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Hidan could hear his own heartbeat pounding in his ears. His palms were damp, his fingers twitching at his sides. He kept rolling his shoulders, trying to shake off the stiffness creeping into them, but it wasn’t helping. His stomach twisted, tight, and nauseating, and no matter how many times he swallowed, his throat still felt dry.
He pulled in a breath, but it came out too fast.
The room was too quiet, too small, too much. He hated this.
A steady voice cut through his spiraling thoughts.
"Hidan. Breathe."
Itachi stood near him, watching with calm, unreadable eyes. Not judging, not irritated. Just trying to calm him down.
Hidan exhaled sharply, rubbing his hands over his face. "I am breathing."
"Not properly."
Hidan huffed but didn’t argue. Itachi had that way of being frustratingly right.
Itachi moved closer, standing in front of him now, his presence somehow still and grounding. "Follow me," he said quietly. His own breath was slow and measured. In through the nose. Out through the mouth. A controlled rhythm.
Hidan tried to match it, but his chest was too tight. The first breath was too shallow. The second one stuttered. The third—okay, that one was better.
"Good," Itachi murmured. He reached out, brushing off some invisible speck from Hidan’s shoulder, then adjusting the fabric there as if smoothing out tension itself. "You’re doing fine."
"Yeah," he muttered, finally starting to believe it. "Yeah, okay."
And then, the door burst open.
Deidara.
A bright grin and laughter spilled into the room like a wrecking ball. "Man, you all should see Kakuzu!" He barely got the words out before cracking up again. "He’s a mess. Like, completely out. I don’t know how he’s gonna do this, un."
Hidan froze. The breath he had finally settled unraveled all over again. He slipped out of Itachi's hold and started pacing the room again.
Itachi turned slowly, eyes sharp as steel, his voice edged with quiet disapproval. "That was not necessary."
Deidara hesitated. "Oh. Shit. Sorry." He cleared his throat, rocking on his heels. "It’s gonna be fine, really."
But then, because he couldn’t help himself, another grin split his face. "But you should see him, un. He’s freaking out over his shoes. Says they’re too small or some crap."
Kisame, who had been leaning near the doorway, let out an amused grunt. "I’m going to check. Just to be sure." His smirk was sharp. "Though he’s worn those shoes a million times."
"Nerves," Itachi muttered in response.
Hidan groaned. "Great. Just great. I feel like I’m gonna throw up."
"You won’t."
"You don’t know that."
"I do," Itachi said simply. "You’re not alone in this, Hidan." His tone was steady, a quiet reassurance beneath the words. "Just breathe."
Hidan swallowed again, rolling his neck. "I can’t do this."
"You can," Itachi said, already stepping in front of him again, hands firmly on his shoulders, forcing Hidan to look at him. Another careful brush of invisible dust, a deliberate adjustment to his tie. A grounding presence that already worked before. "You’re going to be fine."
Hidan sighed, fingers curling and uncurling at his sides.
Itachi’s voice didn’t waver. "It’s just two words."
Hidan scoffed. "No, it’s not."
Deidara nodded. "Yeah, no way. There is like a whole speech, un"
Itachi held his ground. "It is. They’re the only two that matter, the rest is not so important."
Deidara, in his own way, tried to help too. "Hey, remember what will come after. And I bet Kakuzu will tear all those clothes off before midnight. You look hot in all black, un."
Hidan rolled his eyes, but the comment did break some of the tension.
Itachi straightened his tie one last time, fingers brushing against Hidan’s throat. His pulse was still fast beneath the skin, but steadier now.
"We’ve checked everything," Itachi murmured. "It’s all ready. Now, it’s just the two of you."
Hidan exhaled.
"Okay," he muttered. "Okay, I’m ready."
Then—music.
His heart stuttered. His hands clenched.
"Fuck," he whispered. "Okay. I’m ready to do this."
Two words. That was all.
Breathe in. Breathe out.
He murmured, a whisper meant only for himself.
A reminder. A promise.
A steadying breath.
"I do, I do, I do..."