Naruto Shippuden Fan Fiction / Naruto Fan Fiction ❯ The Preferable Path to Perfection is You ❯ Can't You See What I See? ( Chapter 7 )

Disclaimer: The characters, items, places etc of Naruto are property of Masashi Kishimoto. These objects are used without permission for entertainment only, not for making money. No infringement is intended.

Chapter 7: Can't You See What I See?

"Did you deface the mouse?"

"I took the pipe cleaner-"

"The tail."

Itachi sighed at the interruption, spinning his desk chair around to face Deidara who was currently lying on his bed.

"The tail, then. I took it off because it was difficult to use with it attached." He said.

"Should I attach it the other side?" Deidara asked.

"Can't it just be a mouse without a tail?" Itachi retorted.

Deidara snorted in mild disgust. "A mouse without a tail wouldn't have any balance, yeah."

"You know it's not a real mouse, don't you? I wonder sometimes," Itachi remarked, putting the mouse in question back on the desk.

"It's not like you use it often anyway since you have to write most of your work by hand," Deidara argued. "You could have left it."

"I've liberated it from the clutches of its own tail. Is that an artistic enough way of saying it was annoying me?"

"It's not artistic but I'll give you recognition for trying, yeah."

At some point in the last few days they had ended up gravitating into Itachi's bedroom in the evenings- Deidara would lie on the bed and Itachi would sit at the desk, spending the evenings simply enjoying each other's company as usual but in a different location.

He'd also stopped going back to his place at one point Itachi couldn't pinpoint a timeline for, leaving once every couple of weeks to check on it more than anything.

"Do you miss sleeping in a real bed?" Itachi asked after a few quiet moments, noticing Deidara now had his eyes closed and looked rather comfortable. He'd been doing it each night they ended up in the bedroom and Itachi was beginning to wonder if there was an ulterior motive for Deidara initiating their time being spent there now.

"Sometimes," Deidara admitted, opening his eyes and meeting Itachi's. He looked tired, Itachi noticed with a frown, regarding him with concern- Deidara through his own admission usually didn't need much rest, so seeing him so tired quite early in the evening was a surprise.

"Do you want to catch an hour there?" Itachi offered. "I've got a lot of work to do this evening anyway."

"I impose enough as it is without stealing your bed," Deidara replied, turning onto his side and sitting half upright. "I'd invite you to some to my place sometime but, well... You know, yeah. I hate it."

"I know," Itachi confirmed with a small nod, turning back to his desk. "It's alright. Get some rest, Deidara."

Deidara didn't argue anymore, lying back down and closing his eyes. Itachi kept quiet, grabbing a pen and some paper from the drawer in his desk and switching the main room light to his desk lamp.

He hoped it would be enough light for him to work by without straining his eyes, putting a subconscious hand to the dark frame of the glasses he was wearing.

Usually he'd been able to retreat to the bedroom late at night citing sleep, remove the contacts and switch to the frames to finish the last of his studies.

That had changed when he'd fallen asleep with the contacts in the first night Deidara had come in for the evening and paid for it the next morning, making him more aware of remembering to switch over to frames even with the other's company. Deidara had told him they suited him, which instantly put him a little more at ease.

The idea of Deidara asleep on his bed was a pretty nice one, he noted with a small smile as he ran his eyes up and down his half-asleep friend. Maybe he would be bold and curl up with him sometime.

He was interrupted half an hour or so later by the phone ringing and he glanced up at it in surprise. Deidara was asleep behind him and he'd spoken to Sasuke earlier in the evening- it was unlikely to be his brother calling again, so that left him out of immediate options for who it was.

He snatched it up quickly, not wanting to leave it ringing and risk waking Deidara. "Hello?"

"Hello, son."

"Ah... Hi, Dad."

Itachi closed his eyes to the sound of his father's voice, troubled- had it been a while already? He felt it hadn't really been long enough. Sasuke mentioning that he'd been called should have been a tip off, he realised with disdain.

"You haven't called. Have you been busy?"

"You know how college is," Itachi replied dismissively. "I have to keep on top of these things."

"Of course," his father said quietly. "I'm sorry if I interrupted your studies."

Was that it? Itachi felt almost giddy- he actually sounded like he was going to hang up!

"How have you been handling your coursework, then?"

So much for that theory.

"Fine," Itachi replied, his voice slightly clipped.

He didn't want to get into that conversation right then- not when he had just started to relax even if it was just a tiny bit thanks to Deidara's influence. He had convinced himself that his taste for coffee was a quirk, not an imperfection, and had believed it. That was a huge first for him.

"You are achieving the best you can?"

"Of course."

"You aren't getting distracted by social idiocies and ridiculous love conquests?"

"No."

"Sasuke mentioned you'd been hanging around with someone."

Itachi felt his heart leap into his throat- what was Sasuke doing discussing him and Deidara in the first place? He knew he needed to come up with an answer- something, anything. The guilty silence was deafening.

"Yes," he finally replied. "Just a friend."

"Your brother said he was..." The sharp exhale, the pause, the palpable disapproval in the air- Itachi knew whatever was coming, it wasn't positive. "An artist."

"He is," Itachi nodded, before adding an afterthought. "He's a very good one, too."

"Sasuke didn't seem to think very highly of him."

"Sasuke is jealous. I hear you and he had a falling out?"

"The boy is falling off the rails," his father snapped, sighing and sounding as though he had the weight of the world on his shoulders. "I worry about him. I imagine he told you about the situation I've put him in."

"Yes."

"It will teach him where he should be setting his attention- not on underage social activities and certainly not that idiotic blond lad he hangs around with."

"Naruto is a perfect influence for Sasuke," Itachi responded mildly.

"Just like your artist is for you?"

Itachi couldn't bring himself to say yes, no, or in fact anything at all for a few brief moments. How could he honestly answer that? He couldn't even answer it himself.

"Why were you talking about me in the first place?" He asked instead, regretting it the moment the words left his mouth. It sounded suspiciously like backchat- something only Sasuke did. Not perfect, faultless Itachi.

"I asked him how you were doing. You needn't sound so affronted- you're the one who refuses to call and tell us yourself." He paused for a moment before quietly adding something Itachi didn't want to hear. "Your mother has been concerned, son."

Itachi bit his tongue to a rather impolite comment regarding his opinion of his mother. It was no secret their parents played favourites as they grew up- his father with him, and his mother with Sasuke. Thankfully he and Sasuke weren't angry with one another over it, but it had definitely damaged the relationship with the opposing parent.

Sasuke didn't care for their father's attention because he never got much of it in the first place. The void left by such negligence had been filled by their mother's unconditional time and attention- Itachi tried not to be bitter about it, he really did, but it did take a lot of effort to keep his mouth closed about his mother's so-called 'concern' when he guessed it was either fake or born of guilt.

"You know I'm busy," he protested weakly instead when he realised he'd been silent just a little too long.

"I understand, son. Just promise me you'll excel and keep up with your studies."

"I am."

"Make sure this artist doesn't lead you astray, Itachi," his father warned. "What kind of subject is art in the first place? Who would care to try and make a living from something so unstable and fickle?"

Itachi himself had thought something similar, but he knew differently now. Deidara had no intention of making a living from his subject of choice- he was simply enjoying it and making things up as he went along and if he landed a career out of it, he'd be happy. Itachi only wished he could be similar sometimes.

"I'm doing fine," he reassured.

"Good. I expect no less from my perfect son."

Perfect son, perfect grades, imperfect attachments. Itachi bit back the disappointment he was feeling at himself and stayed silent, letting his father try to fill the gap.

"I'll let you study in peace," his father finally spoke. "Good night, son."

"....Good night."

Itachi disconnected the call, setting the phone back in the cradle next to him and leaning back in the chair to stare at the ceiling.

Even though he knew his father was the reason behind his perfection complex there was no way he could shrug it off now it was so deeply ingrained. Every sparse call he shared with his father reinforced it and made him try even harder- even when he'd already been trying more than his best.

Had he been slipping? Had Deidara been leading him astray with his talk of gardens and relentless energy for strange artistic ventures? Did he count as a social idiocy?

...Did he count as a love conquest? No, Itachi decided, but he was all of the rest which made him a failure regardless.

"You never mentioned your Dad, yeah," Deidara spoke sleepily behind him, causing him to turn around sharply. "You didn't sound too pleased to hear from him either."

"Sore subject," Itachi replied pointedly, turning back and picking up his pen once more.

His hand ached as he gripped it tightly to make sure he formed every single letter correctly- this was why he hated calls from his father, he told himself. They made him horribly obsessive about the smallest things and sprang a whole bunch of imperfections he hadn't previously seen for a while out of nowhere at him.

His hand was trembling slightly and he stopped, noticing the letters on the word he was currently writing were slightly shaky because of it. He ran a line back through it, tapping the pen on the page and trying to resist what he wanted to do next.

He couldn't. He tried, but he found himself running a line back through the entire sentence. One word wrong- one letter wrong- and it ruined the whole sentence. But, now his page had an unsightly, imperfect line on it and he screwed the paper up angrily, not noticing the concerned look Deidara was giving him behind him.

He started again. Three paragraphs later, he screwed that piece of paper up too. Again. And again.

"Itachi?"

"What?!" He snapped, glaring round at Deidara.

"If you're having problems with it just do it tomorrow, yeah," Deidara suggested, looking concerned still. If he minded the other's irritable conduct, he didn't show it.

"I'm not having problems with it," Itachi replied evenly.

"What did he say?" Deidara finally asked quietly. "I know you said-"

"Stop talking," Itachi told him, screwing up another piece of paper. "I don't want to keep re-doing this because you can't shut up."

Deidara opened his mouth to respond before closing it, looking troubled but lying down back down without a word.

The sensible part of Itachi's mind was telling him he needed to go to sleep- it had been nearly one am when he'd last checked the clock and to hide that fact he had taken it out to the front garden and smashed it.

Deidara would be proud, he had thought idly- perhaps he'd call it artistic expression or something equally ridiculous. Itachi called it losing his temper fully for the first time in quite literally years. It had felt pretty good, too. He'd shown that perfect little clock just who was better- he was above time.

He wasn't anywhere near finished, but he was starting to run low on paper. How had this happened? How had he let himself instantly revert back to his old standards of perfection just by being in contact with his father for brief minutes?

Even though he didn't appear it to others, he was a lot less perfect now than he had once been. He'd managed to iron out the more over the top things like having to rewrite entire pages because of one slight mistake, telling himself a simple cross through and continue was alright a few years ago. Sometimes it came out in him on the occasional piece of work, but not as badly as this.

Was it Deidara? He found himself writing faster, telling himself to slow down so he didn't have to rewrite it all again- he'd nearly reached the bottom of this page as well.

He needed sleep.

No, Itachi told himself. He didn't need sleep.

Somehow he'd manage to convince himself that needs were non-existent, rating them as desires he could ignore instead. As a result he'd skipped dinner and hadn't even bothered with coffee despite the late hour.

Rationally, he knew he was being unreasonable with himself- no, he was acting stupid in fact, but that knowledge didn't help him do anything about it. It was like a curse, taking over every sense and choking him into simply staying quiet as he continued to write, write, write.

"You're still up?"

He turned round to see Deidara sitting up, blinking sleepily at him in the soft light of the room. Itachi kept his eyes on him for a moment longer than he wanted, taking in his mussed, loose hair and sleepy demeanour. He liked half-asleep Deidara, he decided. He'd have to be awake before him more often.

This was exactly what his father was talking about! Here he was, having inappropriate thoughts about his friend when he should be getting on with his work.

"I'm not done," he finally replied, turning back to the paper.

Deidara slipped off of the bed, walking over to Itachi's side and snatching the pen from his hand. "Sleep," he demanded, frowning worriedly at him.

Itachi stared at the paper in contempt- he was rather glad he was only a couple of lines in on it, since the pen's swift removal from his hand had caused the page to gain a large blue line across it in Deidara's direction.

He simply screwed it up and threw it to the rather-full looking trashcan nearby- of course, it landed in perfectly.

"You're worrying me," Deidara said simply. "Get some sleep. I'll get off your bed now, yeah."

"I said I'm not done."

"It's..." Deidara's voice faltered as he noticed the clock was missing. "It's got to be late," he decided instead. "You're going to be tired tomorrow."

Itachi didn't have another pen so he couldn't continue like he wanted, so he simply glared at Deidara instead. "Go back to sleep yourself."

"I'm awake now. Do you want a coffee?"

"No I do not," Itachi replied hurriedly, turning back to his work.

Deidara shrugged, heading out of the room to the kitchen instead. Itachi watched him go, feeling torn. He needed to stay and finish his work but he also needed to put a stop to Deidara attempting to make him coffee.

He was still struggling with convincing himself his taste for the beverage was a quirk again and besides, caffeine was desirable. Not needed, despite what Deidara thought.

He gave up the internal fight, standing and quickly making his way to the kitchen in time to see Deidara picking up the boiling kettle, glancing at Itachi as he stalked inside.

"If you're going to make me coffee, don't even think about it," he told Deidara forcefully, leaning back against the worktop and folding his arms crossly.

"You looked exhausted, yeah," Deidara responded firmly. "If you're going to insist on staying up, you need caffeine."

"I'm fine and you're fussing about nothing," Itachi protested. "I don't need sleep and I certainly don't need coffee. I don't need anything."

Deidara eyed him curiously, unsure of how to tackle the issue that was clearly at hand. He had no idea what had transpired on the phone but he was absolutely certain by now something definitely had.

"You apparently have a need to pretend you don't have needs," he said slowly.

Itachi glowered at him, pursuing his lips and averting his eyes. "You aren't helping."

"What's going on?" Deidara asked gently after they'd stayed in tense silence for what he felt was long enough. "Your Dad said something earlier, didn't he?"

Itachi didn't dignify him with a response.

"I speak fluent pissed off Uchiha by now," Deidara commented sharply. "It's all your brother speaks, yeah. That means yes. What was it?"

"Can't you just go back to sleep and let me get on with my work?" Itachi demanded, still not meeting his eye.

"I'm not stopping you. You're the one that chased me out here."

Itachi took the hint and headed back to his desk, grabbing the discarded pen Deidara had thrown and sitting back down. He couldn't bring himself to put it to the blank paper however, holding a hand to his forehead gingerly in a vain attempt to push back the headache he was experiencing.

Exhaling, he forced his hand to the paper and began to write once more, pointedly ignoring Deidara as he slipped back inside the room and placed a coffee down next to him.

"What happened to your clock?" Deidara asked as he sat on the edge of Itachi's bed. "It's missing."

"I smashed it."

Deidara blinked, apparently unable to comprehend that piece of information. "The clock?"

"That's right."

"I've done some pretty annoying things and you've never lost your temper with me, yeah. What did the poor clock do to you?"

Itachi set the pen down on the desk begrudgingly, closing his eyes and breathing deeply to offset the ringing in his ears. He couldn't concentrate as it was without Deidara talking his ear off about such useless things.

"Did you eat this evening?"

"I'm not hungry."

"You look terrible, yeah. If you're going to insist on pulling an all nighter, at least take a break."

"I took a break," Itachi responded- it was only half a lie, since he considered following Deidara out the room as a break.

"If that was true you wouldn't be so stressed. Just stop and have a coffee with me, yeah."

Itachi restrained his temper before he lost it, spinning around in the chair to face Deidara with the perfect mask in place.

"I'm fine," he said diplomatically, his voice cleverly monotone. "I would appreciate being left to finish my studies in peace."

Deidara stared at him, rising confusion on his face before he burst out laughing. "Itachi, are you kidding?"

He chuckled. "You do realise your act doesn't work on me? You sound just like when we first met, but I know better now. You keep touching your head- do you need painkillers?"

"How many times do I have to tell you I don't need anything?"

"Are we really going to go around in circles with this?" Deidara sighed. "You're lying and I don't believe you, yeah. Now drop it and start being honest with me- what the _hell_ happened? I've never seen you like this and you're worrying me."

"It's just an overdue assignment."

"I'd be surprised if you even know the meaning of the word 'overdue', Itachi. Your coffee's going to get cold."

Itachi stood and picked the coffee cup up, heading to the window with it. Deidara watched, mildly amused as he threw the contents out and turned back with an even look in his tired eyes.

"I'm not going to be polite about this anymore. Get out and let me continue."

"And let you self-sabotage like this? Give me a break, yeah."

"I don't want to lose my temper with you. Leave."

Deidara finally rose from the bed, giving him one last glance before quietly leaving as requested. Itachi sank back into chair and laid his arms across the desk, resting his head in them with a sharp sigh of pain.

He needed to get his head straight so he could continue and not let Deidara rile him into a fight about the issue- he pushed away the single sensible thought in his mind that suggested he was overreacting on a ludicrous level to pick his head up and grasp the pen lightly once more.

The thought of attempting to put pen to paper made him feel like crying, so he hurriedly dropped it once more. How was he supposed to concentrate when his traitorous body wouldn't let him continue without demanding things he was unwilling to give time for?

He didn't glance up as the door opened, re-admitting Deidara with a glass of water and two white pills. He put them down gently on the desk next to Itachi, giving him a pleading look.

"I want you to have them," he asked gently. "Please. Don't do this to yourself."

If he hadn't felt like crying before Itachi definitely did then, feeling instantly guilty for his conduct that evening. He grabbed the painkillers thankfully and took them before he could change his mind, watching Deidara kneel down on the floor next to him with a soft sigh.

"I know you're just trying to help," he commented softly, his tone hollow as he couldn't muster the energy to inject anything into it. "I don't mean to be difficult."

Deidara shrugged dismissively. "Just tell me what's going on and stop lying to me, yeah. I told you about my family- maybe you could tell me about yours."

"I don't want to talk about it."

"But that's the problem?"

Itachi hesitated before nodding in response.

"Can you continue to be honest with me? Have you been here sitting all night screwing up a rainforest of paper trying to do whatever it is you're working on?"

Itachi nodded once more, averting his eyes down to the blank page in front of him. "I keep making mistakes," he admitted in a whisper.

"Lie down and rest."

It was an order- one Itachi wanted to resist but he found himself getting up and falling onto his bed regardless, slipping his glasses off and placing them gently on the side. Deidara gave him a thankful smile before leaving him alone, seemingly content with having made progress at least.

Itachi buried his face in his pillow once the door clicked shut. Sleep was desirable, yet he stayed fully clothed on the bed with his head in his pillow that smelt lightly of Deidara, trying to focus on the sound of his own breathing.

He flipped over onto his back after a while, staring up at the ceiling and biting his lip while deep in thought. He jumped after a few minutes of silent staring, startled as he felt wetness trickle down the side of his face and tickle the edge of his ear. He wasn't crying, he told himself firmly as he brushed it away, because that was one of the biggest flaws he could have.

He covered his face with the crook of his elbow, feeling slightly dizzy with fatigue. The side of his face was wet again, he noted with contempt, pulling himself to a sitting position instead after a minute or two. He wasn't going to lie there not-crying all night so he slipped off the bed to take a shower.

Once he was showered, dressed and presentable he headed back to the living room. Deidara was sitting on the sofa intently sketching, giving him a single nod of acknowledgement before turning back to his work. Itachi sat down on the floor next to the sofa, feeling that settling next to him would disturb him so he watched instead with his knees curled to his chest.

He somehow convinced himself that making a cup of coffee wasn't going to be such a terrible thing- though he refused to admit it was because fatigue was attempting to force his eyes closed.

With it in his hands, he sat back down on the floor next to the sofa and leant back against it gently, curling his longer fingers around the cup gratefully. So much for it being a quirk- it was definitely in the realm of imperfection. Everything he had attempted that night was. Did it really matter so much?

He put his cup down and buried his head in his knees. Yes, it mattered. It had always mattered and probably always would. He was the personification of perfection, only he was so flawed he couldn't see it. Irony at its finest, he decided, ignoring the imperfect dampness on his knees.

Chapter End