Chapter 8: Milestone

Click, clack, click, clack..

Emiko's fingers skittered over the keys.

Tab, tab, enter.

The table was a chaotic array of her laptop, the cash box, and a litter of hand written price tags growing in number as she grabbed another, typed the numbers into her spreadsheet, and tossed it aside. The more she worked, the more her hair frizzed.

Clink, clink, clink..

Obito slid the last of the quarters in the dryers filled with their clothes and bedding. He hooked his foot around the leg of a chair behind Emi and brought it closer to her so they could sit together. Fishing his phone out of his pocket, it lit up with a text from Kakashi. Of course his friend was ecstatic at the sight of him and Emi's matching photos on Instagram. Kakashi liked them both and said as much.

Kakashi: congrats on the girlfriend

Kakashi: should i start reserving wedding cake tastings and suit fittings for when you get back?

Kakashi: guy said he'll be the flower girl

Obito: ha-ha

And a few minutes later..

Obito: thanks

The chair creaked as Emi leaned back in it with a huge sigh, rubbing at the corners of her eyes to give herself a moment of relief. Then she returned to her hunched position muttering about a pair of shorts she sold for lower than the listed price and needed to find the receipt on her payment app.

Obito gave her a quick kiss on her cheek, not at all offended when she appeared to ignore it. When she was busy, all her attention honed in on the task; the rest of the world faded.

He tapped his phone to show the time. The picture from yesterday made it to his background. Emi stood in front of him and he had his scarred arm wrapped around her clavicle, his chin resting on her head. Her hands were grasping his arm and her face was turned up in a laugh due to him pulling her into him and rocking her off balance. He just wanted their bodies closer, but seeing her forever paused in a giggle gave him this weightless feeling in his chest, like he had too much air.

In the photo, her rosy round cheeks scrunched her eyes closed and he wore a soft smile. It was something he had to prepare himself for. Hiding the hummingbird flutter of giddiness in his belly at the idea of her wanting to post this for the public to see. People would no longer speculate about their status.

Persuading his gaze from the Emi in the photo to the real one beside him, he took inventory of her brows and mouth drawn in a frown, frantically moving her glare from the screen to her phone. He understood now why his dad stared at his mom over breakfast as she complained about one of her coworkers at the office, nodding along, staying quiet. It was a look of love, of letting her vent, letting her be herself.

Obito's phone vibrated with a text from Kakashi. A simple smile emoji. That meant a lot from him, as he hated using those things. He dismissed the text and opened Instagram to check the notifications that had rolled in since last night.

The usual icons he expected popped up. Mostly younger girls infatuated with Emi's idyllic life. The comments were supportive, if not a bit overly nice. A few even went out of their way to compliment him. Smiling, he backed out of his profile and went to Emi's.

The picture of them had more likes than normal, but the comments were lacking. He tapped on it and skimmed over her caption for the hundredth time since she wrote it. Stuff about this being her last in-person event for the foreseeable future as she transitions to running her business online only. Towards the bottom she put any rumors to rest: "My boyfriend and I will miss Chiyo's lemonade stand! Until next time, Emiko out."

Curiosity got the better of him. He scrolled past the top few lines of heart emoji responses. The regret was immediate.

All this time he wondered why her comments could stretch hours between them when her phone had a constant influx of notifications. Why she poured over them in the morning. Why she looked over his shoulder in panic when he would open the app mid-day before she could get to it.

She was deleting them.

At first, the black on white text didn't serve a gut punch to his self-esteem; it was the type of comments. The innocent tone they took on. Humans had the strange notion that as long as their words weren't daggers intended to cut someone down, then they weren't mean. And yet, such insidious verbiage hurt him worse than if they outright called him ugly.

whats wrong with his face

yikes! his arm..

Aw, what happened to him?

Fake politeness. Acting like they were above bullying others by merely rephrasing their sickening thoughts. He scrolled to the bottom. Ah, there they were. The vain insults hurled at him from profile pics belonging to male models. He clicked on one whose comment stuck out as it crafted a well phrased accolade to Emi while belittling Obito's manhood in one swing.

The man was beautiful. His wealth was evident in both his well groomed appearance and the worldly backgrounds he photographed himself with frequently, yet you could tell it was a different country each time by the inspiring architecture. Obito didn't hold a sputtering candle to this man's light.

Depression latched on to the delusion and in one single swipe of a thumb, all his progress with Emi reverted his confidence to the lonely nobody, sitting at his computer, desperate to make a connection beyond being a second thought when his friends forgot to include him in a group chat.

Obito wasn't good enough. Not for Emi, not for his friends, not for what was left of his family, and certainly not for himself. So unlike this model in the photo. He was beloved by those hanging all over him. This anonymous man's bio boasted several self-made businesses, ensuring he had the money to secure several generations of his lineage. This man wouldn't have had to search online on how to please a woman. His abilities in such an area would've never been doubted in the first place.

Momentarily, the photo of him and Emi flashed on screen as he clicked his phone off. He stared ahead to the glass window of the dryer. Their sheets knotted in one long rope to frame his face in a portrait. The joyless face of a broken bastard.

"Wanna wait in the van and make breakfast?" Emi asked. "I'm starving and so over this." She demonstrated by collecting the tags on the table and walking over to the trash can, dropping them through her fingers like snowflakes.

Obito shoved his phone in his pocket. "Okay." He wasn't sure what he was. Disappointed? Sad? Upset at the unfairness of life? Maybe he was wrong to feel whatever way it was, but the words had done their due diligence in burning themselves into his retinas. He was ugly. He couldn't provide for anyone. He lacked motivation to do anything to change his life. He was a loser.

Breakfast tacos consumed. Clean laundry folded and put away. Emi kept up the conversation and labor for the both of them as Obito sat in the passenger's seat absorbed by his phone.

Desert scrolled by outside the window. Dried cacti brandished their spiky paddles like little hands waving at them as they passed. The road narrowed to a point as far as the eye could see.

"I wanted to admit something to you.." Emi said to fill the festering silence once again, having given up speaking to someone who replied in grunts and limited vocabulary.

Such a sentence captured Obito's interest away from the landscape. Perhaps she would admit to deleting comments to save his feelings. Perhaps she would reconsider their promises to each other. Either way, he could challenge and accuse her. He'd get this tension off his chest that had been itching for a fight. No more weightless feeling. No more air.

"I kinda lied the other day.." she said. Not the script he had planned in his head, but it could do. "I wasn't only masking in front of you the one time when I was giving you your shirt. I was doing it pretty hard the first day of our trip." She hunkered down into her shoulders. Her eyes became level with the steering wheel and Obito wasn't wholly convinced she could see over it. At least the interstate had been empty for miles. "I was so nervous that first day. And when I hurt your knee! God, I put on the happiest face ever. I thought you hated me."

Whatever he said next, be it words or a dismissive grunt, Emi didn't hear it. From her position behind the steering wheel, she glanced at the dashboard normally hidden behind her hands. The ominous orange light beamed.

Fear was an interesting thing. It could convince your heart it was second place in a marathon and sprinting to the finish line would earn you gold whilst simultaneously freezing the blood in your veins to a deadstop and the adrenaline rush of dread afterward rendered you comatose.

"Hey." Emi licked her lips, unknowingly cutting him off from his first real sentence of the day. "Could you look up the nearest gas station?" As her body started to disconnect from the situation, her normally airy speaking voice went monotone. "We ran out of snacks yesterday." Make a joke. Make a joke. Make a fucking goddamn joke so he doesn't know how incompetent you are. "No thanks to you eating my cookies too, ha!"

Obito released her phone from the cradle and zoomed out on the map. Emi read into his eerily silence. He knows something's wrong. He knows I'm a moron.

"It's about thirty-five miles away," he said, placing the phone back after putting it as the destination.

Emi gripped the steering wheel to keep her hands from shaking. Who knew how long the gauge had been on empty. To her right, the ever looming number of miles ticked down. She prayed to any and every spiritual being she didn't believe in that the fumes were enough to coast on.

Twenty, nineteen, eighteen.

Obito grimaced at the vultures circling the sun.

Ten, nine, eight.

The carcass of an unidentifiable animal greeted Emi as an omen.

Five, four, three.

The van slowed.

Two.

A minivan honked and passed them.

One.

Emi's finger bent back as she stabbed the button for the emergency blinkers and pulled over to the dirt shoulder. Obito's glare had been boring into the side of her face for the last two miles.

"Care to explain? No, wait, don't tell me. You saw one of these cactuses years ago and want to take a picture with it."

The edge in his tone was the final straw. Emi observed herself like a movie, floating away to stand near the sliding door. A side player in her own life. She watched herself turn off the ignition with a dignity she couldn't feel. Obito was getting angrier, demanding answers from an Emi who couldn't talk. He punched the buckle of his seatbelt and threw it off of him so hard it bounced off the glass before sliding to the top of its resting position. He cursed at the armrest for snagging his pants as he stood between the seats to get a better look at the dashboard.

"Fucking empty, Emi?" The girl in the seat didn't respond; she only stared at the horizon, at the sign advertising the gas station. A distorted mirage in the sweltering heat from the road. Obito kicked at nothing and paced between the kitchen and the front, narrowing the poison from his mind, to his tongue, to his lips. "No fucking gas.." He ran his fingers through his hair, then slammed his hand down on her headrest. "And it's right there!" he exclaimed, pointing with a throw of his arm.

"Stranded in the desert with no gas. Do you have AAA? It'll take 'em fucking hours to get here from a city."

A car pulled out of the gas station. Emi's wide eyes dimmed to half-closed. The seatbelt unlatched and her body stood up, moving to the back of the van.

Obito gestured his hands at her as she opened a cabinet and pulled out clothes she started stripping out of to put on. "What the fuck are you doing?" It was like talking to a wall. Her non-answers sent him into a rage he wasn't entitled to. He grabbed her hand, stopping her from buttoning her long sleeve shirt the rest of the way, exposing her sports bra underneath. "Who lives in a van for two years and forgets something as simple as gas? Huh?" He dug his fingers into her palm when she didn't react, then dropped it.

Emi sifted around the same cabinet until she found a floppy hat and running shoes, sitting where she stood to lace them up.

"What the hell are you doing?"

She brought out sunscreen from above the sink and squirted it along her legs. The Emi at the door curled into herself in anguish the longer she witnessed Obito's bewildered face worsen as he slapped an open palm on the countertop.

"I'm fixing this," the mouth on Emi's body mumbled. Her legs and face were streaked in trails of white.

"I don't know if you realize this, but we can't push this fucking thing all the way there," he said, baring his teeth. Dots of his spit landed on her salmon colored hiking shirt.

Opening the bench seat containing his luggage, she grasped the red gas can and headed to the sliding door. The two Emis joined to stare up at Obito as he doled out his final insults.

"I knew I never should've come here. What a fucking dumbass idea to go on a road trip with someone I don't know. Look where your responsibility got me." He crafted each syllable to dig his disappointment under her skin, causing as much damage as possible, deflecting all blame from himself. "Hello!" he screamed, deafening the world around them. Her grip tightened on the hat and gas can. "Are you gonna say anything or just fucking stand there?"

Emi's vision blurred. Her breaths rocked her back and forth, rigid body enduring his words. She could handle it. She had before.

"Whatever. At least it's almost over."

Emi trembled the longer she kept her tears in. His words were right. She was an idiot who couldn't remember the most basic first step of living in a vehicle. Obito was normal. He was too good for her and that was her ultimate mistake. To think a person would want to be with someone like her.

She rolled open the door and stepped out from one cruel world to another.

Obito flinched at her direct, unfaltering, haunted eye contact. The harrowing gaze of her bloodshot eyes.

She gripped the handle and screeched, "Sorry I'm,"-the tears fell-"so fucking stupid!" Pure fury marred her face. She dug her heels in, pivoted her hips, and squared her shoulders. Her snarl, painted in golden rays, scorched his expression of shock, covered in darkness. Every muscle contributed its all to slamming the door.

Pans tumbled. Books dominoed against the cabinet doors.

Struck. Singed. Accepting what he had done. He snapped out of it. The fog dissipated.

"Wait!" Obito wretched the door open again and jumped out. Landing properly. Her back was becoming smaller and smaller as she sped away, gas can jostling to and fro. "Emi!"

She picked up her pace until she was running. Rocks bounced off her shoes, clouds of sand filled her socks. Cries stopped short on her gasping breath. The calling of her name stopped. The door banged shut. She cinched the sun hat with the string under her chin and smashed the brim over her eyes. Shutting out the pain of living.

Obito lingered in the kitchen until his self destructive trance brought him to the passenger's seat, eyes bulging in terror.

"Oh my God." Emi blended into the scenery the further she went. "Oh my God I'm such a fucking idiot." He punched the dash and threw his head back, colliding with the over padded headrest. Emi's phone, and the cradle that held it, crashed to the floor. He balled his fists over his eyes and pressed until the water leaked over his lashes and his vision became fireworks.

"I'm such a fucking idiot," he cried until his lungs hurt.

Obito wasn't sure how long he sat at the table, only to become alert when Emi's footsteps approached, crunching on loose rocks as she rounded the van. The squeak of the fuel door opening and closing. The unscrewing and screwing of the gas cap. The side door rolled open and the red plastic can was tossed at his feet under the table.

Emiko pointedly avoided eye contact as she crossed the threshold to the sink and flipped the handle, cupping her hands under the tap. The low hum of the battery sounded off. Streaks of sweat wound through the dirt on her face.

Two drops.

She tried the handle again.

Nothing.

Robotically, she opened the cabinet under the sink. Both jugs were a pale blue instead of the dark green they normally were when full of water. She gripped the sink, leaned over it, and hung her head. Sweat dropped from her hairline.

Plink, plink, plink..

A cold water bottle touched her bicep. Obito was offering what was left in his. The coolness swayed her fleshly body, but her inner self reeled at the thought of admitting defeat.

What would be an olive branch under normal circumstances now served as a reminder of her failures.

Impetuous, she rejected his offer and returned to her seat. Turning the ignition, she cycled it in fifteen second intervals. After a sharp backfire, she revved the engine and joined the road. Obito lurched, still on the bench seat, and caught his water bottle as it hit the table and rolled away. He didn't have it in his heart to complain, nor to get up.

Emi filled the tank, stuck in long daydreams of how it could've been worse. Obito watched the water ripple in his bottle as she drove to the side of the storefront and squinted at a sign on the Water/Air pump.

"I have to go inside to get them to turn it on," she said, grabbing the water jugs and setting them on the ground.

Minutes ticked by in the store as she stood in front of an open refrigerator. Her sticky clothes dried crisp with sweat. She hoisted the items in her arms to the cashier and gave an exhaustive glare at the plastic bag he packed her things in. One more example of her being a forgetful idiot.

"Thank you," she said, taking the receipt. Something caught her eye. The total wasn't quite right. She looked at the cashier; a man with heavy eyebrows, bags under his eyes, and wrinkles only someone who lived a long, jovial life would have.

"I may have misplaced my scanner for one or two of your items," he said, shrugging. "It seems you've had a long day, considering this is your second visit." The low countertop pressed against his gut as he reached over and patted her forearm. He smiled, all lips and gums, no teeth. Just like her dad would when consoling her after a boy was mean to her during her formative years. "Have a good day, Miss."

"Thank you," she wheezed out of her tight throat.

The door chimed behind her as she walked up to the van and stopped.

Obito nodded towards the kitchen. "I filled one already." The water in the second jug he was filling splashed his wrists as the bubbles surfaced. "Get yourself some water and wash your face." He didn't need to see her to know she was crying again.

Moving around her, he hauled the other jug under the sink and pulled the gray water one out once she was busy patting her face dry. He dumped it outside while she stowed the gas can away. They danced around the other, acknowledging the other when necessary, but otherwise ignoring them.

The plastic bag on the table rustled from the breeze sweeping through the van. Obito halted in his path as it twisted and turned, revealing a brightly colored box. "You bought me.." he spoke to no one; Emi was outside, crouched, investigating a horned lizard.

"You got me snacks.."

Emi frowned at his sudden appearance beside her. His heavy steps caused the lizard to dart away, but she followed, cautiously stepping from the pavement to the soft sand giving way under her shoe. Up a dune, the lizard twisted itself around the stubby cacti with ease, avoiding all points of danger.

"Emi," his voice carried over the wind whipping the clothes to her body. "Emi, I'm so sorry."

The salmon colored shirt draped over her slumped frame at hearing her name again and again in a variety of tones since this morning. Slow, so slow, she seemed to turn around to face him. Tired, so tired, were her eyes after his wrath. And generous, so generous, was her virtue in giving him another chance to make things right.

Obito lumbered up to her, standing tall on the sand that sank around his shoes. Stumbling, pushing his thighs, he stood atop the dune with her. Her gaze stopped at his mouth. "I'm so sorry," he repeated as the tears came. In a flash, like her slamming the door, he had his arms around her. Groans emitted her crushed face against him. Their steps went uncoordinated. He had to be closer. He had to save this.

She muffled something against his shirt. He drew back, uncinched the hat, and tossed it on the ground where it was swept away on its own journey across the desert. Free from it, he was able to stroke her hair lovingly from her temple to the low bun at her nape.

He tilted her face up, excusing her aversion to looking at him after what he'd done, "I'm sorry for yelling at you. You didn't deserve that. You deserve so much better than that." His shame stole consonants and vowels, squeaking them out of his throat, "You made one mistake and you fixed it. You fixed it while I berated you. You've lived in this van for two years and I should've trusted you. Oh, God, Emi, I'm so sorry."

The remorse externalized by his body burdening her. Shrouding her, consuming her. Compelling her head to the nook between his neck and shoulder. A place of vulnerability. Backwards as it appeared, he wasn't bringing her in for her sake, but instead, he was seeking shelter in her strength.

Strings of saliva flagged in his gaped mouth as his eyes stared across the open land. He gathered the plume of words billowing in his mind before they disappeared. "You're perfect and didn't deserve any of that."

"You were right," she said, devoid of emotion. "I messed up. I've lived in a van for two years and didn't remember to fill up the tank."

"No, no. I wasn't right."

"Did you still want to break up?"

He gave up his shelter to pull back and search her glassy eyes. "Did I say that?"

"You implied it, I think. You said it was a dumbass idea to come with me on this trip and that it'd be over soon. Implying we'd part ways."

At that, Obito's face contorted, dying to take it all back. "This is what I do," he whispered in abject misery, stepping away until his hands fell to his sides. "I have something good going for me and I ruin it. That's all I know. Ruination."

Sympathetic, Emi explained, "I'm sensitive to people yelling at me. I don't even watch movies where the actors yell a lot, it just reminds me of my ex-husband." Obito raised his eyebrows, then pinched them down. "I know I said he took care of me, and I him, but when things were bad.. They were horrible. My brain just doesn't work like others. I don't understand things. I miss jokes, sarcasm. I interpret things differently. This led to misunderstandings, and when he'd demand answers, I went mute. It's just how my body reacts, and yeah.." She shrugged.

Her truth. Her past. Renewed conviction surged in Obito. His repentance. His promise.

"I'll be better!" The distance, the great abyss swimming in his head, closed at each pounding step as they joined in a bone-cracking hug. "I'll be a better man for you." His tears cooled her scalp. His epiphany was told, eye to eye, "When we get back.. No, fuck it. Can I borrow your laptop before we reach Konoha? I'll set up therapy appointments. I'll send out my resume. No more mood swings taken out on those around me. I'm getting my life together. For you. For myself. I never want to to treat you like that again-"

He caught himself. "If you even want to be with me. I understand if you don't, if I'm too troubled and not worth your time."

"You are worth every second I give you," she said, a tentative smile on her lips.

"Then I'll be the man you deserve." He tightened his arms around the small of her back and lifted her up, swinging her around until her sniffles turned to giggles, collecting her sobs turned laughs in the safe crook of his neck. He bellowed for all the horned lizards to hear, "I'm done being a depressed piece of shit!"

"Hey!" A man in a baseball cap cut their theatrical celebration short. "Sorry to disrupt this touching moment, but your van is blocking the air pump and some of us got places to be." He ended his sentence by thumbing his nose and stalking to his car where his wife hung her head out the window, squinting at the weirdos slipping and sliding down the dune, howling like hyenas. Exceptionally elated. Overloading on serotonin. Like when a lightning strike misses you by mere feet. The sudden onslaught of your life flashing before your eyes, excited to experience it beyond the very second it could've ended.

Emi prolonged the man's aggravation by backing out of the parking spot, turning her steering wheel, going forward, parking, adjusting her mirror. Obito held his belly, snickering. He promised they would have a more serious discussion later and Emiko looked forward to that.

Their journey continued. The phone no longer held a destination. It was left in a cup holder and she didn't question why the cradle was on the floor.

Having such a large set back, the sun was blazing red as it fell to the blue veiled mountains so far away they could be illusions. As the retro zig zag on the van zipped down the interstate, man-made roads opened up alongside it, and it was at one of these Emi slowed to a stop where another van was idling.

They rocked on the uneven surface. The kitchen jangled with many noises. She pulled up beside the other van and rolled down the window. "Howdy!" She greeted the two men doing the same.

"Yo," the driver said. His light brown hair was windswept in all directions and the white dog pawing to get in his lap barked 'hello'. The man in the other seat lifted a hand, not to wave, but to slide his beady sunglasses up his nose.

"Any good camping spots up there," she asked, pointing at the flat top hills. Hills may not be the right word, they towered above the vans, serving as platforms for the seldom clouds passing over.

"Totally! Take a left at the fork and you'll find our spot. Totally rad views. Hey, did you come here for the meteor shower tonight?"

Emi looked at Obito and he raised his brows in mild excitement. "No, I had no idea there was one," she said to the other driver.

"We're headed about a hundred miles east to get away from the city lights."

"Aw, we just came from that way."

"Oh, don't worry, you'll still get a good show from here. We just want the pitch black out there in the middle of nowhere."

"Well," his partner interjected. "It's not quite completely pitch black, that's a misnomer-"

"Anyway," the driver said, petting his panting dog. "Should be a good view. Left at the fork. Have fun!"

"You too," Emi said, clapping, and squealing her vibrancy back into their lives as she turned to Obito after rolling up her window. "You good stopping here for the night?"

"Yeah, sounds fun actually." Obito had wanted a quiet spot for them to talk and for Emi to relax and unwind. He needed to apologize in more than measly words, and what a wonderful background he'd have to inspire him.

Up, Emi followed the other van's tracks. The flat top they chose was both spectacular in size and height. As the van crested the final slope, the view commanded their attention and she parked with eyes blown huge by the grand scenery.

She backed the van up to some boulders and threw open the back doors. Hands gripping the top, her body leaned out, resembling a maiden figurehead on the front of a ship.

She felt impossibly small in that moment under the canopy of the pink sky. Purples touched red mountains sprinkled with snow. Brown mesquite trees gnarled orange dunes. Green wild grass sat in pockets of shade.

When she turned around, Obito's smiling self was placed there at the end of the bench seat, obvious in his attempt to both: 1) act like he wasn't watching her and, 2) force her to sit next to him.

She obliged, cozying up to him as she had been the past few days. Her arm laid across the back of his shoulders and one of her legs was tossed between his, where one of his hands rested, tracing small circles over her skin and the other ensnared her waist to cradle their chests together. Their closeness didn't allow for wandering attention spans. Only the other mattered.

The kiss they shared was just as heartfelt as last night. Obito funneled his spoken and unspoken apologies to his lips where he hoped she tasted them. Emi exuded her acceptance in her touch. Each finger tip traced a length of hardened tissue to soft pockets from his cheek to his jaw, skirting over the texture to memorize it. He ended the kiss to communicate verbally.

"You are so beautiful."

A smirk tugged at her lips. "Did you know last night was the first time you complimented me? After I had your dick in my mouth?"

He reared back, blush darkening his left cheek. "I.." Was that true? He recalled the memories of the past few days and shrank into himself. "Sorry, I'll be better about it. I've always thought you were attractive in my head, but I guess I never said it out loud-"

"Oh, stop," she laughed, patting his chest. "I don't care." After all, his attraction had a significant tell. "But it is one of the reasons I thought you didn't like me."

"Oh, Emi," he sighed. "If only you knew what went on up here." He tapped on his head, then returned his hand to her thigh where he made large stroking movements down her leg.

"Maybe you'll let me in some time."

Obito gazed into her coffee brown eyes. He drew his brows down in thought, mulling over the words. Thinking about this morning. The catalyst for his bad mood. She forgave him once already, she could peek behind the curtain.

"It's not an excuse, but," he started, voice soft and so unlike the one he used hours ago. "This morning I got on Instagram and saw some.. not nice comments, put it that way."

Immediately, her fingers unclasped from behind his neck and she tapped on her empty shorts pocket; worried eyes scanning the van. He grabbed her wrist and cupped her hand on his scarred cheek where it should be.

"Don't worry about it. I know it's the internet and people are rude when hiding behind a screen, I just.. I didn't expect to feel so.. I dunno." The groan came from deep within. He gave up already. Barely one sentence in.

"Hold on," Emi said. She lifted her leg from his lap and untwisted her arms, sandwiching her body between his and the table to reach above him and open a cabinet. "Oh!"

"Ow." Obito rubbed the sore spot on his head as books rained upon him. She rushed to apologize and stuffed them back in. One book with an orange cover was left out.

"This is what I wanted to show you. It's a book on every emotion you can think of with descriptions of what it feels like to experience it, long term effects, stuff like that. It even has little pictures besides the definitions of the faces associated with it." She opened a page and showed him. "It's for writers, but I think you'll get some use out of it. To try and put how you feel into words."

So this is what she had been talking about at the diner. He turned a few pages, scanning the alphabetized emotions. Most of the faces had little handwritten scribbles elaborating certain aspects of the mouths and eyes. This is what she used to decipher people when speaking to them.

"I think I feel.." He flipped towards the front of the book. "Jealous. When I see the type of guys commenting about how I look. All I can picture is you with them. I fully acknowledge you wouldn't leave me for them, but it says here part of jealousy is resentment," he said, pointing at the passage. "And that's spot on. I resent you.. for picking me. Because I feel like I don't deserve it and I'm only here wasting your time until you find someone better and you finally leave me."

Her concern etched her face in a frown. He knew her first sign of crying was the shorter breaths as the pressure swelled in her chest and closed her throat, but he had to go on, to get it all out. "I know this isn't how you view me at all, but there's always that voice in the back of my head that says I'll never be good enough for you. That if I show you that side of me you'll break up with me."

Turning to the page for Depression, he read it over. And the longer he read, the more his body sank into itself. "All of this describes me perfectly."

Emi opened and shut her mouth with a sticky, smacking wet sound as she debated on how to keep moving him forward, but he answered for her, "I know this feeling won't last. This spark of motivation, so can we find a town or something tomorrow so I can use your laptop to fill out applications for therapy? I know the actual therapy process won't be easy. I'll get overwhelmed. I'll get frustrated. I'll still have these negative thoughts in my head. But will you still be there for me?"

"Yes, absolutely. I'll help you. And Obito," she said, smoothing her fingers over his hand holding open the book. "I'm not going to leave you. We both know what we're signing up for here. Today was a mistake, not our relationship." The pages of the book fanned, arcing over one another in a tumble to shut the book so he could lean in for a kiss. A new chapter of their lives.

"Please don't be afraid of letting me know what bothers you," she murmured, lips gliding over his.

He locked their pinkies together and held them under his chin. "I never want to hurt you again. You're pushing me to get help and I can't wait to show you the results."

Emi pressed her forehead to his. "I love you."

"I love you too." Tilting his head, he parted his mouth to take in her plush bottom lip. The book smacked the floor. Hands roamed the plains of one, curves of another.

Pitch black. The sun had set.

Emi cut the kisses shorter and shorter, disengaging their show of love to wipe his messy trail of spit from around her mouth with the back of her hand. She recoiled. Her stomach clenched. Salty, grimy filth from the day sullied the mood.

"I feel so gross it's starting to upset me," she uttered, meekly. "I'm getting agitated the longer I sit here. I'm sorry." Her anxiety ramped up, squeaking the end of her sentence. The dust covering her shirt, the sweat sealing itself as a top layer on her skin, the blood on her shin from an errant rock that pinged her, the sand filling the space between her socks and shoes.

It was time for Obito to step up.

"It's okay," he cooed. It was clear from her body language she didn't want to be touched anymore, so he didn't. "It's okay. You have that one big metal mixing bowl, right? I can boil water and get out your soap and stuff for you. Is a sponge bath alright?"

She wiped at the stinging tears of frustration. "Yeah." Her mouth shrugged and she sucked in a breath. At least Obito was a big crier himself and understood how easily they could come sometimes.

Obito made the bed, started dinner, and set Emi's steaming bowl of bath water under the piece of the table that made up the mattress. Emi hung over the edge of the bed shining her phone down at the rocks checking for creepy crawlies before placing her feet on the largest boulder and stripping out of her cruddy clothes and stuffing them in the bench seats to deal with later.

She rearranged her toiletries, dipped the rag, and scoured her flesh until the peppermint soap burned her nostrils and cooled her skin. Inside the kitchen, Obito turned off the lights once the sauce he made-with her disembodied instructions-needed to simmer. He sat at the end of the bed, studying the sky.

Kicking the sludge of mud off her toes as it flowed from her arms, she craned her head back to look at him. "Not interested in your naked girlfriend two feet from ya?"

"Surprise as it may seem," he said, the half moon lighting the edge of his smirk, "I'm not always horny."

She balanced on the edge of the rock to wrangle his leg in her grasp and kiss his hairy knee. "I'm just kidding, cutie. I'm way too burnt out, anyway."

"Same. Plus depression has killed my libido for years now. You just happened to get me in a good mood this week."

The wash cloth slapped her thigh as the vast openness of the empty desert swallowed her laugh. "Is that supposed to be a compliment?"

"An observation." He lifted a shoulder.

After dumping the remaining clean water over her body, splashing the rocks beneath her, she patted dry shampoo into her hair, promising the bird's nest she'd take a proper shower tomorrow.

Obito took the damp towel from her and scoffed at her choice in attire. "My hoodie again?"

"Mm, I'm wearing underwear too," she said, shivering as she climbed into the welcoming heat of the van. While Obito put away the towel and fixed their food, she made an elaborate cuddle den out of the comforter wrapped around her.

When he came back, he sucked his teeth, but joined her nonetheless; handing her the bowl of pasta and tomato sauce, climbing under the blanket to snuggle with her. "Do you have to wear my clothes?"

They sat smooshed together, hip to hip, elbow to elbow, knee jabbing the other's thigh. Emi scooched closer, siphoning his warmth. Obito almost dropped his bowl to put his arm around her.

"I know you like it." She waggled her eyebrows.

"I do."

She smiled at his answer and turned her face to the sky, stuffing her mouth with food while he watched her, entranced at her beauty in the moonlight. This strange woman who couldn't stop being the perfect fit for him.

"Look!" The spoon scraped her teeth to point at nothing. "Oh, another!"

Streaking across the violets and midnight blues was a sharp white line. There and gone in a blink. Then another.

"Oh, wow." Her eyes drank in the display of nature that showed her she was a speck on the face of planet earth. A small creature with an entire story of its own, and yet incomparable to the expanse above.

Obito sat ruler-straight, awestruck. The unending cosmos rained bogus hope, but he couldn't resist the inkling of whatever he recited in his head might come true. "We should make a wish."

His spoon tinked his bowl, and she pulled hers from her mouth, putting it down like him and closed her eyes.

All she saw was a black void. But beyond her eyelids, life continued. The stars stayed hung in the sky. Animals skittered across the sand. Plants laid in wait for morning. Humans drove machines on the hidden road to secret locations. All with lives of their own. Their stories to tell.

Emi opened her eyes and turned to Obito, who was turned to her with a softness she hadn't seen.

"What'd you wish for?" His tone was gentle; his gaze the same. The creases around his eyes angled down, eyelashes fanning his cheeks to look at her. His small inhales brushed his bicep against her arm and his exhales mussed the baby hairs sticking up around the bunched up hood of his sweatshirt. The rough skin of his scars shimmered with a delicate smile. Because of their height difference, the blanket had fallen from her back and he draped it around her, grazing his hot forearm over the back of her neck. Such tenderness from him, it took her a beat to respond.

"Can't tell you or else it won't come true," she whispered. His thick bottom lip went taut as his smile widened. His eyes flickered over hers, agreeing with where she stared in longing. The kiss was brief, but conveyed much.

Their wishes were the same.

Obito took their empty bowls to the kitchen, much to Emi's dismay as her personal heater left. "This vacation has been fun, but I can't wait to start our life together." To keep the quiver out of his voice, he turned on the sink and sloshed water around. "Just the thought of coming home to you.." He squeezed his eyes shut, sure she heard the yearning in his voice. She turned around, and agreed, tone full of love.

Stacking the bowls in the cabinet, he kept pouring out his emotions, "I know we've promised stuff before like holding each other, but this feels more real, not just empty words blurted out. I've been putting on my own mask to hide the darkest parts of me, and you saw them. And you still want to be with me after our fight."

He climbed over to her and swaddled her body against his. Wrapping his arms around her entire form nestled in the blankets. He kissed spots at random, any place he could find. Her cheeks, plump with giggles. Her neck, smelling of mint. Her jawline, sharp and remarkable. He was steadily rocking them back and forth. She let him indulge.

"You deserve to be loved," she whispered in his ear with certitude.

"So do you." He kissed her one more time on the temple and joined her bundle, sharing the warmth she latched onto.

"Then I'm glad we found each other."

In this long moment of silence, amongst the meteors sailing across the sky on their own voyage, they gazed into one another's hearts. They put all their invisible love into the hands caressing them. Recharging them, powering them through life.

They were two broken vases, helping the other glue themselves back together.

To make them whole again.