Itachi wasn’t privy when it comes to romance, but he had to admit that it felt nice to be held.
He missed the gentleness of her touch when he had to lurch forwards to keep from hacking blood all over his, god forbid, white bed sheets. Her nimble fingers traced figurines on his back as her touch followed him, slowly trailing up until they were ghosting through his hair and pulling his long black strands away from his face.
“Thank you,” he chokes out hoarsely and just barely. Another wave of metallic washed through his mouth and he couldn’t control the convulsions that wracked his body. He couldn’t hear her over himself, but he didn’t need to. He could see her blurry figure leave the bed and room.
She wasn’t gone for very long, she never was.
He felt her gentle touch return to him again as she pressed a cool, damp washcloth to his forehead when he finished coughing up his insides. Taking in a shallow breath, too scared to breathe too deep because he knew he would just start hacking again, he leaned back into the bed under her guidance. His pillows were propped around him again and the cloth on his forehead was slipping over his eyes just slightly.
Itachi didn’t mind, though. It’s not like he could see very much anyway.
“You should get some rest,” he heard her say and he figured she was right. It isn’t like she wasted years going through medical school just for the sake of saying she did. Still, he wasn’t too keen on resting - not when soon that would be all he does for all of eternity.
“Rest is for the dead,” he croaks out and he could feel the dip of the bed accompanied with the slight firm grasp on his cheek, “And I’m not dead, yet.”
“You will be soon if you keep this up,” she says tiredly and he couldn’t fault her for it. The woman had barely gotten any sleep the last few days. She has been up all night with him and all day, trying to please him and make him comfortable, to make him feel not alone.
“You should get some rest,” he responds and he can hear her letting out a tired sigh. He could imagine her shoulders sagging, the picture in his head was blurry, but only for the obvious reason. A thick silence washes over them as she settles in by his side, her head resting on his shoulder gently and her small hand splayed out on his chest.
“What do you look like?” He asks after a moment. He hadn’t asked before, he didn’t know why. It would be more beneficial if he had an idea who was beside him in his final days, an image he can take with him and not just a feeling of how her fingers felt when they graze or caress his face gently.
“Curious now, are we?” She jokes quietly and he could feel her nose, straight and small, grazing his neck as she adjusted her position. He would like to think her lips were full and soft, but he had no real way of knowing unless they kissed and he was in no position to be doing any of that. It wouldn’t do to taint a beauty like her with the blood that he had been coughing. “My hair is pink like the cherry blossoms in spring and my eyes are emerald green. I have light freckles that dust my cheeks but my cheekbones are nowhere near as prominent as yours,” she answers.
“And your name?” He lets out a soft cough, barely rising from the bed, and no blood, thankfully.
“Sakura.”
“How fitting,” he jokes. “You sound beautiful.”
A silence passes and for a moment he wonders if he shouldn’t have said that. A soft pressure against his cheek changes his mind, however.
“Thank you,” Sakura had said and he could imagine her blushing slightly.
Another quietness settles over them, but neither minded. This would do just fine for him. Closing his eyes, he relaxes against her. He could feel her hair brushing his face just slightly and he wrinkles his nose at the slight tickle it ensued. Letting out a soft sigh, he focused on her breathing. Her heart was beating softly and he wondered what his own heart sounded like. He knew, lung-wise, that his chest sounded awful and like a doctor's worst nightmare. It was the whole reason he was here with Sakura in the first place.
Itachi was dying, his family knew. Nobody knew what it was that had gotten a hold of him and despite the years of trying to figure it out, he eventually resigned to it. When he did, his hope and light had dimmed out. He was but a shell of the young man he used to be. Due to his lone and dark nature, he often found himself alone. His family had already mourned him and he had no one else to turn to.
But he found Sakura.
Actually, she found him.
He had collapsed on the street and she had helped him. Itachi, as crazy as he knew it would be, was desperate in that moment. He thought that was it, that he was finally going to pass. He could only imagine what her face looked like when he had clutched onto her hands tightly, crying he was sure. He hadn’t wanted to go alone and had all but begged her to stay until he went. For some reason, she agreed to just shut him up. He was grateful and if he were in any other predicament, perhaps he would have been embarrassed.
As it were, he was not.
Time was slipping by them. He could tell that she had finally fallen asleep and he was glad. She deserved it and he was sure she was going to make a fine doctor in a more professional setting. Sakura was going to succeed and Itachi almost wished he would be there to see it but he knew that in any other world, they never would have crossed paths if things were any different. He would settle for laying there with her in silence for as long as he could. For not the first time, he wished he could see her face.
Turning to face her, he gently brought up his hand. He knew his hands weren’t nearly as soft as hers and he hoped she didn’t mind him as he gently traced her face. Itachi closed his eyes, though it really wasn’t necessary, as he tried to memorize what he thought her face looked like. The longer he did it, the heavier his arm felt, and so he gently laid his arm down and kept his hand resting against her cheek.
He was tired.
So, so very tired.
At least, with her by his side, he wasn’t alone.
