Chapter 6: Love

"How do I look?" Obito struck the same pose as the wrestler on his shirt, smacking his fist into his other hand and flexing his bicep.

Emi clapped, sending clouds of flour puffing into the sun shafts. "Even more handsome than usual!"

"I never thanked you for it yesterday.. So, thank you. I know you would normally sell it for rent money.. Well, bills? Do you even have bills? Whatever, it means so much to me."

She giggled as she measured out soy milk, splashing a little over the side of the glass cup. "I was gonna give it to you from the start." She bent over, eyeing the milk as she tipped the carton again until it reached the red line and poured it into the dry mix. "You're just too good looking, I couldn't say no. Do you mind if I borrow your hoodie until it warms up outside?"

The floor creaked and a lump of fabric thumped her on the back. Obito stumbled over his words as he shoved it into her spine, "Yeah! Uh, yes, you can wear it."

He watched her as the roar of possession flamed from his belly to his chest. Her dimples emerged from the hole at the top, the hood bunched around her neck, the sleeves had to be pushed up her arms, the length stopped just under her butt. Adorable, and oddly charming. She was wearing his security blanket. He was wearing her gift.

Pride made him stand taller. He lumbered over to her at his full height and hugged her from behind. His scarred arm rested across her clavicle, his hand curved around her hip. Her small frame leaned into him and she looked up, laughing, rebuking him if she messed up the pancake batter. He lifted his thumb to her jaw and forced her ear to his chest, wondering if she could hear the flames fueling his heart. If she could hear what she did to him.

He kissed the top of her head and let go.

He would protect her at all costs.

Emi danced while humming, cutting fruit, and flipping pancakes. Obito sat at the table, tapping on his phone. He watched her pour more batter, then glanced at his phone, then back at her.

"Can I take a picture of you?" He didn't say it loud enough to be heard over her rendition of a cartoon's opening theme song, so he cleared his throat. "Can I take a picture of you? Just something for us, ya know.."

"You wanna take a picture of me, like a candid shot? Cooking?"

"Sure," Obito said. Emi turned away to flip a pancake. The bubbles sizzled and popped on the surface. He clicked the button on his camera app a few times, cycling through to pick his favorite. On the screen her body was angled towards him, spatula in hand, smiling in a kittenish way when you know someone is watching you. Her strong jaw cast a dark shadow down her throat. It was obvious from the oversized fit that she was wearing someone else's hoodie.

"You can post it."

"Are you sure?"

"Yeah, tag me in it. I'll repost it on my stories. I'll be posting a few today to advertise my booth."

Obito clenched his teeth and decided to come clean about his intentions. "Are you sure? Because it really looks like we're dating."

She plated the perfect stack of pancakes. Sliced strawberries and bananas were carefully placed in a ring around the edge. She dug in the pantry and brought out a small packet of powdered sugar, pinching a bit in her fingers and sprinkling on top like a fresh snowfall. The kettle on the back burner whistled and she made two cups of coffee with the AeroPress. She placed the food and one of the mugs in front of him and slapped his hand as he reached out for the metal condiment cup of syrup.

Obito coiled his stinging wrist in his lap as she brandished her phone and took pictures of the set up, confident she kept his scowl out of frame.

His face went slack after she winked at him and posted the photo to her Instagram and the influx of comments lit up her phone. "I don't care if people think we're dating."

"Just act normal."

"Normal how?"

"You're sticking your butt out weird! Just hang the shirt," Emi admonished Obito. She held the phone up again after deleting the last video clip.

"I am not! I'm doing this as normal as possible while being watched by a creeper."

Emi smirked at his word choice. "I'm the creep now, huh?"

Obito's face stung red. Covering his embarrassment, he reached up and hung the shirt harder than necessary, bowing the plastic, imagining Emi's mouth gaped open in preparation to reprimand him one more time.

Instead, she giggled as she typed away on her phone and his buzzed.

"Did you have to write that?"

The story was a panorama shot of her most expensive tees hanging from one of the horizontal metal poles for the tent, dangling high above people's heads. The video ended with him stretching up on a step stool with a quick zoom in on his butt, aptly tagging his handle and adding the text "sweet cheeks" under it.

"I mean, I'm not wrong," she said as they sat in their camper chairs. The table was organized in an array of decorated paper for wrapping, paper bags stamped with her logo, and her gray cash box.

His hoodie was thrown over the back of her chair, giving him the most opportune time to ogle at her before the gates opened. Her blue and white stretchy gingham crop top was adorned with big, fluffy bows tied over the curve of her shoulder. Her acid wash jeans from the other day were cinched around her waist with a black belt. Chunky white sneakers sealed the deal. He fought the innate need to tuck one jet black lock of hair behind her ear before chaos ensued.

A shroud of dust fell over the market. Sand wedged itself in every available crevice. Red dirt coated faces. The metal gates opened, funneling in the stampede of humans like cattle. Phones were out, capturing every millisecond, broadcasting it to thousands for clout. Teenagers and seasoned veterans alike darted through the dictated streets, cut around alleyways, and made a mockery of the posted No Running rules, all to get to the stalls first.

Men swarmed the t-shirts. They fingered the racks, eyes scanning tags and graphics in rapid succession, pupils dilated in adrenaline.

Obito inhaled his last calm breath and stood with Emi. On purpose, she didn't give him any instructions besides relaxing while she handled things, but that wouldn't do. He'd learned how to make a sale if it meant she could take a break.

His role of protector proved unwarranted. Like water, she flowed with the interactions. She knew when to make people laugh, when to gush about the history of the shirt in their hand, how to pick out a gift for someone's dad.

Obito fetched the cash box when requested. Like a dog. Dogs still protected their owners, right?

By noon, there were large gaps in the clothing racks previously stuffed to the point of no wiggle room. A cardboard box under the plastic table was filled with hangers. It impressed Obito. At some point, he sat down and watched her, and she still found time to sit with him and make sure he was having a good time.

He started to question Kurenai's assumptions; telling himself Emi was a bit quirky and that was all, then he saw it again.

In the brief, comfortable silence before another customer came along, she slumped in her chair, and the cycle started. The instantaneous zoning out, the roll of her shoulders, the rapid melting of her face when the person paid and left, the hesitant smile creeping up when people passed by, and the sudden appearance of her beaming grin made of pure sunlight when they stepped into the tent to look at shirts.

A young guy with his entourage of friends walked in to flip through racks and Emiko's exhaled groan put Obito on guard. The group snickered to themselves as she approached. She smiled so wide it showed her gums.

The guy side-eyed Emi and held a shirt to show his friends and they all shared hushed whispers at her expense.

"I'll give you $40 for this." He turned the shirt around and Obito recognized it as a classic rock band tee he priced earlier at $100.

"Sorry, I can't go that low," Emi said, keeping her smile in place.

He pointed at the bottom of the graphic. "There's not even a date on it, it's a fake. Are you really trying to rip me off?"

"Actually, that Screen Stars tag was the only one sold at the venue in 1983. You can even date it by the font; they still used the stylistic "A" in "Stars."" She twisted her fingers together to keep them from fidgeting. His friends hid their laughs behind their fists. She couldn't quite figure out if they were laughing at her or him, but he dropped the faux politeness; as if lowballing her was a handout she should be thankful to get.

He tried a new strategy. "And the fading and stains? And what's this, a hole in the sleeve? You're selling this garbage for $100. Good fuckin' luck." The hanger clacked on the rack to punctuate his insult.

Emi began to explain. "A lot of people want their vintage to look, well, vintage and are willing to.. Pay more.." She trailed off as they left. Her fingers had turned purple by the time she loosened her grip and sat down with Obito.

Emi went to smile at him and stopped. His rage had bubbled to the surface. It flashed in his eyes, drew his eyebrows down, and he watched the boys vanish into a different stall across the walkway. His chest pumped with rapid breaths. She was sure he drew blood with the way he bit the inside of his cheek.

"Hey, it's okay. It happens." She lightly touched his arm. "It's.. normal."

Obito shook his head, eyes following their shoes peeking out from under expensive coats. He rounded on Emi, scaring her, causing her to shrink into the corner of her chair under his angry gaze. "Don't let people talk to you that way."

Kurenai made use of her spare time to organize some dresses closest to Emi's table.

Emi faltered. "O-Okay.."

Obito flicked his gaze to Kurenai, who nodded. He peeled his grip off the armrest and grabbed Emi's hand. It couldn't wait any longer. He had to know.

"Emi, we've grown close over the past few days, quicker than most people would, and.." Although she was confused at being the subject of his ire, she kept her face pleasant and neutral in case a customer walked by. "Emi.. Are you Autistic?"

The persona dropped.

Obito scrambled for better words. Her owl-like eyes watched him, observed him. Her body stiffened, careful to not release any emotion while she processed what he asked. He leaned in and whispered, "Are you on the spectrum?"

For the first time since he met her, the sunshine was gone. He snuffed it out.

Emi wrestled her hand from his grasp. She micromanaged body parts into rigidity. They betrayed her. She snatched his hoodie and balled her shaking fists in it. Hide. She had to hide it. He knew. Different. She was different. He knew. And now she wouldn't receive his love. She wasn't worthy.

Emi stood, hunched over, face wide in fear. She tripped over the chair as she backed away, shoes scraping on pebbles. "I've gotta.." She wheezed. "I've gotta.." Her throat laced itself shut. Her veins froze. Terrified. Fucked up. She fucked up. She lost her chance. Her mouth parted again, chin dipping with every stunted breath.

She bolted.

"Emi!" Obito stumbled. "Emi!" He looked at Kurenai, desperate to do something. She shooed him away saying she could watch the booth.

Obito rounded the van and skidded to a halt at the driver's side door. Framed in the window was Emi. Her poor body. Small, legs curled to her chest, back heaving in muted sobs.

If he had a heart, it was eviscerated for doing this to her.

He knocked on the window and tested the door handle. It opened. She buried her wails into his hoodie to silence herself. Obito stepped on the frame and grabbed the headrest to pull his body in, and once he had balance, he threw an arm on top of her. He enveloped her, held her face to his aching chest, smashed his nose to her hair. Anything to hold her closer.

So fragile. He hurt this beautiful person. "Can I come in?"

Emi's wet cough tried to answer from his hoodie. She nodded. The armrest was slung upright and he followed her to the kitchen. A minute was spent watching her shoulders shudder, rise, fall, and even out. When she turned, his stomach swallowed itself.

She used the hoodie's sleeve to wipe her nose. The bows tied at her shoulders were crushed into limp tangles of ribbon. Her swollen eyes narrowed on him. "I knew you were treating me differently."

Obito wrung the back of his neck. "I'm sorry.."

"I couldn't figure it out, but it makes sense now. When you started ignoring me yesterday, I thought it was because I did something wrong," she threw the words at him. A tear dripped from her cheek, splattering the wood floor. "You wouldn't even look at me, Obito. And today you've been extra nice. Hovering over me like a parent. Like I'm a child who can't make decisions for themselves." He winced.

"I'm sorry, Emi."

She scoffed. "Well, now you know for a fact that I'm different. Does everyone know? Am I that bad of an actress?"

"No, no," he said. "Your friends are the ones who brought it up. It's only because they've known you for years and I've spent so much time with you the past few days, that's it."

Obito lifted his eyes from the splash of tears near her shoe. "But on that note.. I need to ask you something." He took out his phone and brought up a few tabs. "I kept coming across this term and it made me think.. Wonder.. If you do it.. If-" Emi had gone still. Not only her eyes narrowed, but her entire being was hellbent on extinguishing his implication from where she stood. "-If, this whole time I've known you, you haven't been acting like your true self. If you've only been showing me what I wanted to see."

"If you're about to read out the definition of "masking" to me, I'll slap that phone right outta your hand," she warned, voice low and even.

"Please, Emi." Obito put it back in his pocket. At first he drew himself to his full, towering height like this morning and took a step towards her. Her eyebrows flinched. He curled his shoulders in, commanding her attention. "I need to know if it's you I like, or some personality you put on."

White hot flames licked her face. Flashes of cold sweat pricked her back.

"That's a cruel thing to say," she said, hoarsely. "Just because I have to put my best foot forward to seem normal-"she spat the word"-doesn't mean I'm hiding behind some mask-"she spat that word with equal vitriol. "It's all me. I'm still me."

Obito ran a hand through his hair. Masking wasn't the only thing he found last night that intrigued him. If he was going this far to ask questions, to poke this bear, he might as well steal her honey too.

"Why did you ask me to go on this trip?"

Blank. Calm before the storm. Emi raised her chin in a challenge. Blazing with the confidence of a man before his death. Her eyes flicked to the side door. She ran her thumb across her bottom lip, "So, we're really doin' this, huh?"

"I want the truth. Not the innocent act."

"Is it an act?" Gently, she placed the hoodie on the table and met his gaze head on. "I asked you on this trip because from the moment we met you became my obsession. You're asking me now because you know what a Special Interest is. Well," she said, holding her palms out at him, "Congratulations, you are one. As soon as you stepped in here, sat at my table, I wanted you more than anything in this entire world. I would've done anything to get to know you. Even now, I would do anything for you to love me." She shrugged, raising her hands. "I'm well aware how unhinged I sound, but it's the truth. And the funny thing is, I've been myself this whole time. I haven't hidden behind a mask since that day. Not around you. At the very least I deviated from the truth last time you asked me this question; when you hurt your knee. In hindsight, it is amusing you thought I asked you to come with me because I took pity on you. No. It's because you became everything to me."

Obito took another step to her, forcing her fingers to curl in as they hit his stomach. Emi was backed against the table. He placed his hands on either countertop, cementing their position.

Emi dug her hole deeper. "I've always been this way. Having a Special Interest in romance instead of hobbies like other Autistic people." She raised her hands higher, shouting, letting every snub from a boy well in her eyes, letting every unrequited love power the hurt in her voice, "Am I a hyper-romantic who had a handsome man be nice to her and start planning their wedding that night? Did I see someone feign the littlest bit of interest in me so I decided I'd love them for the rest of my life? Or am I just fucking crazy? Maybe I'm both! Is that what you wanted to hear! Ow!" Emi clutched her hands to her chest. The tips of her fingers stung from ramming them against the ceiling.

Obito closed the distance. Emi kept her eyes focused on the wrestler stretched across his chest. He canted his head towards her, breath musing the baby hairs stuck to her forehead. "You haven't hidden behind a mask in front of me one time?"

She dug her fingernails into her palm. Pink half-moons turned red. "I.. Maybe. Yes. But only because I didn't want to talk about this stuff.. I didn't want to scare you off." Her tone turned pleading, sincere. "I didn't do it often, but like yesterday, when you were distancing yourself from me all I wanted to do was breakdown and cry. I was near the point of having a meltdown all because you wouldn't talk to me. But I smiled through it and gave you your shirt and that made you happy. I made it all better."

"Emi.." He must still have a heart because that broke it. He also must be fucking crazy for being this secretly elated. "How long do these fixations last?"

"I dunno, it's random. A week, a month, a year, a lifetime." She sniffed and made to move under his arm. "Sorry for freaking you out. I'll figure out some other way for you to get home so you don't have to stay with me. Kurenai and Asuma live close enough to Konoha, I'll talk them into giving you a ride," she said, utterly defeated, body crumpling into itself as she reached for the door.

"Wait!" Obito whirled her around and gathered her face between his palms. "Can you make it last a lifetime?"

"Huh?"

"Can you love me for the rest of my life?"

Face squished, sandwiched between the heat of his palms; all Emi could muster from his question was that they'd been breathing the same carbon dioxide for far too long. "I don't get what you're asking.."

Obito drew her in until she was on her tip-toes. He snapped their hips together and thunked his forehead on hers. "I want it," he hissed. "I want you to love me for the rest of my life. I accept you. I accept your love."

Emi tried to stare at him but he was too close for her eyes to adjust. She closed them. Her hands wandered up his arms to his wrists where she pushed his sleeve down to feel his pulse. They shared every breath, furthering the tingle in her head. "You want me to love you." He nodded in response. "You want me to love you for the rest of your life. What do I get out of it?"

Obito licked his lips. The wet, sticky sound teased her, his tongue nearly swiping her mouth. His musk; salty sweat mixed with the smell of fresh rain on pavement filled her nose. His fingertips prodded her skull. His thumbs stroked long lines over her cheekbones, his passion causing them to dig in deep, not gentle as he had once been with her.

"I will give you my love," he offered. Terse phrasing, not at all how he planned this to go in his head, but he had to get it out now. He had to let her know how much she meant to him. The intensity of his words screamed with each touch, yelling at her to comply. "Every single smile, every laugh, every bit of happiness I've felt over the last thirteen years of my life-I've bottled them all up. I cut them short, believing I didn't deserve them. That I didn't deserve to live that night." His own truth spilled over. His mouth shrugged. Tears dripped from his face to hers where he collected them with his thumbs. "Now I want you to have them, and in return, I'll take your love." A hiccuping sob bubbled from his throat and he gave in. He gave in to her.

Stunned, Emiko held him upright as he collapsed into her arms. "It's okay to cry. I'll cry with you."

"Just promise-" Obito wept. He tried again, voice high pitched from the pinch of emotions and muddled from thick saliva coating his throat, "Promise you'll always love me."

"I will." She soothed him by rocking back and forth. Caught up in his outburst, his hands idled in the air. Emi had placed her face in her safe spot against the curve of his neck.

"Promise you won't leave me."

"I won't."

He wound his fingers through her hair, causing it to bunch and tangle. "I'm not fucking kidding. Don't leave me after we get back to Konoha. Stay with me. Please." It took all his willpower to keep breathing, to not hold onto the air in his lungs to suppress the pain. His tears matted her hair above her ear. "I don't want this to end."

"Long distance isn't my thing; I'm not about to leave my boyfriend."

Boyfriend. The word sounded so nice. It belonged there. It belonged in her mouth, in that sentence. It was his turn to try it.

"I've never had a girlfriend before, so all of this is new to me. You'll have to be patient with me while I learn.. you." Turning his face as much as possible, he kissed her scalp, and went on, "I don't know what I'm doing and I need help."

"I'll be more open about telling you what I need," she assured him. A smile broke across her face as she massaged his nape. His body softened, pacified at the gesture, calming him into a sense of security. "I didn't even know you liked me, to be honest."

A choking bark of a laugh bounced off the metal walls. "I've probably pictured our wedding more times than you."

Emi recoiled, expecting for him to see her eagerness and explain it was a joke. She scrutinized his entire face and came up envious. How can someone be so good looking after crying? His smile curled up in a suave way, teasing her.

"Well, you have a shitty way of showing it."

"I'll do better. You like romance, right? I'll be your knight in shining armor, or whatever it is you like," Obito said, swaying their bodies, forcing her to pitch from foot to foot.

"This is officially the weirdest love confession ever."

He pinched his mouth in a fine line. "You're kind of a weird person. It fits."

Emi burst out laughing so loud Obito scrunched his face. Her joy lifted them free of the overhanging tension of, as she said, the strangest string of events that lead to them dating.

Then he ruined it. He paled. "I hate to bring this up, but we left Kurenai and Asuma to man both booths.."

"Oh, shit."

Profusely apologizing to her friends, Emi tried to hand them money for manning her table, but they refused. Obito took the responsibility upon himself to speak to Asuma alone. He explained their assumptions about Emi were right, but they were in the wrong to share it behind her back to someone they just met. Asuma agreed and made amends with Emi, who hardly acknowledged it, busy counting the money in the cash box. To her, the moment was over and she moved on because there were more important things to do. Obito respected her sentiment and gave her space. The bags of baby clothes were sold and all the clothing racks were picked through. And it was only day one.

Though the event ended mid-day, the sky was midnight blue and peppered in white twinkling stars by the time Emi locked the shipping container for the night and collapsed in the van.

Emi's body was wedged along the bench seat, snoring lightly, face stuffed in the seam where the pillows met. Her arm dangled under the table.

Obito sighed and tapped the foot poking out, which was missing a shoe. "I'll make us dinner and get the bed ready." She grumbled something and kicked off the other shoe. "Your tantrums don't make you any less adorable." He swore her hand under the table curled until only one finger saluted him.

Cabinet doors were left ajar as he searched high and low for the quickest, easiest meal to make. He dug to the back of the pantry and clutched a rattling box. Bringing it to the light he read the front and snorted. He shook it.

Suddenly awake, she sat up and wiped the drool from her cheek. "There's hot dogs in the fridge. Cut 'em up and toss 'em in."

Obito couldn't roll his eyes any harder.

Steam fogged the covered windows. Emi nodded off as the warmth wrapped itself around her. The unnecessarily harsh clatter of a fork scraping a bowl woke her from her stupor.

"M'lady." Obito knelt on one knee, head down, pushing the bowl in front of her. "Your mac 'n cheese with hot dogs as requested."

"Ugh, you're so dorky."

"You're the one who wanted it," he said, sitting next to her. "The meal and the romantic gestures."

She frowned at his comment. After a thought, her grimace alleviated. This is what she sought. This was his love. He took care of her. Something she hadn't experienced in years. He saw how exhausted she was and took it upon himself to feed her. "Thank you, Obi."

His chewing stopped as her lips pressed his scarred cheek. "It's no big deal. You've done the same for me plenty of times."

"Still, I'm so glad I picked you."

Obito gulped. He looked at her. The earnest gleam in her eyes. The gentle smile after a long day. It was just for him. He's the only one who could see her this way. He wouldn't let anyone else have her. "I'm glad you picked me too."

"Will you hold me every night?" she asked.

"Absolutely," he said. "Will you hold me every morning?"

"Absolutely."

Like that, he had a reason to wake up for the first time in thirteen years.