Portraits of our dreams (Hashirama x Madara)

12. Among the cherry blossoms (Madara)

A week or so passed, and I started feeling slightly uncomfortable that I was staying at someone else's place without paying.

"Hashirama, you should leave all your chores to me. I don't have any money so I can't pay..."

"Nonsense", he said. "If you ever feel like doing a chore you're welcome to it. But I like having you around. I feel like I should be paying you for keeping me good company."

I blushed at this. But before I could say anything else, he continued.

"But you haven't even left the loft since you came." 

That was true. Hashirama left for something every day, be it work or the gym or grocery shopping, but I had remained resolutely shut-in. I was afraid to go out, in case I would meet him again. He had harassed me on my phone, texting and leaving voice messages until I blocked him. Of course, I had immediately turned off any possibility of tracking me as soon as I left him. But even so, I was afraid...

And Hashirama knew.

"I have been meaning to ask you. I would love to take your portrait again." My hand inevitably went to my face where a few yellowing bruises remained, but I knew it was fruitless to mention them to Hashirama; I knew he thought I was the perfect object no matter what. "And the cherry blossoms are gorgeous right now. How about we set an alarm for early in the morning? That way, nobody will be out. Which is good both for the pictures and..." I knew what he meant. "Also, you'll be with me, and I would never let anyone hurt you." I knew he wouldn't.

So we set an alarm for four am the next morning. 

"I regret everything", I groaned. "My bad! Fuck portraits! Fuck the cherry trees! And fuck you! Let's go back to sleep."

But Hashirama was refreshingly alert, dragging me out of bed.

"Come on! It'll be worth it!"

I was nervous as Hashirama drove us in his car. Even seeing how hot he was as he drove couldn't take the edge of the worry I felt of coming across him. Hashirama noticed, and grabbed hold of my hand in between switching gears. 

Once we got to the park, I got at least slightly distracted as I marvelled at the beautiful, saturated pink cherry blossoms. I looked up and laughed and twirled in the empty streets, and Hashirama didn't have any suggestions about my poses but just started taking pictures as I danced, and I could finally relax a little.

As time passed, I became more and more relaxed but also more and more intense, looking into the camera lens, in the end smirking into it. But in reality, I was smirking at Hashirama.

We didn't speak, just communicated in this language we had created between us with me using my body language and him taking pictures of it. 

Once the first early morning joggers started coming out, we walked hand-in-hand back to the car, the first time we had held hands, him with his camera slung over his shoulder, me leaning against his arm. And I realised we hadn't had any mishaps, not seeing anyone we didn't want to see. 

When we came back to his loft, he didn't let go of my hand, just put the camera down on a table.

"Hashirama..." I whispered. 

He kissed me. 

He put his hand on my cheek, let his lips fall softly onto mine, releasing, falling, releasing... Making my own lips wet and glistening and craving. He was very polite, not using his tongue, but when I tasted his lips with my tongue he captured it with his. His breathing became very, very deep, as did his kissing. He slid his hands around my waist, and when he parted his lips from mine, a sliver of saliva hung between us.