Dreams are better unrealized. When you finally achieve your dream, what is there left to dream? [Itachi & Sasuke; not a pairing]
Still, he had become powerful. Strong enough to realize his dream. He slept with nightmares of the future; nightmares of when he would kill his brother.
But, one night, he had no nightmares. He knew something must be wrong. He always had nightmares. Always. Nightmares that would tear apart the normal people, leaving them as nothing but paranoid, untrusting and terrified creatures. Like small, weak and pathetic animals.
That night, everything was warm. Nothing should be warm. It should be freezing cold; Ice nipping at his skin. This scared him, unlike his nightmares.
That night, he felt safe. He should never feel safe. Everything should be a danger. Everything should bring his guards up and leave him rabid and ready to kill.
That night, he let his guard down. That night, he didn't mind the warmth and the safety. It had been so long. He remembered this feeling. But it was all an old memory. Drenched in newer memories, so close to forgotten that it was only a feeling.
He finally slept, comfort, warmth and safety surrounded him. Like it did in his distant memory that was on the verge of being forgotten...
That morning, the warmth never left. It clung to him like a shadow. Like a benign monster.
It didn't even fade, it didn't even waver, when they pronounce his brother dead and flaunted his body to a crowd of cheering fools.
They said he had a heart attack. They said he pushed his fragile body too far. That everything he did halved his life span and shortened the time limit on his dream.
He felt like he could die. He probably would of, if the warmth wasn't there. If it didn't respond to his feelings and wrap itself around his body like a shield.
He was thankful for his shadow, not understanding it but not caring.
He was still unresponsive to everyone. Even when the loud mouthed idiot tried to cheer him up and wound up throwing a punch. The idiot said he should be thankful. He shouldn't seclude himself from the rest of the world, left unresponsive.
He didn't care though.
Dreams are better unrealized. When you finally achieve your dream, what is there left to dream?
He had said. He expected the punch but warmth flooded the target and shot itself at the idiot. The idiot stared, gawking and terrified at the bloody-eyed warmth that had just injured him. The warmth, HIS warmth, retreated back to his body, to protect him.
The idiot ran.
He still didn't understand the warmth. He didn't understand it a bit. He didn't understand the safety that the bloody eyed creature gave him. He didn't understand why it injured those who invaded his space.
But he didn't care.
He only knew that it protected him. That it kept everyone away.
So, when he went to sleep at night, he didn't expect nightmares anymore. He didn't expect the nightmares that ripped away your sanity.
He expected the warmth of old, faded memories. And he knew they would be waiting. His bloody-eyed warmth made sure of that...