Those Sharingan-eyes, famous and coveted like priceless jewels, seeing them widen incredulously, in betrayal, in hurt. They had become a constant in his thoughts, not even in sleep finding a reprieve.

Neji closed his eyes, his head slinking down in the guilt that had become his constant, miserable companion. Everything related to him had become constant, relentless. With a trembling hand, he pushed his hair out of his face, his nose breathing in the thick scent of rain. As if the gods shared his grief.

No one grieved a mass-murderer though and his foolish thoughts were unbidden. Neji knew quite well, however, that there was much more to Itachi than the label the world had given him at a mere thirteen years of age. After all, he had allowed him into his room, his bed, in him. Most importantly, in his heart which easily explained why it hurt so much. The feel of his clandestine lover's blood gushing out of his abdomen, spilling over his hands was impossible to forget. Just like those eyes. Those eyes, those eyes that followed him, that watched him sleep.

His breathing had become hurried, his nails leaving half-moon crescents on his calves as he huddled deeper in the blanket.

Three months on leave after a failed psych-evaluation. How could he have been so stupid? How could they have been so stupid to leave him alone with his thoughts for days and days. He, now more than ever, needed the fear of death at the sight of a dangerous opponent, to feel blood rush until it numbed his hearing, to inch closer to that threshold. It was the only thing that made him feel alive.

The ghosts of his past were winning. He could only imagine his father's horror if he were to know how his own blood screamed like a whore for the most dangerous criminal to have come out of his beloved village in years. He knew quite clearly how he had betrayed Itachi. His lover hadn't bothered to veil his emotions for this one time in his life. Perhaps at the very real possibility of death, everyone lost their facade. Neji hoped it wouldn't be the same with him, however. It would all have been for nought and his friends, his family that he still strived to prove worthy to, they would all denounce him as a traitor. He would be ruined. It couldn't be that he had killed the only person he had ever loved in vain. Honour before everything.