Chapter 69!
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Title: 'Cuteness and Confusion'
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Note: Sorry this one took so long, my inspiration was spread thin for a little bit, but I'm back in the writing-groove now!
Disclaimer: I own nothing!
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Walking by his side.
… It was nice.
Even if he didn't say anything or look over at me…
It was still… I still liked it.
And that's what made it better: the fact I was enjoying this silent moment with him, the fact that even though some part of me was being torn up by every unsaid word, a bigger part of me was simply happy to just be by his side.
…
It was raining pretty hard by the time we were back in Konoha, minutes away from his apartment, before our comfortable silence was broken, but not by words.
Click… Clack… Clack Clack Clack!
The little sounds grew louder, they seemed to be coming from all directions. Tearing my attention away from my thoughts and to my surroundings I realized what was going on a little later than other people.
Little ice pebbles were hitting the ground harshly, chipping pieces of ice up in little splashes.
I started to hear people shouting and even a few started laughing as they jogged out of the open space of the street, holding bags over their heads or crouching beneath their jackets, running together.
"Hail." I announced to myself, holding out my hand to catch a little ice shaving as it fell from the sky. It hit my hand with an icy sting
I spent the moment of observing my surroundings as a spectator… I hadn't really thought about running… or laughing… but I would be in only a few moments, after that familiar hand brushed my arm.
"Come on." He ordered with a smile in his voice.
I barely had time to turn my head to him, but it was just long enough to catch a glimpse of his face.
I don't know if it was just the sight of him, or if it was the way I could see that smile I had missed so much beneath his mask, or if it was the way his warm fingers lingered on my cold arm a few seconds longer than necessary but my heart started to race even before I had to start running to catch up with him.
I didn't know when I had started laughing, but all I knew was it was the first time I had in so long that I thought I was acting like an idiot to laugh now, of all times for no reason.
When I heard his laughter pick up only a few seconds after mine did, I suddenly forgot all of my thoughts, all of my worries and fears.
Right now, it was only the smell of the rain, the chorus of little ice beads pelting the ground, the chilly wind rushing across my skin, the splashes my boots made, the quick beating of my heart, the heat in my cheeks and nose, the stinging in my eyes, the fire in my limbs as I started running out of breath because I was laughing too hard, the shaking of my laughter, the addicting sound of his own, and that perfect, masked, smile I was so happy I caught a glimpse of.
This moment made me feel like I was in suspended in air. I felt like I could run forever without getting tired because he's here with me, because I'm happy, because there's no reason to stop, because I never wanted to stop.
Disappointment settled in me as he started slowing his pace, but my lungs thanked me when I met his pace. I wasn't laughing anymore, but I was smiling without even trying.
We got to the apartment building too soon.
I had barely been able to enjoy that moment as much as I wanted... but… I didn't feel so worried about this anymore.
I felt a little... better.
A lot better.
As if that small and crazy moment of frenzied laughter and running had cured my anxiety.
I had spent hours and hours thinking aloud and talking to myself like a crazy person, trying any new perspective that could make me feel even a fraction better…. And here… just like that…
I felt 'better'.
Without words or angles or thoughts.
…
Just him.
…
It was strange that although he was the reason I had been feeling so… horrible… he seemed to be the only thing to cure it.
Again, it was as if someone was not only playing with my life, but my thoughts and feelings with a twisted sense of humor.
But I couldn't care.
I was happy right now.
And that was a miracle.
I had thought that I would never be able to feel this way around him ever again.
That I could only feel the pain and loss… but I was wrong.
That idiotic grin I was still trying to stifle was proof enough.
We both stopped in our tracks in front of the metal staircase leading up the floors. I was practically panting, leaning on my knees a little, while he was only a little out of breath.
That had been the most energy I'd spent in a few days…
But although I was a little tired, I was still trying to keep from smiling too brightly, even as he started climbing the stairs and I followed, that idiotic grin completely took over my face.
He didn't seem to notice, thank god.
… … … … … … … … … … … … …
He saw her smile over his shoulder.
He nearly turned around.
In a moment of what he could only call 'instinct', he wanted to turn around and hold her face in his hands, to look at her as closely as he could, to memorize how beautiful that smile was, to feel her lips against his.
He barely noticed that he was already in front of his door only a few moments later.
Even as he unlocked and opened it without thinking about anything except her, he forgot that this was supposed to be awkward.
Inviting a young woman, a student no less, that he had overwhelmingly romantic feelings for into his apartment again for the second time in two days, alone together, should've been awkward. Especially now that he was aware of these feelings for her… It should have been unbearable for him. But… it wasn't.
He really couldn't focus on anything right now, he couldn't pay attention to how cold it was or how drenched he was or how fast his heart was still beating from the running before, not when he was too focused on the, now softer, smile on her face. Not when he was all too aware of the way she hurried past him eagerly to get into the warm room, or how cute she looked soaked like that.
It wasn't until he closed the door behind him, watching her unbuckle her dripping sandals did he remember that he was in the same reality as her, though it was easy to forget now that he felt more and more like he was in some sort of different world. A world he had no idea existed a few days ago, a world where he could feel like this, but a world where he could only look at her, never touching her. The recent memory of her arm under his fingertips burned in his nerve endings momentarily as if reminding him, again, that even if he felt as though a wall were between them, he's still in her world.
Strangely, he nearly smiled at that thought, but what did make him smile was when she turned back to him with her own smile.
The wall between them seemed to fade a little more.
He remembered how to talk after a second and his manners after a few seconds more.
… … … … … … … … … … … … … … … … … … …
Walking into that room again…
It was strange.
I had expected to feel out of place, maybe even unwanted.
I knew I had no right to be here for any other reason than to treat his wounds and remind him of the professional details of the previous missions… I knew that…
But, I walked through that door and I felt… like I… belonged.
I never thought I would feel that way again.
I fumbled with my sandals in the entryway; I could feel his eyes on me. I couldn't stop smiling though I tried. That moment from before, the laughing and running, it even seemed to have changed the way he was acting too.
I barely even noticed that I was leaving little puddles of rainwater on the floor or that my hair was a stringy and cold, but I couldn't notice anything else after I felt his hand on my arm again.
His fingers seemed even warmer this time. Almost hot.
I turned back to him a little slowly.
He was smiling a little.
The way he was looking at me…
I immediately lost myself in my head but I didn't have enough time to prepare myself when I heard his voice.
"Wait here a moment." I could still hear the smile in his voice as he gestured to the couch in the room ahead of us.
My smile faltered completely as he disappeared from the room to the back of the apartment after he said something else over his shoulder.
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Somewhere between making allowances for himself to let her come to his apartment, and letting himself think she was cute, he must've lost some of his previous conviction to make the time they spent together as scarce and professional as possible because he really didn't give any extra thought to what he just said. Even as he grabbed the towels and looked through his drawers, he still couldn't quite think about what exactly she must be feeling right now, not that he could've guessed right.
But it was almost like some part of him, a part he couldn't recognize… the part that felt so strongly for this girl… was the one taking control right now.
He knew that wasn't good… but he loved the way it felt.
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He left the room as if this was completely normal.
I still had to think about those words.
I just…
Well, they were unexpected.
And now my heart was pounding again, waiting for him to come back but hoping he takes forever.
"We need to change. I'll go get you something."
I didn't get the chance to stop him, either…
But seriously….
There were so many things wrong with this.
I had to actually take a moment to unscramble my brain and list them all out.
He was actually expecting me to change here. Like changing in his apartment was something so casually normal that he could suggest that and walk out of the room with that irritatingly familiar confidence that I was just going to follow his suggestion/order like that.
I already knew I was going to follow his order like that.
I seemed to have actually become conditioned to get nervous and feel overexposed when he even mentions getting me something to wear.
I was standing here, nervous, but still unable to beat back my smile for too long.
But…
Something about what just happened, it was almost familiar, almost like… Kakashi.
The way he just said that over his shoulder… like it was completely normal….
I sat down on the aged couch slowly, not realizing that my clothes were probably getting it wet. I would've known better if I could even focus right now, but with the adrenaline not quite worn off from before and these weird thoughts and feelings… everything seemed off key.
I had gotten used to expecting pain and sadness for a while, but suddenly, I was… I was happy.
I felt like I shouldn't let myself believe in anything that could make me happy… it was bound to get torn away from me as soon as possible.
I knew that was a horribly pessimistic way to think…
I used to think that people who were just too afraid to live thought that.
Either I was wrong… or I was one of them now.
I frowned at the thought, my hands pulled at my skirt, which was now a slightly darker shade of pink… I had almost forgotten that I wore my mission clothes today. It sounds like something stupid to do, walking around the village in mission-wear, but sometimes people do it just in case… besides, I really needed the confidence today. Wearing these clothes always remind me that I can be strong.
But I didn't feel so strong right now.
I actually felt a little weak, especially with the way my heart was beating, I was almost shivering even though it was warm in here, and I was confused.
And the way he sounded just then, before he left the room, only added to my confusion.
He didn't sound like Kakashi-sensei.
I mean, of course it was his voice, but I could always tell the difference between Kakashi's voice and Kakashi-sensei's voice.
And, just now, he didn't sound so much like Kakashi-sensei.
…
It must've been my imagination.
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I didn't have enough time to think about it anymore though before he was walking back into the room.
The moment I felt his presence in the room I suddenly felt my body tense and start tingling, I didn't like it.
I just wanted to be normal around him.
I just wanted to feel normal.
Just like he felt around me.
Not this.
I saw him walk towards the couch from the corner of my eye.
I made a point to pretend like I wasn't even thinking about him while he was gone, childishly, I reached out to one of the books on the table picking it up for a moment, pretending like it was much more interesting than him and this apartment. I slammed it back down on the wood of the table after I realized it was an adult love novel.
Should he really just leave those things lying around like that?
Especially when his student's coming over!
I cursed him mentally for letting me get into that embarrassing moment.
He didn't seem to notice though.
That small moment of childish panic didn't let me get the chance to prepare myself when I felt a blanket of warm fabric fall on the top of my head. But whether I had enough time to react or not my heart sped up anyways when I felt the warmer indentations of his fingers landing on the top of my cold head of hair through the fabric of the towel.
Feeling the warmth of his hand again, the shape of it, the weight of it… my heart felt like someone tightened the vise around it to an unbearable degree.
I didn't know what to do.
My insides felt heavy but the air going into my lungs felt too thin.
I had to take a second of shock just to try to remember how to move my hands up to the towel on top of my head. My fingers hurriedly grabbed at the fabric, unsure of whether I wanted to tear it off my head or let my hand find his.
I was leaning towards the latter, but just as I have lost enough sense of judgment to reach out to his hand it had already snatched itself away from me like he didn't mean to touch me at all.
…
Good. That's good.
I told myself.
…
I settled for simply grabbing the towel on top of my head and brushing it over my hair in the same exact pattern he had only a few days ago, pretending that I wasn't shocked at all by the towel that had suddenly fallen on me. I didn't even look up at him as he spoke again.
I felt a little ashamed.
Just a few seconds ago I had actually really wanted to reach out his hand, and I still wanted to. I wanted to feel him like I used to, kiss him, touch him.
He would probably be disgusted if he knew just how much I wanted to do all those things right now, because, in the past few days, he's probably never thought of any of that.
It's probably so unthinkable to him that he can act this close.
So close because he can never even think of me in that way.
…
The vise on my heart loosened with that thought, but it didn't feel better. As if actually bruised by these thoughts my pulse felt sluggish again as my warped heart struggled to beat on.
I bit my lip as I tried to wake myself up from these thoughts.
…
"There you go." I could hear something like a chuckle in his voice, I wondered if he noticed anything weird about me.
My stomach churned at the thought.
I can never let him see how I feel for him.
If he ever finds out, he'll only push me away, he'll think I'm some idiot teenager with a weird crush on her teacher.
He'd stay away from me.
He'd watch how he talks to me.
He wouldn't treat me this way anymore.
Even if he didn't feel anything special for me… he seemed to at least like my company.
That was good enough…. Kind of.
But I couldn't let myself slip up and lose even that by giving myself away.
I couldn't let him see how I feel for him.
I'm a horrible actress, though.
I argued to myself in this split second.
He was the one who was always the better liar.
I have to be careful how I act around him, how I think about him.
And despite everything I just told myself, I still felt my heart speed up nervously, but a little happily, when I saw his face looking down at me. There was a bigger towel hanging over his, now dark grey, hair lazily. I wanted to run my fingers through it like last time.
Again, I had to wonder when exactly I'll ever become such an adult where I was above worrying to death about all the little things. When I can look and act so cool and confidently.
Then again, that was always one of Kakashi-sensei's famous features.
Nothing ever bothered him.
But even if I had tried to act cool and confident, it would've been impossible when I saw what he was offering me to wear.
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Well…
…
Today's already weird.
Why not just go with it?
I knew that was a dangerous thought… but… I was tired of thinking and worrying.
For once, I wanted to be like him.
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He walked into the dark bar feeling completely out of place, but the thought of leaving never occurred to him, in fact out of all the parties of friends and drunkards that had no shame getting wasted before the sun was even down, Iruka was the only one who looked like he wasn't there to have a good time.
The bartender and owner of the establishment kept an eye on the 26 year old teacher, recognizing the look on a man's face when he's thinking about starting trouble.
Iruka had no plans of 'starting trouble', he wasn't there for any other reason than to see a certain man he heard usually spent Friday evenings here.
"Dolphin!" The dark-haired teacher, the man he was looking for, called to Iruka from the very end of the bar, using that certain joking tone with his name.
Iruka wasn't up for nicknames right now. He made his way to the half-drunk man.
"Kuroke." He greeted him coldly.
"I never thought you were the kind of guy to go to bars!" Kuroke was having a hard time controlling his volume now that the alcohol had already started messing with his senses.
Iruka didn't say anything.
"Then again, I never thought you were the kind of guy who would bang his students, either." Kuroke said quietly, almost slyly, as he raised his glass to his lips.
Iruka didn't remember telling his hand to hit the glass out of the man's hand, but it did just as soon as a sickly squirming sensation filled his insides at that lewd accusation.
"Hey, settle down." The bartender came over to them, eyeing Iruka warily, and gave Kuroke a full glass and wiped the bar down with a single swipe of an aged rag.
Iruka didn't care about causing that scene just then like he usually would have, he turned his attention back to his dark-haired colleague.
Kuroke seemed content enough with his new glass to forget about the demise of the last.
"Kuroke. You don't know anything about what's going on with Haruno-san. She and I have absolutely no romantic interest in each other." Iruka recited the polite little speech he thought of on his way there, careful to use only Sakura's last name and the most distant suffix available. But still… something inside him squirmed further as he had to say that last sentence.
The half-drunk man looked up at Iruka with semi-glazed eyes. He smirked before talking again. "Yeah, whatever… but tell me something…" He paused, Iruka debated whether to stay for whatever this man was going to say or to leave now before he did anything else to make a scene. "Did you pick her out while she was still your student or did you just notice her after she filled out a little?"
Iruka stood there, a little dumbstruck for a moment. He couldn't really process the several things wrong with that question before Kuroke spoke up again. "Come on, drop the adorable-older-brother act for a minute and give it to me straight." Kuroke turned on his stool to face Iruka head on. Iruka suddenly felt some of his conviction waver slightly. "You want her, don't you?" He asked bluntly. "I already said I wouldn't blame you, but I think you could've set your sights higher. That Yamanako from the same class seemed a little easier…" He swayed on his stool a little, "But Haruno was always eager to please, wasn't she?"
…
Iruka's hand clenched into a fist.
He debated whether or not to punch this man now or later… he couldn't help but remember the last time he had punched someone.
That night, at the Masque, when he had walked in on Sakura and…
Even then, it was a horrible reaction… he should've handled the situation better… but he couldn't think straight when he saw Kakashi-san handling and kissing her like that.
But, it wasn't as if Sakura had actually been against his adult advances…
Iruka's muddied memories were invaded by Kuroke's slightly sobered voice, Iruka readied himself to actually punch him this time.
"I saw the way you looked at her… like you just wanted to grab her and never let go."
That struck a chord…
That night… he hadn't been able to stop himself from reaching out to her, holding her… he hadn't wanted to let go.
But it wasn't like that…
He's just worried about her.
She shouldn't be alone during a time like this.
She needs somebody to remind her she isn't alone, that the pain will pass.
Iruka found his voice abruptly, not wanting to let himself think through that dangerous thought any longer, "You were wrong. I have no interest in Haruno or any other students of mine." His voice was almost robotic, he was trying too hard to hide the anger he felt for even having to say that horrific sentence. It was in his nature to stay quiet and hide his anger, but he felt like he was losing this battle.
"Well, you better get used to being lonely." Kuroke chuckled as he took another drink, "Look around, all the women our age are either married to a man or their work. And sure the easy ones are fun to hang around for a while, but we gotta start thinking about the future. We're not gonna stay this young forever." Kuroke spouted his philosophy with a fake charm, "And neither will the girls in the Academy." He finished.
Iruka's jaw tensed as his fist clenched tighter.
"So I suggest that if you're not lying about this whole 'I'm not interested'-thing that you start taking a look at your options before they're all grown up and don't want anything to do with you."
He couldn't believe he was hearing this.
And from a fellow teacher.
A man that parents trusted their children with, a man that was supposed to teach and help his students, not consider them 'options'.
Iruka couldn't stay quiet any longer, "You're the exact kind of man that should have never become a teacher." He started to turn away, already sick of this conversation and disgusted with this man. He stopped before leaving, not ready to leave this alone just yet. "If you ever touch one of those girls-"
"You're acting pretty tough, Dolphin…" Kuroke interrupted him, "I think this is probably the real you, isn't it?"
Iruka couldn't even make sense of that.
"You actually seem a little defensive, Dolphin. Like you've given this some thought, too. Maybe you were just trying it out by being sweet with Haruno… who knows, girls are weak, she's probably already begging you to jump her. Maybe you're just trying to make her work for it so that when you do the deed she'll do anythin-"
A deep thud echoed through the bar for a split second before there was a clatter of a wooden stool falling over. The now full-drunk Kuroke was writhing on the floor, cupping his nose with his hand, trying to keep the blood from getting everywhere.
"Hey!" The bartender spoke up, they both ignored him, the other patrons looked over to the scene with alarmed curiosity.
There was a moment of silence, Iruka could hear his heart beating fast, but all he could feel was heat running through his body as he had to keep himself from doing anything more. He looked down to his knuckle, there was some blood on it.
He was distracted from that when he heard Kuroke start laughing, the sound of his chuckling clogged with blood.
"Admit it, you're only pissed at me because you don't like the fact that you're just like me."
Iruka made himself turn around, ignoring the first instinct to punch the man again.
He ignored the stares.
Kuroke's voice picked just as Iruka was a few feet from the door.
"Even if you think you're better than me, I still know you're not as strong as you think you are."
Iruka opened the door without hesitating.
"You won't be able to help yourself in the end!" Kuroke shouted just before the door slammed.
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Iruka kept walking, not sure where he was going, but he didn't slow down for anything.
He scrubbed the blood from his knuckles more aggressively than necessary on his sleeve.
He couldn't remember the last time he made somebody bleed like that.
It had been years.
He never liked it.
That's why he became a teacher, because he didn't like hurting others, not after what he's seen and gone through.
This was the only time he could remember enjoying hurting someone.
He really didn't like that.
He felt like the fact he did enjoy it meant he was actually more like Kuroke than he thought.
…
"Even if you think you're better than me, I still know you're not as strong as you think you are."
He wished he could forget that… but… he couldn't.
…
He needed to talk to Sakura about this.
…
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He peeled the wet undershirt off of his chest and over his head slowly.
He ran the towel over his cold, damp skin for a few seconds, his mind completely too preoccupied to care about the little stinging sensations that fired up all over his chest as the coarse towel ran over them.
Why did he do that?
Having her change… and into one of his shirts…
He unbuckled his pants, kicking them off quickly.
He guessed it was because he had wanted to change and it would've been rude to change while she stayed cold and wet…
He buckled the dry pants, not paying any more attention than necessary to his clothes as he attempted to figure this out.
He grimaced at the thought that he might have had some sort of subconscious ulterior motive.
He grabbed his dry undershirt.
Of course there wasn't an ulterior motive. What could he possibly gain from this?
In fact, he had felt awkward handing her the shirt.
… but still… it was hard to trust himself.
He sighed, looking into the mirror without thinking.
His expression didn't change as his eyes found the dozens of cuts on his arms and chest, but he spent a moment longer than necessary looking at his neck.
The mark was nearly gone.
He didn't want it to be.
It was the smallest shred of evidence of some sort of happiness in the memories he lost.
…
But…
…
Now that he felt this way for Sakura.
He was willing to let go of whatever he had done, of whoever had given him this mark, if it meant he could focus on her.
Earlier that same day he had thought about this the other way.
That his feelings for Sakura were impeding on whatever past he had with the woman who gave him this mark… now… he couldn't imagine wanting any other woman more than he did Sakura.
Grimacing at the forwardness of his thoughts he sighed again and forced himself to look away from his reflection.
He has to remember not to think that way.
He shouldn't want her.
That was far too much for a girl Sakura's age to handle, that kind of desire from a man his age… for now… no, for the remainder of time he felt this way for her –which he could already tell wasn't going to be an amount of time to count by days, weeks, or months- he was going to have to only enjoy her company, her voice, her smile,… just her.
Not the way her skin would feel, or how soft her lips would feel, or the way her voice would sound calling his name in a new way, or the way her eyes would look up at him after kissing her.
He could never know those details about her.
He didn't notice his own frown as he pulled on his undershirt and adjusted the mask after that thought.
But he would stay by her, as her captain, as her teacher.
Because that's who he should be for her.
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I held out the article of clothing again as I walked into his room- he had told me to change in his room since he needed to get the bandages from the bathroom anyways.
I already knew what it was, but I just had to do something to distract myself from this room.
This room that I knew so intimately.
This room I had spent the night in, this room that smelled like him, this room that had everything to do with him.
I focused on the fabric intensely now, probably looking like an idiot for staring at it for so long.
But I couldn't help it.
It was my favorite shirt to see him wear.
The last time I saw it, I was absent-mindedly packing it into one of his bags just after he left me the morning of the second day at the onsen.
I could remember the dozens of times I've seen him wear this black, now dark grey with age, shirt over the years. I never really picked it out as my favorite, though, since it wasn't until a few months ago did I realize the way it drapes over his shoulders and how snugly it clings to his muscles, and even the way he –just like he did with almost all of his shirts- he would bunch the sleeves up to his elbows.
Standing there now, enjoying the memories of him in this shirt, I felt a little like some kind of stalker or something, but I tried to push that from my mind.
I walked over to the desk, careful of every step and movement in this room.
I laid it out on the desk nicely, even careful not to look at the complicated papers on the desk.
…
Now…
I have to take off my shirt.
I announced mentally to myself, feeling incredibly awkward now.
…
Taking a deep breath I quickly unzipped and tugged my shirt off, feeling way too exposed to this room that reminded me so much of him.
I knew I was acting like a paranoid kid, but I think I was entitled to… sort of.
I hadn't noticed till I started folding my red shirt hurriedly just how heavy and cold it was with rainwater.
I then noticed how cold I suddenly felt without a shirt.
I quickly snatched his dry shirt off the table.
Ignoring how foreign it felt to poke my head into the shirt, myself, I hurriedly pulled it on.
The warm, slightly coarse, fabric nearly sent shivers down my spine, what actually sent shivers down my spine was the way the shirt hung on me.
It was a little loose, not too loose, but just enough that some sections of the fabric didn't actually touch my skin until I moved or turned. It was a strange feeling.
As a ninja, I was used to wearing clothes that were as snug as appropriately possible so that nothing got caught during the action, but the way it felt on my damp skin wasn't nearly as unsettling as something else.
It smelled so much like him.
Just standing here, in the quiet room, I felt like he was hugging me. A weightless, colder hug.
I raised my hands to my face, to smell the sleeves, feeling creepy about it already, when I realized that the sleeves were too long for me. I sighed.
I probably looked like an idiot wearing this thing.
I didn't care anymore.
I looked down to my legs, the shirt was long enough to reach just an inch before the hem of my skirt.
I mind as well…
I unbuckled the wet skirt and placed it on the frumpy pile of fabric that was my shirt. My hips felt lighter, free from the weight. I tugged at the shirt so that it would stretch downward some more.
Now I was mostly dry.
Except my hair was a little damp and my leggings were soaked towards the bottom, but I definitely wasn't going to take those off.
I stood there for a moment…
Everything was so quiet.
Should I go back to the living room?
Should I stay here?
I looked around the room again, careful not to pay too much attention to anything, afraid of what I would feel if I saw something familiar or something unexpected.
I avoided looking at the bed at all costs.
I ended up looking at the desk again, knowing at least that much was safe. I rearranged the wet shirt and skirt on it absent-mindedly.
A moment passed.
…
… Several more passed.
…
UGH!
I sighed loudly.
This was getting tiring. Feeling this wary and stupid all the time.
Screw it.
Tired of being afraid of doing anything I just sat down in the chair in front of the desk, trying not to care.
I sat for a moment.
Got bored.
I laid my head down on my arms.
…
My face was buried in the sleeves of his shirt. I closed my eyes.
I smelled warm rain-washed forests and I saw him in my mind.
I instantly felt better.
God, I miss this so much.
I wished I could feel his arms again soon.
I wished I could fall asleep to this scent sometime in my life again.
…
That was too sad.
I forced myself to sit up.
Got bored again.
I stood up again.
I went over to the door, I opened it a little, just to check if he was out there yet.
He wasn't, so I just left the door open a little and walked back into the room, feeling more comfortable in a smaller room than a bigger one… like some kind of woodland creature.
That was when I noticed how dark it was outside, dark enough that I could see my reflection in the window.
… I did look a little weird.
The shirt looked poofy on me, the collar was too wide, and the sleeves were weird, worst of all my wet hair had turned into a mess during the changing process.
Lacking anything better to do, I pushed the sleeves up to my elbows as I reached up to my hair, I flattened it back. It fell in front of my face again, but it looked better. I gave up.
I let my hands fall to my side, the sleeves fell back down instantly.
I pushed them back again, feeling a little irritated. But the irritation stopped when I realized, again, that's how he always wore this shirt, too. I suddenly felt like a little kid trying to place dress up. I let the sleeves fall to the middle joint of my fingers in rebellion to that disturbing thought.
I stared at my reflection again for a moment, letting my eyes wander up and down.
That was when I noticed something.
Two things, in fact.
Two pictures.
Just like the last time I was alone in this room, those two pictures captured my attention first.
Even from where I was standing I could recognize the silver-haired man in the picture with the 13 year old me smiling stupidly… and it wasn't difficult to spot the silver-haired boy in the picture next to it either.
Without thinking I already walked up to them, and picked the most recent one up.
I studied it for a moment.
I had a copy in my room, I've seen in practically every day for four years.
And still… I couldn't get used to the idea that there was ever a time in my life when I didn' tfeel like this for Kakashi.
I still remembered that day.
I had been yelling at Naruto, flirting shamelessly at Sasuke, and paying Kakashi-sensei mean glances whenever he tried to make us do any type of training that could distract Sasuke.
I remembered being surprised that he wanted us to take the picture that day.
I had been so sure Kakashi-sensei still hated us, I was expecting him to drop us or something any day. And though it's something I am extremely ashamed to admit at this moment, there were a few times when I wished he would drop us,… as long as I stayed on Sasuke's team, of course.
I cringed at the memory of me.
…
How could a man that's seen that bratty, childish, side of me ever learn to love me?
It must have been a miracle.
…
And miracles don't happen twice, do they?
That hurt way too much, I had to put the picture down. I distracted myself with the other picture by it.
The silver-haired boy was scowling behind his mask, both of his eyes were showing, he hadn't been scarred either yet.
The memory of his scar reminded me of the few times I let my fingertips or lips trace it… along with other scars covering his arms and chest.
The memories made my heart beat faster, but I still focused on the people in the picture.
The Naruto-esque goggled boy, the purple-cheeked quiet looking girl, and the Yondaime.
None of them were around anymore, were they?
I knew the fourth had died when the Kyuubi attacked Konoha…. But I still didn't recognize Kakashi's other two team members from anywhere.
They must be gone, too.
I gripped the frame tighter as I suddenly felt my heart drop a little.
His entire team was gone…
It felt horrible when Sasuke left, and that was an understatement,… it was extremely hard for Naruto and I to recover… even Kakashi-sensei seemed to have taken it hard in his own way.
But just imagining what it would feel like to lose all three of them…
To be the only one left…
To lose your entire team, your parents, your teacher, your friends...
…
How can somebody who's known this much pain.…
How can he be 'Kakashi'?..
…
A wave something like pride came over me, something like admiration.
If it was possible to fall harder for him… knowing the life he's had, knowing the pain he's gone through, and knowing he is strong enough to be the man I love… if it is at all possible to feel more for him, and to know when my feelings have grown, it was then.
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Ok, I know that's a strange stopping point... mostly because it isn't a cliffhanger, but the next chapter will be out soonish.
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And, just saying, reviews are very motivational for me. To know someone is still reading and at least partly interested.
So if you just have a moment, feel free to say your thoughts or let me know if a particular moment/sentence struck you, and I might be able to get the next chapter out even sooner…
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Just saying…
xD