Hua keMao

And Sasuke grows; from an energetic child who sneaks tomatoes from the fridge to a teenager who tries to hide the crack in his voice. His features sharpen, done away with baby fat, his shoulders broaden and he gains some muscle due to his father’s insistence to join the track and field team of his school.—“It’s only proper, your grandfather and I have both been members” And that certainly nipped any and all attempts at a discussion in the bud. Itachi doesn’t know how to feel about the changes, being torn between watching early in the mornings how Sasuke changes into the school uniform and shying away from the sight altogether. Oh, but he’s deadly attractive even from up close as he cradles him in his arms against his chest to talk about his day, even if the complaints are about giggling girls and the heat in their stares as they fall upon him walking by.

And yet… Itachi knows how deceptive the slow trickle of time seems to be and with this knowledge comes a bitterness—like listening to Gnossiene °1 after heartbreak or biting in raw chicory,—but also a gripping fear that tinges the tranquility of everyday life a stale blue.

Nothing really lasts.