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Life by TheSharpieBitch

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Chapter notes: ...yeah. This one is really fucked up. I mean, DARK HUMOR ENSUES. Along with more Uchihacest >3
{ LIFE }

There is a special kind of feeling when you play the guitar. When you’re standing in front of thousands, feeling hundreds of amplifiers echoing the small sounds coming from the instrument in your hands, everything is suddenly alive. Your chest hurts, it feels as though your ribs are cracking under the sound, and it feels so g o o d. The beads of sweat and fear of screwing up dissipate, and you lose yourself in the pain and the pleasure.

(m a s o c h i s m)

They are always in perfect harmony. There were four people on stage. Two wielding guitars, one behind a drum set, one clutching a microphone, and only someone of the audience could realize the un-reality of the sight. The fascinating thing about this scene was that the ones on stage were in an entirely different perspective and were dragging everyone along with them. Their world is invigorating. It’s a world you can’t escape from being sucked into. It’s life. Not the life that everyone pretends to have, working jobs, having housewives, and raising obnoxious brats who take everything for granted, it was the kind of life where every single second meant something. Itachi and Sasuke Uchiha of the band Akaht Tsuki brought life back to the world.

(r e w r i t t e n)

"Destruction of what is known and what is dead.
One by one they’re gone, can you see it foolish child?
Do not follow my path, but follow me.
Clinging to a pointless life is so much worse than dying."

A redhead with the most penetrating green eyes clutched a microphone, screaming the words he and his band had written. Clad in piercings, eyeliner, tattoos, and tight black fishnet, he spun on his heal and somehow, just somehow, this boy made it look fun and frightening rather than girly and idiotic. The drummer, though in the back, was hardly left forgotten as he pounded hard on the plastic and metal heap before him. Pail grayish skin contrasting in the strobe lights to make it look almost blue, he pelted the drums as though releasing all the frustration he had ever had into them.

(a n g r y)

"Another place to come from, another hole to create
Yet, you still do not hate me, and I pity you for that.
Another wound must be made. It’s for you, but it hurts me.
Another wound must be made...
From the syringe of your defected soul."

Play Sasuke play. Sing Gaara sing. Drum Kisame drum. Play Itachi play.

(r e l e a s e)

The guitar solo rung across the room stopping the world entirely as the brother’s backs pressed against each other, the harmony of the solo almost…frightening. Perfect. So perfect it was scary. In their own little world, so perfect it was scary. The weights of each other’s sweating bodies, the weights of the guitars around their shoulders, the high of the world they had created for each other far from gone, it was a whirl of life. Insignificant pains such as the stud in Sasuke’s nose or the four rings in Itachi’s eyebrows were now excruciating, the guitars weighed nothing, the punch was tasteless, the water was sickeningly sweet, the dead were alive and the alive were dead, and the words from the lips of unknown faces slurred together sounding like an incoherent gibberish only YOU can understand.

(r e a l i z e)

Gaara’s tone slowed for a moment and all instruments stopped leaving the room with a chilling surreal silence. His breath hot and ragged he raised his hand gesturing to everyone as though telling him or her they were going to die soon. Pressing the phone to his lips he whispered in a cold voice, sincere with an unknown desire.

(l u s t f u l)

"You’re colder than ice but you’re beautiful.
You’re a fucking mess and I love it that way.
You’re a fool, but it takes one to know one.
And I know that I do..."

CRASH In a single movement the guitarists, the drummer, the singer, and the audience erupted into a scream thrusting their entire selves into their instruments and into the music they were creating. BAM The sound of two skulls colliding was made surprising the hell out of the two victims on stage, but ignoring the searing pain, the never stopped playing. Surrealism was too precious.

(s a d i s m)

Sasuke could feel the world in the chords of his guitar, he could feel his heart beating against his rib cage, the sound was literally pulsing through his body, and that was sound he had created. In that moment Sasuke was king of the world. Itachi could feel existence itself in the chords of his guitar, he could feel his brother writhing twelve feet away from his, feel Kisame thrashing on his drums, feel Gaara’s sore throat as he screamed and sobbed into his mic, feel every member of the audience shaking from the deafening noise, he could feel the pain of everything as the instrument hanging from his shoulders vibrated with the jerky movements. In that moment Itachi was king of the world.

(d i c t a t e)

Concert over and the high was gone. Kisame left with some groupie. Sasuke and Itachi, momentary rulers of life were left. Needles return the high, return the high that was with them everywhere they went. Morphine is bad for you, that’s what a smart man once told good little boys like Itachi and Sasuke. However, Sasuke and Itachi were rockers, touring the world, and making people high off of their auras. They can use whatever dugs they want.

(i n j e c t)

"You guys did great, yeah!" Deidara called happily to the retreating backs and clutching an irritated Gaara’s left arm, "Kick ass, yeah! Right Gaara, yeah?"

"Yeah..."

There’s a certain special feeling you have on drugs. They went back to the hotel, Sasuke clinging to his brother maniacally groping him as tightly as he did his guitar. Hug, kiss, lick, suck, fuck, it was all the same. Yes and no blended together like water and Kool-aid mix, leaving no room for doubt. Stop, go, want, take, Itachi, Sasuke, it was all one thing easily accepted by the two. In their world, there was no difference between fucking and making love, no difference between kissing someone on the cheek or shoving your tongue down their throat, no difference between smiling and crying, and no difference between giving your little brother a manly hug, or shagging his ass into next week. That was the surrealism. That is life.

(e j e c t)

Waking up with a headache wasn’t something they experienced. Hangovers weren’t quite hangovers, because the Uchihas seemingly found a way to enjoy it. However they hadn’t quite been expecting that they would wake up under their…circumstances. The first thing Sasuke smelled was sweat, the second thing was a hot breath with traces of semen floating on it. He was lying in the arms of someone bigger than him. The embrace was warm and comforting, and his bodily reactions to all the poison he put in his body the night before wasn’t so bad. Itachi woke up, and always being one to be extremely alert, didn’t waste time in concluding that his brother was in his arms. It didn’t bother them too much, they had slept with many others, but still…it was a bit odd to be sleeping with your brother, right?

(i t s h o c k e d m e)

"Morning." Sasuke murmured crawling out of Itachi’s grasp and wondering vaguely where his nose ring had gone, "I call shower."

"Hell no, I’m older!"

"Well then geezer if I raced you bet you wouldn’t beat me."

"You’re such a foolish imbecile. If you’re going to run around this hotel put on some pants."

"Nah, I want to see the reaction. Later Itachi-niisan."

"Later Sasuke-ototouchan."

This was what it was like. No awkwardness, many repeat performances, and just mindless sex, drugs, and rock. This was what it meant to have life. This is what the Uchihas brought to any place they dared to enter. They made it okay to drink, they made it okay to screw your sister, they made it okay. It was what they did. It was how they lived. And they loved every single second of it.

(l i f e)

The End
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