I will survive (naruto fanfic)

Ch 126

"You've always seen me, even without them." 

It's a half-truth. I don't know if Itachi has truly ever seen me, not in the way I want him to. But I can't bring myself to admit that. Not now. Not when everything between us felt so fragile, so delicate. 

He doesn't say anything in response. He leaned into my touch, just a little, like he's finally letting himself feel something real for the first time in so long. 

As I slowly pull my hand away, a subtle frown forms on Itachi's face, and I can see it—he's almost pouting, a rare and unexpected shift from his usual composed self. 

It's amusing, the way he watched my hand retract as if it's something he can't quite grasp. His lips part, but no words come out—just a moment of silence. 

For the first time, he looks... lost. I hesitated for a second, my gaze flickering between his expression and my hand that's now hanging loosely by my side. 

The silence stretched, and something in me pushed past the uncertainty. Slowly, I reach out again, this time gently guiding his hand to my cheek, pressing it softly against my skin. 

His fingers brush against my face, tentative at first, but then they settle. I held my breath, letting the moment linger as he felt the contour of my face—the slight curve of my jaw and the warmth of my skin. 

"See me," I murmured quietly, barely above a whisper. 

My eyes search his face, watching the subtle change in his expression as he slowly takes in every detail, his fingertips brushing along the curve of my cheekbone. 

Itachi doesn't move for a while, his hand staying gently pressed to my face. I can't tell if he's seeing me in some way he couldn't before, or if he's just trying to hold onto the feeling of what I am in this moment—before everything changes. 

Finally, his voice broke through the quiet, soft and almost uncertain. "I wish I could... see you completely." 

I don't know how to respond, so I don't. Instead, I lean into his touch, just slightly, letting him feel the warmth of me, the breath of me. 

It's a rare moment of connection, one that's more than just physical—more than just touch. It's something deeper. Something unspoken that's been there, buried beneath the surface for so long. 

As Itachi's fingers brush against my forehead, I keep still, letting him explore the smoothness of my skin. Slowly, he traced down to my eyebrows, feeling their shape—slightly arched, a bit thick. 

I sensed his curiosity as he moved to my eyes, the bridge of my nose, and then my cheeks, feeling the roundness there. His fingers hover over my lips, touching the curve, the outline. I let them feel the line of my jaw, how it tapers slightly. 

I stay calm, allowing him to piece together the features he can't see, offering him an intimate understanding of who I am, just through touch. 

Itachi's fingers went back up and hovered just inches away from my lips before he slowly, deliberately, brought them up to touch me. His touch was light, almost too gentle. 

The weight of his touch, the quiet intensity of his presence all made the air feel heavier between us. 

I wasn't sure if he even realized what he was doing, but I could feel it: he was taking advantage of the moment, of the fact that we were alone, and I wasn't pulling away. 

His fingers brushed against my lips in a slow, almost cautious manner, as if he was testing the boundaries, seeing how far he could go without pushing me too far.