Love Letter

A very small drabble that came to me tonight. It's a little sad, I think anyway.

I do not own Naruto.

Dearest, Kakashi,

Maybe it was the storm that was so distracting; maybe it was the sound of the rain hammering against the expansive window pane. It doesn't really matter; the parchment has lain abandoned on my lap for far too long because all I can think about is you.

I wonder, Kakashi, where you are on this cold stormy night.

Is it raining where you are? Do you feel the wind howling through your being? I do, and it hurts me, you will never know.

I lift my brush, to write some more but the lightening outside catches my attention again. It reminds me of how destructive this world can be and how such destruction can create new things, new beginnings.

Did you know that lightening is the breath of life? It hits the earth dampened by centuries of pouring rain to give birth. It's beautiful. I bet you never thought about it. It's not like you to care about such trivial things, the thought makes me smile.

I miss you, I hope you know but I can bet that you don't. But would you even care to know that I still think about you? I don't know, although, I would like to think so.

I haven't heard anything of you for a while, the stories about you here are rife. It makes me laugh to hear people mention your name, like you're a character from an old fairytale. I pray that you're safe. Do you still pray for me? I hope so.

I sigh a little when I think about things still; you used to complain about my sighing habit a lot when we were young. Do you remember? I wonder if you do, sometimes, on nights like these when I'm alone in my room, wishing I was somewhere else.

I wonder, Kakashi, would things have stayed the same if Obito had never died? Would you still be so ruthless and uncaring? I like to think not... But something changed you that day, it made me love you more, but it drove us apart, didn't it?

The space between us continued to expand until we were separated, not only by the boundaries of countries, but also by your need to hold on to something you could never hope to change. You pushed me away with invisible hands, refused to allow me inside that complicated head of yours... why?

Will you ever forgive yourself? Even I don't know the answer to that... I'm still begging for forgiveness myself. Would you forgive me if I told you how sorry I was?

I stare again, out of my window, watching the rain crash onto the glass mourning something I never lost. Mourning the fact that you never loved me the way I wanted you to. I wonder, sometimes, what I did to turn you away...

You told me you weren't right for me, that I could do better, but my head and my heart aren't conflicting. They tell me you're the one... the only one I would ever need. How can the only thing I've ever been so sure about be wrong?

I love you, always loved you and will never stop loving you. But I know, deep down, that my love will never be returned, so why do I cry for you? Why do I so desperately want something... that doesn't exist? It doesn't make sense, does it?

I love you so much... but at the same time I'm afraid of you, afraid of your rejection despite receiving it constantly over the years. I guess I should be used to it by now. I guess I should have worked harder to get you out of my system, from under my skin.

Maybe you're glad I'm gone... but I hope you're not. I hope you miss me as I do you.

Maybe I will send you this letter ... but I doubt it. What would be the point of hoping for a reply that I will never receive? Maybe I will continue to run away, to hide in the shadows and hope that someday I will gain the courage to let you know that I'm okay... although I don't know when that will happen.

I will simply place this letter amongst all the others I dare not send in my dresser, to be fawned over when I'm feeling lonely and feeling the need to punish myself for mistakes I don't remember making.

And so I sit here in my room as I do most nights, buried in a sea of buildings I don't recognise in a country I don't really know. And I will miss you, but, I guess, I will cope. As I always have done, living within the ghosts of my memories because the light at the end of the tunnel wanes with each day that passes.

I hope I see you someday, perhaps in passing. But I fear that I will be too afraid to look.

Maybe one day we can heal, I hope you do, but as always I will simply look forward to the tales I hear through the grapevine, because for now, at least, that's all I have the strength for.

Rin ~ x