father Fugaku fully represented the spirit and the Asian father figure, so in theory Itachi had nothing to complain about. So, putting that feeling aside, he limited himself to keeping an eye on Konan. She was the one who put the most effort into how to spend their free time together. He listened to her proposals and suggested or accepted without having any problems about it.
And with only evenings and Sundays to spend together due to her work and his university commitments and part-time job, those little moments as a couple were essential to allowing their relationship to flow freely.
He had been happy for Konan who, ever since he had met her, always showed a sad light in her eyes and now, back at home, she seemed reborn. Hiding his amusement in the face of his girlfriend's enthusiasm, he let himself be dragged far and wide throughout the house or outside it, surrounded on three sides by woods, observing, listening to her stories full of nostalgia and tenderness, and meanwhile he never stopped looking at her furtively and wondering if he could consider himself lucky to have met her.
« You really took me by surprise with that dessert. »
This time he can't hold back an affectionate smile. To thank her for all the attention and love bestowed upon him so far, during the preparations for a lunch to be consumed at the Emperor's Pass, a pass a few kilometers away, the Uchiha had prepared a dessert that she, as a child, had much loved but which the mother had never been able to replicate for some reasons. He had managed, with stubborn persistence, to prepare an exact copy of Hakuto Jelly, a jelly produced with the juice of a certain type of peach and spring water. While Konan, upstairs, chatted with her father and in the meantime filled a bag with everything needed to spend an entire day outdoors, he had confined himself to the kitchen and, with the supervision of Yai who in the meantime was busy in the preparation of some foods, he had set to work. And later, once they reached their destination, just the two of them, personally seeing her initially amazed and then moved expression as she opened a bento box dedicated to sweets and contemplated that dessert and then raised her eyes and looked at him with a hint of blush on her cheeks, it had made him happy.
For Itachi, that moment had been more important than all the things said and done since their first moment as a couple. As a coy and reserved person, that gesture had been particularly complicated due to his difficulty in expressing certain words. He rarely indulged in normal emotional expansiveness except during sex, he often resorted to gifts, a dinner planned down to the smallest detail, a smile, a certain way of looking at his partner.
He knew he was so damn difficult as a person and as a partner in a romantic affair, but he couldn't do anything about it.
« That's what I like about you. » Konan's whisper against his ear brings him back to reality, tempts him, seduces him.
« Won't you end up regretting it, one day...? » he whispers back, eyes locked on hers.
They are so close that their lips touch.
A glint in her eyes, and she pulls away to snort in amusement. « I might regret your other shortcomings, not about this one. » she remarks, a laughter in her light tone.
He doesn't know how to respond, so he nods his head, thoughtfully disappearing another strawberry into his mouth.
He notices her look, so he shifts his attention to her. Konan had rotated her torso so she could get a good look at him, an indecipherable glint in her amber eyes.
Her slender fingers touch his lips.
This gesture, so delicate, brings to his mind the moment of their first kiss.
It was she who kissed him first, taking him by surprise. One rainy afternoon, about to slip into the darkness of the evening, while they were sheltered under the red awning of the IT shop, she had sincerely exposed her, uh, sentimental doubts to him, placidly waiting for his response. Itachi had simply stared at her, his eyes glassy, the cigarette between his fingers, a sign that he had been caught off guard but didn't quite know what to say,and the woman had simply dispelled any doubts by standing on tiptoe, grabbing him firmly by the front of his long-sleeved shirt and yanking him forward, pressing her lips hard against his. And she had invited him out to dinner that same evening.
Now they look at each other's faces, their eyes confessing things they could hardly do vocally.
Then he breaks the spell, getting up, retreating from that tempting moment. He climbs over the edge of the tub, naked, dripping water and bubble bath, feigning imperturbability but secretly satisfied with how things were going with Konan; he turns to look at her, the towel, which he wraps around his narrow hips, in his hand, and sees her leaning with both arms against the edge of the container.
She gives him a loving smile, waving a sweet, winking hello, not at all fazed by his behavior.
♣♣♣
Now
November 7, 202-, 21:42 PM
He doesn't ask for clarification on the matter.
He looks at her.
He studies with feigned indifference every smallest detail of her face, he notices the tiny crow's feet at the sides of her eyes which nevertheless do not mortify that particular and cold beauty.
They parted amicably, no slamming doors, no angry shouting, no whining. At a certain point they both realized that they no longer felt that sexual-affective impulse - as the Uchiha had ironically defined it - and, instead of pretending nothing had happened and stubbornly continuing in a story that in the long run would not have brought them nothing other than legitimate misunderstandings, they had dedicated a few days to discussing it and then reached a definitive conclusion.
He had stayed in the apartment, she had taken all her things into her house.
On the day of the breakup they parted with a distracted kiss on the cheek and an impersonal « See you around. ».
And instead, due to some spiteful decision of the Kami, they had no longer crossed paths, not even by mistake. Two years of total silence.
No phone calls, no spicy messages exchanged via LINE, not even a trivial movie cliché such as accidentally bumping into each other on the street.
As if nothing had happened.
As if one had stopped existing for the other, almost sucked into an alternative dimension, and vice versa.
As if the rain, now raging more menacingly than ever, had washed away all the little things they had given each other over the course of almost two years.
Itachi thinks that two years is a long time to forget.
Maybe for normal people. Three months had been enough for him.
In the first month he had found strange to come home without being welcomed by her, it didn't matter if it was with the usual greeting, if she stuck her head out of the kitchen doorway and clutched a ladle in her hand, or if he eyed her naked the moment he closed the front door, the amber eyes shining with goals that differed from everyday activities and directed inexorably for a few hours of R-rated fun while she reaching out to grab him by the wrists and drag him closer and then kiss him with a lascivious, intoxicating passion.
Then everything faded into a monotonous but reassuring routine. Everything had realigned in a cyclical movement of crystallization over time, and it hadn't taken him long to tenderly collect all the memories, the words, the gestures he had with her and for her and put them aside, without taking them out again in some reckless excess of nostalgia.
Forgetting so as not to be suffocated by regret.
Closing himself further into himself, completely ignoring the shy female glances that were given to him by virtue of his beauty.
« Are you really sure you don't want to have dinner? » The question is a lie, Itachi would only like to know the reason behind that behavior, that sneaking in almost like a thief (in reality Konan had kept a copy of the keys for herself due to some emergency and, until then, it had never been used).
« No, don't worry about it. Before arriving here I ate at a restaurant nearby. »
« I see. »
The silence envelops them again, more and more embarrassing.
Konan turns her gaze towards the bookcase on her right. Some books are new, others are starting to be abandoned against the march of time, underlined by the yellowing of the pages. Certain titles seem familiar to her and she can't help but remember the evenings spent curled up on the sofa, with a book and a cup of tea, her reading glasses on; sometimes Itachi joined her and they spent a few hours like this, close together, shoulder to shoulder, or with her abandoned on her side against him, and they didn't utter a word, letting the hours flow by, the domestic quiet, lulled by the noise of the city traffic.
Their relationship had started by chance because Itachi had let it happen through some choices they made by virtue of some decisions. The spontaneity had been genuine, no artificial moments had been cleared through customs.
More than a month had passed since their first meeting. One evening in November, just a few minutes before the closing of the cell phone and PC repair/sales shop, she showed up with a hasty air, clearly returning from work, revealing herself in front of Itachi who, located in a central corridor of shelves which was overflowing with items to be repaired and the new arrivals of a certain type of cell phone, at first he didn't even recognize her.
Konan certainly wasn't annoyed by that silly forgetfulness that most often irritated people. She had only smiled at him, briefly mentioning their first meeting, yes, when she had entered all muddy due to an unpleasant accident with a driver who was perhaps a little too distracted and very careless, and the laptop that had fallen to the ground during the flood of that muddy shower had breathed its last, and that had been enough for Itachi to connect memories associated with the words she had expressed.
Then, with seraphic imperturbability, she invited him out to dinner.
An invitation that had left the Uchiha stunned. It was the first time he had ever heard such an invitation. From a gir- sorry, woman, moreover. And he didn't know what to do, on the one hand he was resigned to the possibility of having made an impression for the umpteenth time and was hesitant about having to politely refuse the probable love confession that would follow, on the other he was intrigued by the novelty.
He had accepted, but not without some hesitation. He had ignored the shop owner's mischievous whispers as they both changed in the small changing room: he really was a little womanizing bastard, because the few girls who happened to be there all fell at his feet, that he would probably earn a good fuck at the end of the evening and that woman was deliciously fuckable, a winsome hottie.
Even at that moment he hadn't noticed her body, he had looked at her face, her eyes. In her own way, Konan was really pretty, even though she was over thirty and probably must have been thirty-five, as confirmed by her between one bite of Takoyaki and another, in the small restaurant located near the station.
During the meal the two had exchanged the classic personal information such as names, ages, current jobs, things like that, more to break the ice - an attempt carried out first by the woman, who had sensed the other's personality which was not inclined to chatter and who, during the journey with her car, had uttered little more than three sentences, all caustically thrown out out of courtesy rather than anything else -, after that it didn't take long to start a real conversation.
It had been a different evening than usual and this was true for both of them. She lived only for work after the unfortunate parenthesis of the divorce and the unlucky imprudence committed with Obito. Itachi simply lived like an automaton and had set all his energies on university and work; he didn't have time for a serious relationship - the last important love affair was when he was seventeen - and so he toyed with casual relationships every three months: sex had always been there, a single round that left the girl, approached at university or more rarely while he was busy with work, satisfied, and he didn't have to worry at the moment of separation since he understood that nothing special could have been born between them, a thought that had never particularly bothered him.
No suggestive glances, bold kisses or who knows what kind of prelude to a night of sex. They said goodbye to each other with a simple good night and then left.
After about ten days, she was back in the shop again. Another invitation, this time to her house. Another quiet evening, while the relaxing notes of some piece of classical music had accompanied those pleasant hours.
And so on, until a habit had consolidated between them which, on the outside, might seem like an atypical friendship.
In the present, the trill of a ringtone seems to save both of them from a stalemate.
Konan apologizes with a gaze, takes her cell phone from the pocket of her coat abandoned against the back of the armchair and remains like that for the entire conversation, her back turned towards him, as if to distance herself from reality.
Once she puts it back down, she turns around and finds that Itachi had remained motionless in the same position.
She is unable to feel relief or laugh at the absurdity of the scene, and opts for a false indifference.
« What if I don't want you in my bed? » the Uchiha inquires, his tone hard to read.
She smiles. « It will mean that I will host you in mine. » she jokes lightly, shrugging her shoulders slightly. « You never held back. » she continues, her hands crossed at pubis level, no longer feeling certain about where they would end up shortly thereafter.
All she wanted was just a night.
With him.
She had loved him sincerely and Itachi, with his standoffish way of doing things, had loved her too. Their relationship had proceeded calmly, without any particular flashes of inspiration regarding the planning of certain aspects of their life as a couple, they had travelled, visited museums, things like that, without ever getting bored because they were careful not to let their free time to languish in boredom; in bed, on the other hand, they had discovered a good sexual understanding and there had been no shortage of moments of experimentation, where the Uchiha had shown himself curious and open to all of her proposals.
Temperamentally they had managed to understand each other despite some negligible misunderstandings and the sex had been spectacular, so neither of the two had any faults to blame on each other.
Without saying a word, Itachi walks away into the bedroom, leaving her there.
The woman doesn't show any reaction of annoyance, holding back a knowing smile.
Again she turns her eyes on the bookcase, studying the spines of the books with interest, looking for some inspiration for new readings.
She's so focused that she doesn't notice that Itachi is behind her, looking at her with a mix of feelings that are intricate and difficult to unravel.
Then he walks past her to disappear into the kitchen, the light bathing the room in a vivid yellowish glow.
And in those moments neither of them simulated the effort of exchanging words.
« Do you still live in Odaiba? »
The preparation of dinner passed in an unusual silence, with the two intent on certain tasks, they passed around some spices, a pack of meat, a packet of noodles;the other kept an eye on the pot full of broth while she busied herself with slicing the vegetables. That domestic atmosphere, similar to the many experienced during their relationship, had the advantage of dissipating a little of the coldness that spread between them in the moment in which their eyes met after two long years of breakup.
Konan chews a bite of Donburi with gusto before breathing out a response. « Yes. » It's obvious, banal, and Itachi would like to regret the seconds spent in formulating that very silly question but he doesn't allow himself the privilege of doing so, leaving it to drown in the sea of indifference.
« Where do you work now? » Still with those refined ways of moving the chopsticks, of taking the glass between her fingers, even of sipping, the woman shoots an inquiring look in the direction of her ex-boyfriend.
« In the family business. » He doesn't specify which one. In any case, for her, a clarification would have been completely futile.
In fact he sees her nodding, not at all impressed. He had always known it, but now the Uchiha has the distinct feeling that he has disappointed her. Konan, aware of his desire to differentiate himself from the rest of the family, had always supported and encouraged him and now, a few years later, here he was breaking the promises he made to her in those distant days.
They don't know what to say to each other, so they each let themselves go into their own thoughts.
Neither of them had even imagined meeting again and for this reason they were running out of arguments, excuses, words.