Madara tapped his fingers on your wooden dining table, various stains and damage marring the wood. He found it hard to listen to what you were saying when he was so…caught up in his own thoughts. He shouldn’t he really really shouldn’t…he asked every time he visited, he doubted he would ever stop until you said yes

“Come live with me.”

He said, watching you falter in your grinding of herbs with your mortal and pestle. You had always said no, he had gotten used to the rejection, he didn’t take it to heart. He watched your face, the light streaming in from your windows lighting it up. He had asked Izuna to help cover for him so he could come and visit you, so he could spend the entire day with you…