Translating this was a bitch. I still don't know if I managed to keep Kakashi as psycho as he was in the swedish version...

In this fic, Sakura and Kakashi are about the same age. Rated because of violence, mentions of lime, but mostly because of suicide, extreme angst, and because Kakashi is more psycho than Belbet, Gunji and Orochimaru combined. No beta, all the mistakes are mine.

I do not own Naruto, thank god.

The Train

A red light twinkles warningly. Good. It means that the train is on its way. The wind blowing through my silver hair makes it even more messy. I close my eyes, breathing in the smell of steel and rain and the unmistakeable smell of wet asphalt.

I have experienced nicer smells through my life, but I won't have to deal with it for too long. The night train will pass by at 22:00. Now it's 21.56. Four minutes left.

Four minutes seem to be a very short period. 240 seconds. A fifteenth of an hour.

To me, it is a while. A much too long while. But I had to be here early. Wouldn't want to miss this chance to get away from the pain. The pain all caused by her.

I can imagine the headline. "Man run over by train". But really, I don't think there will be a headline. If someone even catches a glimpse of me standing on the railroad or realizes that the blood and guts smeared all over the train's frame once was a human being, they will shut up about it. It's not like I am someone special. I'm not rich, not famous, not successful. But she will know, I've fixed that. Then she will regret her crime. She will regret that she left me like that. For him.

The clouds open up and raindrops start falling like transparent bullets, soaking my clothes, not with blood but with water. The wind blows through my wet clothes, brushing my damp skin and making me freezing cold. But I can't, won't, back off now. Three and a half minutes left.

I am sick of waiting. I want the train to come now. Not in some minutes, now. Before I change my mind. It's ridiculous, really, why would I? It's not like I have anything to keep living for anyway. Not since she said those words.

I'm seeing someone else.

Just three simple words that pierced my heart, leaving holes that never would be filled. She looked down while saying it. I couldn't see her eyes. Those beautiful emerald eyes, always filled with love that I really didn't deserve. The eyes I could spend a lifetime just looking into. Gentle, kind eyes.

Everything about her was kind or gentle. She deigned to even look upon someone like me. Before she came into my life I didn't do anything but crawling around in the darkness at the bottom of society, searching for light.

I remember it all too well. I tried to beat seven guys at the same time, simply because they annoyed me. Even though they were many, I was stronger and I did pretty well, until two of them shoved me over and a third prevented me from getting up by pushing down his heel at my shinbone. The bone broke with a snapping sound, leaving me defenseless. My arms were pinned to the ground. But I still didn't stop. I bit one of them, causing his hand to bleed. He snapped his paw away, then angrily stabbing me in my stomach with a knife, making me cry out at the pain. It hurt. But I soon started to get numb as blood left my body in a steady flow to mix with the mud on the ground.

The one with the knife crouched down over me, raising the knife to my throat. The cool metal pressed against my heated skin, under which my throat artery pulsated.

I spit in his face. He released an angry growl, dropping the knife, hands clutching my throat. I couldn't breathe. All the strength left my body. I wheezed, trying to get some air, but the man holding me down just squeezed harder. Black spots danced before my vision when suddenly the grip and weight holding me down disappeared. I coughed weakly. Then I heard a voice. The voice of an angel.

"Leave him alone!"

I slowly turned my head and even though my field of vision was all blurred, I could clearly see a person fighting the seven guys. I don't know if it was because of the injuries they got while fighting me, or if she simply was a very good fighter, but the men were soon fleeing. They didn't stand a chance. My savior turned to me. She knelt by my side and even if blurred, I saw one thing clearly.

My angel had pink hair.

Pink. The same color as cherry blossoms during spring, but deeper, more beautiful. At that moment nothing mattered but her beauty.

I felt my cheeks burn slightly. Not from wounds or slaps, but from embarrassment. She was an angel, she had saved me from death, and she was so damn beautiful. And here I was, lying on the muddy street all sweaty with blood and dirt all over, almost beaten to death by a group of thugs. But she didn't seem to find me disgusting at all. Her hand caressed my chin with a feather light touch as she smiled a comforting and genuine smile. I hardly saw it, but it made me relax as I took in her beauty. She was the last thing I saw before I fainted.

She also was the first thing I saw when I woke up. She was sitting by my side wetting my forehead with a damp cloth. We were at her place. She had carried me, even though I was a muddy, injured, criminal stranger, all the way to her apartment, laid me down on her couch and treated my wounds on her own because the hospitals don't accept my kind. Then she had watched over me.

Her ablazing emerald eyes were so kind as she asked me how I felt. I whispered an answer in a husky voice. I was ashamed that she had seen me like this. She took the cloth away and placed her hand on my forehead instead. A warm, soft hand. A hand that was capable of both killing and treating. It was comforting, healing. Even forgiving. She told me everything was going to be alright, and I believed her.

Then she told me her name.

Sakura.

Cherry blossom.

The raspy answer that slipped out of me was really the most idiotic possible. Beautiful... just like you.

Her cheeks became flushed and she looked away, mumbling something along the line I'm not...

I managed to reach out a shaking weak hand to touch her burning cheek. It was as soft as her hand, but in a different way. Yes... you are.

That night, which we both spent on the same couch, neither one of us got any sleep. That was the first time I experienced desire. Sure I had slept with many women earlier, but that was only because my body needed it. I didn't desire those whores. This was different, more. My body was burning under her hands, aching to be touched more, and to touch. To not put too much pressure on my wound or broken shinbone, she was on top of me and the moment she sank down on me... it was pure bliss. I was in heaven, but at the same time I had never felt more alive.

We just laid there aftermath, panting and trying to relearn how to breathe. She traced the scar over my left eye with her fingertip. I wrapped my still shaking arms around her body, holding her close. Our bodies fit together just like a puzzle. There was no need to say anything. Because we both knew that we belonged together. How, I don't know. We had just met and we didn't know much about each other. But still, there was something. Something in the air. Some strange feeling of being related.

We stayed just like that until dawn when she got up to change my bandages.

During our six months together I told her about everything. About how my mom died in sickness because we didn't have the money needed to get her medicinal treat. About my dad, who took his own life shortly after that happened. I told her about my life living alone on the streets, sleeping in dark alleys and stealing money to get food, sometimes even eating from trashcans, because no one was willing to take care of me. How I never learned how to talk to people, I just beat up those who annoyed me. How I lived like that from the age of nine, in twelve years, until now.

The only thing I didn't tell her was how much she really meant to me. I didn't tell her that she was my angel, the only thing I needed, wanted and cared about.

Slowly I became more relaxed. I learned how to talk to people and how to solve things without using my fists. I became a new person.

And it was all because of her. I was a planet and she was the sun I rotated about. Or, maybe, she was the planet and I was her moon. I was dependent on her in the same way other people is dependent on alcohol or heroin. I simply couldn't live without her. She was my heroin and I was her addict.

As naïve as I was, I thought that was how the rest of my life should be. In light. But I was wrong, oh so wrong. One night when we sat together talking I noticed something was wrong. I asked her if everything was alright, she answered it was. I waited a while before asking her again, saying I clearly could see something was bothering her. She sighed, biting her lip and looking at her bare feet. Then she said it. I am seeing someone else. I didn't get it. What the hell was she talking about? Another man? But she loved me, it was we two, we belonged together! She saw my face and sighed, looking straight into my eyes this time. I saw the pain those forest green emerald orbs held.

I'm seeing someone else. Another guy. I love you, Kakashi, but...

She didn't finish the sentence. Instead she returned to looking at her toes. Then realization hit me, as if she had shot a poisoned arrow through my heart. It threw me out of my revolution, sending me straight out in the black space. Without her gravitation and the atmosphere I got from her rays protecting me, all the pain from before hit me again at full force. I clutched at my shirt, on the spot where my heart was beating. I wished I could rip it out, then it maybe would stop hurt.

I slowly got up from the couch where we had spent the nights and walked to the door where I put on shoes before exiting. I did not turn around. When I was on my way downstairs I stopped and bit my finger, using my blood as ink as I wrote my message on the wall.

I don't remember anything after that. My feet just walked on their own and now I stand here. At the same time I think I knew where I was going, it was probably just too obvious to think about, a bodily reaction, as natural as breathing or blinking.

One minute left. 59 seconds. 58. 57. Less than a minute to live. I can both hear and see the train now. A massive iron projectile that won't stop just because I'm standing here. Flashing lights. I feel the ground shaking and the wind created by the force, blowing at me.

When I told Sakura about my father she said only cowards commit suicide. Weak cowards that isn't strong enough to face their own problems and bear their own pain and instead gives up, running away from it and leaving it to the people precious to them. But really, one can't say I'm taking my own life, right? It's impossible for me to do, since she already did it for me. Her words killed me. Not physically, my body still moves, but inside I'm a black hole. I am simply an empty shell. They say that the eyes are the mirror of the soul. And my eyes are dead. They are dull, lusterless and empty, without a sign of life. Just like my dad's eyes when I found him hanging in a rope, his toes not touching the floor. I will soon meet him again, in hell.

The impact is close. I stretch out my arms as if preparing to hug the train. I think about the message I left Sakura. On the white wall, written with my own blood in big sloppy letters. Sayonara Tenshi. Goodbye my angel. I wonder if she has seen it yet.

Then I hear a something over the ear-splitting sound of the train. A voice calling my name. No. It can't be.

I turn my head to see a running figure at the foot of the railroad. A figure with pink hair that is streaming wildly in the wind. She has found my message. She is so close to the railroad that I can see the tears on her cheeks glisten in the train's lights. She is desperate. I meet anxious gaze and suddenly I feel so downright stupid that I want to smack myself. What the fuck am I doing? I want to live. I want, want, want to. I don't want to die. I don't want to die!

But it's too late, my body won't move. She screams my name again.

"Kakashi!"

She reaches out her hand toward me and I reach out mine, my fingers desperately trying to grab hers, even though I know it's too late. I won't ever feel her skin under my fingertips again. And it's my fault.

The time seems to stop as her mouth opens in a desperate scream.

"KAKASHI! I L-"

Then I feel an impact, a sharp pain that fades away as my vision becomes black.

Owari

It was a while since I published this, and when I look at it now, somehow I feel kinda embarrassed... God bless the spellchecker.

EDIT: the most embarrassing errors should be gone by now, and I have also changed a few words that seemed wrong ;)

EDIT2: What I forgot to say in the previous EDIT. Many people have PMd me wanting a new chapter/an epilogue. I'm sorry, there won't be one. I left the ending a little unclear on purpose so that the reader will have to decide on their own :) sometimes that's a lot more fun. Anyway, I hope this is the last edit.

I'm a review eating monster. Feed me ^^