Author's Note: So I hope you've enjoyed the first chapter, and I suppose I'll give you the second without hesitation! Please Review!!
Scared doesn't begin to cover it; sorry can't ever explain it.
Akamaru sniffed tentatively at the boy curled on the floor, unsure whether Kiba was awake or asleep. Kiba wasn't really sure either. The past three days had been ruthless, nothing like he'd expected. He had shut down, and hadn't done much of anything since.
Things had been so good, so easy before. They were friends, but somehow, love changes everything. Through all of his doubts, he was now sure what this was: love. How else could someone waste away so thoroughly, so completely, merely because someone's presence was missing in their life?
Akamaru's nose pressed against Kiba's cheek and he rolled over, trying to ignore it, trying to ignore everything. But Akamaru had sat inside, watching Kiba like this for the past three days. Enough was enough. He began to whine and paw at the ninja.
Kiba grumbled, but slowly got to his feet. Maybe a walk wouldn't be so bad. He could probably use it.
Akamaru was already waiting at the door, but Kiba had a few things in mind before he faced the world. Walking past the mirror that hung in the bathroom, he realized how awful he looked. He didn't even want to think about how bad he smelled.
He striped off his clothes and looked in the mirror again. Apart from being slightly pale, his body looked good: toned muscles, broad shoulders; still a little thin, but he had filled out over the years and wasn't nearly as lanky as he used to be. But, every lie he ever told, every skeleton in his closet played out on his face: his eyes were red and puffy, his cheeks stained with tears. He didn't know how he could still cry. There were large purple bruises under each eye, making them look sunken, haunted. His hair was matted and tangled. He looked like Hell.
I tremble, unsure of who I am, not ready to face what is left of life.
Stepping into the spray of the shower, Kiba gritted his teeth. The water was like ice, pelting him, blasting away the dirt on his skin. He wished the water could reach deeper, wished it could wash away what was under his skin, what was left of him. He rubbed himself down with soap and rinsed off, but he still felt awful, filthy. He kept scrubbing, his fingernails grating on his skin. Eventually he gave up, knowing he wouldn't be able to wash away the memories, or the guilt.
He stepped out of the shower shivering, his skin stinging in places where it had been scratched. He rubbed a thin towel over himself and winced. Idiot. He knew by doing what he had done he couldn't fix things. He didn't even know if they could be fixed. The worst part was, he was the one to mess things up.
He walked to his room and pulled on some clothes. He didn't bother with face paint, or with brushing his hair. Just pulled up his hood and walked out the door, Akamaru trailing alongside him. They walked own the two flights of stairs it took to make it out of his apartment complex and out into the afternoon sun.
He kept his head low, afraid of what they might see. Akamaru padded along quietly, almost as solemn as Kiba. They took an aimless path past Ichiraku Ramen (thankfully Naruto was away on a mission right now. Kiba couldn't handle his energy), past the mountain of Hokage, past the flower shop. They ended up in the park.
It was a quiet afternoon, and many leaf shinobi had been dispatched in squads of sand and leaf to quell the neighboring uprisings. A treaty had been formed a while ago, allowing these villages to work together to alleviate the strain it was putting on the villages individually. Kiba didn't know much more than that, only that Kankuro had been keeping the correspondence between Suna and Konoha in the early stages.
Kiba, luckily, hadn't been dispatched though, because he had been holed up in his apartment the last three days. As far as anyone knew, he was sick- too sick to be sent out of the village. Another reason why he didn't want to be seen: the last thing he could handle right now was a mission.
He sat down on a warm bench in the sun, and Akamaru rolled over at his feet. He looked content to just lay in the grass, content to be outside finally. Kiba was jealous. Dogs couldn't question whom they loved. Their owner was everything, and they would die trying to protect them. The smallest thing done on Kiba's part meant the world to Akamaru. But he hadn't been such a great owner lately. He hadn't felt great in a while. The only time he had been truly happy was with Kankuro, and he really fucked that up. He wasn't even rightly sure how things had gone so wrong.
I let you in for a time, you let me see who I could be.
Seeing Kankuro for the first time since the Chunin exams had been somewhat of a shock for Kiba. Of course he remembered him. But seeing him in a new light, off the battlefield and with his guard down, Kiba sensed his vulnerability. It intrigued him. He caught his eye as they passed each other on the street and Kiba didn't think much of it until Akamaru paused and turned around. Kiba looked back at the puppet ninja to see that he was also turned around, eying up Kiba.
Normally, he would have felt threatened, but he saw the look in Kankuro's eyes. It was something like mischief, which he wore well. Kankuro gave a glint of a smile and sped off out of the village, leaving Kiba blushing and dumbfounded.
The time that passed after that first encounter was marked by the occasions on which he saw Kankuro in the village, keeping correspondence between Gaara and Tsunade. His fascination with the sand ninja grew. What had he meant with that smile? And why couldn't Kiba just talk to him?
One day though, Kankuro took notice of the routine the dog ninja kept, making sure to brush past him whenever there was a message to deliver.
"Hey!" Kankuro called.
He tried his hardest to keep his composure next to Akamaru and looked up. He prayed Kankuro couldn't see the anxiety he had, the butterflies fluttering around in his stomach.
"You walk by with that dog of yours every time I've got business here. When are you actually gonna say something to me?"
Kiba took a deep breath and looked into his eyes. They were honest, dark, and the hint of mischief he spied before hadn't left. Kiba returned it with a fanged grin and replied, "I suppose now would be a pretty good time."
He couldn't remember exactly what he had said after that, only that he had convinced Kankuro to walk with him for a time.
The walks soon became a routine thing. They'd talk about life in different villages, life in general. Kiba kept it to himself, but started to realize that Kankuro had begun to visit without bearing new messages. How could he be so special? How could anyone feel he was worth their time?
He remembered how one day they walked through the park and he reached over to grab Kankuro's hand, just to hold it. He could've pulled away, could've ran, could've spat "faggot" at him and left for good, but he didn't. He kept cool, he always kept cool, and flashed his mischievous grin as he turned to Kiba and said, "Finally."
Kiba sat in the sun watching Akamaru nap peacefully and wondered where his own peace had gone. The sun now felt too hot, too close to his memories, and he got up.
"C'mon boy." He called quickly to Akamaru, and he started walking back home to sit in the shadows.
But life is safer behind the mask.