In the Spring he held her hand so tightly, their bones grafted together. And it hurt them both so much to pull apart that they simply stayed stuck together, spinning alone in the grass like children catching the falling stars on their shared palm.
In the Summer she took off her skin for him. And he liked the way her bones looked even better than the rest of her. They were surprisingly white and dull. She was human. And not just a golden egg. He felt an unfamiliar ache in his chest.
In the Fall other relations fell off like dead leaves from stripped down trees. And he could only think of her. All of the others fell into dark bottomless waste bins in his mind. And their sullen faces eventually became creased with worried sorrow. And he almost got clipped by a poorly aimed kunai in battle. Which he never did. And Tsunade was reprimanding him for not having his head in things. Which she never did. And Anko was cautioning him, which she always did. But this time her eyes were big and wet and desperate. And he didn't listen.
In the Winter he hung up a 'Vacant' sign on his body. And handed her the key. She generously opened it up and crawled inside. And it nearly killed her because she liked it there. Nestled amongst his ribs, right next to his heart beating unbearably fast. But the White Skin was getting anxious.