This fic features a genderbent (?) nonbinary Kakashi. Just to make that 100% clear. Biogtry & hatred will not be tolerated. Please be respectful of the character(s) identities.
—-01—-
Ren was forcing herself to go out tonight. She picked up the flyer from her dresser, roving her eyes over it for the millionth time, before tossing it onto her bed. There was a stack of them at the check-out counter of the record store she discovered last week. The person who rang up her incense told her that they were a band on tour from Australia, who were rising in popularity, so it may be one of the last times to see them before they got famous. The cashier had slipped the flyer into her bag with a wink, saying she hoped to see her there, despite her noncommittal response.
At the time, she doubted she would go. She still doubted it, even though she was putting on her make-up. She moved to this town about a month ago now, and had barely made any attempts at being social. At least live music was something she loved, so it wouldn't be out of her comfort zone. She felt safe at shows. Besides, the art on the flyer had sparked her interest. It was a baboon with it's mouth wide open in a screech; it's palms facing upward, with green flames rising off them. If she liked what she heard, maybe she'd get some cool merch out of it. She was a sucker for a good pin.
Her dog Nymeria, who was sprawled out on her bed, lifted her head and seemed to groan, after she changed for what felt like the tenth time.
"I know," she said, in response. "I'm thinking too hard about this. But when do I not?"
She turned to check herself out in the mirror that was attached to her closet door once again. Finally, she settled on a cream colored t-shirt she had modified into a tank top, with the words "wild plant babe" scrawled across the chest. Drawings of mushrooms and other plants encircled the text. It was tucked into a high-waisted peach-colored spandex skirt, that hugged her mid-thigh, with a woven brown belt cinched where the two items met. Her lavender tinted hair hung in a long, loose braid, draped over her left shoulder.
She pulled on a pair of charcoal ankle boots, gave herself a quick dab of rose oil, and grabbed a light gray cardigan. It was nearing the end of summer, and sometimes the nights got chilly.
She buried her face in Nymeria's shaggy white coat.
"Try not to miss me too much," she said, giving her a loving scratch behind the ears.
Nymeria stretched and rolled over onto her side, before heaving a heavy sigh.
"Don't be like that. I'll be home soon."
She placed a kiss to her muzzle, leaving a faint red tinge on her fur, and turned for the door.
She had been walking for a good twenty minutes before she came upon the street she was looking for. She didn't live far from what was considered the 'downtown' area. Compared to Chicago, it wasn't much at all, but she found it endearing and a nice change of pace. She needed to slow down. It was one of the reasons she moved here.
She looked down one more time at the address printed on the flyer.
"136 McArthur Street," she mumbled out loud.
When she reached 136, the front of an old electronics shop stared her in the face. It was filled with chunky old computers, vacuums that looked like weird aliens, and other appliances she'd never even seen before. She looked around, slightly confused. The flyer said it'd be at a place called the Loft. She assumed she'd find a bar by that name or some sort of venue, but there was nothing. She fumbled into her purse to look at the flyer again, but it was just as she saw it before: 136 McArthur Street.
She sighed, looking at herself in the glass of the storefront's window, contemplating what to do. She had finally gotten the courage to go out and do something, and now she couldn't even find it. Just as she was about to turn around and head home, she heard loud music begin to thump out from somewhere. She glanced down both sides of the street, but couldn't seem to pinpoint the source.
A couple of young people were heading in her direction. She decided to ask them as they were passing by, if they knew about the Loft. Though, as she was about to open her mouth, they had turned into the alley adjacent to the electronic store.
Well, shit.
She looked up to curse at the stars, only to find several windows with their cloth curtains drawn. A soft light could be discerned from the inside. Just then, someone had come to tie the curtains aside and crack open a window. The music poured out.
Oh. A literal loft.
She laughed to herself and then started to feel a bout of anxiety rush through her. It looked like someone's apartment. It dawned on her that this was a house show, and those were much more intimate than a venue. She had always been comfortable going places alone, but this was a little nerve racking, even for her. It's hard to try and be a wallflower at someone's house. It was much easier in a public place, where she could linger at the bar or find a stool in the back.
She fidgeted with the tip of her braid, wondering what to do. This was a college town after all. Would she be the only one there over 25? At least bars required an ID. But it was the summer, and most students cleared out until school resumed, so maybe she would meet someone her age. That is, if she even managed to talk to anyone at all.
She blew out an exasperated breath.
You're here. Just.. go.
She turned down the alley, passing a large dumpster, before she found a white, weather worn door in serious need of a paint job. She paused in front of it. Should she knock? She shook her head at herself.
As if they'd be able to hear it over the music. Quit overthinking everything. Go inside.
Before she had the chance, the door was ripped open, and two men came stumbling out, knocking into her. One of them had grabbed onto her shoulder to catch himself.
"Oh, my bad," he said, his breath reeking of cigarettes and beer.
"It's fine," she said, smoothing her hands out over her skirt.
"I haven't seen you before," he said, when he had straightened up and got a good look at her, letting his eyes rove over body without any restraint.
"I'm not surprised," was all she said, feeling uncomfortable. She crossed her arms over her chest in a protective manner.
"Nice ink," he said, referring to the tattoos that stuck out in various places all over her skin.
She gave a small fake smile, not wanting this conversation to go on any longer than it needed to. There was something about this man that seemed predatory, not to mention drunk. A combination that would only lead to trouble for her. The door to the Loft stood wide open. Despite her earlier reservations, it seemed the best place to take refuge. She went inside without saying anything to them, swearing she heard him curse 'bitch' at her back.
I don't give a shit what you think about me, she thought while climbing the long set of stairs.
The walls lining the hallway had been gratified with all different sorts of bubbled letters, which of course came off as an invitation for people to write their names or small quotes too. The stairwell kind of stank and she was really glad she had worn boots instead of sandals. She wasn't sure what lined these steps, but it felt dirty.
When she reached the top, she was hit with a wave of heat, undoubtedly due to the amount of bodies pressed into the small space. The high ceilings made it seem a lot bigger than it actually was.
Her suspicions were true, though. It had to be someone's apartment. The kitchen wasn't far from the opening of the staircase. The counter, that jutted out into an L, was lined with boxes of cheap beer and plastic cups. A green couch was pushed against the other side of the counter, which faced the open room, and currently hosted many more people than it could hold.
She shimmied her way through the crowd, pushing past bodies, to try and find a comfortable yet inconspicuous place to hang out until the band started. The floors were made of dark wood panels and seemed to dip every so often when she walked.
This cannot be safe, she thought. Not only the weight on these floors, but the amount of people here has got to be a fire hazard. She cringed.
She finally found a spot near one of the windows, next to a tall standing lamp. The breeze coming in through the screen felt great against the back of her legs. She could see some of the band's equipment from here. It wasn't a great view but she'd move when they started to play. From the looks of it, it wouldn't be soon.
She pulled her phone out of her purse to check the time. The flyer said the show would start at 8:30. It was 9:00.
Damn. Would it kill people to actually start on time?
She opened tumblr and instagram to browse for a few minutes, laughing at jokes that only herself and people in her fandoms would understand. She didn't really need to be on her phone, but she was honestly kind of bored and didn't know what else to do while she waited. After several more minutes, she sighed, put her phone away, and let her eyes flick about the room. A remix of M83's 'Midnight City' was blaring loudly from the speakers. At least whoever owned the iPhone that was subbing as a DJ, had good taste in music.
The crowd seemed mixed between alternative, punk, hipster, and a small percentage of preppy people. She was definitely one of the most eccentric, but then again, she usually was. A couple men tried to catch her gaze, but she quickly shifted her eyes, hoping to God she didn't signal to any of them, in those small brains of theirs, that she wanted to talk.
She saw someone sidling through the crowd towards her, with two beers in hand, just as 'Every Planet We Reach Is Dead' by Gorillaz began to play.
Shit.
"Hey," he said.
She gave him a small smile.
"I like your style," he said. "You don't see many girls like you around here. I brought you a beer."
He held out a bottle of Stella to her.
She sighed. At least it wasn't a shitty beer. She took it from him.
"Thanks."
"I kept the cap on, so you'd know I didn't spike it or something," he laughed.
She had already twisted it off and brought the bottle to her mouth to take a sip, but the comment made her pull it back from her lips. She pierced him with a glare.
"Date rape drugs aren't something to fucking joke about," she said seriously.
"I—I know.." he stammered. "I would never.."
She scowled and took a sip of the beer anyway. She started to clack her ring against the glass bottle. She had no interest in talking to this man. She observed his outfit passively. He was wearing a pair of old adidas shoes, navy blue basketball shorts, a tight-fitting white t-shirt, which contrasted against his sleeve of colorful tattoos, and a black loose fitting beanie. It looked like he hadn't shaved in a few days, judging by his amount of facial hair.
"Do you have a name?" he asked, not discouraged yet.
"I don't, actually," she said.
He laughed, thinking it was a joke. But when she didn't give him her name after a few seconds of silence, he shifted on his feet uncomfortably.
She knew she was being a ass, but she didn't really care. It wasn't that this guy was even being that bad, she was just tired of men expecting her to want to talk to them every time they approached. Women were expected to indulge them, regardless of what they wanted. And maybe she was still bitter about the previous guy, who was undressing her with his eyes only to call her a bitch when her back was turned.
The last few beats of M.I.A.'s '$20" were flowing out of the speakers. If only the person who owned this playlist spoke to her, they'd have something to talk about at least.
When the song was over, she heard instruments starting to whine. The mic being checked.
"Check, check. One, two."
Finally.
A couple drum rolls and keyboard hits later, someone stepped up to the mic.
"How's everyone feeling tonight?!"
A woman's voice, thick with an Austrailian accent, cut through the room.
The whole room 'wooped' and applauded.
Ren, wanting to get a better look at the band, left the man standing there without a second thought. She managed to push her way to the front left side, next to the keyboardist. There wasn't a stage, so everyone was on the same level. You really had to be in front in order to see anything.
"I'm Nai Palm, and we're Hiatus Kaiyote. Thanks for coming out!"
Ren was able to see much better now and quickly took note that she was no longer the most eccentric one in the room. The singer, whose name she now knew as Nai, was wearing a leather jacket whose entire surface was covered in buttons, studs, and enamel pins, over a tight black dress and fishnet stockings. Her long black hair was loose beneath a backwards mesh baseball cap. She was wearing the biggest earrings Ren had ever seen. Both of her nostrils were pierced and lime green eyeliner ran around the rims of her eyes.
Her voice reverberated throughout the room, a cappella at first.
"Graphite to paper, a saga-born, hand-drawn artisan dreamer"
It was so beautiful, Ren thought. Almost ethereal, the way it floated in the air.
"Miyazaki frontier,
a crystal-clear picture of aluminum seeker
The view from here is airborne
Mystic catacomb creeper
who whispers stone cold
and as the mind follows deeper
a relic our teacher
a talisman in the hand
never get to seek
Laaaapuuutaaa."
Ren was mesmerized by this woman in front of her. Nai Palm was tiny, but her presence was huge. She not only sang, but played lead guitar as well. Ren felt that if she could embody herself into a genre of music, it would be this. It felt so.. her. The style was a mix of everything she loved. A jazz fusion combination that sometimes incorporated elements of hip-hop and weird electronic noises that reminded her of old school video games. The set seemed to fly by in a happy blur.
"Thanks for being such a great crowd," Nai said. "This will be our last song. It's called 'The Lung'. Hope you enjoy it!"
The song began and once again Ren felt like she was falling into some sort of Alice in Wonderland technicolor dream.
"Stone a flare cold undercoat bare
An apple overhead
Swift courage shoot it down"
She closed her eyes and let herself sway and dance. Let the beat course through her veins, feeling the bass boom inside her chest, enjoying the final song while it lasted. When she opened her eyes, they had landed on someone else's. She froze. It felt as if her heart had stopped along with the rest of her body. She didn't remember this person being there before. She surely would have noticed. She quickly looked away, feeling herself blush.
What was that?
She let herself look again. The person who had caught her eye had silver-white hair, pulled back in a short ponytail. They were wearing a dark green v-neck shirt, black skinny jeans, and a pair of white high top converse. When her eyes lifted from their body, they had caught her stare and held it.
"quick, quick to
quick to loose, quick to loose your
quick to loose your furrowed brow"
Nai Palm crooned in what felt like the back of her mind, far far away.
The song ended a few moments later and Ren blinked several times as she was jostled out of her trance. People were moving on all sides of her trying to get to the band or just to vacate the general vicinity. Ren moved to find the stranger that had captivated her, but they were no longer standing there. She went to check the kitchen and peered into a few hallways, but… nothing. No sign of that silver-white hair.
She sighed. No longer having any reason to stay, she wandered over to the small merchandise table before heading back to the staircase. She walked down the steps in a daze, thinking about those eyes.
He was definitely looking at me too.
She let herself tumble the word 'he' around inside her mind. That didn't seem right somehow. She couldn't say why, other than the fact that it felt like intuition. And she wasn't even attracted to men, so there was that. At least not cis-men.
She sighed, and pushed open the door. She walked through the alley, feeling a little sad, even though that was some of the best live music she had seen in years. She passed several small groups of people, all having their own conversations, many of them smoking cigarettes. When she turned the corner to exit the alley, she ran right into someone because she was too busy looking at her feet.
"Oh!" she mumbled, "I'm so.."
But she stopped when she saw who it was.
"…sorry." she finished, blushing deeply with embarrassment.
"Don't be. You're just the person I wanted to run into," they smiled at her. "Or run into me, I should say."
Ren blushed again. She felt a tingle at the base of her spine.
They ran their tongue over the edge of a piece of rolling paper and sealed it shut, before fumbling into their pocket for a lighter. They leaned back against the glass of the electronic store and lit it up. Ren's eyes were fixed on the sharp line of their jaw, as their lips pursed to hold the cigarette in place. It was also the first time she noticed a long scar, running from above their right eyebrow, over their eye, to the top of their cheekbone. Somehow it didn't take away from their beauty, it only added to it.
What a gorgeous face, she thought.
"Would you like a drag?" they asked, jostling her out of her thoughts. They tilted their head to the side, blowing the smoke away from her.
She scrunched her nose.
"What is it?"
They laughed.
"It's just tobacco. I roll my own. I try to convince myself it's better for me that way. It's organic and local, if that's your thing," they said with a smirk.
Ren laughed and took the cigarette from their outstretched hand. She casually observed the arm that was held out to her. She could tell the muscles were toned all the way up to their shoulder, even through the fabric of the t-shirt. She traced the curve of their bicep with her eyes, as the warmth of the smoke filled up her chest. At least she thought it was the smoke that made her feel like she was suddenly stoking a small fire inside her. After she exhaled, she rubbed her lips together.
"There's lavender and… something else in here? Lobelia? Mullein?" she asked, handing it back to them.
They eyed her with interest.
"And here you had me feeling bad for being a terrible influence," they said, before bringing the cigarette back to their lips.
Ren smiled and ran a hand below the text on her shirt, highlighting the words like a game show host revealing a prize.
"I've smoked many herbs in my life. Medicinally, of course," she added with a twitch of her eyebrow.
"Says everyone ever who needs an excuse to smoke weed," they joked.
She laughed. "Well, technically, they aren't wrong."
They let out a long exhale of smoke.
"Technically," they repeated, with a smirk.
"What's your name?" they asked, offering the cigarette to her again.
This time, their fingers grazed each other, and Ren felt a spark of electricity shoot through her.
"Ren," she said, fighting off the urge to hold her breath. "It's short for Guren, but I mean… I really don't want to speed up my grandma-hood. I already like to knit and cross-stitch so…"
She took another drag and passed it back.
They laughed hard at that.
"Guren?" they said slowly, as if testing out how it felt in their mouth. "Where does that name come from?"
"I wish I could tell you. It sounds German to me for some reason, but what do I know."
"Your parents never told you?" they asked, crouching down to snuff out the cigarette on the pavement, their keys hanging from their back belt loop jingling lightly. They leaned back against the glass again and stuffed their hands into their pockets.
"I never got the chance to ask. They died shortly after my birth."
She was torn between elaborating more and holding back. She felt like she could trust this person but decided to leave it at that for now.
Their eyes widened.
"I'm sorry."
Ren smiled and gave a small shrug.
"Are you in town just for the show? I haven't seen you before," they said, trying to change the subject.
She laughed.
"You are the third person to use that line on me tonight."
"Shit," they said, scratching at the back of their head. Their cheeks flushed. "I feel so unoriginal."
"You should," she smirked. "But no, I live here. Well, I just moved here about a month ago.
I have a job as a cashier slash juice bar extraordinaire at that hippie grocery store. "
"I'll have to come and visit you sometime."
"Oh, yeah," she laughed, "I'd be happy to bag your overpriced nut butters and fair trade, small batch, hand picked, artisan crafted, gluten free, purple potato chips."
Their mouth upturned into an enormous grin, one that looked as if it was threatening to crack open their face. Ren noticed prominent dimples at the corners of their mouth. She had an urge to poke her finger at one.
"So, what do you do? Um..?" she asked, in order to distract herself.
"Kakashi," they said.
"What do you do, Kakashi?" she emphasized.
They smiled, bringing a foot up to rest against the glass.
"I work at the bike shop part time. And with the other part of my time.." they flashed their eyes at her as if in a challenge, "I have my own dog walking and training program."
She failed to stifle her laugh. It's not that she found it particularly funny, it was just so… unexpected.
"One is my passion and the other pays the bills. Guess which one is which," they said, playfully.
"I don't know if I want to answer that." she said, glaring at them. "Feels like a trap."
"Fair enough," they laughed. "I love bicycles, but… I love dogs more."
"That's adorable," she said and meant it. She felt a nervousness building up in her gut.
"Don't tell me your one of those…" they were going to say queer, but they stopped themselves incase they were wrong, even though they were getting some serious vibes. They glanced at her shirt, "… witchy babes who has a million cats?"
She tried to ignore the fact that they had just called her a babe, for fear her stomach might turn over.
"Mm…no. I much prefer dogs. I don't understand cats to be honest. They're assholes and don't seem to like me much anyway. But don't tell anyone that. I think I'd be kicked out of the queer club for sure."
Kakashi's heart leapt to their throat. They attempted to clear it out.
"D-did you walk here?" they asked, not sure how to respond to the queer comment without giving away their attraction to her that was growing with every passing second.
"I did. It's not that far," she said, turning to look in the direction in which she lived. "It's only a 20 minute walk."
"I'd offer to give you a ride, but I didn't drive here. I rode my bike. Could I… walk you home?" they asked, shyly.
"What? You don't think a woman can handle herself alone at night?" she joked, while mentally picturing the switchblade that rested in the outside pocket of her purse.
"I don't think that about you at all," they said, rather strongly.
She was taken a back by the seriousness in which they said it. It made her body heat up.
"Let me just grab my bike and I'll meet you back here in a minute?"
"Okay," she said, rocking back onto the balls of feet.
She watched them walk away. The nervousness in her gut traveled up to her chest, and then to her throat, making it difficult to swallow. She hadn't expected to connect with anyone tonight, let alone someone she found herself incredibly attracted to. She couldn't say what it was about this… person, but something was drawing her in. A shiver shot through her. She grabbed her cardigan that was hanging in the nook between her purse and it's strap, and slipped into it, even though she knew she wasn't trembling from the cold.