A/N: Brace yourselves. I warn you, this is a biggen'.

My dear marinaa07, SandCastleQueen and rainydaywritings, than you for your wonderful reviews. Can always count on you guys. You're keeping this story going!

Hope you all enjoy. Let me know what you think. x

Hotaru had fond memories of crowding around her small family television when she was a little girl, watching old video's with her three older brothers when it was too cold or rainy to play outside.

The videos were old, pixelated, and the colors had almost completely faded from the images that danced across the screen. She could remember her mother saying something about how the videos belonged to her when she was her age, and how new and exciting it had all been back then. She could also remember the hazy, deafening static that would pierce her ears every time one of those videos would end and the credits had finished rolling. Hotaru and her three older brothers would always argue with each other, bickering over who would have to move from their position on the lounge to turn the TV off. It was her, unfortunately, that always lost said arguments, ultimately making it her responsibility to put an end to the hissing black and white mess that covered her entire television screen.

Hotaru's mind after hearing the words that exited Tsunade's mouth was very much like the end of those old video's. Except this time, she couldn't turn it off.

"Hotaru?"

She could hear Tsunade perfectly, feeling the way the blondes words exited her mouth like poison. It was just impossible to fathom something to say when her mind was incapable of focusing on anything but static.

"Hotaru. I need you to listen to me."

Hotaru's eyes continued to remain fixated on nothing exactly. They were just there. Open. Looking at something, everything, and nothing at all.

Tsunade stood from her desk, her chair scraping along the old floorboards as she did so. She walked over to where Hotaru was seated and knelt beside her, wondering if she would have to physically shake the red head in order to regain her focus. "Hotaru, I know this is a lot to take in right now, but I need you to listen to me. We've caught the tumor early – I mean, not as early as we would have liked, but still early in terms of tumor growth and development. We also aren't entirely sure if this mass is malignant or benign, which is why I need you to listen to what I have to say."

Eventually, Hotaru's line of sight wandered towards Tsunade's large, brown eyes. Upholding her tough girl facade was slowly becoming a lost cause, as she was slowly succumbing to the battle of withholding her tears. She allowed a single tear to roll gently down the surface of her cheek, but only one, for if she allowed any more she would have drowned herself in them then and there.

Then, suddenly, Hotaru had a random flashback of a month ago, at the academy, trying to keep herself from falling asleep in class. She remembered the slide show shining brightly on to the projection screen. She remembered it hurting her tired eyes. She could remember the lights flickering, the noisy projector, the words sprawled across the screen in large, bold, black writing.

The Four Stages Of Grief.

Stage one: Shock

"A… a tumor?" She managed at barely a whisper. Her throat began to close in on itself. The air within her lungs was tainted black.

"Yes. The hospital forms – the ones Reito had recorded all your vitals and electroencephalogram on – indicate that these waves, here," Tsunade opened the forms within her hands, pointing to a mess of blue and red lines dashing across the paper. "These blue waves indicate a reversal in movement. Basically, this blue wave is hitting a wall and sending rippling waves backwards. This is an indication that there is a blockage of some sort. We should not see numerous blue lines here."

Stage two: Denial

"Reito?" Hotaru scowled, her hands taking a terrifying grip on the arm chair of her seat. "Reito gave you these forms? He is a terrible doctor! He wouldn't even save his own broth-" Hotaru stopped there, not knowing if anyone knew about the whole fucked up infidelity saga of the Inuzuka clan, or if anyone knew about the blatant patient neglect Reito was guilty of when Kiba arrived at the hospital, bleeding out and dying slowly on a hospital trolley bed. How much did they know? How much information is hidden within village clans and not ran through the Hokage? How much information escapes the hospital when Tsunade isn't there to witness it?

How much information did they actually know about this tumor – especially when the diagnosis was coming from Reito, of all people?

"You're wrong," Hotaru said, shaking her head. "He's-You've got the diagnosis wrong. It's not a tumor. It's something else, sure, but it's not a tumor."

"Hotaru, listen to me. When Sakura found these forms, she contacted us immediately. She managed to pick up on something Reito had missed, or not had a lot of knowledge about at the time. I myself knew that there was something not quite right about them, so we had the forms analysed by a specialist all the way from the Stone village." Tsunade swallowed, narrowing her stare. "The likely diagnostic is a tumor of some degree."

"Sakura gave you those forms?"

Tsunade swallowed. "She mentioned the case to me at the hospital out of concern. She was hospitalized at the same time you were during the attack on the village, so she was curious as to what you were actually hospitalized for when she was finally released. Once she was out, she had a monstrous amount of paper work to get through, and those forms just so happened to be within that pile. Consider yourself lucky, Hotaru – if Sakura had not chosen to look at those forms out of curiosity, you would still be sitting here diagnosed for god knows how many weeks."

A mountain weighed heavy on Hotaru's chest. A mountain built of solidified rage, covered in a slimy, green moss of betrayal.

Stage three: Anger

"The good news is it may be benign, Hotaru. It may not cause any real damage as long as you avoid the obvious stressors – no genjutsu, no over exertion and no stressful situations."

"No stressful situations?" Hotaru wiped angrily at the stray tear still slowly finding its way down her cheek, hoping Tsunade hadn't seen it, hoping that the walls closing in around her would soon come to a halt, hoping that she'd soon wake up from the nightmare she had found herself in. "By all means, Lady Tsunade, tell me how to avoid stressful situations when you're a training Kunoichi who has to live with a fucking brain tumor."

Tsunade's lips pursed together in to a tight line. "I know you're angry, Hotaru. I'm not the enemy here. I'm trying to help you."

"You can help by getting this….this, this thing out of my head," the red head retorted, trying her hardest to keep the rest of her tears from falling.

"I was just about to get to that. The way I see it, you have two options. Option one; we can perform a biopsy. This will let us know if the tumor is a dangerous one, and if so, the grade of the tumor and the course of action."

"And option two?"

"Don't be hasty. I'm not finished with option one yet. If we were to perform a biopsy, it's my duty to let you know that there are a number of risks involved in that specific surgery. Obviously, your first risk is involved with the anesthesia itself – there are many respiratory, cardiac and blood pressure complications involved with putting yourself under. And even if the anesthetic runs smoothly, it will be severely prolonged due to the time needed to perform such an in depth and complicated surgery. There could be bleeds, bleeds which can result in throwing a clot during recovery which can ultimately lead to a stroke or death."

Hotaru swallowed, almost feeling the color drain from her face entirely. "You're not really helping with the whole avoid your stressors concept."

"And of course, there's option two." Tsunade stood and walked back to her seat on the opposite side of the desk. Calmly, she intertwined her hands and rested them on the table, focusing her gaze back on Hotaru who seemed to be becoming more unsettled as the conversation unraveled. "We can jump straight to chemotherapy. Obviously this will slow the rate the mass is growing and chew away at any cancerous cells that may be forming the tumor."

"There's a 'but' though, isn't there."

Tsunade sighed once more, closing her eyes as she did so. "Yes, Hotaru. There is always a but when it comes to medical science." She opened them again, focusing on Hotaru's green ones. "I'm sure you're aware that the side effects of Chemotherapy heavily involve the patient becoming generally unwell. Loss of appetite, vomiting and nausea, ulceration's of the mouth and stomach, weight loss, and in some cases blood disorders as a result of the radiation killing most cells, including the healthy ones. And they're just to name a few."

Hotaru's throat was dry. The inside of her mouth felt as if the Sahara desert had somehow made it's way through her lips and in to her lungs, making it difficult to breath. A thousand things had flashed rapidly through her mind; her parents, for starters. Her schooling, her friends – both at the Canyons and here in Konoha – Genma, her team, Kiba. Kiba. Kiba and how he would react to the news. How everyone would react to the news.

"Can you tell me what you're thinking, Hotaru?" Tsunade asked. Shizune continued to stand helplessly beside her, both casting sympathetic, we-totally-understand-what-you're-going-through glances, glances they've given to every single one of their patients ever. Glances as if they actually understood how she was feeling. Funny thing was, they didn't know. They couldn't. None of them had ever been diagnosed with a brain tumor before, so they couldn't possibly understand how she was feeling, no matter how many times they had practiced their sympathetic gazes on other patients.

"Are they really the only choices I have?" Hotaru choked, letting out a breath she had no idea she had been holding. She was finding it hard to steady her voice, no matter how hard she tried. "Maybe die from surgery, almost die from Chemo? There… must be something else, surely?"

"You could always take no action, see how everything plays out. However it's not a risk I myself would be willing to take, nor recommend."

Stage four: Acceptance

God, it was hard not to cry. Her whole face was taught. She kept looking towards the ceiling, hoping that tilting her head back might contain the tears threatening to spill from her eyes, hoping that not seeing Shizune and Tsunade's glances might make her anger go away, hoping that maybe if she closed her eyes, she would wake up looking at her apartment ceiling instead. Wake up in the warmth of her blankets, and not the cold, stale air of the Hokage's office. Wake up in the arms of Kiba, safe and confined, than isolated in a lone chair located in a room that felt so incredibly hopeless and empty.

But none of her attempts were working. Not really. And it killed her knowing how obvious it was to them.

"I don't expect you to make a decision today," Tsunade started again, her voice softer now. "In fact, we think it'd be best if you go home for a while. Talk about this whole situation with your parents. Think long and hard about what you'd like to do, then come back with an informed decision."

Wait. What?

"Home?" Hotaru asked, her head snapping up to look at both women with an unreadable type of shock and excitement. "You mean, back to the Canyons?"

A smile formed on the face of the Fifth, watching as the color returned to Hotaru's face. "Yes. To the Canyons. It's your birthday in a couple of days, isn't it?"

Birthdays. Hotaru had forgotten that those things existed among the daily shit-fight that had been her life in the past couple of months. "Yeah," she replied with a small smile. "The eighteenth."

"Well you best start packing some things. It will take a little over a day to reach the Canyon's. We want to make sure you make a scheduled arrival."

Hotaru smiled, suddenly overwhelmed with appreciation. It didn't come easily, obviously. It had to push itself through a brick-fucking-wall of shock, anger and anxiety, but it surfaced. It surfaced and she wasn't about to let it sink again.

"You'll need to understand that we can't let your travel alone, however," Tsunade started once more. Her tone was still serious, but somewhere within the last thirty seconds, she had allowed a wisp of playfulness to sneak within, possibly in hope that it would help keep the stress levels of the red head Kunoichi down.

"You're going to send someone with me?" Hotaru asked with a curious brow.

"Originally, we were going to send Genma. It only seemed fit to send him since he was assigned to be your guardian throughout your stay here. But seeing as though he has been promoted to Elite Guard it is best that I have him remain here during the rebuilding of the city." A small smile crawled on to the corner of Tsunade's mouth. "So I'm going to let you choose."

Akamaru whimpered as the door to his home smashed closed, causing the whole house to rattle with force. He watched as his owner tore past him in anger, his hands clutched to his hair, his voice yelling at his mom from across the kitchen. Howling nin dogs from within the kennels had been silenced as the resounding quarrels between Tsume and her son echoed throughout the entire Inuzuka compound.

"YOU WANT TO TELL ME WHAT ALL THAT WAS ABOUT!" Tsume bellowed in anger, her intimidating black eyes glaring daggers in Kiba's direction.

Kiba busied himself in the fridge, trying to drown out her constant yelling and distract himself from the difficult conversation – or war – he was about to involve himself in against his mother. He could feel her heightened body temperature from across the room. Her body language, and the way her shoulders curled over her form in rage, looked as if she was going to leap across the table at any given moment.

"It's exactly what it is!" Kiba yelled in reply, slamming the fridge door shut. "I extended my bid. I'm not sure what I want yet."

"What you want is to be Heir! It's what you've always wanted!" Tsume slammed her fists down on the dining room table. For a moment, Kiba wasn't sure if the tables legs were going to be able to withstand contact. "Do you have any idea how embarrassing that was for me? To stand in an auditorium of people and have my own son say he wasn't sure about his decision? Shino accepted his bid without batting an eye, Neji accepted his bid without even having to think about it, hell, even Choji dragged his fat ass out of hospital to accept his bid! Then I have you up there telling every elder in the goddamned city that you want to extend your fucking decision time!"

"Because I don't know what I want, ma! I don't know if I want to be the fucking heir of an entire clan! Just because it's what you want me to do, doesn't mean it's what I see myself doing!"

Tsume's lips curled high above her canines. By now, she was well aware that the entire city of Konoha had probably stopped what they were doing to listen to the earthquake that was the argument between her and her son. She had not felt a rage like this in a long time – hell, not even the rage she felt when her husband had left her for another woman matched up to disappointment and anger that was gathering within the fiery pits of her stomach at this moment.

"What changed then, Kiba? What changed between the conversation we had at your goddamned seventeenth birthday party where you told me you wanted to become the Hokage one day? What changed so much within a year that now you don't even have the fucking balls to become Heir!"

"Things change, Ma! I haven't even said no to Heir yet!" His hands reached up within his messy hair, clenching the length in frustration. His jaw muscle worked beneath his skin in anger as the room began to close in around him. "All I said was that I wanted a little more time to think about my decision. Once again you're jumping to fucking conclusions and trying to tell me how to live my life! Why is it so important to you anyway, huh? Is twenty three years in the House of Clans not enough for you? Are you that fucking power driven that you need me to become Heir so you can keep your damn seat?"

"Don't you dare speak to me like that, boy," Tsume sneered, her eyes and voice lowering to a freakishly threatening tone. "You have no idea how hard I had to work to keep that seat. After the embarrassment your father had put me through – that he had put the entire clan, through! – and you have the audacity to put me back into that same position I was in twenty years ago."

Tsume slowly walked towards her son, her strong legs gliding over to his position near the fridge with no hesitation at all. Her arms; broad, deadly, and covered in a sheer mesh, folded across her Jonin vest disapprovingly. Her black eyes starred directly in to her sons, angering at the fact that his looked straight back into hers. He wasn't backing away. He wasn't cowering in her presence, as she had hoped. She could smell a subtle fear as she stood over him, though there was a rage burning deep within his large, brown eyes that prevented him from backing down. "What is it with the men in this family, anyway?" She said, an eerily calm tone taking control of her voice.

Kiba's face dropped. Quickly, his chest began to rise. "Don't."

"…so indecisive. Always having trouble keeping promises, staying loyal to their clan."

"Ma, I'm telling you. Don't."

"You think that I don't smell it. You think that because I'm away so often, I wouldn't notice the hormones raging within your body. That I don't realize how your scent has changed, how you come home most days smelling of the same, putrid, mint-like scent. And it's not just the scent of her, Kiba. Of a women outside of this clan. Of a woman that's going to totally ruin your future of becoming Heir. It'll be the smell of infidelity soon enough, once you realize the awful mistake you've made. Because after all, you're just like your father."

"DON'T YOU FUCKING DARE COMPARE ME TO HIM! I'M NOT MY FATHER!"

It all happened way to quickly for either of the family members to process the situation. All either of them knew, was that there was a flash of red fury. A lung filled roar of indefinable rage. A swinging fist. A hole in the wall behind Tsume. A mother so shocked she was incapable of moving. A son so angry his vision was a ghastly black.

A smell of mint at the door.

A deafening silence.

"This conversation isn't over," Tsume whispered, noticing the way her sons nose pricked at the familiar, arriving scent. Her heart pounded with an uncontrollable anger from deep within her chest.

"Oh, yes it fucking is." Kiba retracted his fist from the wall, ignoring the bleeding, ignoring the throbbing pain pulsing within each tiny bone, ignoring the torn skin ripped from the surface of each knuckle. He stormed from the kitchen, leaving his mother there. Alone. Both of them consumed with a rage only that of an Inuzuka could possess.

Kiba paced towards the door. It was her. She was here. The girl who was blissfully unaware that she was the cause of all this. The anger. The betrayal. The confusion and guilt and worry. It was all her.

And, for a brief moment, he hated her for it. He hated her. He hated that he liked her so god damn much, that this was how conversations with his family now ended – with a fist through his kitchen wall. He hated that he liked her so much, that a decision he was so confident about a year ago was now at jeopardy of even being accepted at all. He hated that he liked her so much, that she consumed almost every thought that entered his head throughout his day. He hated the way that he liked her so much that even the smallest glimpse of her skin could send his crotch area taught, his body hot, his breathing out of control.

He hated that he liked her so. Damn. Much.

"You," Kiba breathed, opening the door to his house. Hotaru stood there, small, like she knew something was happening within his house that she was not to interfere with. She could hear the yelling, the thudding, the way the house shook every time someone slammed a door or took their frustration out on something inside. She knew there was something going on, but she couldn't work out what it was, or why it was happening. All she knew was that she shouldn't be there.

"Kiba, if this is a bad time I can come back la-"

Before she knew it, the dog nin had an unbearable grip on her hand, and the next thing she knew she was being pulled hastily through the halls of his house.

His hand was hot to touch. His temperature- though always warmer than any one else she had ever been close enough to- had sky rocketed. Her palms continued to sweat beneath his hand as he pulled her up the staircase leading to his room, causing her to stumble as he did so.

"Kiba, your knuckles –" Hotaru said as she recollected herself, noticing the torn skin and swelling of his hand. It had started to fade from a bright red to an agonizing purple, with flecks of blue and black sprinkled throughout. Again, there was no response, and she continued to be silenced with confusion as he whisked her in to his bedroom.

"God, thank god it's you," Kiba sighed as he slammed shut his bedroom door. His voice was different, she had noticed – the playfulness it usually carried was long since replaced with an eerie frustration.

Hotaru went to speak, to ask the million things she had wanted to ask since arriving on his front step, though was quickly silenced as his hand came to reach over her mouth. Hastily, she felt her body jolt as he pushed her up against the bedroom door, causing her breath to hitch. A certain type of fear filled her chest, her eyes widening in worry as she saw the look Kiba had within his sharp, brown eyes. Her mouth burned beneath his hand. Her body gasped for air as he pressed hurriedly against her.

"She doesn't know anything, you know?" He continued to whisper in angry blocks. His mouth found its way to her neck, suckling and grazing his teeth against her supple flesh. "It's fucking crazy to think she actually reckons she knows whats going on, how I feel,"

"Kiba-"

"Like she's never fucking here anyway, you know? So how would she know?" A husky groan escaped his throat as he used his free hand to grasp and clutch at her breast. He pressed his body in to hers once more, feeling the way his stomach moulded in to her body, how her heart pounded rapidly against his torso. He felt the thickness swelling beneath his pants, his groin growing tight with anticipation.

His hand released its grip on her mouth, reaching towards his shirt to pull it up over his head instead. Gasping for breath, Hotaru tried to speak once more, to attempt to say something among the confusion and fear he had now planted within her chest. "Kiba, what the hell is going on? I need you to stop-"

"Shh, Tar," He said, his hand finding its way to her mouth once more. Her eyes widened with worry. Fear had now well and truly consumed her. What the fuck was going on?

A glimpse of her green eyes caused his stomach to tighten. Kiba's room was dark – the blinds had been fully pulled to a close, the lights were off, but for some reason her eyes – her goddamned, green, beautiful fucking eyes – still managed to cause his stomach to swell. "Fuuuuckk, Tar…" he murmured in to her neck once more, his free hand continuing to ravish her body.

Again, she tried to speak. Tried to tell him to stop, to get off her, to simply ask what was wrong, what was going on. But it was impossible. Kiba was consumed. Possessed. He had long since been replaced by a body of anger, of frustration and hatred that his old self had disappeared somewhere within him. The way he sucked at her neck, ravished her body – it felt good. It always felt good. It was Kiba, and she adored Kiba. But there was something else in it, in the way he touched her, gripped her, kissed her. Something sinister. And the goodness, sadly, was being washed away by waves of fear.

It was her turn to lose the clothes now. Using both hands and releasing her mouth once more, Kiba tore at her shirt. Not lifted, not replaced- but physically tore her shirt, splitting the fabric in half.

"Kiba! Stop! What the fuck is wrong with you!"

His mouth crashed down upon hers. His tongue entered, trying to find hers, trying to ravish all of his anger and frustration away. But it was as if her pleas were falling on to deaf ears. He wasn't there. Kiba wasn't home.

"And to think she says I'm like my fucking dad," he continued, his mouth finding her breast this time. He was unaware of how her body wriggled and squirmed against his. "I'm not him. I'm not going to leave you. I'm not going to leave you!"

And then, everything stopped.

Blood, as thick as the lust escaping all of Kiba's breaths, trickled from Hotaru's nose and on to the hand he was using to cover her mouth.

She didn't know whether she was crying or not. Her face felt sticky, wet, though she couldn't feel her chest heaving with any kind of sob. She stood with an eerie calmness against the cold surface of his bedroom door, her body feeling numb as he unpressed himself from her. The intensity of his body relaxed as his hand dropped from her mouth. Kiba took a step back, looking at his hand and the blood that covered it. Hotaru watched the way Kiba's eyes darted from his right hand, then to his left, before looking down on the rest of his half naked body. His mouth parted, tiny breaths of confusion escaping his panicked lips as he tried to piece together everything that had just happened, but couldn't. It was as if he couldn't remember a thing.

Once his eyes caught hold of hers, Hotaru had sworn that she could almost see tears in them, watching the way they clouded the surface of his deep, brown orbs. It was one of the first times she had seen him look like a boy, and not a man; a confused, horrified, and somewhat hurt, little boy.

Tears fell from her eyes. She watched as his pupils, once as dilated as dinner plates, return to their normal size. He realized then the state of her shirt – the half mangled, half torn, black tank top that hung from one of her shoulders. The small grazes and bruises that tainted her neck were obvious now, even in the darkness of the room. But it was her face, he had realized, that caused his heart to break. Her sad, shocked, totally horrified face, hidden within the blackness of the room.

"Oh my god," He whispered, continuing to stare straight at her. "Oh my god. Hotaru."

He darted towards her, trying to take her face gently into his hands. Hotaru instantly took a step back, the door preventing her from going any further. His chest felt heavy as he watched her flinch beneath his touch, as if he was some kind of stranger invading every inch of her personal space. "Please don't flinch," He begged, using his thumbs to stroke her cheeks slowly. His voice was desperate, unlike anything she had ever heard before. "Please, don't be scared. I'm sorry. I'm so, so sorry."

Hotaru continued to look at him as if he were a stranger, the both of them sinking against the surface of the door. They slid to the floor, Kiba's hands still managing to find stray pieces of Hotaru's red hair to brush from her face. "I'm sorry. Hotaru I can't… I don't…." His brown eyes searched her face, looking for any kind of forgiveness, though his search went on unanswered. "Tar, I don't know what came over me, I was so angry, I can't even remember… I don't remember…. Oh my god, I'm so fucking sorry."

"I asked you to stop," Hotaru whispered, wanting so badly to give in to his touch, to lean in to his chest. "I asked you to stop and you didn't."

"I know," he said, this time allowing a tear to cascade down the surface of his chest. "I know you did. I'm a fucking asshole, Hotaru. I'm so sorry if I hurt you. I have no idea what just come over me – I totally blacked out. Please, please just sit with me here for a bit. Please know that I'm sorry."

The red head choked back a sob, leaning as far away from him as she possibly could. "But… What happened? What caused you to act so… so… dark?"

"My mom," he responded, his face still so full of sincerity and regret. "My mom. We got in a fight and then all I was thinking about was you and then you were here and I just -ugh, I just knew I needed you, but then everything was so blurred with anger and rage and – God. I cant believe this just happened. I can't believe I just did that to you."

Hotaru watched as his hands reached up through his hair, clenching at the roots and pulling as hard as he could. His teeth were grinding together so much that she thought he would wear them completely down then and there. He swayed, back and forth, with a newfound anxiety that she had never seen present within him before. "Kiba, stop," Hotaru whispered, reaching out and taking a hold of his wrist.

It was as if her touch had an instant calming effect on him, his brown eyes coming up to look from the ground to her face instead. He remembered to breath. Slowly, he reached his hand towards her face once more, and this time, she didn't flinch away. His hand cupped her cheek, and he relaxed even more as he felt her lean in to his palm, her eyes closing with a sense of comfort.

Kiba's thumb brushed at the dry blood that had settled beneath Hotaru's nose. "Did I do this?" he whispered, his eyes screaming with the hope that he was wrong.

"No," Hotaru breathed, shaking her head from side to side. "You didn't do this. This is just something that happens sometimes."

He looked at her, giving her a frown that urged her to continue, but she didn't. She stopped there, the words hitching in her throat like a fly tangled in the web of a spider. Suddenly, the fear of telling Kiba about the tumor and the options in which to remove or treat it was terrifying her. How would he react? And, if it was a reaction like anything she had just witnessed, how would she be able to deal with that type of situation again? What happened if it didn't stop where it stopped the second time around?

"I should go," Hotaru said, finally, standing up to exit his room. Kiba's hand flew up to grab hers before she even had time to realize it.

"No," he pleaded, finding his feet once more. "Don't go. Stay. Stay here the night."

Her mind flashed back to standing on the wooden steps of his front porch, listening to the yelling and shouting coming from inside the house. She couldn't make it out, before, but the words and sentences Kiba was murmuring in to her neck only moments before started to piece the puzzle together more clearly.

"It's fucking crazy to think she actually reckons she knows whats going on, how I feel…"

"I'm not him. I'm not going to leave you. I'm not going to leave you!"

She swallowed, her mouth becoming unbearably dry for the second time that day. They were arguing about her.

"I don't think that's a good idea, Kiba. Your mom –"

"Who gives a fuck what my mom thinks." He took a step closer to her once more, brushing back the hair that had escaped from behind her , she flinched at his touch. His chest caved in that little bit further. "Please, stay here. I can't have you leave thinking you can't trust me."

"I do trust you, Kiba."

"Then you'll stay."

"Fine," she whispered, caving in to his pleas. She never took much convincing when it came to him. "I'll stay."

Hotaru was unaware of how many hours had passed. It could have been days, she figured, and even if it has been, she didn't care. The room was still dark, the curtains remained pulled shut, the only light intruding in to the den that they had declared there's was the light seeping in through the crack beneath his bedroom door. It was just enough light, however, to make out the features on Kiba's face as he lay beside her on his bed. Both of them were on their sides, lying on top of the covers. Each had a hand underneath a pillow, each had a hand resting by their side, and each stared at each other, studying the lines, the scars, the indents of each others faces.

Both lay in silence, though it was comfortable. It was always comfortable.

"You can touch me, you know," Hotaru whispered, noticing the way Kiba distanced himself on the other side of the bed. His facial features were taught, as if they were tense from restraint, though the look that settled over his face was almost… sad.

"I want to," he whispered back. He swallowed before continuing. "But I don't want you to be scared."

"I wont be."

"You are." He shifted uncomfortably. "I can smell it."

"That's not fair."

"I know."

"You can touch me."

"You said that."

"Then do it," Hotaru asked once more. She wasn't entirely sure why they were whispering. Maybe it was because she knew there were so many secrets hidden within the silence of the room. Her secret, the one she was too terrified to inform him about, and his secrets; though she didn't know the entirety of it. But they were there, and they involved her, and they were painfully obvious, like an elephant performing circus tricks within the cramped corner of his room.

Kiba blinked, moving his hand slowly in to the center of the bed. "I want you to want me to."

"I do want you to, Kiba. I always want you to."

"I'm sorry, about before." He swallowed once more, as if the words were dry and sticking to the inside of his throat. "I really am."

"I know you are. I forgive you."

"You know I would never hurt you, right?"

"Of course." She forced a small smile, one that tugged at the corner of her lips. She knew he was trying to be sincere. She just didn't know whether he believed himself.

He shuffled closer in to the center of his bed, closing some of the distance between them, but not completely. "What you saw before… It wasn't me. And it never will be me. I want you to know that."

"I do." Hotaru shuffled over a little further.

"I'm never going to touch you like that again. Not without your permission."

"I know."

"Can I touch you yet?"

Hotaru looked down at the rest of her body, noticing that the both of them had gradually shuffled in to the center of the bed until they were only inches apart. She looked back up, at his face, in to his eyes, and saw the desperate brown orbs staring directly back in to hers. She brushed her hand against his cheek, relaxing into the mattress beneath her. "Of course."

Kiba pulled her tiny frame into her chest, holding her so tightly against him that the two were only moments away from melting in to one. He ran a hand through her tussled, red hair, leaving it there and cradling the back of her head as she nestled her face in to his chest. Her leg – tiny and still wearing the jeans from her meeting earlier - snaked around his hip, pulling him further in to her, as her arm wrapped itself firmly around his torso.

It didn't go further than that. It didn't need to. Both teens knew it was never going to go further than holding each other for the entire night. One thing Kiba didn't know, however, or wasn't expecting - was the question she had murmured in to his chest only moments later.

"Kiba?"

"Yeah, Tar?"

She swallowed, nerves scratching at the inside of her throat. "Come to the Canyons with me."