"FUCK!"
Kankuro's voice echoed down the empty hospital hallway. His bloodied fist collided with the concrete wall once more, cracking it again. He knew he would have to pay for the damages to the building eventually, but he didn't care.
"Kankuro, please," his sister pleaded, placing a comforting hand on his shoulder. She gave a gentle squeeze as her younger brother settled himself onto the bench, burying his bruised face into his hands. "Please calm down. The doctors said he'll be fine."
"You don't get it, Temari," Kankuro muttered, shaking his head. He gripped his hat, which was nearly falling off his head to begin with, and threw it into the corner. The metal of his headband clanged piercingly against the floor.
"Kiba should rec—"
"SHUT UP!" He couldn't control himself. Rage filled his body and poured out in spurts of violent punches and a raised voice. "Just, please, shut the fuck up."
This was his fault and he knew it. If only he had gone after him, Kiba wouldn't be lying unconscious in a damn hospital bed. Kankuro couldn't even bear to go into the room and look at his sleeping face. There was too much regret and anger inside him.
"What do you want from me, you fucking mutt?!"
"Tell me that you love me!"
A painful twinge of…of…God, Kankuro couldn't even figure out how he felt. Ashamed, hurt, worried, enraged, idiotic…
"Are you going to come back to the hotel?" Temari asked after an hour of dead silence.
"No," he replied hoarsely.
"I'll let Gaara know."
Lonely. That's another word Kankuro added to his list of terrible emotions he never wanted to experience again.
Just on the other side of the wall, the boy who always seemed to smell distinctly like wet dog waited for him. It wasn't a smell he particularly disliked. In fact, if it had been anyone else but him, Kankuro would've wrinkled his nose and turned away, more than likely throwing out some sort of insult. But ever since the older boy came to the rescue a little over a year ago, he craved the smell, even after he returned back to his own village.
"If it weren't for you, Akamaru and I both would've been dead meat."
"Ah, don't mention it."
"No, I really owe you."
The countless nights spent with alone with Kiba were more than enough of a payment. Whether it had been clothed or naked, sober or drunk, awake or asleep, Kankuro treasured his frequent visits to Konoha. The only parts he couldn't stand were the goodbyes. They were extremely painful and often drawn out.
"C'mon, just stay one more day. It won't kill you."
"I wish I could. I really do."
Kankuro ran his fingers through his dirty hair, grabbing at his roots softly. He knew he needed to take the few steps to see his lover, but something was holding him back. It wasn't fear of others knowing their secret; it had been quite obvious since the group returned from the failed mission. Sasuke was still out there, posing a great threat to Konoha.
"I LOVE YOU! WHY IS IT SO FUCKING DIFFICULT FOR YOU TO ACCEPT THAT?!"
"Because you're too good for me," Kankuro whispered to the sweet voice inside his head. Much to Kiba's chagrin, Kankuro had actually believed that statement. He forced himself to, to protect the younger boy.
For the past year, Kankuro had tried his hardest to convince Kiba to forget about the mutual feelings, to find someone in his own village, to move on completely. As to avoid becoming a hypocrite, the puppet master did the same in Suna. It never worked out. No matter how many girls (seeing other men just didn't feel right) he took on dates, he couldn't push Kiba from his mind. It was always the mutt that clouded his thoughts with his stupid smile and his dumb laugh.
"Kankuro?"
He lifted his tired eyes, settling them on the blonde woman who had just exited Kiba's room. He hadn't even noticed her go in.
"Lady Hokage," he greeted her, standing in respect. His knees felt wobbly and he worried that they would give out at any moment.
Tsunade lifted a hand, giving a reassuring smile. "Kiba will be just fine. He just needs a few days to rest and he'll be right back to his ways."
Kankuro knew what ways she was hinting at: running up behind him to steal his hat, challenging him to footraces (which Kiba always cheated at, with the help of Akamaru), and planting sneaking kisses on his cheek when he wasn't looking. Thinking back on it, another regret he added was that he always acted annoyed at these quirks of his lover's.
"I'm not so sure about that," Kankuro replied softly, avoiding the curious eyes of the woman.
"If you don't mind, may I ask how this happened?"
"I…" He gave a frustrated sigh. Thinking about it sent his heart racing again. "We got into an argument and I told him that I…"
"Tell me that you love me!"
"I don't! I don't love you, Kiba! You're a fucking stepping stone!"
"I said some pretty shitty things to him," Kankuro continued, his tightly closed fists beginning to sweat. "And then he left…and I left…and then I found him like this. I guess he picked a fight with the wrong guys or something."
Tsunade nodded. "I see. Well, I'm sure I'm the last person you'd want to take love advice from, but I'd suggest talking to him when he gets better." She gave Kankuro a soft pat on his head, walking down the endless hallway.
Kankuro rested his forearms on the cold wall, cupping his forehead in his fingers. Talk to him? Absolutely not. Not after what was said. There was no way he could face the mutt. But he had to, or else this would be looming over him for the rest of his life.
In a jerking motion, Kankuro pushed himself from the wall and entered the individual room. Aside from the moonlight shining in, darkness surrounded him. He could hear the soft breaths coming from Kiba's nose. As he moved closer, bandages and stitches became more apparent. A black eye and a bruised nose tainted his perfect face. His chest seized in pain.
Pulling a chair closer, Kankuro hesitated to touch the boy's skin. When he finally did, the familiar warmness gave him a quick sensation of relief and homesickness. He didn't miss his home in Suna. He missed his home wrapped up in this irritating, smelly human in front of him. He missed the hour-long conversations about everything and nothing. He missed the lips that now were cracked and smeared with dried blood.
"Fuck," he whispered, grabbing for Kiba's hand. He brought it to his own lips for only a few seconds before placing the purple and yellow knuckles against his forehead. "I'm so sorry."
And he was. He was never so apologetic about something in his life, but this…This was entirely different than anything he'd ever experienced. He knew his actions where what caused this kind of pain, not only to himself, but to the boy he felt an overwhelming need to protect.
"You're not a stepping stone, Kiba," he whispered, knowing full well that his words were wasted. "I'm sorry."
Kankuro lost track of how many hours he spent in the room, watching the boy sleep. More than anything, he wanted to crawl next to him and hold him. At least that way, he knew nothing would touch Kiba. He would make sure of it.
"You're still here?"
The sound of his sister's voice brought Kankuro from his daze. The morning sun was peeking into the room. Had he really been there all night? Maybe that was why his eyes felt heavy and itchy.
"Yeah," he answered, his eyes locked on Kiba's face.
"You know, he probably won't wake up for a few more hours. Maybe you should get some sleep? You don't want him to see you like this, do you?"
"No." His voice sounded miles away.
Kankuro stood, suddenly feeling the grogginess of his body. It ached for a comfortable bed and some food, but he doubted he could keep anything down. Constant nausea had been churning for two days straight.
"I'm sorry," he repeated one last time, pressing his dry lips to Kiba's forehead.
Temari, who had always known but never pried, gave him a small smile before turning on her heel and advancing toward the exit. Kankuro lingered for only a moment, running a hand through the boy's hair with one hand and intertwining his fingers with the other.
"You were my rock, Kiba. You always have been. I love you and I'll see you soon."
Kiba's reply was a soft squeeze and a hoarse, "I love you too."