The fever took me completely by surprise.

Usually when I was sick, I could still do small things; go for walks, clean the apartment, cook... But this time, nothing. I was completely knocked out.

Tobirama had texted me, and I wanted to answer him, oh I wanted to answer him so badly. But I couldn't. I hated to admit it, but it came down to pride. And frustration. Frustration because I knew I wouldn't come to work this week, and if we started texting I knew I would be desperate to meet him. Immediately.

So I left him on read, figuring he'd be fine. He was always fine.

Or was he?

An image of his trembling lower lip before I left his house, chards everywhere, came before me and my heart bled so much, I had to force the image out of my mind or I'd bleed to I death.

Saturday was the first day I started to feel better. I smiled, figuring I might be able to go to work on Monday. I couldn't help it; I felt excited. I imagined how I wouldn't text him to tell him I'd come but just show up, surprising him. He always came earlier on Mondays, so I could catch him completely off guard.

And alone.

And we could... Talk.

But then, Sunday came, and so Merlin's interview on television.

I just gaped. Surely not? I thought about Hashirama's behaviour towards Merlin; was this his toxic trait? But he looked so sincere, so... Real. How could anyone ever fake it like that? And come to think of it... Tobirama did allow everyone into his office on the first day, speaking to them... Hadn't he seduced not just one, but two of his workers (one of them being me and the other being my lover), and obviously Merlin as well?

I came to the kitchen early on Monday as I had planned, but for an entirely different reason; I was going to confront him.

But he didn't show up.

The new kitchen porter came first, and when he saw me, his face lit up.

"Chef Uchiha!" he said happily.

"Hi", I said but my mind was elsewhere.

"Do you feel better?" he asked.

I wasn't used to people caring about whether I showed up or not, but me softening up since Hashi came along seemed to have made a great deal for my working relationships.

"No", I said. "I need to leave."

I left the kitchen porter confused and alone. 

I drove to his house. Outside were several cars from different French and international news stations. I ignored them, parked my car and went out.

"No use, kid", a journalist smoking outside of his car said in French. "He left one hour ago." I frowned. Well, not for work, that's for sure. "By the way, are you one of the people he raped? Can I please have an interview?"

I sat back down in my car and closed the door, furious

Me: Have you seen T?

Hashi <3: He's at my apartment. I'm at work.

Me: Ok if I let myself in?

Hashi <3: Be kind to him. Miss u xx

Me: Miss u endlessly xx

I had, however, no plan to be kind to him.

I drove the short distance to Hashi's apartment in the crazy Paris morning traffic, no longer blessed by the early hours of kitchen workers where the streets were at least emptier than the madness now in front of me. I parked hastily, unlocked the door of the building and ran up the stairs. Without knocking, I opened the beautiful, light blue door.

I didn't know what I had expected. Maybe, that he would have a three day stubble (hot), that he'd have black bags beneath his eyes like I always had (also hot). But he looked... Just like himself. 

He was sitting on Hashirama's countertop, munching a bowl of cornflakes with oat milk and freeze-dried strawberries. To be the one of the best chefs in the world (not the best; I suspected Hashirama was the best) he truly ate strangely normal things. He looked up at me, mouth full, a strand of his hair falling into his eyes. At that moment, he looked so cute it was painful. I love you, I thought. I'd take your daughter into my heart as my own, if it means you'll let me love you as you deserve to be loved.

And suddenly, I knew it was true. I knew I would earn to accept pretty much anything just to be allowed to call this man my boyfriend. 

Then, everything he was accused of rushed over me, and I suddenly realised how much it broke my heart.

"Is it true?" I asked, my voice wobbling.

He just stared at me, that mouthful of cornflakes still making his face adorably puffy. He didn't answer. Just stared at me.

"You coward..." I whispered. "You goddamn coward."

He swallowed, put the cornflakes bowl down, looked at me.

"YOU COWARD!!" I screamed. "HOW COULD YOU?! HOW COULD YOU!?" Tears were streaming down my face. "I LOVED YOU! YOU FUCKING WHORE!!" He most painful part was he didn't even jerk.

I ran to him, started clawing at his face, at his chest. On pure instinct, he turned his face away, grabbed my wrists, but other than that, he didn't make any resistance.

He had lost all life inside of him.

Suddenly, I noticed his forearms, slit open, raw, bloody.

And he saw that I had seen.

"You deserve it", I hissed. "Cut yourself deeper next time and die."

He still didn't defend himself, the coward.

I spit in his face and left. 

I didn't go to work that Monday. In the evening, Hashirama called.

"I want to meet you", he said simply.

I invited him over.

God, I had missed him. I had missed him so, so much. As he rang my doorbell, I expected him to throw himself into my arms, kiss my face, tell me he'd missed me, that he was glad I was better.

He did nothing of the sort.

"What the fuck is wrong with you?" he asked, dead-pan.

I was taken aback. "I'm sorry, what?"

"What the fuck is wrong with you?" he repeated. "Don't tell me you actually believe Merlin?"

"Tobirama confessed", I said. 

Hashirama made no move to invite himself into my apartment, even if I stood to the side, waiting for him to enter into my vast hallway. He raised one eyebrow. He usually did that when I took him from behind as he concentrated.

"Did he, now?" he asked.

I thought about it. Tobirama had stayed silent when I accused him and I believed his silence had said it all.

"Yes", I said. "He did."

Hashirama blew air in between his teeth that were now gritted.

"You're unbelievable", he murmured.

"You don't believe Merlin?" I asked.

"Of course I don't!" he shouted. "You have no idea what he's capable of! Goddamn it, Maddie, what the hell is wrong with you?! You keep blaming your fucking behaviour on the fact that your little sister died but in reality, you're faulty to the core!" I jerked. "You mistrust everyone and handle it with anger! You have no idea what Merlin is capable of!"

"Then tell me!!" I screamed. "You've pretended you can't cook ever since you got here yet you refuse to say why! I'm not an idiot, I know it's because of Merlin! You're a coward because of a goddamn man!! I am a bitch because I murdered my little sister!!" Hashirama jerked. I looked away. "I..." I said, hardly audible. "I murdered her."

"What?" Hashirama whispered.

I sunk down on my living room floor. Hashirama stayed put. It's now or never, I thought. I confess now or I might not get another chance.

"They called home from the hospital", I said. "Asked for Izuna. Said they had an appointment time for her. I knew it was important for her so I wanted her to receive the time herself, not second-hand from me. They couldn't call more that week, and asked me if they could send a letter." I hid my face in my hands. "I said yes. I didn't think about the risk. Two days later, the letter arrived, the exact same day my dad came home at lunch and brought in the mail."

And I broke down crying.

It took me completely off guard. I had not felt I was about to cry, but I did. Hashirama went and sat next to me, put an arm around me, held me until the crying died down.

It took twenty minutes.

"I respect you too much to say it wasn't your fault", Hashirama said. "Because you know it isn't."

I actually didn't.

"How could I have been so stupid?!" I screamed. "Had I just thought two steps ahead I would've realised I could just tell Izuna, or ask them to call her cell phone."

"Madara", Hashirama said, grabbing my face. "Stop this. Stop victimising yourself."

I thought about it. Come to think of it, I had victimised myself an awful lot. Hashirama wasn't naive enough to believe he could remove any guilt immediately, but he had ignited a spark within me, a spark that whispered of another reality than the one I was used to, a reality where I did not blame myself all the time.

"Tobirama spoke to you, didn't he?" I asked, changing the subject, voice wobbly as Hashirama handed me a glass of water he'd gotten in my kitchen, which I gladly chugged.

"He's in my apartment", Hashirama said. "And he trusts me. Of course he talked to me." That part hurt. Tank it, I told myself. "He told me you believed Merlin."

"And you don't?"

Hashirama sighed.

And he told me everything.

About how he had applied to cooking school to learn how to cook, believing it was some sort of extended home economics.

How he'd somehow gotten accepted.

How Merlin had supported his journey.

Their relationship.

His jealousy.

How he'd rendered Hashirama into a shell of what he had been.

And then the lie to force him out of cooking school.

"I'm terrified", he confessed. "Not about losing my career. But about people gaining control over me in that way again. I'd rather be alone for the rest of my life than ever experience that again."

I took his hand, braided our fingers. "You don't have to be alone. Or have that experience again", I said softly. "I wouldn't let anyone hurt you."

He leaned his head on my shoulder.

"Thank you", he said.

"I mean it. I mean, you're already better than me. Far better than me. And I'm still here, am I not?" He cuddled his head closer into my neck. It fit perfectly, as if God had made us like two pieces of a puzzle. "If anyone talked badly about you, don't you think I'd back you up?"

"Why won't you do that for Tobirama, then?" Hashirama asked.

"Because I believed Merlin", I confessed.

"You still do?"

I was quiet for a while.

"No", I finally said honestly. "No. I don't."

Hashirama turned his face up and kissed me.

Tobirama was all over the news, national and international. Being a world-famous chef didn't make you as interesting as being a world-famous actor or influencer did, but when you were accused of raping your clients, everyone were suddenly furiously interested in you.

And not one, not one single news channel, even touched on the fact that maybe, just maybe, the things that were said about the man weren't true. They just accepted that he raped his employers. Forced them to let him fuck them to allow them to work in his restaurant.

I gaped at the news channels bashing him.

And I suddenly felt terribly, terribly ashamed of the fact that I had done exactly the same thing.