Chapter 11: Acceptance

Sensitive.

Skin. Feeling the gossamer brush of butterfly wings across her knuckles: his kiss on her hand. Neurons feeding it from her fingertips to her brain.

Brain. Low production of serotonin. Forever weaving anxiety throughout interactions steeped in happiness. Brewing distrust and suspicion in innocent exchanges of pleasantries after years of being bullied for being different.

Emotions. Gritting her teeth through the heart wrenching expressions of cringe when she said the wrong thing and offended someone. Smiling and putting forth the slice of her personality that was charming because she wanted to be liked. That's all she ever wanted. To be accepted.

But besides all that, Emiko Kurokawa was sensitive to caffeine, and having it at 1AM proved to be a terrible idea.

Not once was she able to fall asleep, but waking to Obito Uchiha; his large hand covering hers and kissing it as she became the big spoon first thing in the morning gave her brain the serotonin it needed to calm down and plow forward through the day.

"Em, you missed the exit," Obito said, his head swiveling to watch the green road sign pass by.

"I wanted to take you to one of the places I use to get product," she said, her bloodshot eyes arcing closed in a smile. "There's places like this all over the country. The one in Konoha's pretty big, but, yeah, I just drive to them, stock up on vintage clothes and sell them locally or pack a box and keep it in my storage unit."

Obito's head swam with imagery of what it could be. A brick and mortar store with racks on racks of psychedelic prints? Something akin to a thrift store, but for industry people? An outdoor flea market?

"It's by appointment only, so we're not exactly supposed to go inside, but I'm hoping Tenten is working at the front desk so she can sneak us in."

The high-rises of Konoha faded to thin sticks pointing at the dark clouds rolling in from the ocean.

Brown piers stuck out like teeth into the stormy waves sloshing up the sides of docked boats. Obito could just make out men in yellow coats exchanging buckets from hand to hand in a chain. A seagull swooped at one of the men, another dove for the bucket itself, and with the bird's success, out spilled red crabs. The fisherman decided to use the empty bucket as a projectile and swung it at the birds. Much to his dismay, the handle slipped from his fingers and missed the flock of noisy, cackling seagulls. Least to say, the bucket was never seen again.

Emi parked and warmed her fingers over the heat vent before snaking them up the opposite sleeve of her turtleneck. Obito zipped up his jacket and joined her in the parking lot, tugging at her sweater until she relented and held her hand out for him to take, grumbling about his somehow being colder than hers.

The fine mist of rain turned to fat, wet bullets, soaking them and hurrying their steps. He tried to parse the beige building stretching the length of a football field, but there was no sign on the outside, nor on the door she opened for him. If he had to guess by Emi's fist pump, the young lady behind the desk was who she wished to speak to. Her hair was tightly braided and wound into two buns on either side of her head and she used gold paint to stencil a star under her eye. Her deep copper cheeks glimmered with iridescent blue glitter. Definitely the type of person Emi was interested in.

Obito didn't listen to the conversation, instead his attention was laser focused on the glass panel on the door beside the desk and what lay beyond it. Blobs of color. Lots and lots of color and lots and lots of blobs.

Emi laughed at something the girl said and the sudden momentum pulling on his hand towards those blobs lurched his steps to the unknown. A very colorful unknown.

Chaos.

Beyond the door was complete and utter chaos.

Piles on piles of clothes with humans scaling them like mountain goats. Wet, dusty, filthy clothes according to the smell. Obito rubbed his watering eyes and minimized the amount of time breathing through his nose in favor of his mouth. The mildew stench lingered.

As his wonderful, lovely, absolutely bonkers girlfriend led him to the piles, he watched people work their way up the hills, slipping over loose clothes. Previously white blouses sank to the ground in heaps of gray. A woman wrested one leg of a pair of leather chaps buried deep in the pile, the fringe down their side swung to and fro until her body weight wheedled the other leg out. No one stared except Obito, worried she'd fall to her death as she stumbled down a few steps. She recovered and continued her upward trajectory. He turned to Emi, fully intending to ask her what the fuck this place was and why she would ever come here, but her dismay was directed just over his shoulder.

A pair of chiseled dark brown arms hung about their necks and Emi rolled her eyes at the man with bleach blond hair who stuck his face between them, eyeing her and Obito's linked hands.

"Darui," Emi stated, unlacing their hands to put hers in her pocket.

"How'd the Sakura Bowl go?"

Obito deflated under the weight of Darui's arm hugged around his shoulder. Slowly gathering courage, he tried to shake it off at the exact moment the man's attention rounded on him and cut off Emi's answer. She fumed. Darui disengaged from their backs and held his hand out for Obito to shake.

"I'm Darui. I think we met once." Judging by the way his gaze settled on Obito's scarred face, he remembered him.

"Obito," he filled in the gap. He darted his eyes to Emi to inventory her frown. It was the same sort he wore when girls introduced themselves to Kakashi, and not him. A down turn of the mouth hinting at a long established rivalry. It made sense. Her job was niche, afterall. Everyone was in competition for clients and the limited amount of clothes from decades past.

Unsure of the intricacies of the relationship, Obito kept the handshake short and polite while Darui glanced at his mangled hand, perplexed. And for once, for possibly the first time since the accident, Obito didn't care.

He might care tomorrow, the day after that, or next week. Right now, however, he was unfazed at the staring, gawking, jeering. After years of scrutinizing all the parts of him that melted like wax, then years of avoiding mirrors altogether. Years of turning the other cheek when kids and adults alike pitied him, mocked him. Hushed insults that reached his ear. Now he could lift his chin and look Darui square in the eyes. "Nice to meet you."

"Anyway," Emi interjected, cutting the tension between the men standing face to face. "We're not staying long, just stopping by to show him how we find vintage stuff."

Darui relaxed his smirk and considered both of them for a moment. What he was thinking, they weren't privy to. "It's mostly modern shit today, but I found a few things."

A few things. Obito paled. Forklifts zoomed around them, beeping, and backing up to dump more piles of clothes, and Darui was sweating head to toe digging in them for a few things. Why in the world did they subject themselves to this?

His answer came as a screech.

Emi clapped, bounced foot to foot, and rambled about how cute the sweatshirt was that Darui showed her. "Want it?" he asked.

"Duh," she huffed, thumbing through her phone for the payment app they used. "How much?"

"For you? $50."

"Darui."

"Fine. $20." Emi paid him and annoyingly he walked away as he tossed it to her, forcing her to jump for it lest it fall to the dirty concrete floor. His smug grin teased her from under his blonde hair in need of a trim.

Still, she was brimming, positively jittering to show it to Obito. "You like it?"

Good God the thing was ugly. Navy blue with a white folded over collar decorated in embroidered hearts, and, oh no, not the huge graphic on the front. You could see it from space. Three kittens playing with string. Hideous.

"It's.." Something she would wear. "It'll be cute with your jeans and white sneakers, yeah."

"Oh, yeah, sure. We could share it." Her saccharine smile spiked his blood pressure. Obito's blush burned his nose, tied his tongue. He stammered out a hard rejection that he couldn't be paid to wear such a crime against fashion. "But," she spoke to him as if he were a baby with a sing song lilt as she held the appalling garment to his chest, "It'll look good on you."

She couldn't keep replicating things from when they met and expect him to acquiesce to her every whim. He let it slide with the condoms since she picked the right size, but drawing parallels to her giving him his flannel was too far.

He wasn't taking it from her hands so she didn't have to hold it. No, never. He was simply snatching it from her to contemplate how to best dispose of it.

"Never in a million years will I wear that." His voice was a deep warning to not test him on this.

"We'll see." She smiled.

"No, we won't!" Obito yelled as she joined the vast array of people walking on, and up, a hill of clothes so deep he wasn't sure the floor under this section had been seen in months. After surveying the mountain, he was the lone person not digging through it. Standing by himself. Staring at Emi, who was preoccupied by making her way to the top.

"Goddammit," he sighed to himself and tucked the sweatshirt under his arm to scramble after her. Clothing sailed past his feet as she dug through a section like a dog. As far as he could tell, this was the norm. "Why come here to find stuff? Why not stick to normal stores or whatever?"

She yanked at a white lacey bra, half of it stuck in the depths of the pile. After some scrounging and assistance by groping where it was caught, it came out with two tank tops twisted on the band's metal hooks. She checked it over, saw the broken underwire, and tossed it. A lot of work for nothing. "It's treasure hunting!" Nothing could bring her spirits down.

"Treasure hunting," he repeated, stoically. Of all the answers she could give. "Is that why you picked me?" Dropping a pleated skirt with a broken zipper, she tilted her ear at him. He asked point blank, "Am I a treasure to you?"

"Of course you are!"

Obito hugged the horrid sweatshirt to his chest. "Your smile could pierce the rain clouds," he mumbled.

"What was that?" she asked, turning the sleeves of a jacket inside-out and tossing it to Darui down the clothes mountain where he was going through some jeans. The jacket knocked him over just as he was leaning down to read a tag.

"Nothing." Obito could do romantic gestures alone, but waxing poetry about her was a bit out of his comfort zone, especially with a teenager creeping up near him, not at all hiding her shit-eating grin due to eavesdropping.

He waited for his bodily reflexes to betray him, to show the world he was uncomfortable. But the hot flash of sweat never came. His blush from earlier had long since subsided. He let the girl giggle at him, unbothered.

Emi was his hundred. Emi was his treasure. That was nothing to be embarrassed about.

"Love you," Emi said before he could. The lines around her mouth shadowed. The harsh light from above exaggerated the wrinkles across her forehead. Her round cheeks squeezed her eyes shut. Signs of her growing smile because she was proud of him. He was no longer letting the judgements of strangers get to him.

"Love you too."

"When did it stop raining?" Obito questioned the sky. The dark clouds had broken apart to let in golden shafts of sun.

Without an appointment, they technically weren't allowed in the Rag House at all, much less to dig and purchase clothing, so they left empty-handed. Except for the one darling sweatshirt.

Too late for lunch, too early for dinner. Right on time to meet Kakashi at the restaurant.

"Take a right at the light and you'll find the entrance," Obito instructed her to the parking garage for his building. She asked him numerous times during the day about hanging out at his apartment until they were hungry, but he always had some excuse or other activity they could do around town.

What Emi didn't see were the twenty or so texts he sent Kakashi in a panic-induced mania begging him, pleading with him, promising him the world if he would wake up from his alcohol induced hibernation and clean his pigsty of a room before inviting Emi up.

"What's, uh, the clearance on this?" Emi asked, turning into the driveway of their fancy glass building's parking garage on the immaculately clean mainstreet of downtown.

"We should be good," he said. He had absolutely no idea if his words were true.

They ducked down in the front seats, eyes turned to the roof. The concrete beam with the height limit passed over the front of the van. She crept forward. No sound of metal scraping. A car beeped at them and the van evened out, no longer on the sloped entrance. Rows of parking spots ran alongside them. They were in the clear.

They let out a sigh of relief. The van remained in one piece and not a convertible.

Down a few levels, Obito explained the two bedroom apartment came with two parking spots, but only Kakashi used his. It took several tries for her to squeeze into the tight space, only slightly, majorly, terrified of dinging the sports cars on either side.

"You ready?"

In two short words the weight of the world crashed on her.

Obito wrung his hands around his upper arms, deciding on a different jacket to change into considering his was damp, and he suggested Emi do the same unless she wanted to get sick.

"What should I wear?" she asked, holding up the outfits she picked out in her head at roughly 4AM this morning. Obito slumped, weary at her choices, wondering if she knew how ridiculous she dressed sometimes.

The casual, weekday clown outfit: A rainbow long sleeve striped shirt with a denim dress over top.

Or the full clown outfit: Pastel rainbow striped overalls and a not-at-all matching chunky white sweater that had purple flowers on it.

She shrugged them up, balancing them up and down like a scale weighing her options. Her demeanor wilted the longer he didn't answer.

Obito wasn't looking at the clothing, but at her face. Her worried brow, her chewed bottom lip, the bags under her eyes. Her eyes.. they had lost their sparkle. Dull and distant, ready to give up. Ready to lay down to the first adversary of the day. A feeling he identified with well.

He stepped to her, grabbed the clothing and placed it on the table to run his hands up her arms. "What's wrong?"

She shivered under his touch and turned her face away to the bright clothing. Small joys she could bundle herself in. "Which do you think they'll like better?"

"Emi, it doesn't matter. Wear whichever one you like more. Please tell me what's actually bothering you."

"I mean, that's part of it." Her bottom lip shrugged to her top, causing her face to scrunch. Her voice thickened as the tears came, "I'm scared they won't like me."

At her admittance, the tears brimmed over the dam of her lashes and Obito brought her in for a hug with one arm, using his other to wipe her cheeks. A single arm was all that was required to engulf her to his warm embrace. Cinch her tight to his chest. Ruck up her sweater to run his fingers along the small of her back.

"They'll like you, just be yourself, baby."

"But which version of myself?" she wept up at him. She was asking him which mask he would prefer and it broke his heart.

"It doesn't matter. I love them all, and they will too." His comforting words only distressed her more. Her fist wound knots in his jacket.

"What's Guy like? I tried to find him on Instagram, but I couldn't. And you've only told me a little bit about Kakashi, and I couldn't get a read on him when we met. What if I do something wrong? I don't want to hurt their feelings. I don't want to hurt your friend's feelings. I just- I just- Please, I don't want to be weird in front of them!" She was shaking him at this point. Tears flowed faster than he could keep up with. This required an intervention.

"Emi!" He clapped his hands on her shoulders and peeled her off him. "I absolutely love you more than anything and they will love and accept you just like I have. Why? Because you're lovable. They'll accept you because you're you. And look, if you don't get along with them, then I'll still back you up one-hundred-percent because you're my girlfriend. And please, please," he implored, using his thumbs to turn her jaw to him, murmuring the last part, "Please understand it is okay to tell them you're Autistic if it comes up; if you're comfortable with that, because it is not-" he emphasized the word, a puff of air, "-not something to be ashamed of."

He'd think she froze in time if it wasn't for her subtle shaking and glassy eyes watching him. Years of hurt snapped her mouth shut. Memories of the past she'd rather forget swarmed her mind like a haunted hotel. Cobwebs of hurt lingered in the corners, out of reach to be swept away for good.

Memories like: being far too old to pee herself at school, but too shy to ask to go to the restroom. Kids on the bus throwing spitballs in her hair. Having to give a speech in class and being met with absolute silence when all the other students received applause; forced applause, but it was an affirmation they existed nonetheless. Observing other kids playing at the playground, never being invited to join them. Being asked to sign yearbooks only to be shown her defaced photo. The first time she spoke to an adult about being bullied and her mom brushed it off as boys being boys. The second time she told a teacher and she assured her it couldn't be that bad.

Her voice was a humble tremble on a ghostly whisper, "You'll be there for me?"

"No matter what."

Fingers running up the back of his hands, she covered them with hers. Compelling them to her face. She collapsed to his palms and cried out all her pain in bitter heaves until her throat burned. He held her through it all.

"Thank you." She sniffled in the comfort of his hold.

"You should wear the overalls," he suggested, changing the subject to something more uplifting. "I think you'll be surprised by how much you have in common with Guy."

Traipsing out the van, Obito proceeded towards the staircase leading them to the street above. When he didn't hear Emi's stomping footsteps behind him, he turned.

That's when he saw it. The bumper sticker. Not on the bumper as one would expect, but on one of the back doors. White text on a black rectangle.

IF THE VAN'S ROCKING, DON'T COME KNOCKING

"Emi," he squeaked. She pried the driver's door open and sealed herself to the side of the van, scared to even breath on the luxury car next to her. Coming around the back where he was planted, she tilted her head at his dire expression. "How long has that been there?"

She followed his gaze to the sticker and shrugged. "Oh, Kurenai gave it to me for my birthday. C'mon, we're already late!" Happy as a chicken being tossed kernels of corn, she stamped her feet, shoved a finger under his jaw to close his gaping maw, and hauled him to the street where she splashed in puddles and darkened the bottom hem of his jeans.

"You didn't wanna wear a hoodie or something?"

Obito blinked away the humiliation of being seen in a vehicle with such a crude sticker on it. Her wind-tousled hair whipped his bare arm. He was freezing, but he wanted to show solidarity in his own way. She was putting herself out there, so he would do the same; though his emotional wounds may be a bit more obvious.

He glanced at her rainbow overalls. Well, maybe eyes would be drawn to her today regardless.

To answer her, he kissed her temple and led her across the crosswalk. Chest proud, chin high, looking ahead. Not giving one iota of contemplation to the faceless people behind their windshields studying his scars. This was the new him. Unbothered.

Kakashi scratched at the fluffy fleece of his jacket tickling his neck and crossed his arms tighter over his chest. It was too soon for this weather but the cold proved useful in ridding himself of his hangover. Just in time for Guy's booming voice to invade his ears.

"I got us a new table!" He waved his hands high over his head as if Kakashi wasn't, at most, ten feet away.

Guy's loping steps clacked the pavement and he peered into Kakashi's sunglasses, trying to suss out his red eyes beyond the lenses, but they reflected the last of the overhanging clouds, obscuring his fatigue for a while longer.

"Are they here yet?"

"Do you see them here?" Kakashi droned. Guy's fidgeting sent water sloshing and Kakashi regretted his choice in wearing his limited edition sneakers.

Not realizing Kakashi was asking a rhetorical question, Guy opened his mouth to respond, and stopped. A couple was crossing the street one block ahead. He was instantly enamored with the girl's outfit. So cheerful on this dreary day, his breath came out like a whistle.

Kakashi scoffed in amusement. "After rain comes the rainbow."

Emi clutched Obito's hand in a vice grip and he squeezed back.

Kakashi's signature silver hair gleamed against the black marble exterior of the restaurant. One Obito never ate at because it was the type of place where they didn't print the price on the menu. If you had to ask, you couldn't afford it.

Water surged down the sewer grates. The closer they approached, the more she leaned into his body, seeking safety in him. Something he could provide for her. He gave her a soft smile, but her eyes were as wide as the moon he was certain she contributed to lighting up at night.

"That's Guy?"

Kakashi withdrew a hand from his armpit to wave at them and the taller man beside him cheered far too loud considering the distance and empty street.

"Yep," he said, "that's Guy."

What a magnificent being!

Emiko found her spiritual match.

She left Obito in the dust to shake this man's hand. Kakashi flung himself out of her steadfast way, and her fingers nearly broke themselves on Guy's firm chest as she slipped and slid into him.

"I'm Emi!" At once, his arms were lifting her off the ground in a bear hug and crushing her ribs.

Inside the restaurant people's faces turned in confusion to the screaming.

"I'm Guy!" He set her down with a laugh. His brilliant smile sparkled against his ochre skin and the thumbs-up he gave her swooned Emi. As if she wasn't bewitched by his clothing alone.

His forest green flight suit had a dagger collar, ensuring it was from the 1970's. Under the flared pants legs were heeled black boots, making him quite imposing to her, but his equally shiny black bowl cut and orange silk scarf tied at his neck vanquished all her worries.

"Hey, you two, our reservation was thirty minutes ago," Kakashi said, pinching Guy by the sleeve and dragging him along. Obito did the same with Emi.

Guy held the door open for the party. All eyes were on them.

Kakashi's bored expression as he removed his face mask and sunglasses.

Guy's eccentric outfit and scene he caused.

Obito's scars.

Emi's childlike manner of eyeing each and every potted plant and carved tile, not paying attention to where she was going, bumping into the backs of chairs.

As they sat, Obito looked to Emi to give her another reassuring smile to calm her nerves, but she didn't need it. She was flourishing with Guy, holding a conversation about the dumplings and which ones were the perfect combination of textures and which to avoid unless you wanted stringy vegetables stuck in your teeth.

Going unnoticed, he turned his smile to Kakashi. A gentle tug of his lips to show his friend he was okay. And for once, Kakashi was smiling too.

Kakashi set down his spoon. A slice of green onion clung to its side. He steepled his fingers, then laced them to come across less menacing. "Although we wanted to meet you Emi and hear all about your trip, there's a more pressing matter." Slowly, Obito stopped chewing and swallowed, not amused at his apathetic tone.

Guy propped his elbows on the table and twirled his hands while chuckling lightly. "So, you see," he started, appeasing to Obito. Emi was holding her spring roll with both hands, eyes flicking between the men at the table. "I started volunteering at the animal shelter a few weeks ago, and, and, uh.."

Kakashi closed his eyes and recalled his promise to Guy to stop sighing so much because the sound irritated him. He explained the rest in an efficient manner, "He adopted a dog and got kicked out of his apartment due to their no pet policy."

"I didn't adopt him, he adopted me."

Obito pinched the bridge of his nose and Kakashi hung his head. Emi dipped her roll in peanut sauce and munched away.

"I promise I didn't touch your room," Guy said to Obito. "I've been sleeping on the couch with Pakkun."

"Great," Obito groaned. "..Pakkun?"

"My new puppy!" he beamed.

Emi sipped her water.

Obito tore his stare from him to Kakashi. His friend visibly stiffened under his incredulity. He circled his arms around his plate, hands in fists, and motioned for Kakashi to do the same to mutter his grievances. "You let him just move in without telling me?"

Kakashi lifted a shoulder. "I figured you'd be living with Emi, so."

"What if we didn't work out?"

"But you did work out." He made a finger gun at him as a 'gotcha'.

"Obi," Emi said, rubbing his knee. "We can start moving into our new apartment tomorrow. It's only one night, it's okay."

"That's not the point," Obito seethed. "I don't like being left out of things."

"Obito-"

"No," Obito cut him off and shook his head to clear his mind. "Let me talk." Kakashi made one little mistake and Obito was getting angry just as he did with Emi. Neither deserved it. And even if they had, he needed to learn how to speak calmly about it, not explode. He unclenched the tablecloth from his fists and held Emi's hand, stunning her more as he gave Kakashi a long overdue apology. "I'm sorry. I didn't mean to get upset at you. I know you've always tried to include me in things and I never really thanked you for that. So, thank you. Afterall, it's because of you I met Emi."

Under the table, Kakashi dug his fingernails into his palms. This was new territory. They didn't acknowledge their feelings this way. On the rare occasion Obito wanted to talk, he gave him a wide berth to vent his frustrations, and in turn, Kakashi left him alone because he didn't know how to help. And when Kakashi was in a bad mood he kept it pent up and self-medicated because Obito had too many problems of his own to deal with Kakashi's too. Talking things over and apologizing were not languages they knew.

"I.." Kakashi lingered on the words in his head. Expectations of what he should say, what he wanted to say, and what he did; "I should've told you about Guy." This was harder than it looked. "Sorry."

Guy snorted at the abominable stumble of two men who spent their lives repressing their emotions and attempting to vocalize them in a crowded restaurant of stuffy old folks of all places. "Pakkun knows how to communicate better than you dummies."

The restaurant turned over patrons, cleared tables, and servers pulled out chairs for new guests. In that time, Obito basked in the glow of positive attention from weaving together vivid imagery of their trip for their rapt audience of two. Emi sat back and let Obito engross them in the tales, adding small details when necessary. He was thriving.

Much of coffee and dessert was spent with Guy explaining in excruciating detail how fight scenes in movies could be improved if only actors were willing to take a couple of hits like they were back in the day. This was incredibly boring to the other men who had to hear the same speech at least once a year, but Emi listened, nodded along, and offered up her cutlery when he wanted to act out a scene.

Kakashi scooted his chair to the end of the table and whispered to Obito, startling him from the tender sight of Emi enjoying herself, "You seem happy."

Obito pressed his lips to rid himself of the toothy grin that managed to weasel its way on his face while watching her go along with Guy's antics. "Yeah, I kinda had an epiphany today. We went to this place that's basically a giant landfill for clothes where Emi gets her vintage stuff to sell, and.. What?"

"She dumpster dives for clothes?"

"Well," Obito drew out to give him time to think of the best way to alleviate Kakashi's horror. "Sort of-"

A flat palm stamped out Guy's demonstration of a chopstick versus a fork. He directed his ire at Emi while Guy groaned about his ruined scene.

"That shirt I bought from you was from the trash?"

"What?" said Emi.

"What?" said Guy.

"What?" said Kakashi.

"Kill me," Obito groaned.

"I washed it first!" Emi protested.

After Kakashi's tirade about germs, and Emi's rebuttal about forty year old clothing someone probably died in, he disinfected his hands twice and paid for the check. They all contributed to the tip considering they hogged the table for half the night.

They wandered the streets as a group back to the apartment building, telling jokes, heads turned up in laughter at the streetlights. In the few blocks, Emi managed to lag behind by staring into a jewelry store's display window and Obito had to drag her away with chattering teeth; and Guy dropped his phone in the crosswalk, earning a honk from an impatient car.

Greeted by the warmth of the furnished lobby, they rode the elevator down to the garage so Obito could get his hoodie and satisfy his friend's curiosity of the apartment on wheels.

"That's what I've been telling you! She has an entire fridge and stove in here. We weren't roughin' it," Obito said, hopping out and closing the back doors.

Guy held his fist out for Emi to bump. "Nice sticker."

The gunmetal gray walls of the elevator opened to an unstained carpeted hallway. Kakashi led them to the door and at the first scrape of the key inside the lock, Emi's stomach clenched.

A tiny yapping dog could be heard through the thick oak.

Since she met Obito she hadn't had one day to herself. It didn't matter if she masked in front of him or not, or if he took the emotional load of the relationship, she was never truly alone to decompress and recharge. He was a wonderful partner, but day after day, he was a constant.

The stress of the Sakura Bowl sapped her brain energy. Then their fight wore her down. Then their bonding yesterday took more from her. And today she put forth her best first impression to meet his friends.

Emi was tired.

At her brink.

And the dog kept barking.

Deep breath in. Pakkun clawed at her overalls. Deep breath out. He shook himself off, starting from his head and ending with his tail. Slobber oozed down her boot. Speckles of it shined on the wood floorboards.

Emi looked around for help, but Obito was busy talking with the others. She removed her boots with the opposite foot and avoided stepping anywhere the dog had been. Wet socks would send her spiraling. Pugs were short and stubby, so she curled into a ball in the corner of the couch. Hugging a pillow to her middle and tucking her legs under until her knees ached, all to stay out of his reach. But not his bark. Did it ever stop?

Her ears were ringing.

Barking. Loud conversation. Boastful guffaws.

Emi wanted to be proud of Obito. He was doing so well. Smiling, meshing with Kakashi's jokes. They moved from the kitchen to the living room. Glass bottles clinked as they were pulled from the fridge. The TV was turned on. A sitcom with a laugh track. Tinny canned laughter as an undercurrent to their very real, very loud jostling around her.

Pakkun barking for attention. Guy slapping his leg to call his dog off her. The bottlecap of a beer tinking to the coffee table. Kakashi's unfamiliar body sinking next to hers. The unzipping of a suitcase and shuffling for clothes as Guy looked for his leather jacket.

Barking. More barking.

Laughter.

At her.

"Stop!"

The world obeyed her shriek. Except for the TV. Pakkun whined under Guy's gentle pats, realizing his jacket was left on a coat hook by the door. Obito unfolded from the recliner beside the couch and stood at her side. Kakashi reached for the remote between the cushions and silenced the noise box.

"Sorry," Emi sobbed. "I'm sorry." She crumpled to the pillow in her arms. Obito consoled her by tucking her hair away from her cheeks, whispering all the things he loved about her in her ear, encouraging her to share her secrets because there was nothing to be afraid of.

Emi would prove him wrong. Her nerves were forged off a lifetime of disappointment, searing her broken heart, melting the pieces together by herself. No one else helped her. She always did this alone. Because no one understood her. All they knew was that she was different and now she'd show Obito people weren't as accepting as he believed them to be. Their prejudices would always rear when pressed.

Defiance straightened her spine. Determination set her face in disgust. Soon, he'd realize how little others cared for people like her.

"I'm Autistic," she announced.

Soul crushing silence answered her. Only the brush of Obito's fingers on her back. He glanced at Kakashi, who in turn looked at Guy and jerked his head towards the door.

"Let's take Pakkun out for a walk, hm?"

"Em, you can lay down in my room." Emi's grip on the round, pleated, cool-to-the-touch pillow gave her something to focus on. The tears dotting the fabric coalesced her fears, embarrassment, and finally, rejection. Warm, strong hands massaged her shoulders on the way to the bedroom. A cold space from being vacant the past two weeks.

Weak lamplight from a desk illuminated the bed; a mattress on the floor. The soft carpet grazed her feet as she slid her socks off. His desk was tidy, free of dust or molded plates. His sheets smelled of detergent.

He tucked the blankets up to her chin. The slope of her trembled in quiet sniffles. After a thought, he pulled his hoodie over his head and exchanged it for the pillow in her clutches. As predicted, she bundled her face in it, blocking out the light and comforting herself with his smell.

"I'll be right back, okay?" She nodded at his soothing voice.

Guy stuck Pakkun's paw through his harness and Kakashi idled with his leather jacket in hand.

"So, should I talk to her?" Guy asked, a small smile on his face. "She might appreciate someone who gets her."

"She needs some space, from me included, but maybe after," Obito said, wringing his hands together. Guy looked at Kakashi's equally awkward stance and clapped a hand on their heads.

He addressed Obito, "Haven't seen you in a while. Glad to see you looking so youthful again." With that, he took his exit.

"I'll be down in a sec," Kakashi said to the closing door.

In the somber foyer, it was only them. How it started one year ago.

Obito scrubbed his hair in circles, perturbed it lacked the same calming effect as when Emi did it. "I have some things I need to get off my chest." Kakashi shifted his weight. "I've done nothing but waste away here and I feel like I took advantage of your friendship by never contributing anything. Not the bills, rent, cleaning, just fucking nothing. I'm a shit friend. Always comparing myself to you, causing a lot of hostility between us growing up, and I'm sorry."

"I wanted you to use my hospitality," Kakashi said, shrugging. "You underestimate how much your happiness means to me."

"Goddammit, man." Obito's head fell to Kakashi's shoulder as he welcomed him with open arms to cry on his brand new goose down coat.

"When Emi's up for it, let her know I'd like to talk to her. I don't want to give her the wrong impression by leaving, I just figured she wanted some peace and quiet." He patted Obito's back and offered him a strained smile, turning to open the door. "I look forward to getting to know the both of you.. And maybe myself, too."

Obito closed his bedroom door and approached the bed. "Do you want me to stay or go?"

"Stay," the muffled reply came from his hoodie.

"Are you sure? I came for my laptop, but I can stay in the living room if it helps you."

Emi fought her way out of the fabric to see him. More than anything he wanted to comb her hair, kiss her puffy face, and tell her the good news. Good for him, anyway, because he could gloat about how right he was about his friends accepting her. But if she wanted him gone, he'd respect that too.

"I need you here," she whispered sheepishly. "I thought I wanted to be alone, but not this alone. I want to be alone with you."

At her request, he grabbed his laptop and snuggled under the covers with her, sitting against one of his spare threadbare pillows. He turned on the screen and chuckled as she nuzzled her head to the crease of his hip. Doing so made his arm wing out around her so he could type. It strained his muscles to hold it in that position, but he'd endure it for his soulmate.

As she slept, he opened the websites he remembered from days ago.

Hours passed. Kakashi and Guy watched a movie in the living room. Emi rolled to her side away from him, cuddling his hoodie. Obito smiled at the rise and fall of her back and pressed enter on the keyboard.

Applications for jobs were sent.

He closed a few tabs.

His list of potential therapists was narrowed to a few he'd call in the morning.

And he admired the ring he purchased one last time before shutting his laptop and spooning his other half.

Piece by piece, Obito accepted the help he needed to put his life back together.