Blabla: this one follows the last drabblish-ficlet I posted, Crimson. Hope you enjoy it!
"I could kill you right now," Obito whispers, eyes locked on Kakashi's through the quiet darkness of the field; only a few of the strong, clear, reddish rays of light coming from the moon light up their spot.
Kakashi closes his eyes for a second and breathes in the damp air. The night (or is it daytime? He cannot even tell because of Obito's scheme) is cold and the frost keeps biting at his limbs, seeping through the layers of muscles and veins, and a flush creeps around his face and the exposed skin offered, pink with the touch of the chilly wind.
"You could," and his voice is raspy and his throat feels tight. "We don't have to do this, Obito—"
Once again, Obito's hand circles his throat, but, this time, the pressure builds until he feels light-headed, the moon and the crimson stars just blurry dots eating up the wide space.