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Madara stared down at their newly founded village without really seeing anything. So this was peace. It was good, overall. The children of the Senju and Uchiha clan were learning how to survive in this world in an academy, taught by members of both clans. And they were in talks with other clans for joining Konoha, the village hidden under the leaves. It was everything he had hoped for.
And still, his heart was a heavy weight in his breast.
How cruel, for peace to give him the glimpse at love he had hoped for all his life, the one he had seen in his parents’ feelings for each other. Only for the one holding his heart to disregard it as an unwanted responsibility, prioritizing it lower than even the planning of their sewage system. Not that getting rid of their shit was unimportant, he mused. Still, his point stood.
Madara snorted at himself, though it lacked any real humor. What a pathetic picture he made right now. And those metaphors that flew through his head. Either his heart was too heavy for his chest or it was with Tobirama. Because how could it be both? But love was rarely rational, he thought, looking up at the waning moon hanging low over the horizon.
Would this be his life? He tried to imagine living days, weeks, months with this pain choking him. His breathing got heavier. No tears burned in the corners of his eyes. Instead they felt like they were trying to clog up his throat, blocking the air like his body was rejecting the very thing keeping him alive.
The brink he was standing on called to him. Nothing would be better than what he was feeling right now. Madara swallowed and took a step back. No. Izuna needed him. Hashirama needed him. His clan and his best friend and Konoha needed him.
And if he couldn’t go on with the crumbs of a relationship that Tobirama was willing to offer him, then he had to end it. The relationship. Because the alternative was simply not acceptable.
He jumped down onto the nearest building and straight to the path to the administration building. The chances were good he was still there, even at this hour, and Madara needed to get this over with before he lost his guts. He could already feel his nausea rising.
Madara went on in some sort of haze, until he stood in front of Tobirama’s office door with no memory of how he got there. The light was on, softly flickering from the crack of the door in the characteristic light of the candle Tobirama liked to keep. In the past they had many moments like these. With no one else around so late at night, Tobirama let Madara drag his chair to his desk and they sat side by side, each doing their paperwork. If Madara played his cards right, he even got to give Tobirama a back rub. Or a more intimate rub. It had been hard, some days, standing on the other side of Tobirama’s desk when the memories hit of his best friend’s younger brother looking up at him with his fiery eyes as he swallowed Madara’s cock up to the brim, the coarse black hair around it tickling his nose.
And in a moment would be the last time Madara stood in Tobirama’s office as his... his what exactly? They weren’t committed partners. They weren’t even lovers. Tobirama had wrinkled his nose when Madara had used those words, when they laid on the floor of this office together, as the sweat began to cool on their skin.
Maybe the best word to describe Madara was Tobirama’s toy. To be used at his leisure to his pleasure, and nothing more. The bile rose again in Madara’s throat. He had to end this.
Brusquely, he pushed through the door. Tobirama was half standing up as he marched through the doorway, only to slowly sit back down when he saw who was storming into his office.
The younger man was looking at him with a puzzled expression, before annoyance took over. “Don’t presume that basic manners are not necessary at this hour,” he said in a snide tone. “I had a long day, let me finish my work before you expose me to your mood.”
Madara’s breathing stopped for a moment. The words that had been stuck to the roof of his mouth loosened, and just as Tobirama frowned and opened his mouth again, he cut right through his words.
“You won’t be exposed to my mood at all anymore, save for what our professional relationship demands,” he uttered in a raspy voice. He had been in so many battles. Why did this feel more like a knife carving up his insides than the time he was skewered by a kunai? Such absurdity. But like any wound, this would heal in time.
“I know our relationship is a simple pastime to you, or rather I should say or not-relationship. I can’t do this, I’m just not made to love someone who is ashamed of calling me his in front of the world. We are founders and allies, but nothing more from this day on.” Without giving Tobirama any more time to react, without even looking at the younger man’s reaction to his words, Madara turned around and fled the office.
Madara took the backstreets on his way home. He couldn’t let himself be seen like this, he thought. He had always been an ugly crier. He could already feel his eyes swelling up and getting red, the tears just keeping on falling down his cheeks. Along with the snot. He laughed at himself in derision. Who could ever love such a pathetic man back?
He stumbled from the corner of the roof he was just jumping off from as it hit him what he had told Tobirama in those last words.
Love
. He had - of course, who was he kidding, he had known that he loved that impossibly infuriating man.
How couldn’t he, when no one else worked as hard for this dream of peace. Tobirama was not even completely convinced of the idea that lasting peace between their clans was possible. It had been clear to Madara in the carefully neutral face the Senju heir put on when the treaty was signed. In the way he watched the Uchiha, never letting down his guard. In the way he had argued for separating Senju and Uchiha in missions for the village, obviously not trusting them to have his clanmates’ backs.
And even still, through his overt mistrust that was only tempered by Hashirama’s disapproving stare, Tobirama labored for that same peace he didn’t believe in.
Madara sniffed and roughly wiped his sleeve across his face. He remembered that night when he had first seen the glimmer of light under Tobirama’s door, when he had knocked after a moment of hesitation and found the grumpy Senju ripping up the door to immediately start complaining about the requests of the future academy’s teachers regarding the curriculum. All the while making tea for the both of them.
It had been captivating, to see such a different facet of the stoic Senju. To see him so open with exhaustion and frustration. To hear about his honest fears about the future, about his hope for the fledgling Konoha.
And it had been tempting, to see him lean back in his chair, decadently slouching. The slender line of his throat as he swallowed down the tea. Of course Tobirama had noticed Madara’s interest. Not even the most debilitating fatigue could diminish his lightning-fast mind completely. And then they had started their secret affair.
Madara swallowed against the lump in his throat. Tobirama had to have noticed his distress with their arrangement. He had to have noticed how much it hurt Madara to see his love so discarded, like something shameful and unwanted. And it hadn’t been important to him.
That was fine. Madara would be fine. He put more vehemence into the thought, hoping to make it true by pure force of his will.
By now his heavy feet had carried him back to his house in the center of the Uchiha neighborhood. He carefully opened the door and tiptoed inside, only to hear a familiar drawl from the side of the engawa.
“You live here, you know. Just in case you plan to rob the place,” Izuna said with clear skepticism.
“I’m not in the mood for banter,” Madara replied hoarsely and tried to walk through the door without Izuna seeing his face.
Izuna’s familiar grip stopped him at his shoulder and Madara all but crumbled under his reassuring touch.
“Hey, Madara. What has happened?”, his younger brother asked. Madara still kept his face turned away, but he answered, “It’s - I’m not going to say it’s nothing, but I can’t - I just -”, and the tears started to gather again in the corners of his eyes.
“Oh, Madara. It’s going to be okay. I’m here for you,” Izuna murmured.
Madara put his hand over Izuna’s, still facing the other way. For a moment there was just him and Izuna, and he reveled in knowing that there was someone who loved him completely. Then a stab tore through his heart at the whisper that this was not enough, that the one who he yearned for like a suffocating man yearned for air saw him as a nuisance. Madara bit back the sobs, but his body still shook with them.
He was just able to choke out, “I need to be alone,” and hurried inside. His bed greeted him with the promise of a short oblivion, and he fell to an exhausted and fretful sleep.
The next morning, Madara woke up to his lids crusted from dried tears. For a moment he thought about just staying here and watching the sun rise and descend from the safety of his bed, but he had a responsibility to the village. As he got ready for the day, he mused about the feeling of his grief. It felt less like a fresh wound today. Less like a knife through his heart and more like a stone on his chest. A heavy stone. But he was strong, it would be okay. He would be able to look Tobirama in the eye in just a short while, over the table of their meeting room, and function just fine, as Tobirama went on with his workday like nothing ever happened between them, like Madara hadn’t dreamed of a future shared between them with every fiber of his being. His eyes started to burn again and Madara cursed at his shaking fingers as he tried to tie his haori. Okay, thoughts about Tobirama were a bad idea. He would just not think about him. No problem.
Izuna was already waiting for him in the kitchen. His younger brother watched him with a subtle frown, but he didn’t press Madara on what was obviously still troubling him. Madara just marched on and they passed the rest of the way to Hokage tower in a somewhat tense silence.
The meeting room was almost filled as they arrived. Madara faltered as he went through the door and saw him. Tobirama stood beside his brother, pointing at papers spread out on the table and calmly explaining something. Just like every other day. The burning in his eyes welled up again. Madara balled his fists and took a shaking breath, then he rushed to his seat and let the curtain of hair obscure most of his face.
Izuna measuredly sat down beside him, and uttered under his breath, “I’m going to kill him. He and I never got to have that final showdown to the death, it’s nice of you to give me an opportunity to catch up on that, Brother.”
“Stop it, Izuna,” Madara hissed. “You will do
nothing
of the sort.” Dismay rose up in him at the realization that Izuna had realized who was the cause of Madara’s distress. This could become ugly. Madara resolutely ignored the small corner of his mind that felt glee at Tobirama paying for the hurt he caused him. This was not the kind of person he was. Tobirama didn’t owe him anything, and he would not indulge in his baser instincts like this. And neither would he let the village suffer for his own foolishness for falling in love with that impossible man. He was an adult, gods be damned.
“Oh no you don’t,” Izuna growled and stood up. Madara thought for a moment that he was still talking to him and started to reply, but as Izuna stepped past his chair to stand in front of him in an obviously protective pose, he realized that Tobirama had approached them. Madara’s heart started to beat faster and his throat closed up.
“Please, Izuna,” Tobirama said quietly.
For a long moment, neither Izuna nor Tobirama said anything. Then Izuna murmured, “You have one chance,” and stepped to the side.
Madara’s heart felt like it was beating fast enough to tear right out of his chest and flee the scene, something he could very much get behind. He now had a clear view of Tobirama, no longer obscured by his brother’s back. Tobirama seemed oddly hesitant, but then he gained a resolute mien and looked firmly at Madara.
“Madara, firstly I want to express how deeply sorry I am for my actions,” Tobirama said stiltedly. Madara clenched his teeth. A torrent of emotion rose up inside of him and he felt exposed by the curious glances of the people around him. Was Tobirama really that bent on publicly embarrassing him like this?!
“I love you,” Tobirama continued in the same tone of voice, as if he was dictating the syllabus to some sulky teaching candidates. What - what?! Madara’s complete thought process screeched to a halt.
“I disregarded your discomfort about the covert nature of our... relationship. I didn’t listen to you, and I hurt you because of it.” As Tobirama went on, the rehearsed manner of his speech gave way to tangible regret and sorrow. Madara felt awash in a hurricane of emotion.
“I understand that you do not wish to associate with me further in this manner after my shameful conduct, and I -”
Madara jumped up from his seat and stepped up to Tobirama until they were only a hand’s width apart. “Say it again,” he choked out, searching Tobirama’s eyes for his feelings.
Tobirama lowered his eyes and quietly repeated, “I am deeply sorry for disregar-”
“No, the other thing,” Madara cut him off again.
Tobirama looked back up, and in his eyes Madara saw the same pain, fear, and hope reflected that he himself was feeling.
“I love you,” Tobirama whispered.
Madara gripped the back of Tobirama’s neck and pulled him in for a bruising kiss. It tasted like his tears and like Tobirama, and Madara knew that this moment would be burned inside his mind for the rest of his life. For their lives. Because after this, nothing would ever be able to tear him away from this completely impossible man. From his Tobirama.
They parted and Tobirama took a gulp of air, then let out a breathless laugh. But as he saw Madara’s face, the exhilaration gave way to dismay and he lifted his sleeve to wipe at Madara’s cheeks.
Madara shook his head with a grin. “Don’t worry, they’re happy tears.”
Tobirama snorted, and Madara saw that tears were also starting to gather in his eyes. “What a pair we make,” Tobirama mused.
“You better get used to it,” Madara said, as boundless joy started to rise in him. “You won’t get rid of me again, Senju.”
Tobirama stared at him for a moment, and then a single tear made its way down his cheek. At the same time, a bashful smile appeared on his face, and Madara’s breath caught at how beautiful he was.
Someone cleared his throat, and both men startled, only now reminded again of the audience they currently had.
Madara looked around the room to Hashirama, who looked at him and Tobirama with a radiant smile. “Tobirama has instructed me in anything important regarding your work, you’re free to go,” the Hokage assured him.
“How convenient, because me and my fiancé were just about to leave,” Madara drawled.
As he turned back to Tobirama, he was treated to the face of his loved one completely slack in shock. Madara suspected this would be a particularly rare occurrence for the rest of their lives, so he savored the sight.
He firmly gripped Tobirama’s hand and pulled him out of the meeting room. As they walked through the corridors, Tobirama asked hesitantly, “I -
fiancé
?”
Madara grinned and looked back at Tobirama. “Don’t worry, I’ll make you a real proposal very soon.” Then renewed fear gripped him, stopping in his tracks. “That is... if you want to,” he bit out through the trepidation of Tobirama rejecting him again.
“Yes! Yes, I - Yes!” Tobirama rushed out, stumbling over his words.
Madara was unsure whether he still had feet, the way he felt he surely had to be floating. But that was okay, he didn’t need feet. He didn’t need anything as long as he had Tobirama.
He just had to pull this impossible man in again to kiss him until both their breath ran out. And as their lips slid messily against each others’, Madara started to imagine how the rest of his life would look, with Tobirama at his side.