As you walk into the barren apartment, the door behind you locks with a soft, cacophonous "snick". Leaning your weight against it, your blank eyes see nothing but cheap painted happiness, your soul still barren from coming home from work. The boy on your stiff mattress sits undeterred by your lack of acknowledgement. As you slowly meet his tired eyes, both your anguish undisguised, neither say a word. To speak would be to misunderstand.
He stands up slowly and the wooden creak from the bedframe is indistinguishable from the wooden creak of his bones. He walks you to the kitchenette and sits you on the counter; you both know the routine.
He walks off to the bathroom, saying 'you need end thi's, and you start undressing slowly, knowing that he's right.
Shucking off your trench coat, too heavy for the summer, you peel layer after layer of your worktime —wartime — persona off. Until you're sitting on the counter in your cheap dime store underwear. Your glassy eyes burn, unseeing, from lack of blinking. To submit would be to give in to the hot tears dancing with the lights behind your eyes.
The wolf boy comes back to you, cradled in his hands, a small first-aid kit he moved in a while ago.
His eyes widen, flash with feral anger, as he sees how they have left you there, your clients at your job. Emotions hide behind indifference, knowing how they gave you this; you didn't have a choice.
The dog-nin, kisses softly, the wounds that mar your body, slowly healing your soul. He whispers that he loves you, puts no one above you; he knows you feel the same. He wishes he could mend you but he knows he'd have to end too, the ruse you have put on.
Nobody can know you, the ninja that they once knew, who's parents were astray. They left, they left without you, to join Orochimaru, they left you to the wolves — or the street rats in this case. Recalling dropping out of your ninja team, at the tender age of just fourteen, you thought that it was right. Who would want a street rat with rogue parents running with their team?
You ran away, but soon came back, and no one even remembered that, you were who you were. Changed your name and occupation, but found yourself a new situation, you were out of a job.
Quickly joined the nearest brothel, thought it was something you could handle, but you were over your head. Your clients got violent easy, and that was how the ninja found you, limping your way out.
Red tattoos on either cheek and eyes that needed no words to speak quickly took you in. He started to visit you every day, walking you home, he knew the way, and you both started to fall.
He loved you and he held you close not knowing he now loved a ghost from everybody's past.
He wanted to take care of you, but you didn't want him to, you're as stubborn as they come, and when he found out who you are, he wanted to show you to everyone, you made him promise he would not.
So every night he takes you home, fixes you up, leaves you alone, knowing you deserve so much more. He picks you up carefully, all ninja gauze and band-aid pretty, places you carefully on the bed. He kisses your forehead, cradles you into his frame, finally you let the tears go.
Saltwater, anger, and humiliation flow down your face in frustration mixing in the both of your hairs. He knows its healthy to let them fall, but doesn't stop him from trying to kiss them all, he hates that you're in pain.
One day when this third war is over, you'll run into the wild together, raise a wolf pack of your own. But for now days will all blend together, as you both dream of sweet forever, making your ends meet.
Your lips meet his a lifelong kiss and intertwine your life with his, he's more precious than them all. He'll sleep with you for all his nights, one day he plans, you'll be his wife, his missing ninja girl.
"They say that the world was built for two, only worth living if somebody is loving you."