This is a pretty random piece that came from a picture prompt, and it's pretty spirally so...
I still hope you will enjoy it though~

He sits atop the cliff overseeing Konoha, a habit that played out too often recently that Tobirama had scolded him for leaving his duties unattended to. But even Tobirama knew the boundaries, for after it had happened he as a sensor could easily feel the distorted chakra flow forcefully set to flow in a calm path.

Hashirama had been wondering about these things for quite a while now, because maybe, just maybe there was still hope. They were not destined to be enemies, they really never were, and them being exactly that now was merely fate deciding to turn its wheel a tad too fast.

You say I don't understand.

"Madara, I-"

A glare silenced the rest of his sentence.

There must be some other way, rather there must have been some other way, except everything was too late now. He had left, without a second word, without a goodbye, only the image of a determined backside strapped with a gunbai and kusarigama forever inked into his mind.

"MADARA!"

He disappeared without so much as a puff of smoke.

Madara why? Why did you- How could you, how could you just-just leave me behind? Hashirama lets the memories flow through his inspection, trying so desperately to spot where he could have trodden on that forbidden barrier that his friend had forcefully set around himself.

But all he could see, was long black bangs covering those beautiful, entrancing eyes.

"I am getting married!"

"..."

"Are you not going to congratulate me?"

Hashirama masks his anxiety with overwhelming ecstasy, eyeing Madara with puzzled eyes. He tries to catch those pitch black orbs, hoping they would settle on his own.

"Is that all you were going to say?" Came the nonchalant reply, attention still lingering on the plate of inarizushi in front of him.

"No no that's not all."

The Hokage reaches into the folds of his robes and produces a white parchment, sliding it across the table towards Madara. The Uchiha clan leader eyes it with a seemingly passive face before continuing his meal.

"As my best friend, it is only natural that you should sit in the front!" Hashirama adds happily, dismissing the lack of emotion the other displays.

"Oh."

The tanned male watches the raven still eating his inarizushi at a set pace, prodding at it once or twice and picking it up with his chopsticks. It did not occur to Madara that Hashirama was looking at him until he realised the silence lingering between them, so he looks up but just before their eyes could meet, he looks away again. In a voice so silent it could be ignored, he whispers "Congratulations."

Instead of a bright thank you or any sign of gratitude, there was a definite pause, until the sound of scraping of wood on gravel and a the tinkling of coins on the table became audible.

Madara's head springs up "You're leaving?"

Hashirama stands scratching his head in an awkward manner, saying "You don't seem like you want to talk to me today, so I thought I will just...leave you alone?"

But, perhaps...

The taller man stands for a few seconds more, Madara clearly not stopping him from leaving so he starts to walk towards the door almost ready to fall into depression mode.

"Hashirama..."

Like an all too eager dog, said man's ears prick up and he turns with a eager smile.

"Is it for the village?"

He sits back down with a puzzled expression, not understanding where Madara was heading at.

"Is it for the village? Or is it for you?"

"Is there a difference? I mean-"

"There's a big difference you clueless oaf! Why do you always- always..." Madara had slammed his chopsticks on the table, yet his voice was still low, curled into a lethal purr that Hashirama was too unfamiliar with. Normally if he was angry, there would be shouts and fireballs would definitely be involved. If he was sad, there would be loud cursing or downright silence. If he was happy, which he so rarely was nowadays it was-

Hashirama only realises now how much he knew about his best friend's actions and expressions, what he would do when in different moods. He pushes this away as a natural instinct for caring for a friend.

He is slightly stunned by Madara's sudden outburst, but his brain still manages to ponder his question. There clearly was no difference between him and the village, because if it was for the village, it would be for him as well. If the village was happy, he would be happy. If it was for him, then it was for the village too because everything he did would be for Konoha's benefits.

"For me" He settles on the answer. "I get a pretty wife." Moreover the alliance behind her, but a wife would mean a heir which would get the Senju elders off his back.

Either way, the result was the same so it didn't matter. Madara would understand, he was the only one who understood.

Madara lowers his head, long black tresses covering his eyes from view.

Hashirama feels a great chill at this moment, anxiety crawling around his abdomen before gushing to all fours. There's a sudden despair, the type where you know you missed the chance in a life time. He begins panicking now, wondering what to do yet too afraid of what would happen if he did. He reaches for Madara's hair, wanting to draw them out of his face to his eyes. His eyes, he knew that was what would calm him down now.

Hashirama thinks now why Madara's eyes calm him down.

Madara stands just before he could touch him, the top part of his face still hidden in shadow. Before the Hokage could make another move however, he is transfixed to the spot.

"Congratulations on your marriage Hashirama, I wish you and your wife a bright future."
I was never meant to.

Madara had turned from him then, leaving the image of the backside of a man ready to face the world. But he looked...

So lonely.

What was more, he had not realised that he had not tried to catch up, still too entranced to do anything. Because that...that truly was...

He stills now, vague surprise at who decides to disturb him.

"Mito-san."

"Hashirama-dono"

Yes, that was how they addressed each other even after marriage. With honorifics and all, because both knew each had a heart that lay elswhere.

"May I sit down?" she asks politely.

Mito does not miss the sudden tensing in Hashirama's calm posture, and she knows the answer. She does not mind really, because he respected her in the same way she respected him and each had boundaries that shouldn't be crossed. So she sighs slightly, before continuing.

"I am just passing by, and Tobirama wishes to tell you that if you do not return he will lock you in your office for the next month."

Hashirama chuckles, clearly unfazed.

"But, I suppose I could lay him off a bit." Mito returns with a light hearted giggle herself.

"Thank you, Mito-san."

Mito takes her leave then, eying Hashirama with pity before turning on her heel.

Hashirama unconsciously prevented anyone from nearing this place after Madara had left, the reason too evident in the eyes of others yet he himself remained blind. So blind.

Come to think of it, Madara did not take his invitation. Nor did he ask who exactly he was marrying.

But that did not matter anymore.

If I could rewind time Madara,

"Hokage Sama!"

Madara turns at the frantic call of Uchiha Hikaku, dashing towards him at break neck speed worry splashed over his features.

"What is it?" He says curtly, forever the cold manner, the Uchiha Clan leader.

"Madara-sama! Please hang on, I'll go get a medic!" With the face as if he had seen splattered blood in a demonic manner, Hikaku runs off again.

A medic? Whatever for? Who was hurt?

Whoever was hurt, they couldn't possibly be hurting more than him now.

Madara sits staring at the mocking sun in his own training grounds, dazed. He tries processing the news, but his mind refuses to cooperate and instead decides to play a dizzy tune. Hashirama was getting married, not for the village, but for himself. That would mean he loved the girl, he didn't really care who it was anyway, and that was a good thing because for once it was not for the sake of the village.

Hashirama deserved something just for himself, and Madara truly felt happy for him.

So why did it hurt so much now?

"Madara sama, please move indoors, they will tend to your wound."

Wound? What wound?

"Who's hurt?" He asks somewhat blankly.

Hikaku's fear heightened another notch as the words left Madara's mouth, but he still pointed with a shaky finger at none other at his leader himself. Madara's irritated gaze follows the direction and stares at his abdomen, rather at the tip of the kusarigama that had buried itself in his stomach.

"Oh."

The Uchiha tend to his wounds, Hikaku still sparing worried glances at him every now and then, but Madara takes no notice, just like he took no notice to the pain.

That pain was not real he guesses, he must have been put under some genjutsu, because how could physical pain not hurt more than a dull ache in his chest?

He doesn't understand.

Madara sits on the cliff, overseeing the big bunch of people gathered in the village centre beneath where the wedding was being held. He holds a kunai, one specially crafted by himself with the finest metal the Fire Country could offer. This was a wedding gift for his friend, but somehow he could not bring himself to get down there and bring it to him. Instead he flips it over and over, tossing it in the air and catching it again. His sharingan remains off, though he was quite curious to know who the girl was.

He unconsciously avoids what Hashirama had praised him of.

A slip of his hand, and the kunai slits his left palm in a quick swish. The finest metal truly was sharp, such a clean cut that the blood dripped in a fine stream. Madara watches, and picks the kunai up in his right hand.

Without a second thought, he draws another string of red ribbon and a next, and a next.

It does not occur to him that he does not feel the pain, nor the coldness of the metal.

On the day of the wedding, Hashirama in black holds Mito's porcelain hands now seemingly glowing from the pure white kimono she was wearing. He tries to focus, he really does, yet the Hokage's attention starts to drift to the crowd instead.

More specifically, at the empty seat that was right in the middle of the first row.

His eyes then drift to the beautiful white flowers lining the sides and aisles at Mito's request, pure and white symbolising her innocence and purity.

And he wonders whether it would be better, if they were crimson instead.

Just like Madara's eyes.

As if to answer his request, the flower that happened to be beside him turns red by a blotch. He gazes with widened eyes, until the petal underneath the first dyed red too.

He let's go of Mito's hand. He wonders why he had picked it up in the first place.

He ignores the sudden murmur that had broke out, as if the flower and him was the only thing in the world.

The tears come before he could understand why they had come, but he knows he knows, that something is terribly wrong. Along with the bloody fragrance on the flower, there was something wrong.

If I could rewind time Madara, I would do anything, give everything

Hashirama straps on the armor that had remained unused for sometime. He had been sure that it would not be needed anymore.

That was assuming the per-requisite that he had everything he needed.

He heads to what would be named the Valley of the End after their battle, hoping to see him.

Knowing he will, knowing it will be the last time.

He stares at Madara who fell face forwards into the puddle, a katana pierced his heart.

Hashirama lets his tears fall as he wonders why it had been so hard to reach Madara's heart before, when it was so easy to reach him with a metal blade now. He himself falls too, landing beside his friend facing him.

He stares at the porcelain face.

And he is once again entranced.

Because that...that truly was...it was...

It was beautiful.

If I could rewind time Madara, I would do anything, give everything, just to see your smile again

Not a snarl or grin, but a smile so true so genuine, it was so luring.

Hashirama only realises now how much he had lost. How much he missed Madara. What he had done. How...

How he would never see that smile again.

Hashirama props himself against a jagged rock with difficulty, the last sparks of green chakra fail to respond to his call.

He ignores the fact that did not really try to make it work anyway.

This was the best way it could have turned out anyway, though this was rather another suicide call that managed to finally relieve him of his duty. He starts to recall, his memory falling back to that day 15 years ago.

Madara's smile dances across his mind, and he too smiles.

He was ready to die, glad to die, because it would mean they would be together again.

And this time...

"Hashirama."

He looks up at the sound of his name, and he knows he is already half way there. Thank Rikudou for sending those who guard the gates of the other realm in Madara's form to get him.

"You're dying." Madara comments, kneeling beside him.

"Madara..."

"I'll do you a favor, in gratitude that you answered my question before."

Madara produces a blood stained kunai from the folds of his robes, and Hashirama looks at him with puzzled eyes. His gaze lingers on the shining metal despite the handle hinting at longer years.

"I never gave it to you, but you can have it now."

Hashirama coughs out another splotch of blood as the kunai buries itself in his weakly beating heart.

Madara smiles, but this time Hashirama reaches and claws for the hems of his pants, no longer entranced by the sight.

He waves once, and Madara disappears.

Thank you Hashirama, 15 years ago you made me realised why my heart hurt so much. Of course, it could only have been from your blade through my chest right?

Hashirama weeps silently in despair, because Madara's smile is no longer what he had longed for. As he lies to die, he tries to picture that scene again, but all that is left, is the nightmare of a manic grin too feral on Madara's features.

It's too late to go back now...And this time...I will tell you-

Thank you Hashirama, for making me 'feel' again.

I love you.