Made for Each Other
People talk about us. About why I like you, as if it's not at all strange that you would like me. Oh well. You don't really try to stop people talking about you. They always have. In fact, you've kind of encouraged it. But that's you. And I love you. I remember the first time I saw you. You were loud, green, and boisterous. And handsome. That's the thing I remember most. You were sitting in the waiting room alone at night, or maybe it was already morning. You were quiet and worried. But that energy and strength, what you call "youthful vigor" was still there, just waiting, like you. And you were still strikingly green. Then I saw you the next night, after my shift. And the next, and the next. Still waiting. I wondered who you waited for. Then I found out he was your student: the genin we were resurrecting. And I looked at you differently from then on, knowing why you waited. You became hope for me: something stable in my inconsistent world, the one unchanging thing in my life. And then he was better, and you were gone. Or I thought you'd be. But you kept waiting. And I saw you the next night. And the next. And then you walked me home. And ever since then you've always been the one thing I could rely on, you're so methodic and you're always there. Waiting. You say its because you're too stupid to do anything else, but I think it's because we were made for each other.