Title: Dead Memories
Summary: Kakashi reflects back on his life in the wake of a semi-recent tragedy.
Warnings: Implied character death and shounen-ai. Also, angst. Lots of angst.
Rating: K
Genre(s): General, Angst
Disclaimer: The Naruto characters and franchise do not belong to me. The characters used in this story belong to Masashi Kishimoto.
AN: Well, I'm back from the dead with a one-shot. It's been a very emotional week. Thursday the 17th marked the one year anniversary of a friend's passing after losing his battle with cancer and I've just watched the series finale of House (those of you who watch it know that the last few episodes kind of hit too close to home for me) and I'm a giant ball of emotions and feels right now. In semi-related news, I have my math final in the morning and I've been listening to Rufus Wainwright's rendition of "Hallelujah" on repeat in attempts to fall asleep, but instead this idea spawned in my head and demanded to be written NOW, so here it is. I figured I might as well post it now. Beware, it is un-beta'd so there may be a few mistakes in there. It's currently 1:40 in the morning and I have to be up at 7. -.-
"Maybe I've been here before
I know this room, I've walked this floor
I used to live alone before I knew you
I've seen your flag on the marble arch
Love is not a victory march
Its a cold and it's a broken hallelujah"
Kakashi walked through the halls of the Hatake estate like a ghost haunting an abandoned mansion. An eerie silence hung in the air, the large house too quiet, too solitary. He stopped outside every room, scenes playing before his eyes as if he were watching a film. Looking into the kitchen he'd seen what was once a familiar and comforting sight; a tan man cooking at the stove followed by the two of them sitting at the table eating and laughing together. He moved on to the bedroom where he was greeted by his mind's eye of the two of them curled up together in the bed, Kakashi holding the man tight in his arms, long dark hair free of its usual ponytail splayed across the pillow. Drawing in a shaky breath, he moved on to what used to be his father's study and was greeted with yet another scene. This time it was the same dark haired man but he looked a bit disheveled, hair escaping the confines of the hair tie and a red pen cap clenched between his teeth as he read and marked his students' work, a cup of tea long forgotten and cold on the other side of the stack of papers; a regular sight.
This house had seen many things, Kakashi mused. He'd lived in it all his life; as a child with his father, then later, alone, after the man's death. Those were dark times, he recalled, the house had been cold, empty, and quiet then, too, just like it was now. It wasn't until he'd fallen in love almost two decades after that the house had become a home once again and Kakashi had honestly believed that it would stay that way until the rest of their days. He should have known better, he thought with a bitter laugh. He wasn't meant to have a "happy ever after". The world had shown him that time and time again in his 36 years of life and the silver haired man figured it was about time to stop trying to change that.
He continued his haunting; moving slowly, almost dragging his feet to what was the living area. A layer of dust had formed on the couch, undisturbed by the figures he saw there. It was the same brunet man sitting on one end of the couch, looking down at the head of silver hair that was pillowed across his thighs, a slight smile on his lips that cased the scar across the bridge of his nose to crinkle slightly. He was running his fingers through a dozing Kakashi's unruly hair, the entire scene lit by the almost ethereal glow of the television.
Kakashi suddenly felt trapped in the house, stuck with these memories that played out before him and he fled to the gardens, but he couldn't escape the visions. Once again he was met with the sight of the gorgeous man toiling in the dirt, spiky ponytail hidden under a ridiculous gardening hat that he always made fun of because it just made the brunet look too adorable and everything suddenly hurt. Kakashi let out a choked sob and sat heavily on the steps of the porch that overlooked the grounds. Face buried in his hands he silently shed his tears, not really caring that anyone could see him if they were to drop by unannounced.
"You promised you'd never leave me, Iruka." He whispered, wincing when he heard how broken he sounded. "You weren't supposed to die."
He felt angry all of a sudden. Angry at Iruka for leaving, angry at himself for failing to protect him, angry at the Hokage for sending him out on that mission, anger at the child his lover died to protect. It wouldn't do him any good, he knew, but he'd also learned years ago that it wasn't good to bottle up his emotions so Kakashi sat there on his porch, silently weeping at his losses and decided that he couldn't go on like this anymore.