Itachi's Jealousy

Itachi’s grip tightened around the porcelain cup. Perhaps it was the way you laughed around the stranger, or the way you welcomed his conversation, as if the smile he gave and the drink he handed you weren’t spiked with ulterior motive.

You meant no harm–you were only gathering information like you were told–but the way the two of you acted around one another stirred something inside of him, something annoying and unfamiliar that interrupted his concentration.

Were you a good actor, or were you simply that naive?

Your hand touched your face, in that gentle way it did when you were shy.

The teacup cracked in his hand.