“Come on, don’t be like that. It’s just dinner, right?”
Madara’s eyebrow twitched. He would just as soon liken that voice to the buzz of a fly as he would the academic drive of Philadelphia University to a trash heap. Ironically enough, one happened to be the prime breeding ground for the other.
With a sigh, Madara came to a reluctant halt and turned to face the ever-persistent man. Tetsujin Kazekage, the poor bastard, had been shamelessly pining after Madara since high school. Madara had agreed to go to prom with him once (one time) because the rest of his friends had bailed, and since then Tetsujin refused to relent. Madara supposed it should have been flattering to a degree, but after all this time, he was just tired.
“Look, you’re nice. I wouldn’t mind hanging out with you. But you have got to take a hint,” he drawled. “I’m not looking for a relationship right now, nor do I plan to in the near future.”
Undaunted, Tetsujin simply smiled. “Alright, that’s cool. I get it. As friends then?” he asked. Madara pitied the undernote of hope in his voice. He heaved another deep sigh.
“...Dinner? As friends?” he asked, looking up at the man through his dark hair. Tetsujin nodded without missing a beat. Madara pursed his lips and regarded him a moment longer before acceding. “Fine.” The toothy grin that split Tetsujin’s face filled him with immediate regret.
“Great! Does seven work?” he asked. Madara nodded wordlessly, pulling out his phone. They exchanged numbers and arranged a meeting place outside the dorms. He didn’t bother to ask where Tetsujin planned to take them to eat. Food was food, after all, and if he were being treated then all the better. They parted ways with a brisk farewell. Madara could already feel a migraine coming on and it was only noon.
Don’t get him wrong. Tetsujin really was a nice guy. Handsome, too. He had that shaggy dark hair and flawless skin that belonged on a magazine cover, and he had these mysterious grey eyes so pale they were almost white. He was a bona fide hunk, all things considered, and in a way Madara really was flattered that he had been so persistent in his affections. However, he hadn’t been lying when he’d said he wasn’t looking for a relationship. He’d had his fill of that nonsense throughout high school, and right now he viewed college as his opportunity to make up for the losses he suffered academically. His grades hadn’t been deplorable by any means, but he knew for a fact that he could have done better, tried harder. He intended to make up for his carelessness via cram studying and student loans.
“Madara!” And speaking of breeding grounds for flies…
A tanned arm threw itself around Madara’s shoulders, pulling him toward the unfairly tall mass of muscle and naivety that was Hashirama Senju. His long brown hair was pulled back into a messy half-bun today, and Madara noted inwardly that the man would likely be using that hair as a second scarf in just one month’s time. And probably Madara’s, too.
“What do you want? I have classes, you know,” Madara said, although he made no move to remove himself from under Hashirama’s arm.
“I sure do. We share half a schedule,” Hashirama reminded him. “I saw you talking to Mr. Star Athlete back there.” He winked with just a little too much suggestiveness and Madara elbowed him in the side. Tetsujin was indeed an incredible athlete, and none too shabby in the brains department, either.
“He asked me to dinner,” he confessed, ignoring Hashirama’s grunt of pain. “If I can just tide him over with this for now, at least until I get used to my schedule, I’ll endure.”
“Oh, that’s cruel,” the Senju chastised. “You shouldn’t lead people on like that.”
“I am not ‘leading him on’. I’ve explained to him numerous times that I’m not interested.” Madara sighed, hoping to convince himself, as well, that it would eventually get through to the man. “Besides, he agreed to go as friends. If he goes back on his word, that’s on him.”
“Don’t feed stray cats, Madara. They always come back for more,” Hashirama said. Madara snorted.
“Practice what you preach. How many stray dogs are you hoarding now? Last I remember, it was around—what? Five?” Hashirama looked away guiltily, and Madara narrowed his eyes. “How many more?”
“Not that many…”
“How many?”
“It might be, uhh… Let’s see… Around...ten?”
Madara nearly tripped over himself at that, though Hashirama still had an arm around his shoulders to steady him.
“Are you insane? When your landlord finds out—”
“She won’t find out! I’ll get them back to their homes, I promise!” Hashirama said quickly.
“That’s what you said last time. And the time before that. And the time before that.”
“You just don’t understand,” the man whined. “They’re all so cute and fluffy and the eyes—”
“Save it.” Madara rolled his eyes, finally peeling Hashirama’s arm off of him. “We’re going to be late to class if I let you ramble about that.”
At the end of the day, Madara returned to his dorm room to find that his roommate was already there. Yagura Yondaime was a petite thing for his age, something Madara made certain not to comment on. He knew well the wrath of the puny, and built as he was, it was surprisingly difficult to take down a human monkey. The blond looked up from his bed on the right side of the room where he lay on his stomach, kicking his feet in the air.
“You’re dating Tetsujin Kazekage?” he asked promptly. Madara choked on his own spit and took a moment to clear his throat before shooting Yagura a wide-eyed look.
“This is the first I’m hearing of it,” he said. Yagura shrugged, picking up the phone in front of him.
“Mei said she saw you agree to hook up with him earlier today.” Fun-sized fury and gossip leech. Madara wondered why he was surprised.
“Mei is a filthy liar who should mind her own business,” he said, returning to emptying his satchel onto his bed. He had yet to meet Mei, but evidently she was the one to go to for baseless rumours that she probably started herself. “We’re going to dinner. As friends.” The bark of laughter made him glare over his shoulder.
“Yeah, okay. Sure thing. Here…” Yagura shifted to hang off the side of his bed in order to reach something beneath it. Upon resurfacing, he threw the contents across the room and onto Madara’s bed. “Better safe than sorry.” He stared.
“You’re going to be shitting these condoms for a week, so help me God.” He might just make good on that threat, too.
As he left his dorm room to meet with Tetsujin, Madara rolled up the sleeves of his black button-up. It was still a little too warm for anything too fancy, and he didn’t want to risk being over-dressed should Tetsujin decide on somewhere less than refined. He had only changed shirts for that purpose, leaving him in form-fitting, faded grey jeans and leather boots. He lamented the lost opportunity to ride his motorcycle today; the weather seemed ideal for a long ride down to the lake. If the temperature didn’t drop too low after dinner with Tetsujin, he might take a ride down there anyway.
Joining Tetsujin outside the dormitory, he allowed the man to lead him to his car. Tetsujin himself was dressed in a pale sweater and khaki pants, so Madara could assume he’d dressed appropriately enough for wherever they were going. As his car came into view, Madara couldn’t help but admire the mint condition of his 1978 Silver Anniversary Coupe. Some might have found an outdated Chevrolet clunky in comparison to today’s vehicles, but Madara could appreciate a vintage corvette. He glanced up to meet Tetsujin’s eyes over the top of the car.
“This is nice as hell,” he said plainly. Tetsujin smiled and ran his hand over the hood lovingly.
“She’s my pride and joy. I don’t get to take her out much, living in the dorms,” he said. “It’s been a week. I think she’ll appreciate the attention.”
Madara snorted at the lavish phrasing as he slid into the passenger’s seat, but it wasn’t as if he had any room to talk. His ownership of a 2013 Victory Judge power-cruiser was the only romantic relationship he needed. Just thinking about her made his eyes soften.
“So I was thinking Sona in Manayunk,” Tetsujin said as he pulled out of the parking lot. Madara reclined in his seat, enjoying the sleek interior of the car.
“Sounds good. We’re getting bevs, right?” he asked.
“There’s no point in going to a pub if you don’t get bevs,” Tetsujin agreed, a grin in his voice. Madara couldn’t help but smile. Maybe this wouldn’t turn out so bad after all.
When they got there, the restaurant was still mostly empty (unsurprisingly; it was only seven o’clock), but by the time they’d ordered, eaten, and claimed stools at the bar to drink, plenty of other people had filtered in. Even the small crowd underwhelmed Madara, however. He would have thought a place like this would be busier on a Friday night, but he wasn’t going to complain. The calm drive here had vanquished the remnants of Madara’s migraine, and he found Tetsujin to be much better company than he had expected. He didn’t make any too-forward advances and he didn’t bring up any questionable encounters of their past. Madara was actually enjoying himself.
By his third or fourth cocktail, Madara was more than relaxed, and he laughed heartily alongside Tetsujin as he told the Uchiha about all the shockingly hilarious misadventures that could occur on a basketball team. He had never held a real interest in sports before, despite Hashirama’s attempts to get him into rugby during their early adolescence, but listening to Tetsujin talk about his experiences piqued just a little bit of his interest. It was too late to consider sports seriously, not that he had any intention of going that far, but he thought he might go to a game once in a while. Any attempt at explaining the technical rules of basketball was quickly abandoned in light of their mutual inebriation, but he was sure he could understand it once he was sober.
Speaking of which…
Madara stopped laughing suddenly, drawing a confused blink from his companion.
“We can’t drive back like this,” he said, forcing any hint of a slur out of his voice. Tetsujin blinked twice before realization seemed to hit him and he smacked a hand to his face.
“Shit—fuck, I’m sorry,” he muttered from behind his hand. He sounded damn near on the verge of actual tears and Madara floundered. The last thing he wanted was to awaken a hidden sobbing drunk side of Tetsujin after they’d had such a fun evening together. He hesitantly placed a hand on the man’s shoulder, patting him gently as he fished out his phone with his other hand.
“It’s fine. I can text Hashirama…” he said, squinting as he searched for the name in his contacts. Upon finding it he sent a short text, disregarding any typos, and let out a soft sigh as he leaned slightly against Tetsujin. “He’ll come pick us up,” he assured the other. This wouldn’t be the first time he’d found himself in this situation, nor would it be the first time he’d gone to Hashirama to help him out of it.
Tetsujin simply nodded in response, lowering his hand and leaning against Madara as well. Their seats had ended up close together enough for the proximity not to be a problem. Madara was content to sit and wait for Hashirama’s reply, idly rubbing Tetsujin’s shoulder and calming him from that near-miss.
About fifteen minutes later, Hashirama arrived at the restaurant to find the two nearly passed out on each other. Madara was gently shaken awake, and he nodded along with whatever Hashirama was saying, eyes bleary with almost-sleep. He and Tetsujin followed Hashirama out of the restaurant, having already paid, and their confusion upon finding Hashirama’s little brother, Tobirama, waiting for them prompted Hashirama to explain once more what he had said inside.
“I’ll drive back with Tetsujin in his car and Madara will ride with Tobirama. I don’t feel comfortable putting him behind the wheel of somebody else’s car, especially not this one,” he said with a note of awe with this last. Tetsujin managed a half-smile at the implied compliment and made to slide into his own passenger’s seat. Madara remained where he stood, looking between Tobirama and Hashirama wordlessly.
“Are you getting in or not? You already interrupted my night with this. Don’t waste more of my time,” Tobirama said from inside Hashirama’s car, hand poised on the horn.
The elder Senju gave his brother a look before taking Madara by the shoulders and guiding him to the passenger’s side. Before he could open the door, Madara turned around and gripped Hashirama’s arms instead, sincere desperation in his eyes.
“I don’t wanna die. I’m sorry for whatever I did—I don’t wanna die like this,” he rambled, clutching at Hashirama’s shirt. The man rolled his eyes and shook his head, prying off Madara’s fingers and coaxing him into the car.
“Tobirama is a very responsible driver. He wouldn’t do anything to put your life in danger,” he said slowly, reaching to buckle Madara’s seat belt as well. The latter slapped away his hands with a huff to do it himself.
“I want your confession to my murder in my obituary,” he muttered, crossing his arms. Hashirama just laughed and closed the door to return to Tetsujin’s car. Madara turned to pin Tobirama with a seething glare.
“Keep looking at me like that and maybe I really will run us both off a cliff,” the albino said tersely.
“I wouldn’t put it past you,” Madara said. “Not after what you did to—”
“Shut up.” The sharp tone of Tobirama’s voice caught Madara off guard, voice dying on his lips. “I am so not up for you to blame me right now.” He peeled out of the parking lot behind Tetsujin’s car, causing Madara to grip the grab-handle and brace his other hand against the console.
“Calm down, you maniac!” he hissed, refusing to loosen his grip even though the car had leveled out. “Jesus fucking Christ—”
“It’s been five years and the first thing you try to say to me is that shit?” Madara threw Tobirama a sidelong glance, reluctant to take his own eyes off the road. In the past he would boast about being one of few to draw out the albino’s fury so quickly and easily, but right now he wished for anything but. “You never even let me apologize.”
Those words gave him pause. He turned to look at Tobirama properly, gradually easing the tension in his body from that stunt. Tobirama’s shoulders seemed to relax minutely as well; a good sign. Madara’s silence was his cue to continue.
“...I really am sorry. Really...really sorry,” he said quietly. “I never meant for any of that to happen. I never wanted Izuna to get involved. It all happened so fast, I—” He cut off with a choked noise in the back of his throat, and for the first time in five years, Madara allowed that wound in his heart to open once more. He didn’t have the presence of mind to hide the pain on his face, but luckily Tobirama held true to Hashirama’s claims and kept his eyes on the road instead of him. “I...won’t hold it against you if you blame me for it. I should have acted faster. I should have done something, anything.” The steering wheel squeezed under Tobirama’s grip. “He was my friend, too. I would give anything to go back and change things. If I could reverse our positions, I would have. You deserve your brother more than mine deserves me.”
“Don’t say that.” Something in his voice must have caught Tobirama’s attention, be it the waver or the hushed tone he spoke in. He glanced at Madara out of the corner of his eye, doing a double-take at the sight of his expression. “Hashirama loves you. He would be just as devastated as I was if he lost you.”
Tobirama pursed his lips, focusing his attention back on the road. “I’m just a burden to him. He has to support me through school, he has to feed me, he has to deal with being the only one with a job. I hear him talking to loan companies all the time and he always gets turned down. Life would have been ten times easier for him over the past five years if I had just—”
“Shut up before I do something stupid and end up getting us both hurt,” Madara snapped. Glancing at the road, he gestured ahead. “Take a right here.”
“What? Why?”
“Just do it.”
Under the pressure of the heavy atmosphere they had created, Tobirama complied, eyebrows drawing together as Madara gave him further directions. They ended up at a small park, barren at this time of night. Madara pulled out the key himself once Tobirama put the car in park, grasping it tightly in his hand.
“What?” Tobirama asked, although it sounded more like a demand. Instead of answering, Madara struggled with his seat belt until he could free himself and stumbled out of the car, taking a deep breath of the fresh air. “Hey! I’m supposed to drive you back to your dorm. When Hashirama sees we’re not there, he’ll—”
He stopped abruptly, and Madara didn’t doubt that it was due to the sight of tears spilling down his cheeks. He walked numbly around to the front of the car, leaning against the hood and bracing both hands by his sides after pocketing the key for the time being. He saw Tobirama’s tentative approach out of the corner of his eye and felt the slight dip of the car as he sat a foot or so apart from Madara in silence.
The Uchiha let that silence drag on for a pregnant moment before speaking again, the flow of tears having waned somewhat.
“Please...don’t ever say things like that,” he whispered. “Your brother doesn’t deserve that kind of pain. He doesn’t deserve to experience that kind of loss.”
Tobirama said nothing. Madara took a shaky breath.
“...I don’t blame you. Not completely. I think you were stupid for getting tied up in that mess, and I think you’re still pretty stupid, but it’s not your fault Izuna got involved.” He turned his head a little to peer at Tobirama, who looked down at his hands in his lap. “I read the reports about what you did for him. ...Thank you.”
The boy looked up at that, as if not expecting to have heard those words, but he dropped his gaze again.
“...You left us for five years,” he said after a moment. He fiddled with his thumbs as he spoke. “We had no idea what happened to you. You changed phone numbers, and by the time we came to check your house you had already moved.” Madara pursed his lips. “Hashirama blamed himself. For everything, even though he had nothing to do with...that.”
“...I’m sorry,” Madara said eventually. “Everything about that place was just...a constant reminder. I saw his face everywhere I went, in everything I did, in everyone I saw. We grew up there together, and suddenly being without him…”
“It’s like losing part of your life,” Tobirama filled in. Madara nodded mutely. Tobirama and Hashirama were not strangers to the loss of a brother. They had lost two of theirs in early childhood. Madara had lost three, and then Izuna. The world was a shitty, stupid, filthy fucking place and Madara despised it to the very core of his being, but still he clung to this desire to live. If it hadn’t been for Hashirama being in the right places at the right times, however…
Tobirama stood from the hood of the car then, and Madara followed suit by reflex. Their eyes met for a heartbeat, and then they found themselves in each other’s arms. Madara couldn’t help but notice Tobirama was taller than him and he pouted just a little, but refrained from commenting. This was a rare moment that could never be ensured in the future, so he would let it stand for what it was. He and Tobirama may not have seen eye-to-eye on many things, but he wouldn’t accuse the boy of heartlessness. At the ripe age of eighteen, he had seen too much death and had grown too quickly, in mind and soul (and body). One look at his eyes and Madara could see reflected there the same breed of sorrow that resided in his own tired eyes. He would never forgive Fate for tainting youth like this.
As they stood there, Madara let his eyes fall closed. His drowsiness had not lessened since leaving the pub, and Tobirama was warm in spite of his normally arctic disposition. Although, Madara conceded, he didn’t exactly have any room to determine what Tobirama was like now. It had been five years since he had last lain eyes on the boy, after all, and one thing he could tell for certain was that Tobirama was not the insolent, brutally sassy brat he had been. Still cheeky and sassy, but to a much milder degree. Reflecting on their interactions up until now, Madara could almost find it pleasant.
In his reverie he didn’t notice Tobirama’s hand drifting down his back and it wasn’t until it slipped into his back pocket that he snapped out of it. Instead of jerking away like he really should have, he froze up, breath catching as his mind did the reeling. Was this really the best time to make such a tactless move—?
Then he heard the jingle of keys.
Right.
The car keys.
Of course.
Madara let out a breath that shook more than he would have liked. Damn this alcohol. That could be the only explanation as to why he had...allowed that. He really, really needed to chug a mug of coffee, and soon.
“Sorry.” Tobirama’s voice was jarringly close to his ear, though he pulled away thereafter, keys in hand. “But we really should get going. Hashirama is probably worried sick, and I’m the one who has to listen to him snivel about it.”
Madara couldn’t help a quiet chuckle at that despite the way his hands still shook. “I pity you.” But it must be nice to have someone worry over you like that.
They got back in the car and fell into a deep but comfortable silence. Tobirama didn’t try to turn on the music and for that Madara was grateful; it seemed they were both men who valued their quietude. Although, Madara was on the verge of sleep again by the time they pulled into the dormitory’s parking lot. He could see Hashirama’s bulking form racing over to them in the darkness of the night. He threw open Tobirama’s door before the boy got the chance to unbuckle and immediately started pouring out some teary-eyed lecture about how they should pay more attention to their phones and where were they and he was scared to death. Madara almost felt bad, but it wasn’t as if anything bad had happened, and he made sure to tell Hashirama that. He explained they had just taken a detour to buy Madara a cold mocha (and they had, afterward, so he had the bottle for proof) and then traffic got backed up suddenly. It was only a half fib, and what Hashirama didn’t know wouldn’t hurt him. Tobirama had a muted look of gratitude at any rate, and that was enough to make it worth it.
As they prepared to part ways, Madara felt a hand dig into his other back pocket as he turned away. Instead of freezing up like an idiot, this time he clenched his fist and whirled around to tell off Tobirama. It was fine to be brazen, but Madara valued his personal space and he did not appreciate it being violated by some high school twat.
He paused, however, when he saw that Tobirama had gone for his phone this time and was in the middle of what seemed to be exchanging numbers. He blinked when the boy handed back his phone and looked down to see Tobirama had decorated his contact name with a crown emoji (which was just begging him to change it to a poop emoji). He tried to sneak a glance at what Tobirama had put for Madara’s name, but he was already pocketing his phone again.
“Keep in touch. And don’t wait another five years this time,” he said. Madara just blinked and watched him return to Hashirama’s car. He managed a small wave back to Hashirama, then he turned to go back to his dorm room. His legs felt numb and on the brink of giving out as another wave of fatigue washed over him, but he trudged onward.
Yagura was already asleep by the time he entered the room, and Madara didn’t bother changing before dragging himself onto his bed and promptly passing the fuck out.