Chapter 12: Epilogue
One week later…
"I guess a million years really flies by, huh?"
"Shut it," Obito grumbled and knocked on the door again, listening for any signs of life on the other side of the white lacy curtains hanging in the windows. Emi inhaled deep and held it for too long, rushing to expel it in a way that was meant to be calming, but came out like the moan of a dying animal. Slowly, Obito regarded her. "You okay?"
"Yeah." She shook the energy out of her hands, not sure what else to do with them. She tried leaving them out, but by the first step up to the porch her fingertip numbed purple due to her fidgeting with a loose string on her sweater. Jean pockets would have to suffice. Though, now her attention was drawn to the clods of lint lining them.
"You don't have to be so nervous, babe," Obito comforted her. He removed a loose strand of her hair interwoven on her sleeve.
Emi channeled all her thoughts into erasing the tension between her brows, and instead of coming off as pleasant, she carved her face into a foreboding smile, showing too much gums and teeth to be natural. The additional panic in her eyes did not help.
"Emi, that's worse."
"Ugh!" She doubled over, limp, brushing her lint-ladden fingernails across her shoes.
A psychic could not have predicted more accuracy, more impeccable timing, than right now for Obito's grandmother to open her door.
Emi yelped, her hair a sea of ink flying in her face as she stood up straight, revealing her reddened face from the blood rush.
His grandmother's cane thumped, startled. "Hello to you, too."
"Ohmygodsosorry," Emi blurted out. Obito's boisterous laugh startled the old woman again.
She brought her hand to her chest, smiling wide. "I will admit I was shocked when you called me the other day." Obito fumbled through a quick apology. "But seeing you smile again is a welcomed surprise."
With a limp and thud of her cane on the welcome mat, free of specks of dust or dirt, she hugged her grandson's middle. Her crepe-paper wrinkles framed her face in mirth. Her cheeks, slackened with age, held the same shade of rosy red as her door. "What a precious sweatshirt," she said while tapping one of the kittens on the nose.
Emi ran her knuckles over her lips to quiet her snickering at Obito's sudden disgust. Her laugh tapered off to a nervous chuckle. His grandmother was looking right at her. Her short stature commanded all of her attention.
Squaring her shoulders and tapping her cane, his grandmother pulled away from Obito and grinned. "So, this is your girlfriend you told me about."
Under her scrutiny, every muscle in Emi's body tensed. A cold sweat beaded on her back. Her lips twitched under the strain of ensuring her smile was polite, not scary. His grandmother took a hobbled step. Another one.
Oh, God she was coming closer.
Polite, polite, polite.
She's reaching out. With her cane in hand. Open your arms, stupid. Whose arms go on top? Bottom? A mix, one up, one down? Don't knock the cane!
His grandmother's perfume enveloped Emi and the distinct smell of powder invaded her nose. Her fragile frame pressed against hers, and they were hugging. Emi applied the same amount of pressure, rubbed a circle on her shoulder blade the same way she patted one on hers.
In the midst of the hug, Emi introduced herself and his grandmother did the same before parting and exchanging more pleasantries.
Obito broke their conversation to give Emi a break and nag his grandmother for not wearing a jacket in this weather. She waved off his question about dinner as well, insisting she was fine, dinner was fine, and she wanted to do one more thing before going back inside.
She leaned her body into the handrail and stepped onto the first creaky step of her porch. "I'm interested in this van of yours!"
It was amazing. Once this woman got going, she went. On the even paved driveway she was at the van's hood and walking around to the side, complimenting the retro paint job before Obito could stop her.
"Oh no.." He skipped over the steps entirely to stop her snooping at the side and no further. Neither him nor Emi remembered to remove the bumper sticker. "Don't you wanna see the inside?" he rushed to say while opening the sliding door, giving her no other choice. She 'ooh'd at the stovetop and sink, admired the table in the back, and commended the overall aesthetic.
Emi let herself have a moment of peace and quiet on the porch, then joined them and assured his grandmother of all the safety measures she took when toting her grandson around, promising she had a plethora of kits for first aid, repairs, emergency food, you name it.
"Oh, dear," his grandmother laughed and patted Emi's hand, "Obito's grandfather and I used to do the same thing. We traveled all over the country in a van when we were avid rock climbers, looking for the best spots."
Emi and Obito exchanged a look, processing this frail old lady scaling mountainsides in her youth.
"But in those days all we cared about was having a mattress in the back." She winked, and behind her, Obito stuck his tongue out and soured his face. Emi's gaze slid elsewhere, unfocused, begging her mind to not latch onto the visions swimming there.
"Your father had to be made somehow," she said to Obito and shrugged. The oven beeped from inside the house and she took that as her cue to check on the food; her limping footfalls and cane thumping up the stairs faded until it was only the whistle of the wind left between them standing at the van.
"I hate having an imagination."
"Yep."
Recovering from the imposing vivid imagery sketching itself into their memories and promising to never speak about this again, they headed inside where Emi helped divide a ceramic dish of ratatouille; vegetables picked fresh from the dark soil of the garden in the backyard that morning, sliced thinly, and baked by the afternoon by his grandmother.
Obito's grandmother tucked a swath of gray hair behind her ear, patting it down in line with the other stiff sweeps coated in hairspray, and ate with dignity. Fork and knife in hand.
Her esteemed guests held no such regard for cutlery. It was all a blur. Food to mouth. Food to mouth.
"My, my, are you two hungry from your trip here?"
Obito paused the heel of his palm from wiping the tomato from the corner of his mouth and chose the cloth napkin instead. "I got used to there being food in the van, but we cleaned it out and put everything in our apartment."
"Oh, that's right," she said, smiling, "I have plenty of things to give you two. Think of it as my housewarming gift." At Emi's rejection of such generosity, more pulpy orange juice was poured into her empty glass. "It's not a bother, dear. I have extra things like baking trays, dishes, towels, whatever you two need, you take it. It's just me here nowadays, so.." A shrug accompanied by a sad sigh and eyes glazed over in memories withholding the copious amounts of ratatouille leftover. She never could get the hang of cooking for one. "You can have all the extra things I have no need for."
The pang of guilt in Obito's eyes grew tenfold the longer the silence permeated. "I promise we'll visit often. I never had a car before. Or a driver's license. And I didn't want to bother Kakashi. And-"
"Bibi." Emi snorted at the nickname. His grandma's grin beamed at them both. Head tilted in kind jest and hands reaching out to clasp theirs. "Do whatever makes you happy. That's all I've ever wanted." Her thin, weightless hand settled on Emi's. Papery white and blue veins twisting in alphabetic loops telling their own story. What had these hands seen? Who did they touch? When was the last time they held someone she loved?
"I'm so glad you found someone to bring out your sunshine," she continued. "I haven't seen that charming smile of yours since you were a boy."
Obito squirmed under her praise. His limp hand on the table was draped with hers, his other ridding itself of excess anxiety by running his fingers along the woven rattan seat of his chair. "Thank you for taking care of me all those years."
By the time dinner was eaten, television was watched, and polite conversations were had at a volume above the game show playing in the background, Obito was standing near the front door. Arms stretched wide and encumbered in what Emi could only guess was half of his grandma's belongings and speaking over the top of the pile, begging for someone to guide him outside so he could load the cookware into the van.
On the porch, Emi flexed and curled her fingers, watching him balance the variety of breakable containers perched precariously on top of the other. His grandmother patted her shoulder to get her attention.
"I wanted to thank you for.." She tipped her head back and forth. "For being patient with Obito, let's put it that way. I have my regrets about not doing enough, but I've lived to see him happy and that's all that matters to me. You're taking care of him and it shows."
"Aw!" Emi caught her in a brittle bone-crushing hug; one she refused to let go from until the tightness in her throat eased and she could properly acknowledge the many ups and downs ahead of her and Obito as a couple and the exhausting, but rewarding, give-and-take of relationships in general.
"He takes care of me too," Emi said. "He's finally found the motivation to put the effort into work on himself and I'm here to support him."
Obito poked his head from around the van and interrupted their moment overhearing them coo about him. "You two ladies gossiping about me?"
"About how handsome you are!" Emi answered, inviting herself into his open arms as he joined them on the porch. He kissed the top of her head while his grandmother dabbed at her tears on a white hankie embroidered with pink flowers.
Running his hand along Emi's upper arm, Obito draped his arm over her shoulders like a warm blanket, and regarded his somber grandmother, "You gonna cry this hard every time I leave?"
Her eyes went glassy at the memory of the last time he left her porch. Of Kakashi swinging big circles of his keys on his lanyard, wrapping them around his fist. Of his nice car and apologetic eyes hanging low over his tight smile. Feeling the burden of tension as Obito's care passed from his grandmother to him, his only friend. Both of them hoping things would be better for Obito if he were in a city where he had better resources nearby.
"Visit more and it'll hurt less," she said with a flourish of the hanky being stuffed in her pocket.
"We will," Emi promised. "Especially if you make those cookies again!"
"And she hates sweets, so that's quite a compliment."
They engaged in a round of laughter, then lapsed to a silence of clasped hands rubbing palms together. Mindful reminiscing about the evening.
"I'll miss you two." His grandmother hardly finished the sentence before they were scooped up in her arms, Obito's still around Emi, swaying them all in a warm group hug.
It only took two more group hugs and three more goodbyes all the way to the van to convince his grandma that they would come back before she let them back out of the driveway.
One month later…
Obito batted Emi's hand away for the umpteenth time insisting his tie was cinched in the most precise knot snug against his Adam's apple. This served to further her primping and prodding; flattening his collar, checking the crisp cuff of his button down shirt peeking out from under his blazer, and picking at invisible lint on his shoulders. His nervousness displayed in other ways; a deep red hue across his cheeks, glancing at himself in the reflection of the tall glass building, and darting his eyes from Kakashi's bored expression to that of the people marching into the building dressed in work attire.
Kakashi cleared his throat and tugged at Emi's coat sleeve. "I think he looks fine."
She gave Obito a once-over, a twice-over. Eyebrows twitching, eyes scrunching, searching for flaws. "I know, I know," she sighed, "but what if your boss hates dark blue? Maybe we should've gone with a black suit."
"You're worried about the suit? Have you seen his hair?"
"Oh, Obi!" She balked, running her fingers through the wild tufts again, pleading with them to obey her and not the breeze.
"Forget the hair, what about the sourpuss face?"
"I'm right here," Obito seethed through gritted teeth. He shook off their nitpicking and checked his borrowed watch. "And you two are making me late."
Emi gasped and shoved him towards the door with heavy pats on his back. "Don't be late! That's like! The worst thing you could be for an interview!" Each sentence a thwack between his shoulder blades.
"That's not true. He could be underqualified," Kakashi offered helpfully and tactfully.
"You two are the thorns in my side." Stopping in the middle of the automatic doors, Obito stared into the vast marbled reception area. Women behind the polished desk held phones to their ears while tapping at a keyboard. The elevator doors dinged open to empty boxes, soon filled with bodies. Obito stood still. Frozen in the pathway of the automatic doors shuttering, attempting to close a few inches, sensing his presence, and opening again.
He turned to Emi's endearing grin and Kakashi's encouraging thumbs up.
"Good luck, Obito."
"You'll do great."
Obito held both of them in his scared eyes, allowing them to bathe him in invisible good fortune. Shroud him in impenetrable armor welded in the strength he needed today.
"We'll be waiting for you."
The vision of his friends bounced and bounced. Obito was nodding his head. He nodded more. Assuredly. Vigorously. Looking from one of his support pillars to the other. Coming to terms with his fate, his future.
He kissed Emi on the forehead and thanked them for being there for him.
Turning back to the lobby, he faced his new life. One full of fears. Teeming with terrifying responsibilities. The horror of late-bloomed adulthood looming over him. But this time with help, with someone by his side, someone championing him along each stumble of his way.
He progressed one step over the threshold when Kakashi's voice penetrated the auspicious shroud, the armor of well wishes. "What? No kiss for me?"
The doors shut. The line for the elevators shortened. Emi loitered outside until Obito disappeared into one, his paperwork in hand and thumbing through, eyes scanning each field he filled out as if the information about his life and school experience changed in the last fifteen seconds.
"He'll be fine," Kakashi said. "He's going in there on my recommendation." He directed her, hand on the small of her back to the crosswalk having the foreseen knowledge she would refuse to jaywalk across the street if asked. "Although my department didn't have an opening until next year, I whispered all the right things in my boss' ear. There's no way he won't be working under me after Q2."
Emi appreciated the optimistic use of language as she was dragged inside the coffee shop and sat at the wood bar lining the floor to ceiling window overlooking the street with an ideal view straight to the elevators of the building across from it, wherein, if one were to squint their eyes from the sun, they could look for a particularly tall man bumbling from aforementioned elevators.
"Relax." Kakashi set a mug of black coffee in front of her.
"I'm as relaxed as I could possibly be." She shrugged off her coat and rolled up her sleeves to help cool the sweat clinging to her arms. "If he doesn't get it, he'll be-"
"He'll get it."
Kakashi stirred his matcha latte, each swirl of the spoon a different affirmation for Obito. Emi did much the same, chanting mantras in her head and refusing to take her eyes off the building. That is, until the early morning joggers and pedestrians stunted their steps, shuffling this way and that. And the barking. So much barking drawing nearer and nearer. And so many phones were out filming whatever was causing the ruckus.
"What in tarnation.." a disgruntled older gentleman mumbled at the window.
A herd, nay, stampede of dogs were pulling a single man down the sidewalk. Leashes clipped to collars and harnesses yanked taut. Noses to the ground sniffing right, left, behind, every trashcan they passed. An amalgamation of spots, hues, and sizes pulling different directions; all with a man in a green track suit in their stead. Two neon fanny packs slung on his hips. Black bowl cut flopping in the effort it took to reign in the animals bounding forth to wreak havoc.
Kakashi rapped his knuckles on the glass of the coffee shop and Guy peered in seeing the pale hand waving at him. He dug his skidding heels into the concrete and tried his best to wag a few fingers at him and Emiko, teeth gleaming white in a wide smile.
Like a bad comedian being ushered from the stage via a cane around his neck, the biggest dogs fought against Guy's strength and the little dogs yapped at anyone's ankles passing by. Off he went into the sunrise.
"You said.."
"I know." Kakashi pinched the bridge of his nose. "He was supposed to volunteer one day a week and walk a few dogs. Now he's there every other day."
"Has he.." she trailed off, eyes wide.
"No! No. I told him Pakkun was the only one he could bring home."
"Right. We'll see how long that lasts."
Kakashi grumbled having a feeling she was right.
Fifty three minutes passed without a show of messy hair from the elevators. Emi kept track in twenty second intervals. About the length of one long exhale from her nose, or a patient sip from Kakashi. Her coffee was drunk in mighty gulps to give herself something to do. Unfortunately, it only resulted in a burnt tongue, and now her mug had been long since empty and cold.
"Is that him?" Emi snapped out of her waning attention span at Kakashi's words and gawked through the panes of glass, cars, and people walking by to the silhouette of a man exiting the elevator raking a nervous hand through his hair, shoulders hunched, and a flat line for a mouth.
"Of course that's him!"
Emi scraped her stool back and tugged Kakashi along with her, not unlike one of Guy's hellhounds. Out the door with its jingling bell and to the edge of the sidewalk in three seconds flat. Toes hanging off the edge. Watching the traffic slow for the stop light. "Oh, fuck it." She cursed the bones in her body telling her to obey the rules and jaywalked to the tune of Kakashi's impressed whistle.
Obito jolted at the two of them barreling at him. Hands up in surrender, face leaping in surprise. "You don't have to act like you haven't seen me in years."
"How did it go?"
"Did you say the things I told you to?"
"Did you woo him? What did he say? Did you get the job?"
"He would get a second round of interviews, first, Em."
"I have a second interview on Friday," Obito confirmed neutrally.
"Yes!" Emi gathered him in her arms and forced him to twirl with her, right there on the street, nearly knocking into what could be future coworkers. Kakashi waved at a few of the disgruntled business folk, excusing their excitement. "I knew you could do it!"
He settled their public display of bad dancing. Ran calming hands up her arms and let out the giddy laugh he'd been suppressing. "It's just another interview. I don't want to get my hopes up. I'm still underqualified." Excuse and excuse after excuse. The voice in his head driving a knuckle in his ribs. Listing his incompetence on top of shortcomings.
"Just because you didn't graduate doesn't mean you're underqualified, especially with all the freelance work you did. I hyped up the project you helped me with last summer too." Kakashi shrugged. "Although, this interview was basically a formality. Are you prepared for the next one?"
Emi swiveled her head at their glum expressions.
"Yep. Eight hours of problem solving."
"Oh, nice, free torture," Emi said, upbeat as ever. "Wanna celebrate before your impending doom?"
Obito's face cracked into a grin as his adrenaline ebbed one sturdy heartbeat at a time. Each pulse soothing the loop in his mind hearing, picturing, every little word with its inflection, every twitch of an eyebrow, every tug at a mouth during his practiced speech to the panel of interviewers. Realistically, he was aware of his lack of credentials, but he let the hope in. Let it leech away the doubt that so desperately wanted to drown him.
Obito grabbed onto the safety net of his friend. The lifesaver of his girlfriend.
"Yeah, let's celebrate."
One year later…
In the elevator, arms numb and shaking all the way up to her floor, Emi burdened herself with every grocery bag in a fit of stubbornness. No second trips! None shall be left behind!
There were many benefits to living in an apartment instead of a van, but the routine of buying many heavy things and having to lug them further than your car was not one of them.
"Home!" she called out to the shadow stretching in the doorway of the bedroom, banging and clattering greeting her as she put away the cold groceries.
"Hey," the gruff voice groaned and the sounds of a hammer being discarded and an aching knee being unfolded and stood on, a sore back being unkinked from its hunched position preceded Obito's shuffling footsteps. He took meager glances at her. Hands twisting around themselves.
"I'm sorry about earlier," he said, idling in the doorway, then joined her in helping put away the items on shelves she couldn't reach, cherishing a box of cookies and a bag of his favorite gummy candies she purchased to replenish his dwindling stocks without being asked. And after the hurtful tone he used on her that morning.. "I'm sorry for snapping at you over something so stupid. I was frustrated putting together the desk and kept losing the screws, and then that piece splintered-"
Paused with his arm extended to stash his sweets, she inserted herself under it and hugged him around his waist, pressing her cheek to his chest. As much as he agonized over losing his temper, Emi missed Obito more than she cared to express in stumbling wastes of air and tripped over stutters and meandering sentences.
Her going to the grocery store gave them time to cool down apart, but the moment she put her key into the ignition, it was a profound sense of loss to not have his body sprawled in the passenger seat, scrolling through his phone, showing her funny pictures she laughed at despite seeing them years ago on the internet.
"It's okay," she sighed into the crook of his neck, "I know those instructions are the absolute worst. It's why I make you put the furniture together. It'd be a heaping pile of ash in a matter of minutes if you forced me to do it."
He twisted his body to better scoop her into his arm, cupped the back of her head, and planted apologetic lips to her hair. "Still, I shouldn't have taken it out on you. And I'm the one who got mad and screwed that piece in too tight, breaking it in the first place. Can you come with me on Thursday so we can talk it out with Dr. Tsunade?"
"Of course." It didn't matter what her deadline on her book was, she'd always schedule time to go into therapy with him when asked.
After groceries were stocked, Obito trudged his way to his mostly assembled desk, lumbering from foot to foot like a giant in a fairy tale due to Emi hanging around his neck, held tight in his arms, feet dangling. Along their harrowing journey from the kitchen to the living room, stepping around many cardboard boxes, he expressed his concerns about the desk spanning from gripes about the pain the drawers put him through and how he swore he had the legs on the correct way the first time. Mouth poised to gripe more about it and the bed frame he constructed months ago-he stopped short.
He stared at Emi's bookshelf. Shoved into the corner of the living room, barren of the books piled in front of it in topsy turvy stacks. It was placed in here to make room for his desk. His desk that he was bitching about mentally for hours, and now bearing down on her verbally, when she was the one who bought it for him as a present. To celebrate good news.
"I'm sorry, Emi," he breathed against her scalp. "I'm so glad you're home."
"I'm glad that you're glad that I'm home." Her smile and rumbling giggle teased the peach fuzz below his ear.
"I'm sorry about your bookshelf. You had it decorated so nicely before I moved it."
"You apologize too much," she said. Although she wouldn't mind if he kept talking. The droning of his voice in her eardrum fluttered her heart the same as a kitten's content purr. "Plus, it just means you'll get to work from home with me."
"Mhm, Kakashi said once I'm familiar with the programs and workflow, and show I'm reliable the first six months, I can start leaving early, then take days where I work from home like him."
"You sure you can handle working next to me all day without getting distracted?" she asked, cranking her head back to stare at the underside of his chin. Her toes grazed the floor, his arms bundled around her like a security blanket. Teasing tones in his throat buzzing in her veins, comforting her to her core.
"Somehow I think I'll manage." He kissed her forehead, her lips. Smiled. Smacked her ass. "Now stop distracting me."
"You stop distracting me!"
Obito returned to his desk and computer parts spread across the bedroom floor. Emi approached her bookshelf. Sighed. Began replacing them on the shelves as they were.
Picking up a particularly heavy tome, she rested it in her palm, fingers splayed wide to balance it. "Oh yeah." She upturned it to check where her bookmark was left. "I never did finish this one." Unfinished as it were, it was still her favorite. The spine was worn by its previous owner. Sections were dogeared. Most of the writing in the margins belonged to her.
Fanning it open, Emi leafed through a few yellowed pages to the bookmark, glancing over the reactionary musings she jotted down and the shaky underlining of genius quotes and prose, snorting an amused puff of air out her nose. Bowing the cover under her thumb, she went back to the front of the book and caught a glimpse of handwriting that most definitely was not hers. Two sentences she'd never seen before, but felt familiar.
She flipped to the copyrights page it was scrawled on.
Obito's adorable, terrible chicken scratch was etched into the page. Words too big, squished when he ran out of room. Continuing down the side. Emi's lower lip quivered. Her eyes stung.
I will tell you I love you more times than there are words in this book
And added at the bottom:
Just don't count them
She closed the book and clutched it to her chest. Let the cool paperback cover rob her of warmth above her heart. The inanimate object could not perceive her affection, but she pressed a kiss to the handwriting regardless before placing it in the middle of the shelf, cover facing out. A precious memory.
"I love you."
Obito looked at her blankly, spinning the screwdriver in his hand. Harsh shadows cast across his body from the shadeless lamp placed on the ground next to him. Spine and knee pulsing pain signals the longer he took to set up his computer. Emi's kind eyes from the doorway spurred him into wondering what he did to earn such a claim. "Why?"
"Why not?"
Taken aback by the question, he cocked his head and took a beat to think it over, then grinned. "You're right. Why not." The final screw spun into place. "Love you too."
Ten years later…
The van swayed side to side, wheels dipping into puddles of black mud. The evening was in the strange stage where the sky was lit in hues of blue, but the earth below was smathered in shadows. Murky forest trees stretched thin branches to the departing sun. Cold sloshes of rain painted the underside of the van in layers of grime.
Obito leaned over the top of the steering wheel, dash lighting his worried face. "Does that pothole look deep?"
"Mmm." Emi halted the flurry of her thumbs typing in the notepad app on her phone and flicked her eyes to the road, waving him onward. She didn't wait for her eyes to adjust from alternating between her screen, the dark road, and her screen before tapping away again. "If we get stuck, I'll just get us out like last time."
"You don't have to bring that up again," he pouted.
"Oh, don't be so crabby. I only knew how to get us out because I've gotten stuck plenty of times on my own." She waved him on again. He made the executive decision to drive around the puddle. Tonight would be a romp, but not in the mud.
The van teetered the grassy edge of the dirt road. Headlights beaming a few feet, at most. Loose stones crunched under the new set of tires.
With a mighty exhale, Obito managed to stay on the road and avoid all possible snafus, continuing to crawl up the mountain to the black glass lake under the moon. He backed into an open spot on the sandy bank and looked to Emi to gauge what their next move was: set up the bed, cook dinner, maybe eat dessert first to celebrate, or relax after the arduous journey here involving hours upon hours of traffic and then hours upon hours of an old, rickety van climbing up narrow unpaved roads.
However, his unasked question hung in the air. Emi's eyes were glued to her phone and he was certain she hadn't realized they left Konoha.
"May you be so kind as to grant me your attention, Mrs. Uchiha?" She whipped her head up, startled, and he snorted at her inattentiveness. "Working hard on your next book?"
"I'm sorry," she said empathically, turning off the vice and putting it away. "I couldn't get the idea out of my head. As soon as you started driving, it just came to me like-" She punched her first in her palm. "It's just so, so-"
At this point he assuaged her glittering eyes and their far-off wander. "Yeah, yeah," he laughed while unbuckling himself to kiss her forehead. "Go ahead and tell me about it."
As she expelled snapshots of ideas and two-sentence scenes that truly made no sense to anyone but her, Obito opened an expensive bar of chocolate, doling out pieces between them, then opened another before ever starting dinner. Emiko gabbed about character names and motivations while making the bed, getting out massage oil, and lighting a few mosquito repellent candles.
She crawled on the bed, it's replacement mattress still stiff from lack of use since they bought it last year, and cracked open the back doors. "Do you think the bugs are gone for the season?"
"Dunno. Guess we'll find out the hard way."
"Tell me again why we didn't get married closer to winter so we didn't have to deal with such pests?" she harped, an over dramatic hand on her forehead.
He whirled and pointed a wooden spoon at her. And he winced at the action. Back seizing on him, pushing past the pain that trembled his hand to engage with her. "You're the one who didn't want to wait."
"Oh, well, excuse me for being a romantic."
Bickering, he made noises mocking her and she responded by taunting him with wishes of mosquito bites in intimate areas; extra itchy ones at that.
"I love being married to you," he said after rubbing his aching cheeks from smiling too much. He imbued each word with earnest, genuine love for the woman sticking her tongue out at him.
"I quite like being stuck with you too." She kissed his shoulder, ate another square of chocolate. The last one. She picked up the packages and inspected them. "How much did you eat?"
"Uh, maybe a few more than you."
They met eyes. Emi did math on her fingers. The band on her left hand glittered dark blue gems in the candlelight most beautifully, but Obito was struck at the number she held up.
"Babe, you're gonna be gone." Her chortle bubbled into a giggle, overflowed into a keeled-over laugh that would make beached seals jealous. "You dummy-" she gasped, "You absolute dummy." She held up her fingers again. "You ate 14mg!"
"Oh."
"That's how much I usually have. You've never had that many! Why'd you keep eating them?"
"Well," he said sheepishly, idly stirring whatever concoction he put in the skillet lest it burn, thinking of a poor excuse instead of admitting he needed to rely on them to relax tonight, "they tasted good."
The resounding clap of a hand to forehead echoed off the metal walls. His phone on the counter lit up with a notification and they took note of the time. The first squares he ate should hit him soon. He found that hilarious, face curling in delight at the thought.
Maybe he did lose track and eat too many.
"The show's gonna start soon, might as well get to it before you pass out," Emi sighed, fists on her hips to show she was joking. He tried to apologize, but she stopped him with a firm shake of her head and gestured to the bed. "I can't think of a better way to spend our anniversary than with you, in whatever state of mind." When he hesitated, undecided if he should still apologize for ruining their special night or apologize for not paying more attention to how much he was consuming, she took his hand and guided him to the nest of blankets ready to cradle his body. His foot came down hard on every step, limping worse than usual after driving all day.
Emi turned the stove off, taking a sniff at what he was cooking and recoiling.
Obito sucked in a breath and planted his hands on the mattress before allowing his body to fall into the ethereal clutches of freshly washed sheets. He was well aware he shouldn't be sitting still for as long as he did, but watching his wife's wild eyes zone out, get an idea, and then zoom across the screen to record every remnant of a thought before it faded.. It was endearing. He wanted to show her he could handle the trip, that he could take care of her. Like how she took care of him, grabbing his hands to pull him into a sitting position so she could take off his jacket before he got too cozy. Undressing him because he couldn't do it most days.
Most days that fact was followed by a spiral of shameful thoughts.
But right now it felt fucking amazing.
The pure euphoria of her fingers scrunching up the cuff of his pants to unlace his shoes had him shivering all over. One shoe off, one sock peeled away like a banana. Second shoe off, second sock disrobed to reveal a pale foot. One with toes he could wiggle. It amused him. It amused her.
When did he eat the first squares again? Perhaps he was cooking for far longer than he realized.
"Lay down, cutie." He obeyed the lovely voice repeating itself in his ear. Hair flouncing as he fell to the comforter, craning his head back to watch the stars. They should be falling soon.
Emi climbed atop her husband. Unbuttoned and unzipped his pants. In recent years his scarred skin had become thinner, delicate in some spots. Careful to avoid the agitated patchy red areas, she rolled the fabric away from his waist, tucking the metal button and zipper teeth to where it wouldn't scrape him. Rocking him side to side, she slid his pants off. Underwear too.
Digging her knees on either side of his torso, she observed the sky, searched the static stars hung in the air, and lifted his shirt. "Are you making my life difficult on purpose?"
He matched her grin and rolled onto his elbows. With some grunting and twisting, the shirt was removed and tossed to the ground. Obito dropped to the bed as if he had to summon the energy of the world to perform such a task.
"C'mon, you need to lay flat." Emi was right, but it was such a tremendous feat to move again.
"Will you help me?" He held out a pitiful arm. She emphasized her groan loud enough for the sleeping birds and squirrels to hear and hugged his languid body to hers. Moved his head to the fluffed up pillow, placing it oh so gently. Stepped of the bed to heave his long legs up, swaddling his feet in the blankets while keeping his knees bent.
"I know you can lay down by yourself and that you're just milking this because you like it when I dote on you," she chided. His ruse was up. She knew his capabilities as well as he did.
"Fine." He stuck out his bottom lip and finished situating himself. "But it is worse today." After a lull in his huffing and yanking at sheets stuck under him, he let them stay wrinkled and considered his state of undress and hers. It was true, he could've lifted his legs onto the bed on his own, but this level of pain was atypical. Under normal circumstances he didn't require this much caretaking, and when he did it came with feelings of inadequacy. "Can I take off your clothes?"
"Do you need my help?" she asked in earnest.
"I can do it."
Arthritis impeded his joints on most of his right side. Flexing his hands, his scarred one had less and less range of motion every time he tested it's limits. His fingers throbbed pain in pulses. A lot of him did that. The more surgeries he had, the more his body felt less like his own.
He disguised the difficulties as much as pride permitted. Swooped his stiff fingers under his wife's shirt. Her patience was evident when he guided the fabric up at his own pace. The reverence twinkling in her eyes when they exchanged smiles; wrinkles at the corner of her lips deepening, her round cheeks relaxing with age. Fondly stroking the gray hairs at his temples when the shirt was removed and placed at the edge of the bed.
"Here," she whispered, closing the distance so he could reach the back of her bra and unhook it, sliding the straps over her shoulders, sending goosebumps to pebble her skin in its wake.
"You're always smarter than me, wearing pants with an elastic band." He dove his hands under the waist and in a strange struggle of fabric over curves and down legs all the while keeping herself confined to his restricted reach, her clothing joined his. Delicate fingers trailed the gray hairs peppered in his sideburns, esteeming him in kisses there across the ages. His rigid spine improved as the edibles settled in and Obito could rest with Emi snuggled in his arms.
Glancing at his bent knee and turning to take inventory of the stars, she asked, "Want a massage while we wait?"
"I'd appreciate that," he said, voice hoarse with fatigue.
Emi persuaded his arms to let her go. Bringing the bottle of oil closer, she pumped some on her fingers, warming it between her palms and placed them on his knee first. He moaned at her working fingers. Winced when she prodded harder, squeezing the length of his leg from his tight calf to his tensed hamstring, coaxing the muscles to give him a modicum of relief. Kissing his kneecap while holding eye contact when his locked up joints lasted longer than usual. Communicating what words couldn't do justice.
As she cared for him, the humming blood heating his skin urged his leg lower, and lower. Until at last it was laid flat with his other, cocooned in soft blankets.
Moving to his torso, her hands glistened in another pump of oil and she rubbed soothing circles around his shoulder. Accepting that his curious hand would explore her thighs, her ass, parts he knew well, yet couldn't stand to go untouched. She brought his left hand up to kiss his wedding band. Twined her fingers best she could whilst kneeling at his side. Drifted her kneading knuckles down the heavy scar tissue on his bicep and forearm. Putting more effort into soothing his tired muscles underneath.
A smitten man he was. Obito caressed the side of her palm cradled in his. Ran the back of his fingers over her jaw before they were incorporated into the massage as well, using her thumb to unfurl them as much as they would give.
Tender hands maneuvered his afflicted hip, steadily rotating his leg in the socket to improve his flexibility.
Lips apologized on lips. Nose to nose, forehead to forehead. Long kisses sharing the depths of understanding they reached as a couple without words.
"Ready to turn over?" she asked gently, knowing his pain wasn't erased so easily.
With grunting, shifting the sheets, and some assistance, he was rolled onto his stomach and Emi straddled him to better access the knots of muscles hindering him along his back. Perhaps, first, she smacked his ass and they shared a bout of giggles as the medicinal chocolate also aided in bettering his mood.
The expanse of his back shone in the moonlight. Pale scars shimmering. Skin flushed pink after being tended to. Grunting turned to groans turned to content sighs turned to satisfied moans from the bottom of his throat when she laid her bare chest on his back and they breathed as one. Inhale, pause, exhale. He laced her kind fingers with his, rings clinking, and prized her in many gracious kisses; as did she, on his cheek. Putting their heads together, they watched the show begin.
A streak of white shot across the sky.
Then another.
The stars fell. Hurling towards the treetops. Brief streams past mesmerized eyes. Dancing on the glassy lake.
"Oh, Obito," Emi breathed.
"Make a wish," he implored.
Draping him with her body, enshrouded in her warmth, he closed his eyes. Her eyelids slid shut, tight. Mind racing to produce the best possible wish. One that wasn't too outlandish to grant. One that ensured his happiness.
After several comfortable seconds where the candles sputtered in the slight breeze, the few night bugs sang their songs, and the last of fall's leaves caressed one another; Obito opened his eyes to Emi's grinning face smooshed on his, cheek to cheek.
Signaling his muscles and joints were loosened and his state of mind relaxed, she helped him roll onto his back, and they resumed their position. Emi snuggled chest to chest. Blankets wrapped around them. Legs squirming. Breaths stolen.
Having no patience and all curiosity, Emi broke the kiss to ask, "What'd you wish for?" knowing he would tell.
"Fifty more years of this. Being with you."
"Fifty? You think we'll live that long?"
"Another week, month, year, fifty years; it'll never feel like enough."
His name was smothered on her lips. Connecting their bodies where they could. Hands delving in hair. Thighs squeezing. Tongues roaming. Nakedness writhing on erect and non-erect nakedness.
"Em," he panted. His hands slowed their groping. Hers let go of his hair. She raised her eyebrows for him to go on, but had a feeling she knew what he was about to say. "I'm sorry.. I.. I don't think I can tonight."
Another reason he'd felt lower than inadequate lately.
She hated how he looked away when he admitted his problem.
Like he ruined everything-oh, how she loathed that word when he used it.
"It's okay," she said in one racing breath, kissing him wherever she could. Wherever he allowed her to with his head tilted away to observe the stars. Avoiding looking at her, assuming she'd be upset. But it was the way his hands dropped from her waist that hurt her heart. Laying palms up on the bed like there was no point in continuing. "It's been a long day. I wasn't up for it either."
His expression was not one of being convinced.
"You're my perfect man," she whispered. Voice cutting in and out when she devoted herself to kissing up his jaw, down his neck. His elevated pulse beat against her lips. "You're my perfect husband and I love you so much."
"I don't feel perfect."
Hooking a finger under his chin, she tipped his face to meet her adoring, and sympathetic, gaze. "I know you don't." She stole a kiss from his plush lips. Grazing the protruding scar on his bottom one. Absolutely enamored with every part of him. Every aspect of him. "But please know I'm so in love with you, so incredibly happy with you, and believe me when I say today has been long and I'm tired. Just because we're holding each other like this, copping a feel-" At least his marvelous lips twitched, hinting at the impeccable smile she knew him for. "Doesn't mean we have to force ourselves to do anything. I just like this." He replaced his arms around her waist, fingers brushing the length of her back; a hand snaking up to cup her cheek, the same she was doing to his. "Just holding you under the stars on our anniversary."
Roaming her face, he flitted his gaze back and forth over her eyes. Almost pleading with her to be less understanding.
Fleeting thoughts of his insecurities manifested in drawing his eyebrows together, caused his mouth to shrug, flared his nostrils.
Together, they learned to accommodate his depression and anxiety. Worked around his needs and hers. Created and designed a life where they existed in blissful union. But just when he jumped one hurdle, life put another obstacle in his way.
Emi ran her knuckles over his temple. Kissed him there before his emotions poured over.
His hand went to the back of her head, hiding her in the crook of his neck. His throat closed around his words. Desperate intakes of air tugged whines in with them. Hot tears mixed in her hair where his fingers stroked. Heavy arms rocking them both in an act of self-soothing.
"If after you finish your project at work, and you're still too stressed or in pain at the end of the day to.. perform, we can go to a doctor and see what they can do to help, okay?" Sniffling, he nodded. "In the meantime, if you want, I can keep my schedule open when we're both home. Maybe buy some new toys. Send you nudes when you're at work, y'know, whatever helps. But there's no pressure."
Life wasn't fair. It never would be. However, he had someone to share it with. Someone who wanted to hold his hand through it all. Someone who was enthusiastic to wade upstream, slipping barefoot on slick, sharp edged rocks against white water rapids, pushing him onward and pulling him upward to shore because he was worth it. He was worth the hardship, and so was she.
He didn't dry his tears from where they fell. Sharp lines on his cheeks matched the stars in the sky. He lifted her head. Kissed her. Held a long, meaningful glance that conveyed fears he didn't want to admit. Fears she attended to. Snuffed them out when he couldn't.
"There's no pressure," she repeated. "We still have fifty years ahead of us to have all kinds of fun. Discover new ways of enjoying our time together."
"How do you always know the right things to say?"
"I don't. When I look at you the words just sort of tumble out."
"Emi?"
"Hm?"
His scarred thumb traced the subtle ways she changed over their marriage. He swept her hair from her face, tucked it behind her ear. Admired the wisps of stark white strands nestled within the black flowing forth over her shoulder. Traced the crow's feet crinkled at her eyes. Counted each new freckle. The mole at the tip of her brow.
Obito was grateful to be bestowed the gift that was her. Honored to be consumed by her ever-vigilant love. Chosen to be the subject of her unyielding loyalty. Deserving of her dedication to guarantee he felt desired at every stage of life.
"I love you so much."
"I love you too," she murmured, stopping to kiss him and utter on his lips, "so much."
They were never broken.
They weren't leftovers.
They were simply odd. Different. Passed over.
Waiting for the right one to find them, to cherish them for who they were.
And they did.
They found each other.