What Madara thought was just a one time thing ended up being a routine. Despite constantly denying it, he fell deeper and deeper in each passing day.

Angst. Light smut. Mada and Hashi are both around 25 years old.

This one's long.

Modern au.

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He walked into the room and went straight to the counter. He ordered some drinks, had three straight shots before he paused to slowly light up a cigarette. He breathed it in, holding his breath until the smoke filled his lungs entirely, before slowly breathing it out. He brought his now fourth glass of drink up, slightly tilting it and causing the cubes of ice to softly hit the side of the glass, making a clinking sound. After taking a sip, he put the drink down. He decided to take his time. There's no rush anyway.

Only after then did he pay attention to his surroundings. It's almost midnight now but as the night goes deeper, more and more people filled the bar. The atmosphere smelled of a mixture of alcohol, smoke, and some kind of strong perfume. A soft, almost fading out music was playing in the background, drowned out by the conversations the people were having.

Nothing interesting.

He glanced back at the glass of alcohol in front of him, only briefly as his eyes caught on something—or rather, someone.

Sitting on the other side of the room was a man he guessed was about his age. He had long, straight, brown hair. That strong jawline, those captivating eyes, those soft-looking plump lips—he's good-looking, alright.

And that man was looking at him, too. With those half-lidded eyes, the man looked like a predator ready to attack its prey.

A sly smirk formed on Madara's lips. He took one last hit from his cigarette as he got up from his chair, sauntering leisurely towards the man and never once breaking eye contact. Completely aware of heads turning as he made his way through the crowd, he couldn't care less—his eyes were already fixed on someone else.

"Hey there, handsome."

The man answered with a raised brow and a playful smirk, "You're one to talk."

Madara couldn't help but raise a brow, too, one corner of his lips rising.

"Madara," he introduced himself as he went closer, easily straddling the man who showed no signs of shock from Madara's rather bold actions. If anything, the brunet only continued to hungrily look at his eyes.

"Hashirama."

Madara looked down at him, caging the other's neck in his arms. "Hashirama," he mused. "That's a nice name."

"I didn't think of it that way before, but, thank you, I guess?" the man—Hashirama—chuckled softly before he continued, "...but just so you know, I think yours is nice, too."

Hashirama gently brought Madara's head down, putting their lips together. He didn't even consider to be gentle with the kiss, he presumed that the other wasn't one for soft treatment—

—and he's right. Madara reciprocated the kiss with equal roughness.

Madara had to pull away to grasp for air after a few minutes though, but he didn't fail to notice the playful smirk on Hashirama's lip.

He knew he had to do something, anything for his pride. He went for Hashirama's lips, but as Hashirama leaned to meet him halfway, Madara intentionally missed it. Oh how he wished he could see the disappointment on his face. He moved his mouth closer to his ear and whispered, "So, Hashirama," he paused and gently bit the soft muscle, "are you up for some fun?"

"Depends," Hashirama answered. "Are you drunk? 'Coz I don't want to take advantage of drunk people."

Madara certainly didn't expect that. He chuckled ever so slightly. "I see, you're such a gentleman," he found himself smiling. "No, I'm nowhere near being drunk. That means—"

Madara woke up in an unfamiliar room the next morning, but he didn't have to recall what exactly happened last night, for the pain coming from his backside was a clear and enough answer. The warmth coming from the body sleeping next to him only added to its validity.

He slowly got up from the bed, careful so he would not wake Hashirama up. He took a glance at the sleeping man. The sheets were covering only his lower body so Madara had a perfect view of his perfectly-chiseled abdomen. He found himself smiling secretly when he remembered their rough activities last night—the best he had ever, but never would he admit that.

Taking a look around the room, he noticed a door a few feet away from the bed. He assumed it could only be the bathroom so he headed to it.

When he went back to the room, Hashirama was already gone. He noticed that his clothes—which were scattered on the floor earlier together with Hashirama's—were now neatly folded on the edge of the bed.

He got dressed then went to the kitchen where he found Hashirama.

"Good morning," the brunet greeted with a smile. Madara returned the gesture.

"Breakfast will be ready in five minutes," Hashirama announced before he turned his back at him to continue what he's doing.

Madara couldn't deny that he's somewhat surprised. To say that Hashirama is a gentleman would be a huge understatement. It made Madara wonder if it's just his nature, being this thoughtful—and sweet (if Madara was completely being honest).

"I'm afraid I couldn't stay that long," Madara decided to say. Although Hashirama seemed to be totally different from the people he met before, what happened so far between the two of them was only a one-night stand—the neatly folded clothes and a hearty breakfast wouldn't be enough for him to think otherwise.

"I have to go to work."

His answer made Hashirama turn around and face him. Madara saw the disappointment on his face.

"Will I see you again?"

"Maybe," was Madara's only answer. He left a lingering kiss on his lips before he left the apartment, walking in a manner Hashirama could only describe as regal.

Hashirama didn't see him again when he went to the bar the next Friday, or the week after that. He thought maybe he won't see him again.

But he clearly was wrong when Madara showed up right in front of his door one Sunday night.

Hashirama looked at him with awe, even though Madara wore a blank expression on his face as if to prevent the brunet from figuring out or guessing what's on his mind. Maybe it's because Madara obviously looks...tired. He looked like he hadn't had a decent amount of sleep during the past two weeks and the bags under his eyes were prominent.

Little did he know that for Hashirama, he looks so alluring nonetheless.

"Madara."

Instead of speaking, Madara swiftly threw himself at him, capturing his lips. Although a little bit perplexed by the turn of events, Hashirama was able to regain his composure sooner and kissed back.

No words were exchanged after that. They didn't actually have to, for they both know what they want.

For the last six months, this became their arrangement. Madara would come to Hashirama's apartment two or sometimes three times a week. Other times—although very seldom—Hashirama would be the one who would go to his. Their relationship, if ever that may even be called so, was purely sexual though. Both of them agreed that it's just pure sex and they would immediately end it if one of them develops feelings for the other.

It was...beneficial for Madara, at first. He might have been the one who suggested it, but he himself never truly understood the concept of this arrangement. His past self would have preferred a more serious, more intimate relationship. However, many things happened in the past. This thing he's having with Hashirama now, it doesn't need some kind of commitment, and maybe that's what all he needs for now.

But a realization hit Madara like a truck one morning when he woke up. Since then, he started to question his own feelings for the other man, although he must not have any feelings for him in the first place.

Who could blame him though?

Hashirama is very sweet to him, very caring and thoughtful. He would always cook breakfast the next morning whenever he visits. He would always ask Madara about his day. Hashirama is a very tactile person and he would always cuddle with him on lazy afternoons, especially when one of them comes over and stays for the whole weekend. Sometimes, they won't even have sex and just enjoy each other's company, doing what normal couples do. One time, Hashirama even took care of him when he fell sick.

Because Hashirama had always been open to him, he learned many things about his personal life, even though Madara never really opened up to him, deeming it unnecessary because this relationship doesn't need that, he reasoned.

All these and all other minute, almost unrecognizable things that Madara was certain were not necessary for the arrangement they had agreed upon were the very reasons why he's considering of ending things with Hashirama. He thought maybe it's for the best, before he fell completely for the brunet.

(And he's a little bit guilty that he's getting used to Hashirama's presence in every passing day.)

"You seem deep in thought. What's the matter?" Hashirama asked from behind him, snapping him from his train of thoughts. The two of them were currently cuddling on the couch, his back against Hashirama's chest while the brunet's strong arms were wrapped around his body.

It's one of those weekends when one of them comes over to the other's apartment. Just like the usual, Madara was the one who came. The rain was pouring outside and what better way to spend a cold day than to cuddle with someone?

"...Nothing," Madara answered after a while.

"You sure? You know you could always tell me about it," Hashirama said, placing a soft kiss on his head.

Madara knew that the brunet meant every word, but just like always, he decided to act indifferently towards him. "I'm sure."

Hashirama fell completely silent after that. Even though Madara couldn't see his face, he knew that it's filled with concern. Fortunately, Hashirama decided to leave him be. This was also one of the things Madara likes about him. Hashirama would not push him to open up, he always respected Madara's secretiveness. Yes, the brunet had asked him questions about his personal life before, but every time, Madara would only say that he doesn't want to talk about it or would change the topic, basically just anything to keep him from telling the other. And that always had an effect on the brunet. Madara was not that unfeeling—somewhere deep in his heart, he could feel it. Hashirama might not tell him directly but Madara knew all too well that he's just concerned about him.

He let his head fall gently against Hashirama's chest, relishing the warmth coming from him (both literally and figuratively).

The brunet spoke after almost an hour of comfortable silence. "I'll go make tea. Do you want some?"

Madara turned his head up to meet his gaze and replied, "No. You know what I want?" He smirked mischievously.

Hashirama gave him a confused look. "What?"

"This—" Madara lifted his body to kiss him. He slowly turned his body around and kneeled in between Hashirama's thighs, resting his arms on the brunet's broad shoulders as he kisses him sloppily. The blanket that was wrapped around their bodies earlier fell onto the floor.

"—and this." Madara pulled away briefly, only to press a quick kiss on his lips before trailing featherlight kisses onto his neck. He stopped at his collarbone and bit harshly, causing Hashirama to hiss at the slight pain. Madara lifted his head and locked his lips with the brunet, but he pulled away quickly then kissed the spot that he bit on his collarbone earlier as an apology.

He tugged at Hashirama's shirt and slowly pulled it up to take it off of him. He pushed him down onto the couch, making him lay his head on the armrest. He straddled his waist and bend his body forwards as he ran his mouth on Hashirama's chest. He captured the brunet's hardened bud between his lips, grazing it lightly between his teeth, then finally sucking on it. Hashirama moaned lowly, encouraging him to go on. Madara paused to flash a sly smile at the brunet then he proceeded to do the same treatment to the other bud.

His hands found their way to Hashirama's pants. He tugged at its hem while leaving wet kisses on his abdomen and downwards. He stopped when he reached his waistband and grinned when he saw the tent forming inside the brunet's pants. He locked eyes with Hashirama as he kissed the tip of his clothed erection, eliciting a mixture of groan and moan from the man below him. He was about to pull Hashirama's pants down when the brunette stopped him.

"Madara, it's cold out here," Hashirama whined as he slowly sat up while the ravenette was still straddling him.

Madara leaned in to kiss him, pulling away after a while. "Let's go to the bedroom then."

Hashirama smiled. He slowly got up from the couch, putting his arms under Madara's thigh and back to support his body as the raven wrapped his legs around his waist. Madara had his arms around his neck while kissing him as he made their way to the bedroom.

-------

"Looks like the rain won't stop anytime soon," Madara noted tiredly, looking outside the window of Hashirama's bedroom. Both of them finally caught their breath after a series of heated rounds and was now cuddling on the bed, with Hashirama spooning him.

Hashirama yawned. "Yeah. But we don't have to go somewhere else anyway, so who cares?" He remarked, pulling Madara closer to him even more as he tightened his embrace on the raven. Madara didn't complain about that because for some reasons, the sheets were not enough to keep their bodies warm. He hummed in contentment when the feeling of coldness began to subside several minutes later.

"Madara?" Hashirama called out sleepily. The ravenette muttered a soft 'hm' to imply that he's listening.

A few minutes of silence followed and Madara thought that the brunet had fallen asleep. He smiled secretly as he closed his eyes, getting himself ready to succumb to sleep.

"I love you."

It was faint. Silent. And if his body wasn't pressed so close to Hashirama's, maybe he wouldn't have heard it.

Madara flinched and his eyes shoot open when he heard those words. He wanted to look at Hashirama's face. He badly wanted to know if he's serious. Maybe he didn't mean that? Maybe it was meant for someone else? Maybe Hashirama had only accidentally said those words now, to him.

"I love you, Madara. And I've been wanting to tell you that the moment I realized," Hashirama confessed.

Madara's heart rapidly pounded in his chest. He hoped that Hashirama couldn't hear or feel it, for their bodies were so close. Yet he remained silent.

A part of him wanted to tell Hashirama about these feelings that he's having when he's with him. He wanted to admit to him that he's comfortable around him, that he enjoyed their times together and not just the sex. He wanted to thank him for being needlessly thoughtful to him, for making him feel cared and precious, for making him feel loved. And that maybe...maybe, he's in love with him, too.

But a part of him was also scared. What if these feelings were only because of their physical relationship? What if it's only because this is the first time in his life that someone treated him like this? What if eventually, he'd  realize that he doesn't really love Hashirama? Or worse, what if eventually, Hashirama would realize that he wasn't really in love with him?

"Why?" Madara could only ask.

"I don't know. But everytime you would leave and walk out the door, a part of me wants to hold you back, to have you stay with me. Everytime I'd see you look sad, a part of me breaks inside, even if you won't tell me what's it about, and I want to erase that sadness and put a smile on your face. I want to make you happy, Madara."

Tears fell from Madara's eyes upon hearing Hashirama's confession but he did his best to hide it. There's no way he would let Hashirama see him cry.

If he would've met Hashirama two heartbreaks earlier, maybe then Madara would take the risk. But the stakes were too high, and Madara wasn't sure if he could take the consequences it certainly brings.

A deafening silence filled the room until eventually, both of them fell asleep.

Hashirama woke up alone that morning. He searched for Madara everywhere in the apartment but he supposed he already went home. It was a Monday morning after all so they both have to go to work.

But what bothered Hashirama was that, Madara left this early when usually, he stays and eats breakfast with him before both of them goes to work—their routine every Monday. In very few times when Madara needed to go home early, he'd always leave a note on the dining table, telling him that he's got something to do so he couldn't stay for breakfast.

Unnerving thoughts came to Hashirama's mind. Maybe it's because of his confession last night? What if Madara was mad at him? What if he scared him? The raven didn't tell him anything after all.

He let out a deep sigh, deciding to push it off of his mind. In all honesty, he felt somewhat lighter inside, now that he's finally told Madara how he truly felt about him.

Two days later, Hashirama started to become worried. Madara still didn't show up. Hashirama had a feeling that something's definitely up and so, he called the other's phone, but only to grow even more bothered when it went straight to voicemail. Several unanswered phone calls later, he made up his mind, grabbed his jacket, then went to Madara's apartment.

It was odd that the lights in the hallway of Madara's apartment was still off even though it's already nighttime. What's even more bothersome was that there's no light coming from inside the apartment.

Hashirama knocked repeatedly but there was no response. He dialled Madara's phone number again. Still, the other won't pick up.

Unawarely, an hour already passed and Hashirama was still waiting for the raven to open the door or pick up his phone atleast. His thoughts scared him the longer he waited.

"Good evening, young man. How may I help you?" A middle-aged woman who was passing by him in the hallway, asked. She was holding a few bags of groceries in her hands. Hashirama could guess that she's living in the same building.

Before Hashirama could say a word, the lady spoke again. "Are you perhaps here for Uchiha-san?" She evidently noticed that Hashirama was standing outside the door of Madara's apartment.

"Y-yes. Have you perhaps seen him?"

The lady frowned and Hashirama had a bad feeling about it. Nevertheless, he waited for her answer.

"I'm sorry, dear. I'm afraid Uchiha-san moved out two days ago."

Those words were like a bucket of cold water poured down Hashirama's body.

"M-moved out?!" He stuttered, not wanting to believe that what he heard was the truth.

"Yes. I thought it was unexpected, too. He seemed in kind of a hurry."

Why does the truth have to hit him so hard and especially in this way?

Before tears ran down from his eyes, he thanked the lady and immediately left the building. As if the skies were sympathizing to his sorrow, the rain poured out of nowhere. He was already soaking wet when he reached his apartment. But coming home was certainly a bad move, for when he opened the front door, he was welcomed by memories of him and Madara in this very apartment—that it's just three days ago when the two of them were still together, that Madara was still with him.

He went straight to the bathroom and drew himself a bath. All he thought of was about Madara.

Why did Madara run away? Didn't Madara feel the same way about him? What did Hashirama do wrong? Was it his fault to confess? Did Madara ever like, or atleast, have an affection for him? What was he to Madara? Were the past months nothing for the raven?

Hashirama cried himself to sleep that night—and in the many nights that followed.

-----

Madara paced the street leading to the apartment building that he knew very well. After countless debates in his mind during the past three years, he decided to come back to this town—to come back to him.

He almost couldn't believe that it's only been three years. For him, it felt longer.

Hashirama.

He missed that man. Not a day passed that he didn't think of him. At first, he convinced himself that he made the right decision of leaving him. Hashirama doesn't deserve a man like him, who'd only drag him down with the mess that was his pathetic life. The brunet deserved someone who would make him happy, someone who could love him back and give him all the love he deserves.

Madara tried so hard to make himself believe in the lie he himself made up—that he doesn't love Hashirama. He'd been in numerous relationships during the past three years, only to realize that no one else could make him feel like what he felt with Hashirama.

He missed Hashirama's warm and loving hugs, how he would pull him close at night, the meals he cooks for him when he comes over, how his skin felt on his own when they make love, his calm and sweet voice, his contagious smiles, how his lips tasted. He missed all of that—

—and there's no one else to blame except for himself, because Hashirama was his for the taking, yet all he did was disappear without a trace and hurt the man he loved (and who truly loved him).

But now, Madara's ready to face the consequences of his mistakes. He's willing to do anything to have Hashirama back. He would tell him how sorry he was for all the things he did, for leaving him. He would tell him that he's ready to open up, to commit. He would tell him how much he loved him, how he couldn't imagine the rest of his life without him by his side.

Madara suddenly paused on his tracks. What if Hashirama doesn't live there anymore? This crossed his mind only now. As another internal debate ran in his mind, his feet brought him to a park just a few blocks away from his supposed destination. He decided to stay there for a while to contemplate about it more, but mostly to calm himself down. His hands were trembling—not because it was a cold December night—but because of the mixture of emotions swirling inside him. He feared that Hashirama was still mad at him for leaving, but the feeling of excitement was stronger, because if Hashirama was still living in that apartment—and he's hoping he still was—he would see the Hashirama again after those long, long years.

He grabbed his phone from the pocket of his coat and quickly dialled the digits he still had memorized even after the years that passed. Never before did he try to call Hashirama on his phone, fearing that once he hears his voice, he would regret his own decision and come back. An utterly stupid move of his, really.

He pressed the call button and he almost lost his hold on it due to the shock when the other line rang. Okay. He was definitely expecting that Hashirama had already changed his number. As it was now, Hashirama didn't. This put a smile on Madara's face. It made him hope more that Hashirama was still in this town and that he could see him again.

With that in mind, he quickly ended the call before the other line could pick up. He put his phone back in his pocket, stood up from the bench, then started walking towards the building.

However, only after a few steps, he accidentally bumped into a man. Because Madara's gaze was focused on the apartment complex, he didn't notice who it was. He apologized quietly, not really paying attention to the man and instead resumed walking...until he heard the voice he so longed for to hear, calling out his name.

"Madara?"

Madara froze abruptly, slowly turning around to the owner of that voice, as if not believing his own ears.

"Hashi..."

There he was. The man he so longed for to see again. The man he loves—

—The man whose heart he broke.

Hashirama smiled at him, eyes crinkling that it brought both pain and warmth to Madara's heart. If he was the one in the brunet's position, he wouldn't even smile at the person who had hurt him.

Hashirama hadn't changed. He's still the angel that he is.

Madara didn't—couldn't—bring himself to walk closer to him, so Hashirama was the one who went to him. It took all of Madara's self-control not to throw himself at him and hug him and kiss him.

"How have you been?" the brunet started a conversation, seeing that Madara was very tense.

On the other hand, the raven's guilt started to eat him up inside. Was this Hashirama's way of getting back to him? Why was there no hint of even just a little bit of anger, hatred, or spite in Hashirama's tone?

Madara composed himself. This was his only chance to make everything right. "Hashirama, can we please...talk?" He looked him directly in the eyes.

Hashirama was about to reply when he was cut off by a woman who emerged at the scene. She put his arms around Hashirama's arm.

Madara stared at the two of them. As much as he didn't want to to admit it, they look like a couple, perfect for each other. He could tell that Hashirama was happy being with the redhead. Madara could see that in the way he looked at her (because that's how Hashirama used to look at him before, or so he would like to belive).

"Babe, let's go home," the woman told Hashirama and only then did she notice Madara who was standing in front of them. Madara wasn't able to catch what she said. No. His full attention was on the sparkly thing on the woman's ring finger.

Madara gulped.

"Who is he?" the woman asked Hashirama, but her eyes were fixed on Madara.

"Uh, Mito, this is Madara, my...friend. Madara, this is Mito, my fiancée."

The last word was like a sharp arrow darted through Madara's heart, effectively bringing him back to reality.

Mito held her hand out so he and Madara could shake. A kind gesture, yes, but all Madara would like to do was to spite the woman. The woman who took Hashirama from him. The woman who stole Hashirama's love.

But was it right to hate this woman? The woman who actually loved Hashirama back? The woman who made Hashirama happy again?

"Nice to meet you, Madara-san," Mito greeted, smiling genuinely at him.

The raven couldn't do anything but to shake hands with her. "Pleasure meeting you, too, Mito-san."

Madara wasn't sure how long he could keep this facade in front of the two, so he quickly excused himself before it's too late.

"Well, I'll be going now. Congratulations on the engagement!" He forced a smile at the two then slowly walked away. He heard Hashirama call out and say something to him, but Madara didn't hear it clearly because the redhead spoke.

There were so many things Madara wanted to tell Hashirama. He wanted to hear him call his name again, to touch him again, to kiss him again, to make love with him again, to wake up to him again, to love him again.

And if only Madara could turn back the time, he wouldn't have escaped from Hashirama's warm embrace back on that morning when he left.

-End-