Chapter 1: Fate

Obito jolted at his desk for the umpteenth time since he moved in. His roommate, or rather, best friend had kicked open his door and demanded his attention, holding little regard for privacy in one's room.

Cursing and unbunching his shoulders, Obito tore the headphones from his head, clattering random keys on his keyboard in the process. He glared at the intruder. "What now?"

Kakashi crossed his arms over his thin t-shirt and leaned on the doorway. The pose wasn't complete until he jerked his chin to swing his mess of silver hair out of his face. He regarded him with something akin to contempt, like a parent convincing their unruly child to clean their room. "Get dressed. We're running errands today."

Obito grumbled, "What if I don't wanna go?"

"When's the last time you saw the sun? It'll do you some good."

Great, the nagging started. Not without merit, Obito couldn't remember the last time he left the apartment; most likely when he was dragged along to get groceries last week, but still, he was in the middle of a boss fight and the soft dings coming from his headphones foretold the slew of angry messages he was getting.

Haughtily, he turned around and backspaced the gibberish in the chat box he wrote on accident and hovered his fingers over the keys. Kakashi's stare was boring a hole in his back. "Fine.." He typed a quick excuse to the other members and logged off. Next time he logged on, his character would be in the graveyard and he would be bumped down a rank in the guild. "I said fine, I'm going," he grunted. Kakashi left the doorway to finish putting product in his hair.

Shuffling through the heaps of clothes on the closet floor, then the one at the end of his bed, Obito shoved his legs in some light wash jeans and pulled on a faded black hoodie over his head, disregarding the state of his bedhead. The hoodie wasn't bought faded in the fashionable way, nor were the holes near the cuffs on purpose; it was a security blanket of sorts and his dependency on it showed.

At the front door, Kakashi looped a blue surgical face mask over his ears, inspecting Obito warily. "Isn't it a little hot for that today?"

Obito picked at one of the holes. "I'd rather cover up.."

"Not feeling up to it?"

"The stares? Can't say that I am."

Kakashi's eyes fell sympathetically. He toed Obito's worn sneakers over to him with the edge of his Converse and tried to lighten the mood, "We won't be out too long. Maybe you'll have fun." His words were considerate, but his voice lacked conviction knowing Obito's struggles to take the first step out the door, the car, and into an unkind world not fit for him.

The thrift store's fluorescent lights flickered above Emiko, but the treasure hunt was enough of a distraction. Metal hangers scraped the aluminum rack, screeching in protest, as she pushed an entire section of long sleeve button ups away from her, working her fingers through the stack, flipping hangers one by one to the open space she created. Her eyes scanned each tag at the collars with trained precision.

Not old enough, not old enough, not old enough, bingo!

The tan, forest green, and maroon striped Tommy Hilfiger button up was thrown on top of the pile weighing down her other arm, bicep straining under the burden. Another push and the scrape, scrape, scrape continued.

Emiko's pupils dilated. Two down, beyond the modern discount branded shirts was a 1980's Sears tag with its iconic boxed in font. She disregarded the others and reached for it, grabbed the hanger. Hunger eclipsed his rises. Her heart deafened her hearing.

A hand bumped hers. A large man's hand grabbed the black and red flannel at the same time as her. It was fast, an accident, and yet her mind processed it in slow motion. Gnarled scars- worse than she had ever seen in person- covered the fingers, knuckles, palm; all the visible flesh before it disappeared under a sleeve. Her eyes traveled up the sleeve to the flushed face of the man towering over her. He yanked his hand away and muttered an apology. The warmth he left behind on her fingers lingered.

She was staring at him. The same marred flesh matched half his face; a half he quickly turned away to hide from her prying curiosity. Before he could turn completely around, he made eye contact with someone a row over who was watching the exchange.

"You should buy it." Emiko unhooked the hanger and gestured for him to take it. He stopped his retreat, eyeing the garment up to her beaming smile. She closed the distance and held it up to his chest. "You'd look handsome in it."

Obito couldn't have heard her right. Or she was messing with him. He forced his resistant line of sight back to hers and it sent a new wave of sweat crawling down his back. Her youthful face, full of childlike innocence, brightened at his sheepishness. He grasped the hanger prodding him in the chest.

"Really, the colors suit you." She spun around on her heel and whisked away to the checkout counter, upheaving the men's clothing in her arms for the cashier to scan. Her black hair tied in a messy bun bobbed as she thanked the woman ringing her up and left the store.

Kakashi cleared his throat. "I'll buy it for you." No room for argument. No 'ifs' he wanted it. Obito ran the fabric between his good index finger and thumb as if there was room to consider. He moved to put it back and Kakashi sucked his teeth. "I said I'll buy it."

"But I already owe you.."

"It doesn't matter. It's what? A couple bucks?"

Obito tucked the shirt against his chest. "Thanks.." He didn't mean to sound ungrateful, but the girl from earlier rattled him. Yes, she stared, but her face was easy to read. It was sincere, like her compliment, not like she was taking pity on him. Her smile.. Her smile would be the last thing playing over in his head that night.

The next day Kakashi was at his door again, banging it open. Obito didn't turn away from his computer this time. Instead, he mumbled at his presence while scanning over the comments on a thread about the game he played, "What is it now?"

"Wanna come with me to the bookstore? There's a new release I wanted to pick up."

Obito hunched more and continued scrolling. "Sure, whatever."

Anything to get him out of his room. Kakashi was a patient man. He always gave his friend a gracious leash to lead, but Obito's state was deteriorating day after day, and it was time to shorten the chain. Yet, at the same time, no matter how much he persisted, the mattress remained on the floor, old food containers and cups stacked the small space available on his desk, and clothes were strewn about haphazardly. When Obito moved in he brought his desktop computer, a laptop, and a suitcase of old clothes with room to spare. To say he wasn't doing well would be minimizing the issue. Obito's grandmother did what she could to care for grandson. Unfortunately, depression couldn't be hugged away.

Kakashi worked his jaw and tried again. He tried as he did most days when he wasn't swamped with work. "You can wear your new shirt. That girl did say it looked handsome on you, afterall."

Obito fidgeted with his mouse. The page scrolled faster than his eyes could have processed the words. "I already said I would go."

"Then get dressed," Kakashi said, pushing himself off the doorway. He tried. He always did. He always would.

To say Obito was surprised would be an understatement. Konoha was a big fucking city. Why was she here of all places? And why did that exhilarate him.

The girl from the thrift store grasped the door handle to the bookstore, saw who she was opening it for, and laughed. A simple, polite gesture had a twist better than any murder mystery novel.

Her cheeks dimpled, grinning ear to ear. "Hey! I remember you," she said to Kakashi. "And especially you." She pointed at Obito. His breath hitched and the excitement dwindled to embarrassment. Of course she would remember him. "Because you're so handsome!"

The girl waltzed to the counter at the front of the store with a grace that contradicted her ripped band tee and acid wash jeans. Obito idled in the doorway. His mouth hung in confusion. She hefted her tote bag of books on the counter, turning them in for quick cash. Kakashi's eyes twinkled at his friend, shoving him into the store.

"Well, well, well, who would have predicted such a fateful meeting?" Kakashi asked rhetorically and promptly abandoned Obito for the Romance section.

Obito stuttered a reply, to both his meddling friend and the girl, but it died on his lips. He rubbed his scarred hand framed in soft black and red plaid. A man walked in behind him, narrowing his tone at him for obstructing the entrance, and Obito hid himself amongst the shelves closest to the desk. It gave him a vantage point to watch her chat with the employee behind the desk, clutch her chest, sign a book, take a photo with a small child at the insistence of the child's father. Was he supposed to know who she was? Did Kakashi set this up?

Minutes later, Emiko sighed in relief. She obscured herself in the literary fiction section on the opposite side of the store from the front desk. Here, she could decompress and calm her heart. At the first sight of the man from the thrift store it decided to drum its own beat. Erratic. The aggressive pounding was accompanied by a blush. And yet, she couldn't help but peek around corners and through books in search for the man in plaid. When she couldn't find him, she turned to the shelves in search of a book she came here to find, hoping a second hand copy would present itself.

She had limited space for collecting books, and thus sold many to this chain of stores promising pocket change in exchange for her tote bag full of new releases, but it would be enough for the paperback she wanted, if she could just reach it. On the top shelf sat her prize. Every time she reached for it, face straining in her underarm, standing on her tiptoes, she pushed it further and further away. Blindly, she tried pinching the spine between her fingernails, and again, it evaded her, traveling to the recesses of the shelf.

"Need help?"

Emiko raised her face to the person who sent her mind into a tizzy in the first place. His adorable mess of dark brown bedhead was all the more endearing when he was offering to lend her his height. She had the urge to run her fingers through his hair, to tame it. She refrained for now, choosing to press her hands together and beg him to reach the tome for her.

Obito lifted the book off the shelf easily. He clutched it in his good hand and waved it up and down, then thumbed through the ending pages until he found a number. His eyes bulged and he fought for what social graves he could muster, stuttering out, "T-this must be a good book to be over a thousand pages." He handed it to her. Their fingers touched. They glided against one another as the book changed possession. Soft, smooth. The small amount of human contact stood out; a vivid display of art in his otherwise gray life.

Passion trilled her every word. "I love it! I've wanted this edition for so long. There's a big difference between who translates which one and this one's more true to the French original."

Around the corner, Kakashi tapped the edge of his novel in his palm, listening (spying), thinking (coming up with a plan). When he was satisfied they would be busy for a while, he returned to the desk at the front and worked his charm on the young lady behind it until she answered him.

"Oh, her? She's Emiko Kurokawa. She wrote the kid's books over there"-she pointed at a Bestsellers shelf behind her, particularly at the fantasy book with two boys in knights armor on the cover-"I always heard she was from Konoha, but never met her. Had to get an autograph!" Kakashi thanked her and took his two new books to the checkout counter.

Emiko jerked her head up at the sound of her name over the intercom calling her to come collect her money for the books she sold to them. If she guessed well, it would be just enough to cover the paperback in her hand.

"Ah, that's me. Gotta go!" She waved at the man who kept popping up in her life. He mumbled something as she wove through the aisles, but she didn't hear. She waved more enthusiastically.

Obito took his left hand out of his jeans pocket; his unscarred hand, and waved back. "Emiko," he said to himself. Seeing her again was happenstance, that's all. But a blossoming emotion rippled from his stomach to his chest. It was something he hadn't felt in years. Eagerness. He wanted to see her again. He wanted to keep running into her like this. He wanted to know more than her first name.

"Hey." Obito's daze broke at his friend's sudden appearance. "Did you find anything you wanted?"

"Uh, no, I guess not." Obito cooled his taut features to indifference. He motioned at the plastic bag in Kakashi's hand. "You good?"

"Yeah, we can leave."

As they walked to the door, Obito scanned the store as discreetly as possible. He was tall enough to see over the shelves, but she eluded him. In the parking lot, he tried again, pretending to survey the cars around in quick, side-eye glances to no avail. Despite not finding her, that didn't stop his heart from racing at the prospect of meeting her again.

At home, Kakashi set to work. Sleuthing, creeping, whatever; he did a simple search for Obito's crush. He never once brought her up to him, but the look in his eyes was unmistakable. Enraptured by a girl he just met. It was adorable, something you found only in romance books. Konoha was a large city and yet they ran into her two days in a row. Now Kakashi needed to make it three. He worked his own system of fate.

He turned the hardback book over and opened the back flap. Obito better thank him for this; playing wingman cost him $18. He scanned the short bio under the headshot of the girl. Near the bottom were her social media handles.

Kakashi typed in her username and his lips wrung wryly. So that garish van in the parking lot was hers. The hulking metal beast was an import. Mostly cream with a large zig zag down the side in brown, orange, white, and yellow. Not his style, although vintage cars had their charm, he supposed. He cycled through the images to get to an interior shot.

Interesting. He peered closer at his monitor. Inside the belly of the vehicle was essentially a studio apartment. The caption was too long to capture his interest, but he garnered the sink, stovetop, and cookware were new additions.

He clicked back to her feed. Scrolling down, the van was featured frequently in posts tagged around the country. Every now and then, there would be a picture from the back of the van, double doors wide open with twine tied between them and t-shirts hung up. He leaned in to read the bands and dates. 1980's concert tees. Judging by the comments, these were rare and sold to the first few influx of inquiries immediately.

The ring around her profile picture was lit up. In her stories she announced a vintage clothing pop up market downtown. She would have a small set up tomorrow if people wanted to support her locally before a much larger event next weekend.

The plan was put into motion.

Kakashi's eyes flitted from the highway to Obito's pallor face from the gray clouds outside. "You don't have to look so miserable."

"I'm not miserable," Obito murmured at the window.

"What's on your mind, then?"

Obito took his hand from his chin and crossed his arms over his chest, constricting the seat belt. "It's nothing."

"Nothing.. Or something? Perhaps someone?" Kakashi prompted.

"Would you drop it," he bit back.

All yesterday evening Kakashi tortured Obito with questions. As soon as he was caught staring off into space, his friend's face managed to appear and rile him up, asking if he was thinking of the girl from the bookstore. It didn't take a mechanical engineer like Kakashi to deduce Obito's recent lopsided smiles were caused by her.

Kakashi smirked under his face mask. Meeting number three.

Nerves tangled themselves in Obito's stomach as Kakashi turned off the engine. Crowds of people swarmed the small parking lot of the brick building serving freshly squeezed juice and egg-free cookies. He shuffled his feet on the sidewalk. Absentmindedly, he wrenched his fingers around his right arm, not quite feeling the sensation. Sleeves and pants may have covered a good portion of his insecurities, but nothing hid his face. Years ago he tried growing out his hair to help obscure himself; it wasn't regarded well by the one girl he had a crush on, and proved to be too much upkeep.

After today, Obito would need to have a serious talk to Kakashi about boundaries. These past few days were spent laying awake at night in a cold sweat, his mind replaying every little interaction in flashes of anxiety induced judgemental ogles. He tried to push them aside, to replace them with Emiko's kindness. He wasn't sure what to make of that. Of her. It wouldn't be the first time a girl was nice to him to get closer to Kakashi.

The small relief he previously felt when thinking of her turned sour. Motives aside, even if she was interested in him, all he had was her first name. He would never see her again. He could laugh at his bad luck. Yes, if she were interested in him, she would be the first person in years to give him attention with such tenderness, expecting nothing in return, and he would never experience it again. And certainly not on a consistent basis like a normal person in a relationship.

He almost wished he were ignored. Things would be easier.

Kakashi caught Obito's elbow, guiding him in and out of the crowd, weaving through the mass, dead set on a target. Obito bumped a woman's shoulder. He mumbled a quick apology and upon sight, she blanched. The annoyed pinch of her brows arched up in surprise. Her friend sucked in a breath and held her right cheek in remorse.

He wished he were ignored.

Classic rock music blared from speakers. Every tent they passed played something different. Under the canopies, tables and clothing racks displayed a wide array of clothing. Some hideously colorful, some graphic t-shirts with crude sayings on the front. Most tents had banners advertising the individual store names and where to find them on Instagram. The recurring theme was the word vintage. Obito swiveled his head around in wonderment.

"Ah, here." Kakashi dropped his elbow, flipping through a rack with deft fingers, searching the black band tees for the one he wanted.

Thunder rumbled from above. Vibrant dyed shirts turned neon, standing out against the pavement as the sun fought the host of black clouds taking over the sky.

Kakashi pulled out the single stitch Led Zeppelin tee. He turned over the price tag. First the book, now this. Obito's happiness better be worth it. It certainly would be if his dopey grins were anything to go by.

"Kakashi.. You didn't." Obito paled. He tugged at his black and red sleeve cuff.

"I'll take this!" Kakashi pivoted to show the girl.

Emiko perked up at hearing the prospect of a sale. She cut her conversation short with the vendor beside her and turned. Her face froze in a gape. Then it moved all at once. She laughed, long and hard, holding her belly. She cackled and the people around her snorted at the high pitched witchy sound. "You two again?"

A raindrop fell on her forehead.

"Uh oh," someone warned. Emiko was one of the few lacking an awning or tent.

Her hand laid outstretched and Kakashi placed the money in her palm, though she was too busy to notice, preoccupied by the water falling from the sky.

Obito's glare went ignored as Kakashi whipped out his phone. He held the black screen to his ear. "Oh! Yeah, sure, I'll come pick you up."

Emiko brought her attention down to her customer, the money clutched in her fingers, to Obito. She spoke to the man with silver hair quickly making himself scarce. "Ah, thank you! Do you want me to wrap the shirt?"

Kakashi shook his phone. "Gotta go! Guy needs a ride somewhere." He walked backwards, waving at his bewildered friend. "I'll pick you up later, just busy yourself here a while. Okay, bye!"

Kakashi melded with the crowd, leaving Obito to gawk at the idiocy. Not only at Kakashi, but at himself for coming here in the first place. Emiko watched Kakashi's departure with confusion. It hurt. Obito had guessed right. This would make how many times he was used for his connection to him?

"I, uh." He stopped short of his thought as she smiled at him. He wiped his clammy hands on his shirt. A steady drizzle dotted the asphalt. The heavy, humid air brought the earthy scent of fresh rain.

"You can hang out here if you want." She rocked on her heels, hands clasped behind her back. The clouds halted their journey across the sky. They stayed put over the gathering. She flinched as the drops stung her eyes.

Rain might as well be acid according to the rush of bodies moving to jerk clothing racks under tents, save old leather boots from their displays, and hug coats to their bodies like a lost loved one. The whipping of umbrellas sounded off around Obito; not to cover the heads of humans, but to hold over clothing.

"A-are you sure? I can just.. Fuck off somewhere," he trailed off. In a flurry of panic Emiko dashed for her van parked in the grass off the side of the lot, threw open the double doors in the back and began smashing tens of t-shirts between her arms and tossing them inside where they would be dry.

This further confused Obito. He expected to see the back of seats, maybe a trunk filled with junk, or even a completely gutted vehicle whose main purpose was transporting goods. What he did not predict was a dining room table, two long booth style seats, and was that a kitchen? The seats were taken over by cardboard boxes and Emiko was desperately tossing her shirts into them. Without thinking, Obito copied her movements, grabbing clothing by the armful and laying them on the table.

Emiko stilled. Shadows of arms leapt over her head. She looked up, and up, until her head bumped Obito's inner elbow. A drop of rain dripped from his forehead, snaked around the ravines of scars on his cheek, and fell to the collar of his white undershirt. Relief caressed her worried face at his help, thankful he could reach over her with his height.

The moment, just a moment, would last a lifetime in their heads.

Emiko dipped under his arm and gathered more clothing, now attuned to his body moving around hers until the racks were cleared and the downpour flooded the parking lot. She pushed him to the rolling side door and urged his soaked body in, yelling over the wet bullets that she had to return the racks to a friend before slamming it closed and doing the same to the double doors in the back.

Obito had to duck to step inside the van, but to his surprise, he could stand fully upright without bumping the roof. He ran his hand along the sunken LED lights nestled in the polished oak boards lining the ceiling. The rest of the walls were white, as were the cabinets along every wall. Matching oak acted as countertops. Across from him was a tall closet partitioned by a curtain. To the left was a sink and induction stovetop. He took two steps in and was greeted by the long table taking up the back half of the van covered in fifty-year-old damp t-shirts. Opposite the sink and stove was an open countertop, he assumed for things like prepping meals. Before she ran off, she said to make himself at home, so he pushed the cardboard boxes down the bench to give him room to sit. The silence of the van, the pinging of rain on the metal roof. He took everything in again. And he wondered just what he had gotten himself into today.

Elsewhere, Kakashi sat at a cafe by himself, sipping his hot coffee, watching the rain streak the large window. His mask hung loose on one ear. His delighted reflection mirrored the sip. The coffee shop was only two blocks away, but he parked his car up the street so Obito wouldn't be suspicious. Wingman, cupid, liar, whatever Kakashi was, Obito would thank him when he realized that upon seeing Emiko again, it was the first time he gave a genuine smile in years.

The door rolled open and Emiko stepped in, pausing momentarily to shake herself off like a dog after a bath, sending droplets flying through the air. "Sorry about that," she said, closing the door, prying off her sneakers with the other foot. Her joviality brightened the room and Obito shrank in the cushions.

She climbed over the booth seat and pulled a pile of shirts to the end. She nodded at a box next to him and after a beat, Obito handed it to her. Hangers were wrested and tossed in the box. Shirts were folded in a neat stack on the table. "Wanna hang out here until your friend comes back? I'll make tea if ya want." He opened his mouth to respond. Too late. The kettle was being filled and the stovetop beeped as she pressed buttons on its surface.

"Oh, that's uh, thank you."

"I get so chilly in storms," she said, rubbing her arms. "Oh!" She whirled and opened the curtained closet. The same white tile used for the backsplash of the kitchen covered the tiny room top to bottom. Emiko tossed him a towel.

Obito, not having used social etiquette in some time, swiped it over his hair and face and handed it back, hoping he didn't disrespect some unspoken rule by using it too much. Emiko was more liberal in her use. She ran it over her white crop top, dark wash denim overalls, and took off her mismatched patterned socks. It was then he saw the trail of mud leading to his shoes and if he could get away with slapping himself, he would.

While the kettle heated, she returned to folding. Obito followed her lead and folded the pile nearest him. She had a special technique using her fingers to tuck in the sleeves while standing and place the shirt on her chest, folding up the bottom in thirds, perfectly displaying the graphic. He decided to do it as his grandmother taught him. He laid it flat on the table and folded one half at a time, then thirds like her. It took him longer, but she hummed in appreciation for his effort.

"I'm glad you wore that flannel again."

He glanced down at himself. The flannel was unbuttoned and his drenched white shirt was more see-through than he liked. His khakis were in a similar state; darkened from the rain. "Thanks." It wasn't necessarily a compliment, but he didn't know a better response. Regardless, it pleased her. Her dimples deepened as she placed her stack of shirts in an empty box and started on a new pile. "So, what is all this? The shirts, the van?"

She snickered and he blushed. "Did you come here not knowing about vintage? It kinda looked like your friend was dragging you. Literally." Her snickers gave way to cute giggles muffled by her forearm to her mouth.

Obito steeled himself for the impending disappointment that came from these scenarios. When he would hear firsthand how attractive Kakashi was and play mediator for filtering questions and dates for his friend.

"I travel and sell vintage clothing," she said. "Not just tees, all kinds of stuff. And I live in this,"-she twirled her finger about-"my home."

"You.. Actually do live in here."

"Mhm. This table collapses down to bed." He viewed the table, and the van, in a new light. "My name's Emiko, by the way. Emi, preferably. Figured I'd introduce myself in case this becomes an ongoing thing." His jaw went slack as she pointed at both of them with a raised brow. "Meeting you every day, I mean."

"I'm Obito." He cringed at the way he jumped at the chance to say it, breathless, as if she'd lose interest if he didn't answer her quick enough. "My name's Obito. It's nice to meet you." Of course he knew her name from the impeccable timing at the bookstore, but he wanted to keep the conversation flowing, to find openings to ask her things, to make her talk, to learn every little thing about her. No questions came to mind. He was rusty at this.

The kettle whistled and Emi tended to it, pouring two cups of tea into mismatched mugs. One had an orange cartoon cat, the other an illustration of a pink cat with heart eyes. Obito took the heart one. She sat opposite him, scooting clothing and boxes down until they pressed against the back doors. Obito held her gaze for a moment until her smile proved too difficult to bear. It could illuminate the dark side of the moon.

"So, what do you do for work?" Emi asked.

Obito fidgeted his fingers around the handle and rim of the mug. "In between jobs at the moment."

"Oh." Her smile vanished, then reappeared with vigor. Not just vigor, she appeared absolutely giddy, squirming in her seat. "Oh! You could help me. If you want. Totally up to you." She leaned in and lowered her voice. "I pay well."

"Help you?"

"Only if you're not busy! I have an event next weekend- a huge meetup for vintage sellers. It's a big thing. People even fly overseas to buy stuff to take back to their country. I need someone to help me set up my tent and play cashier when I can't." She picked up a shirt near her hip and showed him her paper tag pinned on with the price written on one side, inventory number on the other. "All you would have to do is cut this off so I can keep up with my spreadsheet."

A flash followed by a loud bang rumbled the van. Emiko whimpered and folded into herself, scrunching her face. She pried one eye open at a time. Her sunny personality had faded, replaced by fear. Obito reached across the table.

He must be out of his mind.

He paused short of holding her hand to comfort her. Instead, he grabbed the shirt from her and called her back to the present. "This little tag? I remove it?"

"Sorry, I.. Yes. Cut it off, untie it, whatever. It'll go in a little gray box at the table." She stopped staring at the ceiling and shook her head. "Most people pay with their phone these days, so you probably won't have to worry about countin' cash or anything like that."

"Where is this event?"

"A little outta the way. About a four day drive out. The bed'll fit both of us." She rapped her knuckles on the table, eyes glistening in humor. "Whaddya say? An all out paid vacation with someone you just met. I promise I won't bite." She pried her lips back in an unnaturally wide smile, baring her teeth at him.

Obito steadied the mug in his band hand and took a sip. It clattered on the table. He'd been living with Kakashi for a year and had little to show for it. His dead-end jobs decomposed into failure when he showed up late or slacked off. The more promising jobs never called back. Pursuing his education was out of the question after he flunked the first time. What little money he pinched here and there went to his share of rent and bills, forever leaving his mattress on the floor. For the past year his only escape was video games; and there his friendships never went beyond surface level, only bonding through the game and were as reliable as a warm body filling the last spot of a raid because it required a team of twenty when fifteen would've brought down the boss just fine.

Obito dipped his chin to his chest, drew in a deep breath, and returned his gaze to her face full of genuine hope. Her hands were clasped to one of her cheeks in silent begging. "Okay." At least he could tell Kakashi he got a temporary job.

Someone knocked, or rather banged, on the van. Emi jumped, cursed, slammed her mug on the table, and scrambled to open the side door. A man with dark brown skin and contrasting pale blonde hair stepped in. His jaw moved, working itself on a stick of gum. The floor pooled with water from his body. He made himself at home instantly, leaning against the sink, arms folded. His frame took up the rest of the space in the kitchen with confidence, giving off a familiarity with Emi's home as if he'd been here time and time again.

"You outta here already at the first sign of rain?" His speech was muffled by the smacking of the gum. "Oh." He peered from Emi to Obito, smirking. He pushed himself off the sink with his hip and produced a hand for Obito to shake. His right hand.

Obito hesitated to unfurl his grip from the mug. Sensing his discomfort, Emi stepped in front of the action. "Darui, you know I can't carry a tent in here. And I'm not about to let my babies smell like mildew."

Darui withdrew his arm and shrugged at her. "It's your call. People still come out in the rain. Could make a few extra hundred or so."

"Eh, I'll be at the Sakura Bowl on Saturday, anyway."

"Mm, figures. I can't make it, but I'll send a few of my guys out there to buy from you." Darui winked at Obito, who cleared his throat and stared at the heart eyes on his mug, tracing them with the corner of his thumbnail. Darui turned and lumbered out of the van. His heavy steps sent mud up the side of her vehicle.

"Ugh." Emi slammed the door. Things stowed away in the cabinets rattled. "Sorry, he can be so annoying. But he runs these smaller events, so." She rolled her eyes and spun her hands in a circle to say "what can you do".

She fell to the seat and gulped the rest of her lukewarm tea. Under the table, their knees knocked. Obito tried to move away to give her room, but one of his legs was caught between hers. The possessive act, accident or not, sent a wave of heat to his face. He brought his mug up to his lips, tilting it back until he couldn't see her, and thanked the liquid for its soothing properties. This day was proving to be more excruciating by the minute. Yet, when him and Emi were alone, a sharp zing of newfound thrill ignited in his belly. His heart raced like it did the previous days, like it beat for her. His body was acting on its own, always trying to touch her, to be near her. Until the doubt ebbed in and he second guessed himself.

Emiko opened her mouth to ask Obito about his hobbies when he grasped the shirt next to her, the one she was using to show him her price tag system. He held it up, mystified.

"I haven't watched wrestling in so long, wow! This brings back some memories. I used to watch it every night with.. My dad."

"Want it?"

He looked at the price and folded the shirt, putting it at the top of the stack. "No, that's okay. I don't really get this vintage stuff anyway."

Emiko tapped her fingernails on the empty mug. "It's certainly an interesting niche. Ya know, I usually don't buy stuff to sell from thrift stores. I have much better sources, maybe I'll take you there one day; but really, going to that thrift store was a fluke. I'm glad I ran into you there."

The squeeze on his knee couldn't be as much of a coincidence as their meeting. The stirring in his core sent his nerves into overdrive. Her words, her honesty, the drink. It was all too much. The doubt, the shame, took over.

"You're glad you met me, huh," he said back.

His words were softly spoken. His face went neutral, stoic. His sudden personality change put her on guard. Emi sat straighter, shoulders back, arms tensing, ready to grab or flee. Obito slipped a hand in his flannel. The fabric of his white shirt bunched under the movement. His face pinched in a quick wince.

The flannel's collar slipped over the curve of his arm. Obito dragged the sleeve down, revealing more and more. He did the same to the other side and the shirt fell to his waist. Emiko relaxed in quiet revelation. The smooth scars gleamed in the light. Some curved like canyons over his muscles; they pulsed and stretched as he rested his arms on the table. He didn't dare avert his gaze. He wanted to know how much regret she held for offering to spend an extended amount of time with him in close quarters. He wanted to see her confusion and contempt for this disfigured monster. He ran his misshapen hand through his hair and angled his head to expose the scars down his cheek and neck in the harsh lighting, casting long shadows over them. He wanted to shout at her to see him for all his ugliness.

Emiko hid a twist of her mouth by pressing her lips together to little avail. The corners betrayed her by twitching up. She drank in his appearance. Slim, broad shoulders, a strong brow, square chin, a thin layer of muscle pressed against his undershirt despite not working for it.

"You make quite a show of taking your shirt off. Kinda sexy, though," she said. Obito glimpsed around the van, questioning the reality of it all. He jerked forward in his seat and scrutinized her. "Hmm?"

"Did you just.. Are you not going to..?" He laid his palm upturned to her in an attempt to call into play her sanity. Or incredible acting skills to be so nonchalant about his reveal.

Not taking his cue properly, she placed her hand in his. She ran her finger over a puckered scar near the soft, fleshy base of his thumb. "I already told you you're handsome, what more do you want from me?" Her words came out in chortles due to her giggling. Obito leaned over the table, which tickled her more. His knee prodded her inner thigh. Neither of them could make eye contact after that, turning their focus to their linked hands.

Obito's ears burned dark red. "Are you being serious right now?"

"As serious as when I offered you the job and free road trip." Through her lashes, she studied his face in slow, methodical eye movements, roaming the scarred skin, committing it to memory, comparing it to the smooth side.

The way she looked at him was too candid. The admiration leaked through, pleading with his heart to comply, to listen, to give into her wacky whims. He uttered her words back to her and her eyes flashed at the husky resonance, "You think I'm handsome and you're offering a four day paid vacation to help you out at this event and we'd be staying together in this van."

"Four day trip there, two day event, four days back," she clarified. "Barring we don't get lost on the highway of life." Her round cheeks plumped at her glee, crowding her eyes shut as she grinned.

Courage was not an attribute he was born with, nor did it lend him a hand now; instead his doubt had crept such anxieties in his head that the words rushed out in one exhaled jumble. "Why not ask Kakashi?"

"Who?"

"My friend I'm always with."

"Oh, him." She tipped her head to the side, eyes turned up at the ceiling, recalling his face. "Dunno. Didn't feel the same pull, the same connection. Should I be asking him instead of you-"

"No." Obito's glower pierced her. His brow cast a deep shadow over his eyes. He curled his fingers around hers and tightened his hold. The act was stilted, not having full dexterity after the accident, but Emi's breath was stolen from her lungs. The intimate touch could've lasted eons if either person had their way. "No. I'll do it." He let go of her hand and leaned back to the stiff embrace of the dense cushions.

"I'll give you my number. We can talk more about the logistics if that makes you more comfortable." She snorted. "Well, I guess going on a trip with a stranger is the uncomfortable part, not our bathing habits."

"The trip, and you, are fine." He slid his phone over to her. She typed in her name and number and handed it back. "I'm okay with everything."

"We'd be leaving the day after tomorrow. Pretty short notice, but if you're truly okay with it.."

Obito fought to keep up his apathetic attitude. Her name, black text on a white background. Her number. The surge of a promise of something new. "It's fine."

Another knock on the door. Emi opened it and announced, "Your friend came back!" She helped Kakashi into the van and he walked past her to Obito, smugness exuding behind his face mask.

Emiko peeked her head out the door and whispered to herself, "When did it stop raining?"

Kakashi gave Obito a subtle thumbs up after eyeing the discarded flannel. In return, Obito stood for the sole purpose of glaring at him, conveying a secret code between them to not interfere.

"Turns out Guy didn't need a ride after all," he said, shrugging, and heel-turned to Emi, "I'm Kakashi, my handsome young friend's roommate."

She giggled and shook his hand. "I'm Emi. Obito has told me all about you."

Emi yelped as Kakashi cinched his fingers around her knuckles and pulled her closer, looming at eye level. "What has he told you?"

"H-He, uh-"

"Knock it off," Obito grumbled and pushed Kakashi out the door. He gingerly stepped down after him. "Emi gave me a temporary job for an event she's doing, so I'll be gone for a while." He said this as casually as observing the weather, keeping his lips pursed, shoulders shrugged, hands in pockets. What he couldn't hide was the way his eyes softened, even going as far as to shimmer when talking about her, showing a happiness few others had witnessed.

Kakashi raised his eyebrows, causing the face mask to ride up the bridge of his nose. "Sounds good to me."

"We should, uh, let you get back to your business." Obito was back to his stumbling self, losing his bravado the longer Emi stared at him with undivided fondness.

"Yeah, we'll get outta your hair. Bye, Emi! It was nice meeting you. Thank you for offering him the job," he said as they started to walk away.

"It's my pleasure, really!" Emi waved at their backs. "Be sure to text me later!" The door rolled shut.

Obito sucked in a hiss of breath and held his ribs. Kakashi elbowed him one more time, too ecstatic to keep his elation to himself. "And you got her number too," he said with a gasp.

Obito finished buttoning his flannel. For once, he was anticipating something. He was looking forward to getting home so he could search how long the appropriate time was to wait until you texted a girl. He looked forward to packing his suitcase. He looked forward to sleeping, to waking up. He looked forward to life. He looked forward to knowing for certain he would see Emiko again.

Someone took a chance on him. Nothing could come of it. Something could come of it. Everything could come of it. He was getting ahead of himself, first he had to stop staring at her name in his phone, thumbs hovering over the keyboard.