B: Why…why would you do that?
S: Buffy, shame on you. Why does a man do what he mustn't for her to be hers? To be the kind of man who would nev—to be a kind of man…And she shall look on him with forgiveness... and everybody will forgive and love…and he will be loved. So everything's okay, right? C-can we rest now? Buffy…can we rest?
-Buffy the Vampire Slayer Season 7, episode 2: Beneath You
It was a quiet morning when Kakashi woke up staring at his ceiling. The clock ticked mercilessly and the shadows ghosted endlessly over the walls, covering the room in stretches of darkness broken by grey streaks of light. It was going to be cloudy again.
A sigh escaped his lips as he turned onto his side, shifting without sound as he tried to find some comfort with his conscience about what he had done. He kissed her. He kissed her! What was he thinking? What right did he have to do that after all the damage he had caused? Sure, she loved him, but what excuse was that? If he followed that route, he would never allow himself to raise his head again.
A coward; he was a coward and listening to the slight echo in the room, he realized he had screamed it.
He chuckled. He was going insane, slowly spiraling into madness once more and he relished the thought, laughing to himself strangely because he could, and kept laughing until his sides ached and he was panting heavily into his pillow.
He needed help. That much was a fact, but after the attempts on him before, he had little faith in it. He had little faith in everything really, but that was beside the point. He needed help and was in desperate need of air.
Turning onto his back, he raised his arm up towards the ceilings, gazing at the smooth transition between light and shadow that colored him a muted grey. The scars on his hands gleamed and he stared at his knuckles. They were healing nicely now and his gaze wandered to the antibiotics on his table before suddenly turning back to the ceiling. If he kept his gaze there, he would've seen the antidepressants—the "crazy pills" as he liked to call them because they were a testament that he had gone insane and he hollowly chuckled deep in his throat at the thought of the great Hatake Kakashi being a nut-job.
The laughing subsiding, he was faced with the startling reality that he was crazy. Maybe crazy wasn't the word, but he certainly felt crazed. It's painful when you realize something is wrong with you. You feel cold, and miserably alone and that was how he felt at that moment.
Turning slowly onto his side, he listened to the shift of his sheets. The light was on his back and a chill skated up his exposed spine and curling into a ball, he prayed fervently for his nightmares to be over.
As Sasuke had learned time and time again, it was always best to keep your mouth shut when talking to Naruto. Not only would he take anything you say out of proportion, as a challenge, or both; he had a tendency to speak with his mouth full, and as soon as Sasuke thought that, a partially-chewed noodle landed squarely on his chin.
"Either keep it in your mouth or in the bowl, dobe," Sasuke deadpanned, picking the noodle off his face and flicking it into the street. Honestly, shouldn't he have been used to this by now? After years as teammates, he knew Naruto's table manners were atrocious, but maybe it was because of the sleep-deprivation that Sasuke mistook Naruto for actually being capable of being normal. Because honestly, who ate ramen for breakfast?
"Another bowl, old man! Sasuke-teme is paying!" Naruto said slurping down his soup.
"The hell I am," the brooding male snapped, rubbing his temples in an attempt to rid himself of his migraine. They had been here since it opened (Ten, which wasn't too bad if not for the fact Naruto was whining about being hungry when he dragged him out of his house at 6:30 that morning) and now at an hour after opening with five bowls and counting, Sasuke could feel his patience slip with every slurp Naruto gave.
"Aw, come on, teme! You promised!"
Sasuke merely scoffed and folded his arms in a way that exuded the words 'in-your-feeble-minded-dreams.' But before Naruto could spit out an angry retort, a voice interrupted them.
"Hey guys!"
"Sakura-chan!" Naruto exclaimed, running towards the pink-haired girl, enveloping her in a smothering hug. The girl merely laughed and let him hold her as she smiled over his arm.
"Morning, Sasuke," she greeted. Sasuke merely nodded and grunted in response.
"Wanna have breakfast with us? Teme's paying," Naruto said, choosing to ignore Sasuke's muttering and scathing glares. Sakura shook her head.
"I already ate breakfast. And what about Hinata? Shouldn't you be eating with her?"
At this, Naruto's cheerful expression dimmed. "She hasn't been home a lot lately. Some stuff happened with her clan and most of her time is spent there. I'm lucky if I can see her once a week."
Silence fell over the shop. Behind the counter, Teuchi quietly tending to his pot as Ayame disappeared behind the curtain flaps, and no one noticed the pale hand slipping a few bills by the stack of empty ramen bowls.
It was around ten when Kakashi had left his apartment to embark on his day. The sky had been a colorless grey when he woke up, the expanse of clouds dropping muted light on the land below and remained so even as he stepped out the door. Staring up at the sky, he briefly wondered when he would wake up to the sun again before brushing the thought aside. He did not deserve the sun.
Stepping off his doorstep, he slowly made his way down the stairs, listening to the cold, maddening echo that floated around him as he cursed fiercely under his breath. His fear had driven him from his home, his insanity was playing by his ear, and now he couldn't even walk down the steps without palpitating worry. It was stupid and annoying and absolutely degrading, but despite that, Kakashi couldn't help but laugh.
Finally free of the seemingly endless staircase, he stepped out into the village. He had no idea what he was going to do or who he was going to talk to, but he had somehow managed to waste away two hours before he bumped into someone he knew.
"Kakashi-sensei!"
"Sakura," he greeted quietly. At her name, her smile seemed to beam even brighter. "What are you doing out here?"
"Oh, just wandering around town," she said dismissively.
Her answer surprised him. He hadn't expected to be doing the same thing she was. The coincidence struck him as odd and made him feel strangely guilty for some reason. Maybe it was because he was finding they were more and more similar than he would like to think.
A cloud rumbled above their heads, causing them to look up. Kakashi was the first to speak.
"I'll walk you home."
Sakura nodded in agreement. In her condition, she couldn't afford to get sick and waited for him to move so she could fall into step with him.
It was an almost comical scene; the tall grey-haired man on the left was a sharp contrast to the shorter pink-haired woman on his right. People were staring and in the back of his mind, he guessed it was strange to see them together. It had been rare before, but in light of recent events, it was probably very strange to see them together and acting civil. The citizens of Konoha enjoyed a good show because their lives were considerably boring compared to their shinobi counterparts, but Kakashi refused to give them the satisfaction. Not when his own stomach was churning and the one thing he wanted most in that moment was to run from her side and forget ever having set foot outside of his apartment.
Sakura seemed oblivious to his turmoil and glancing at her from the corner of his eye, noted that she seemed strangely calm. Perhaps it was because of the baby, but he doubted it. The serenity that flowed around her seemed ethereal and unnatural, but maybe he was just being bitter and didn't want to see anyone else happy.
His gaze shifted lower to her stomach. She was showing now and could no longer hide the fact she was carrying his child. A stab of pain lanced through him and he managed to suppress his wince. It was painful to see, for him and for her. She had to have known that she couldn't hide it forever so why did she want to keep it? The whispers would be everywhere and he knew what they would say because he could hear snippets of it already.
"Can you believe it?"
"I know."
"Poor girl."
"I think she just parted her legs for him, then cried rape when he didn't want to stay with her."
"So shameless."
"What was she thinking, keeping the child?"
"Maybe it was so she could keep him in her clutches forever."
"I feel so sorry for her."
"I feel more sorry for him."
He shut his ears and closed his eyes. The voices were coming back. They were bothering him again. The eyes were crawling on his back and he could see all of their condescending, sneering smiles. At that moment, he wanted nothing more than the safety of his room. It had become his sanctuary in the past couple of weeks, because even if the silence was maddening, at least they couldn't bother him there.
'It's not my fault. It's not my fault,' he thought to himself as they walked. Though he was calm on the outside, on the inside he was pulling at his hair and fighting panicked screams. It wasn't his fault. He didn't want this baby. She did. It was her fault. It was Sakura's fault. Blame her. Blame her.
But he would never say these things because they couldn't blame her and he couldn't either. She was a victim as much as he was. She would carry the scars he carried and look over her shoulder the way he did when the shadows passed over the walls. Even if he resented her choice, he could not blame her for it. Though she did not look it, she was probably afraid of sex—of men in general because of what he did to her. She would never be able to have children and that child was probably the only chance she would ever have, but maybe he was only making her out to be a martyr so that his conscience would feel better. Even so he couldn't blame her for her decision, or at least, not entirely.
"So how far along are you?" It wasn't curiosity that urged him, but courtesy. His eye had travelled to her stomach and stayed for too long and the voices waited expectantly for him.
"Oh, I'm about four months along." She giggled. "It's so strange saying that. I never imagined I'd be pregnant."
And the comment that he didn't believe it either almost slips from his tongue. He never would've believed her to be pregnant at such a young age and even if she was, he would've expected Sasuke or someone else to be the father. Then again, if someone had told him before that he would rape his student, he probably would've killed them on the spot. Fate was cruel in that sense.
The question answered, they fell into silence.
The walk to her home was quiet as they walked through the winding streets of her district. Looking around, it seemed not much has changed. Even the toys that lay discarded in the yards were the same.
Suddenly, the sky opened up and it began to pour. Around them, people fled under overhangs and into their houses. The sounds of doors slamming shut echoed throughout the neighborhood.
Breaths mingled as they panted. They had been completely caught off-guard by the rain and as their clothes began getting soaked, Kakashi grabbed Sakura's hand and dashed up the stairs.
Sakura stared up at the disheveled man before her. His clothes were spotted with raindrops and his hair drooped slightly with the weight of the water, and knowing her, she probably didn't look any better.
Her sudden laughter was what reminded Kakashi of the person next to him. The silence had been so complete that he had forgotten that she was even there and he turned his head to watch her try to hide her giggles behind her hand. They spilled forth, regardless of her efforts and despite his bitterness, he felt happy for her. She deserved to laugh after all she had been through.
Suddenly, he was laughing, the same breathless chuckles escaping his lips. Why they were laughing, he had no clue. People got caught in the rain all the time, but the laughter was infectious and they smiled and laughed with each other as if laughing about a secret only they knew.
As he laughed, he watched her. He didn't even realize he was watching her because it was such a deeply ingrained habit of his. In her genin days, she was the one who always needed rescuing and it, like other habits of his, were hard to break.
He takes in the small things. The slight curvature of her fingers, the dainty tinkle of her laugh, the way her body shakes with her giggles. An air of innocence hangs around her, but maybe innocence isn't the right word. Regardless, he finds her almost surreal and leans in for a better look.
"Kakashi?"
The sound of his name over the din of rain on the roof is what alerts him of the fact he is too close. Her laughter is gone and their noses are almost touching and he can feel the slight dampness of their mingling breaths on his mask. There is wariness in her eyes, wariness and worry which are a stark contrast to the smoky haze that has covered his. He realizes that he should stop himself and succeeds in gathering his resolve, but at the bare whisper of his name, his resolve is gone and his fate is sealed.
The kiss is soft and yielding. Warmth floods both their systems, melting away the initial shock at what they're doing as Sakura pushes a bit firmer, asks for a bit more; all of which he is happy to give her.
And then, she moans, and he is gone, leaving her to marvel at the tenderness of the kiss and the gentleness of the man who has just bared his soul without uttering a word.
Rain gathered on the grooves of the epitaph, absorbing the lingering warmth of the fingers that continually dipped and danced in its carvings. It was freezing out and the rain had not let up since it started hours ago, but Kakashi didn't notice, too engrossed with the task of tracing the names of his friends as his mind raced and dragged on at the same time.
"What should I do, Obito? I don't know what to do anymore, so what should I do?" he whispered. His crouched legs were crying for respite now, his lips tinged blue as his fingers trembled in their task. Though his thoughts raced, he didn't feel like he was thinking at all. It was like he was trapped in a void, falling endlessly into a place where time did not exist and every moment was stretched into an eternity. He couldn't feel the rain beating at his back or the wind biting at his skin. He wasn't sure if he was even breathing.
The sound of footsteps alerted him to a presence and he knew instantly who it was, knew because there was only one person who could ever make him feel so conflicted with just their presence. Even as she stepped closer, the grass rustling softly under her feet with the steady hollow sound of water falling onto her umbrella growing louder, he refused to turn around.
"How long have you been here?"
Her voice was soft with the faintest hint of worry. There were no exclamations of how soaked he was, or how pale his skin was because such things were obvious and they had moved past the obvious long ago. Closing his eyes, he could imagine what she looked like behind him. She'd probably be in another dress, another pair of shoes. She'd have an umbrella this time—a pink one because there would always be that child-like part of her that stubbornly refused to go away—and then there'd be her face, that face that held every emotion clear as day, but instead of a smile like the sun, there'd be a sad, melancholy expression befitting the rainy day.
"Did I say anything to upset you? Did I do anything wrong?"
When he didn't respond, she sighed in resignation causing him to flinch ever so slightly. Overcome by guilt, he uttered one word. "Kiss."
At first, Sakura thought she imagined he had spoken, but when she saw the tenseness that rested between his shoulders, she realized that it had been real, that he had spoken.
"Is that why you're out here? Because you kissed me?"
He answered with a brief nod. He didn't trust himself to speak anymore. Not when she was there and he could barely think straight long enough to form coherent thoughts, let alone speak.
He could hear the grass rustle and realized that she had stepped closer. What was she doing here? Didn't she know enough that she should go away? She shouldn't be here! She was pregnant! She shouldn't be standing in the rain watching him do this. She shouldn't be wasting her life on him because unlike his, her life mattered.
"You know, you're going to freeze to death," he said at last, his fingers continued their sad waltz in the stone.
"You seem perfectly fine," she countered, her eyes trained on his back. Kakashi said nothing.
'He's ignoring me.'
"Kakashi, what's wrong?"
"Nothing. You should go home. You're going to catch a cold. And even if you don't care, you still have the baby to think about."
"But you still haven't told me what's wrong."
"…"
"Fine. Then I won't leave until you tell me," she said firmly.
"What? Sakura!" His fingers had stopped moving on the stone and he was facing her now. If anything, at least she got a reaction from him. "Sakura, you're pregnant. You shouldn't be out here. You'll get sick. Just go home already!"
She knew his patience was thinning, she could see it in his eyes and hear it in his voice, but she wasn't going to let him win. Not if she was going to find out once and for all what he thought of her.
"Why should you care if I get sick or not?"
"Sakura, you can't be selfish about this. You have another life to think about."
"So? You're selfish all the time. You never let anyone into that godforsaken barrier of yours. Why do you have to keep everyone out? Why can you act one way and I have to act another? Why do you care if I get sick?"
And suddenly, the words came rushing out. "Because I lo—"
His hand covered his mouth, but the words had already been thrown out. The implication was already there. Kakashi turned away from her. Damn it, this was why he didn't want her to stay here. Not when his mind wasn't working, when his heart was tearing in two, when that kiss still lay so fresh in his mind and he couldn't tell what was going on.
"Forget what I just said, Sakura. I wasn't thinking straight."
But she couldn't leave it, couldn't forget it and pass it off as a lie when he said it like that. She had never heard him sound so pained, so confused. And looking at him now, crouched by the memorial stone, his blue fingertips quivering as they traced the names of departed souls, she never realized how small he was.
"…Are you really that afraid of loving me?" she asked at last and at first, Kakashi couldn't believe she said that. He had barely even heard it over the din of the rain. And then…
"Yes." His answer was a barely audible whisper, a single note playing amongst the rain, but for him, it held the world. Yes, he did love her. And yes, he was afraid. More than that, he was terrified. Love was synonymous with pain for him because everyone he had ever loved had died, and always when he realized just how much he needed them. That's why he had those barriers. To shut people out before they could get in because it always spelled disaster for them and him.
But now he couldn't stop it. She had gotten through them without even having to try. It was remarkable how easy it was, but how it came to be was even more mystifying. Was it because of the rape that they came together? If it had never happened, would they be as close as they were now?
No, he knew they wouldn't. They would still be acquaintances—at the very most, friends—and he would still be reading Icha Icha and having light conversation with her when he saw her and all his walls would be intact. She would've never gotten this close because he wouldn't have let her. But maybe he was just kidding himself. Maybe it had been inevitable.
Arms wrapped around his neck and he could feel her breath brushing lightly over his hair. Only then did he realize that she was holding him and the first thing he thought of was that her dress was going to get dirty. It was an asinine thought, really, but he couldn't take any serious thinking anymore.
"I'm tired," he told her softly. Those thoughts had drained him. This whole day had drained him. Did it really matter how it happened? He still held feelings for her and it didn't seem like anything would change that fact. He cared for her, deeply, and that was as far as he would let himself go. It would be a while before he would let himself say he loved her because love was still too painful a word to use. Maybe in time, he could say it, but not now. Not when the wounds were still fresh in their minds and he still had so far to go.
Happiness was far away and it seemed like he was drowning in a pool eons and eons beneath her, but he knew that one day, he'd stop. He would stop drowning, stop wallowing in self-induced misery and begin moving forward again. What was more, she would be waiting for him, her hand out-stretched with a bright smile on her face, as they took the first step towards the future.
And with that thought, he began to cry.
Well, there it is. I'm fighting major inspiration block since I can't seem to write as well as I used to. The tense switch at the end of the third scene was intentional since I wanted the reader to experience things as they were happening. If it's too awkward, I'll change it…maybe. Happy New Year!
(PS: anyone else thinking this is becoming more and more of a melodrama? :P)