Madara:

2 years previously.

"You know what the worst part is?" I asked the trauma psychologist.

"Please tell me."

"We will never know if he did it on purpose or not." The psychologist was skillfully quiet. "There was no suicide note, his girlfriend hadn't heard him say anything about it... But he had injected a higher dose than usual."

"And what difference would it make to you? If he did it on purpose versus if he did not?"

I thought for a while. Tears burned my eyes. "It would mean I wasn't enough."

It would mean I wasn't enough for him to want to stay alive...

Present time.

Madara:

The Monday after I had spent the night with Hashirama, a girl sat opposite me for lunch. She seemed very sweet, was short and curvy with her mid-length, blonde hair in a ponytail and she wore glasses. She always wore beige trousers and a shirt. Today, that shirt was a blue-and-white striped one from Ralph Lauren. I arched one eyebrow doubtfully; she looked very much like a person Hashirama would be wary of.

"Hi!" she said happily.

"Hi..." I said carefully.

After that, we were fast friends. Her name was Hannah, and she seemed to be different than the posh fakers Hashirama seemed so worried about. Her poshness had a nerdyness to it; she had a horse named Ben who was a Holsteiner, whatever the hell that meant, but she was also very much into games and anime, I found out. Her law studies were only one part of her life, not the background for everything she did. I appreciated that. There were no feelings between us; just a goofy friendship.

"Who are you looking for?" she asked one recess.

"What?"

"You keep looking around you, as if expecting someone."

"Oh..." I looked down. Then I got an idea. "Wanna hang this weekend? And I can tell you."

Her face lit up. "Sure!"

She invited me to her parents ginormous mansion. Seemed Hannah really was posh, I couldn't help but notice. But her parents were incredibly kind and warm people, and welcomed me with open arms, despite my looks. I wondered what kind of friends Hannah usually took home.

"So..." she stood in the hallway and handed me a horse-riding helmet.

"Nuhh-uhh", I said, making an X with my arms, firmly shaking my head. "There's just no way in hell I'm gonna-"

Half an hour later, I found myself on top of Ben while he walked peacefully in the woods. He was ginormous, but very calm and kind. Hannah rode next to me on the family pony.

"You enjoy it up there?" she asked.

"Whaaaaaaat?" I yelled. "I can't heaaaar youuuuuu! You're so far doooooown!"

Hannah snorted.

In the evening, we sat in the salon of the mansion, just the two of us, no light but that from the fireplace. We each had a mug of tea, and held out sticks with marshmallows in them, making s'mores.

"So..." she began. "Who were you looking for in the corridor."

I smiled. "His name is Hashirama Senju.

To my great surprise, she choked on the s'mores she was munching and started to cough and sputter.

"What?" I asked.

"No, please, continue."

I looked at her tentatively. Was she a homophobe? Surely not. "I noticed he had his eyes on me. After the hearing we were at in week two, he was looking for me. Then I saw him at this club and we made out and..." Hannah was looking at me with large eyes. "I followed him home."

"Do you like him?"

I smiled a little. "I think so. We talked for hours. It felt great. He seemed mature, down-to-earth."

Hannah was silent.

"What?" I asked.

She looked like she was struggling with something internally. "Madara..." She swallowed. "My sister. She's in the same year as him. She has told me... Things."

"What things?" Hannah hesitated. "Hannah, it is crucial you are honest with me."

She sighed. "He's a player." I was taken aback. "He moves from one girl to the next. I've never heard of boys, sorry. But he has this way of making girls fall in love with him, and then, when he's grown tired of them after about a month or so, he just gives them the cold shoulder and goes on to the next girl."

"Are you serious?"

"Yes. At least two of my sister's friends have come to her and cried. And..." She looked away.

"Come on, don't make me nag", I said sternly. "I hate nagging."

"He did it with me, too." I just stared. "That's why I dare to tell you, because I know it's not just gossip. I fell head over heels for him after a party my sister threw this summer. I hadn't even begun law school yet, but I was invited. And he was so sweet, just as you describe. Then one day, nothing. He didn't block me anywhere but he didn't read my last message I sent, which was about a book I had borrowed from him. I didn't write to him after that, but it went from  a hundred to nothing, from daily sweet texts to null."

"Now..." she continued. "I do believe people can change, and that you shouldn't punish someone for their last mistakes. But this was so recent. It was hardly two months ago. I..." She put a hand on my arm. "You're a beautiful person, Madara. I don't wish what he's doing on you."

I looked at my marshmallow slowly burning in the fire. The heat of the fireplace reflected in my eyes, matching the burning sensation behind them. I tried to blink the tears away, but in the end they fell, one by one. It wasn't until now, that it had been taken away from me, that I realised how much happiness my crush on Hashirama had given my life. I had had a swarm of butterflies constantly flying around in my stomach, making me giddy, happy, even. But now, that fire had been burnt out by a bucket of water being thrown over it. And somewhere deep down, I could feel the beginnings of an ember burning. An ember of anger, disappointment, disgust. I had never been played before, and it was enormously unpleasant. I didn't want part of it. I didn't want part in any of it.

"Madara, I'm so sorry, I shouldn't have..."

"No, don't apologise", I interrupted with a soft voice. "It's..." I sniveled. "I'm glad you told me."

She leaned her head on my shoulder amicably. When she noticed I'd lost all motivation for s'mores-making, she took her next marshmallow, put it on the cracker with some chocolate, doubled it up with a second cracker and basically shoved it into my mouth.

I needed to get home to take my antidepressants on time.

Hashirama:

Two weeks.

For two weeks after told me off, I let him be.

It was hard. It was so, so hard because my entire being was screaming after him; after his company, after his smile, after his sex...

But whenever I saw him, I turned round and walked away so that he wouldn't have to deal with meeting me.

At home, I found I thought about him, and only him while fucking myself in the shower, causing me so strong convulsions of pleasure I had to lay down on the floor. But it was his company I craved the most. After only one night together, he had showed me something that I needed to explore. He had been so easy to talk to, so open, so honest, so genuinely interested and full of grounded advice. "I never said it was simple. I just said you don't have to." I had been fucking dealt with right there.

But after two weeks, I couldn't take it anymore. I went to Facebook and searched him up.

"Madara Uchiha..." His cover photo was blank, but his profile picture was amazing. It was high-quality of him from his waist up, and he was smiling a gorgeous smile. There was a person next to him; a younger version of Madara, but with a long ponytail and softer facial features. The younger boy had thrown his head back and was laughing. Izuna... I recognised the background as Regent Street in London at Christmas, the light angels hanging above glittering. The profile picture was the only one that had ever been uploaded, and that was three years ago. And there was something to this Madara that wasn't there anymore in that Madara I knew; a carefreeness in his expression, a light in his eyes that seemed to reflect the light in his soul he had back then. That light seemed to have burned out when his younger brother died; it was but a candle. Maybe, I could take that candle and re-ignite the light in his soul...

I hovered over the "Send friend request"-button for a while before clicking.

To my great surprise, Madara accepted only five minutes later. Not one to play games...

I started typing a message to him. I deleted it, re-wrote it, re-wrote parts, got cold feet, tried again, regretted that too. Suddenly, a text from him popped up.

Madara: 'You've written stopped written stopped written stopped for fifteen goddamn minutes. Please stop just tell me what you want.'

Me: 'Sorry, I struggle with words. I want to know what happened between us. I really enjoyed our night.'

Madara: 'Nothing happened. I just found out.'

I was taken aback.

Me: 'Found out what?'

Madara: 'Stop playing with me. I'm not having it.'

Me: 'Madara, honestly, I promise you I actually don't know what you mean. If it's something I can do to fix it, I will.'

Madara: 'Does the name Hannah Seymore say you anything?'

I was taken aback. I really hadn't expected this. She was a girl I'd dated this summer. She was lovely, but in the end, what always happened had happened with her, too, despite me telling myself over and over again that this time, I will make it; I had gotten cold feet and left.

Madara: 'Because we're friends now, her and I.'

Suddenly, everything clicked into place.

Shit.

Shit, shit, shit, shit, shit.

Come back to bite you in the ass now, huhh?

I found myself unable to answer Madara's message.