seijaku

Madara laughed aloud, an occurrence that was becoming more and more common ever since exchanging numbers with Tobirama. Over the course of just a few days, he had learned they shared a dry sense of humour at the expense of others, but if the comparison stretched further then Madara felt safe in assuming that the other meant no harm by it. The door opened then and Madara looked up from where he lay on his bed, head propped up on the pillows.

“Okay,” Yagura began, closing the door behind him, “I’ve been listening to you giggle and titter over your phone for the past, like, week. What’s the deal?” He tossed down his bag and put his hands on his hips as if he were confronting his child about finding a porn magazine under their bed. Madara rolled his eyes.

“First of all, I don’t giggle. Second of all, mind your own business,” he said, resuming his texting. He didn’t have classes today, so he was free to lounge around as he pleased.

“Come to think of it, you’ve been like this ever since your date with Tetsujin.”

“It wasn’t a date.”

“Did you have that much fun?”

Madara sighed labouriously and reached back to grab a pillow and throw it at Yagura.

“I did have fun, thank you very much. Just not the perverted kind,” he said. His roommate caught the pillow and hugged it to his chest as he came to kneel at Madara’s bedside.

“So you’re trying to tell me that one ‘friendly meeting at a bar’ is what has you all...this?” Yagura asked, and this time his voice was absent of its usual teasing sarcasm. Madara glanced down at him briefly before turning back to his phone.

“Hashirama and his brother had to come pick us up. We were both drunk and couldn’t drive,” he said by way of explanation as if that would satisfy the blond’s curiosity. It did not.

“Hashirama has a brother?”

“Yes.”

“Well, what’s his name? What’s he like? Does he go here?”

Madara sighed again, a sobbing whine catching in the back of his throat.

“Please go hound someone else about it. I’m sure Hashirama would love to tell you all about his brother himself,” he said.

Madara paused at that. He hadn’t expected Tobirama to take him seriously nor offer him a legitimate way out of this situation, but he was grateful nonetheless. As Yagura opened his mouth to speak again, Madara sat up, shoving the pillow into the other’s face.

“I have to go. Bother Hashirama about it.” He ignored Yagura’s complaints as he got dressed in proper clothes: a black T-shirt under a leather jacket, black jeans, and his leather boots. He grabbed his keys, gloves, and helmet on the way out the door, balancing them all in one arm as he sent a quick last text.

I’m on my way

---

Madara had visited Hashirama’s new house only once. The Senju brothers had moved here a little before the beginning of the semester and Madara had only found out about their presence in the same town when he discovered that he and Hashirama shared classes. It had been quite the embarrassingly emotional reunion, and even he wasn’t spared tears when he had embraced Hashirama for the first time in all these years. He had gone to Hashirama’s house that first day, but Tobirama had apparently still been at his high school at the time, and Madara had been more than relieved. It had been good to see Hashirama again, but he hadn’t been sure the same could be said for his brother.

He rolled into the Senju’s driveway, dropping the kick-stand a little to the side of the garage so as not to inhibit Hashirama’s car should he return home soon. The man had his own classes today, so—

Wait a minute.

Pulling off his helmet, he shook free his hair and looked to the door of the house to find Tobirama waiting for him. He narrowed his eyes.

“Shouldn’t you be in school?” he asked. Tobirama snorted.

“Missing one day won’t kill me. Besides, you needed ‘saving’, right? So are you coming in or am I coming out?” he asked with a quirked brow. Madara scoffed.

“That depends. Did you want to ride bitch or were you planning on making a heartfelt confession?” The question seemed to confuse Tobirama before he caught on. Madara smirked at the red flush that bloomed across those pale cheeks.

“Fuck you. Get in here before I lock you out,” he said, turning to disappear back inside the house. Madara chuckled and dismounted his motorcycle, following the albino inside.

The interior decor had changed since the last time he was here, which was to be expected. There had still been boxes left unpacked the last time, and now the place was pristine and proper. He didn’t expect anything less of Tobirama’s neat-freak attitude. The walls were off-white, and most of the furniture was a dark mahogany that complemented the pale floorboards nicely. Various knickknacks were strewn about on any available surface, and plenty of family photos decorated the walls. It was overall an average home, but the two brothers’ personalities shone through with the potted plants near the windows and the coat hanger by the door weighed down by numerous fluffy-collared coats.

Madara followed Tobirama to the living room after depositing his helmet, keys, gloves, and jacket by the coat hanger. He took to the brown leather couch as the boy offered to get drinks, reclining with a contented sigh. It felt nice to enjoy actual furniture in open space rather than the cramped quarters of his dorm room, although he was sure Yagura would appreciate having the room to himself for the time being. He didn’t worry about having his personal items violated; he and Yagura had come to a silent agreement to respect each other’s privacy after a mutual excursion of curiosity that had led to less-than-desired discoveries. Needless to say, Madara could never, ever view Yagura as a child no matter how short he was.

Tobirama returned with two icy glasses of a dark liquid. Madara took it with a quiet thanks and lifted it to his lips, expecting sweetened tea or some other variant, but what met him instead was the bitter burn of alcohol down his throat. He coughed a little in surprise, turning to give Tobirama a questioning look. The boy simply smirked, however, sipping at his own glass as he sat down. Narrowing his eyes, Madara snatched it from the other’s hands and tested that liquid as well before Tobirama could stop him. True to his suspicions, it also tasted of alcohol.

“Skipping school is one thing, but this is illegal,” he said, holding both glasses out of Tobirama’s reach. “Are you actually stupid? Does Hashirama know you drink?” A part of him realized that he might have been acting just a little overbearing, but he couldn’t stop his reaction. It felt almost instinctual to reprimand the boy for such a thing.

“Give me a break, will you? I’m not stupid, for the record, and I know not to get drunk or anything like that,” Tobirama said, leaning closer in preparation to reach for his glass. “It helps people relax, right? I figured you could use it.”

Those words gave Madara pause, and though his eyes followed Tobirama’s hand as it slowly reached for his glass, he didn’t try to keep him from taking it. He pursed his lips.

“Alright, fine. But what about you? Are you in such desperate need of ‘relaxation’ that you—”

“Yes.”

Well. Madara supposed he couldn’t argue with that.

The Uchiha inhaled deeply through his nose and exhaled slowly before taking another drink. From overbearing to bad influence. Go figure.

“What is this, anyway?” he decided to ask.

“Jack Daniel’s,” Tobirama answered without pause. Madara glanced over at him, studying his reaction to the drink; the boy seemed to catch on. “I mix mine with tea. It tastes better.”

And to that, he couldn’t help but laugh. Tobirama gave him an indignant look that he ignored in favour of nursing his own drink more. This kid… He’s really…

“Anyway,” the albino went on, “what’s college life like? I hope it’s not the boot camp for stress and deadlines that Hashirama makes it out to be.” Madara snorted lightly.

“Your brother needs professional help for all of his anxiety. He wouldn’t have nearly as hard of a time if he just learned to stop worrying so much,” he said. “It really is better than high school, I can tell you that, but a lot of the practical applications are the same.”

“What does that mean?” Tobirama asked.

“It means that you still need to study and go to class if you want to pass,” the Uchiha said, emphasizing the “go to class” bit with a pointed look. Tobirama turned away. “Getting involved in the community is more beneficial than it is in high school. Helpful friends can go a long way when you’re in a bind.”

“That’s surprising, coming from you,” the albino said. Madara raised a brow at him, but he just shrugged. “You always used to act like you hated everyone and didn’t need anyone, and now you’re preaching about the importance of friendship. It’s kinda ironic.” Madara rolled his eyes.

“Yes, well. A lot can change between the rebellious phase of a young man’s life and his realization that if he wants to succeed in anything then he has to rely on others.”

“‘Young man’, you look about forty with those wrinkles,” Tobirama said, jabbing a finger in Madara’s face to indicate the creases under his eyes. The latter slapped away the hand.

“Excuse you, those are not wrinkles. My sinuses are perpetually inflamed,” he stated.

“My ass. You’re probably just as stressed out as Hashirama. Are you still an insomniac?”

Madara clicked his tongue. “I am not, nor have I ever been, an insomniac.”

“Dude, you can’t bullshit me. It’s been five years but I have a good memory,” Tobirama said. “And I distinctly remember those wrinkles being a lot darker in the past. I bet you didn’t realize it, but you acted more zombie than human after you hadn’t slept for a few days.”

Madara pursed his lips at that. He had never gotten an official diagnosis (and really, the “perpetually inflamed sinuses” thing was a pretense anyway), but there was no denying that he had sleeping issues when he was younger. He couldn’t dispute Tobirama’s memory because he remembered it just as vividly himself. It hadn’t been a very bright time in his life, and it had gotten worse after Izuna’s death. He eventually resorted to taking over-the-counter medication because he didn’t want to see a doctor for fuck knows what reason, caught himself abusing the pills and had to stop. It had really only begun to right itself in the past year, but the damage was evident in the bags under his eyes, and still he found himself restless several nights in a row occasionally.

“It’s okay, you know,” Tobirama said then, snapping Madara out of his thoughts. “You don’t have to pretend it never happened. You’re doing better now, right?” Hesitantly, he nodded, and Tobirama smiled a little, but even that slight twitch of his lips eased some of the tension in Madara’s chest. “I’m glad to hear it. You had us kinda scared back then. It’s good you’re doing better.”

“You’ve been awfully considerate of me,” Madara noted then, finishing off his glass of whiskey.

“Is that a bad thing?” Tobirama asked without missing a beat, finishing his own glass in the same moment. Madara hummed.

“I haven’t decided that yet,” he said. Tobirama breathed a huff of laughter and reached to take his glass, standing.

“Refill?”

“Just a little.”

He relaxed back in his seat again as Tobirama disappeared toward the kitchen. He found his eyes lingering after the boy pensively. He really had changed quite a bit. He couldn’t recall a time in the past that Tobirama would have offered to get anyone else a refill but himself, let alone pour them a drink to begin with. Not that Madara had wanted anything to do with him before the incident, much less afterward. As far as he had been concerned, Tobirama had been little more than Hashirama’s idiot kid brother, always getting in the way and butting in on things that didn’t concern him. In fact, Madara remembered the time that Tobirama had intentionally gotten him and his brother in trouble when Madara had tried to sneak into Hashirama’s second-story bedroom in the middle of the night. Everything would have gone smoothly if Tobirama hadn’t opened his window at the exact moment that Madara tried to use it as a handhold. He had a broken tailbone after that and was forbidden from seeing Hashirama outside of school for a month (not that they hadn’t found ways around that, though). Even so, Madara found himself chuckling at the memory.

“What’s so funny?” Tobirama asked as he returned, glasses only half-filled this time.

“Oh, nothing. I was just remembering how much of a little shit you used to be,” Madara said with a smirk, taking his glass. Tobirama sat down next to him again, perhaps a little closer than before.

“Do elaborate,” Tobirama said. “As I recall, you were always trying to get Hashirama in trouble and I had to step in all the time.”

“Bullshit! None of us would have gotten in half as much trouble if it weren’t for you,” Madara said, but he smiled. “Admit it. You were just jealous that your brother had a cool older friend who knew how to have fun.” Tobirama rolled his eyes.

“Please. I don’t consider sneaking out at three A.M. to set off fireworks into someone’s hayfield and setting it on fire ‘fun’.”

“We thought the grass would be more damp!” Madara protested with a laugh, but the boy merely shook his head. “So what do you do for ‘fun’, then? I can’t imagine what you kids get up to these days.”

“I’m not a ‘kid’, I’m eighteen,” Tobirama corrected.

“Right, sorry. Young adult.” He snickered as the other shot him a look.

“If you must know, I dance. I’m going to a dance camp this summer,” he said. Madara raised both brows.

“Alright, I’ll bite. What’s that about?” he asked. Tobirama shrugged.

“They’re supposed to teach all sorts of dance, but you can focus on one field,” he said. “You do all kinds of projects where you make dance videos, sometimes solo and sometimes with a group. I think it’s mostly contemporary from what I’ve seen.” Madara nodded along.

“How long have you been into dancing?”

“As long as I can remember. I used to be embarrassed about it,” the albino said with another shrug. “Social normativity and all that.” Madara heaved a sigh.

“Don’t I know it,” he agreed. “Well, if you enjoy it then you should pursue it. Are you any good?”

“Of course.” Madara smirked.

“Then prove it. Come to a club with me this Friday and show me what you’re made of,” he said. Tobirama looked at him with slightly widened eyes.

“What?”

“You heard me. If I think you’re good enough I might just have to challenge you to a dance off.” That seemed to catch the boy’s attention.

“You can dance?” he asked; Madara nodded. “Now this I have to see. You’re on.”

Madara smirked. “Do you know where Voyeur Nightclub is?” Tobirama shook his head, a faint redness already tinting his cheeks at the suggestive name. Madara smiled a little. “I guess I’ll have to give you a ride there then.”

It took the Senju a moment to process what that meant. He deadpanned. “On your motorcycle.” It wasn’t a question, but Madara nodded.

“Don’t look so depressed. Weren’t you just dissing social normativity? I promise I won’t make fun of you for riding bitch~”

Tobirama clicked his tongue and looked away, muttering, “Then stop calling it that.” Madara simply chuckled, scooting closer to drape himself against Tobirama’s side.

“What, is it too vulgar? Are you afraid people will think you’re gay? Heaven forbid, they might think we’re gay together!” He snickered as Tobirama planted a hand on his face and shoved him away.

“I’m not afraid of that. I’m proud of who I am and I don’t care what people think,” he said, lowering his arm. Madara blinked at that and thought for a moment.

“Does that mean you are?” he asked with less of a shit-eating tone of voice. Tobirama didn’t answer, instead turning away and thoroughly engaging himself in gulping down his drink. Madara grinned. “You are! Why am I only just now hearing about this? Good for you!” He clapped Tobirama’s back with just enough force to send him into a coughing fit.

“Calm down, would you? It’s not a big deal,” the albino said after recovering. “Why the hell are you so excited about it anyway?” That was a good question, and Madara didn’t have a good answer, but he figured he might as well lay it all out on the table.

“I’m gay too,” he said plainly. “It’s just nice to find proud youth in the community.” Tobirama’s eyes widened.

“Wait—since when?” he asked.

“Since always.” Madara smirked and downed the rest of his glass. “Is that surprising?”

“Well… No, I guess not. I just figured you weren’t into romance or sex or anything, really,” the boy said. Madara hummed.

“I didn’t like to flaunt that sort of thing back then and I still don’t now,” he said. “Besides, I’m more focused on my studies these days. I spent most of my time in high school fucking off and disappointing Jesus, so I’m trying to make up for that now.” Tobirama snorted.

“Disappointing Jesus is right. You were practically the Devil incarnate.” Madara feigned a pout.

“Don’t you think that’s a bit harsh?”

“No, it’s probably an understatement.”

They both laughed at that, and it was only then that Madara realized he was still leaning against Tobirama. He didn’t particularly feel like doing anything about it, though. He reached forward to place his glass on the coffee table and waited for Tobirama to do the same, then snuggled closer before he could talk himself out of it. Tobirama really was abnormally warm and he wondered why on earth he needed all those fuzzy coats. Madara pondered that the boy was probably anemic, what with his genetics. He would have to ask sometime.

The Senju stilled at Madara’s movement, but didn’t comment on it. Madara took that as a good sign and let his eyes close. He realized then how tired he was; he had stayed up late texting Tobirama for the past few days, and had woken early this morning to find that Tobirama hadn’t been able to fall asleep. That had led to their talking for most of the morning, up until Yagura had returned during his lunch. Madara thought Tobirama must have been just as tired, if not more so, as he was.

“I know I said we could hang out, but…” Madara shook his head against the other’s shoulder.

“If you’re going to suggest anything other than taking a nap, the answer is no,” he said. He felt more than heard Tobirama’s chuckle as an arm wrapped around his shoulders.

“My thoughts exactly.”

Madara smiled drowsily and toed off his boots, letting them bounce to the floor as Tobirama shifted them into a lying position. Madara lay in between Tobirama and the back of the couch, and he silently enjoyed the comforting security of the Senju’s arm wrapped around him as he looped his own around Tobirama’s waist.

“Thank you for being so open about this,” he muttered as they got comfortable. “There aren’t many people who can cuddle without expecting something else.”

“I wouldn’t expect anything like that from you,” Tobirama said, his voice reverberating in his chest where Madara’s head lay. “Hashirama would have both of our heads.” Madara snorted softly.

“He would probably accuse me of seducing you,” he said.

“Fat chance. You’re not that smooth, Uchiha.”

“I’m pretty smooth.”

“You’re about as smooth as Hashirama trying to tell a lie.” This time Madara’s pout was real.

“Now that’s uncalled for.”

Tobirama simply chuckled again and squeezed his arm around the Uchiha briefly.

“Go to sleep. You can keep arguing with me after we wake up.”

That offer was too tempting to resist, so Madara relented, drifting into unconsciousness with a smile on his lips.