I thought - maybe.

If it had been no, I wouldn't have gambled, but it was a maybe and a maybe is enough of a reason to do a lot of things, I promise, and it wasn't because I'm crazy or desperate (okay, maybe) and it wasn't to hurt you (never to hurt you).

Okay, so a maybe, or - that's what I thought, and so - I kissed you. God, I really hate that word, don't you, it sounds so, I don't know, and something else too, as if it's more than me smashing my open mouth against yours, which it wasn't or isn't, something like that, but anyways.

So I smash my open mouth against yours, except, it's not that bad, it's more like pressing and kind of sweet instead of surprising or weird (okay, maybe) but not, not like a secret, I guess, an 'I love you' without words.

It's just me and you with our feet in the light of a street lamp and the rest of us in the shadow of Hokage Tower, on the staircase, by the door to the hallway to I don't remember - the mission report still in my hand and everything.

I didn't think this out too well.

But I could never make you understand, even if I tried, that fear I felt when you opened this door (to the hallway and his office and). I was so sure in the seconds a few seconds ago (and a few more and a few more) that you would never open that door again on a night like this when I was coming up, making the only noise that can reach people up here, the ring of feet on steps. I would never look up and you would never look down and we would and we will keep on just barely missing each other.

So I kiss you, and I kiss you again, and I kiss you again with my hands on your shoulders, not to say a secret but to keep you from escaping that first time and maybe, maybe, there's a secret in them staying there, with that mission report - four pages, loose.

And while you press your mouth right back, while you kiss me (what the hell, while we fucking suck face against this door to the hallway and his office and he's sitting there right now - maybe), while you hold my hips still, I start to think about you.

What took me months and months to turn into a maybe is just a few of your seconds (and a few more and a few more). I could never phase you or - wait - isn't it the other way around?

I don't know, but I need to say what I should have said, what he'll tell me, casually, when these four loose papers are sitting on his desk - I forgot who told me first.

You're getting your squad tomorrow.

And I'll miss you, coming up, making the ring of feet on steps for me and him, if he's in. Maybe just me.

You'll get your squad tomorrow - shit, I can't do this, you'll get your squad tomorrow, you can't be here, you can't be late.

So it's over, I un-smash, un-press my mouth and breathe in once heavy, surprised. You look at me, glaring just like always - thinking, I just realized - and bring a fist to your mouth but can't quite wipe what I've done away. You keep missing, keep trying and - thinking. Definitely.

And then you're past me, going down, and the door to the hallway to the Hokage's office where, I suppose, he's still sitting since you left him, opens somehow at my confused touch.

I'm in that hallway beyond the door and I don't know what, you're on the steps and only we three can hear you, as it should be - you look up at me, I look down at you (and it is hard to be scared looking down, but I can do it, of course, which is why I'll never be in his office, never be on that stone).

You find that place with your knuckle, it moves your lips and stretches your cheek.

You thought - okay.

So I'm not sorry. It was worth a secret. But, I don't know (did I pass it? no, not yet, I always think I - and).

You thought 'okay' because you wouldn't and you won't be afraid of anything, even me, even crazy, even desperate. Whatever you thought, it wasn't my fear.

And I thought - maybe.

Maybe.

Maybe it would rub off on me.