Chapter Text
There’s a slight shift in the manor. It had been so faint, Sakura thought she had imagined it at first, but as she sits next to him, doing her paperwork, she can’t ignore it anymore. She glances up at him, trying to read him, but with his mask up, she knows it’s no use.
After their evening at the bar, something had changed. He started to pull away from her, little by little, and she couldn’t stop it. It had now been days since they’d last kissed, and while Sakura believed relationships existed perfectly fine without them, she wasn’t prepared to drop them so suddenly.
His voice breaks her from her train of thought, “Something on your mind, Sakura?”
He doesn’t look up as he says it, and the aloof tone in his voice has her gripping her pen tightly. She nods, trying to keep her voice soft, “I’m just confused.”
He looks up then, finally meeting her gaze. He smiles, and the way his eye crinkles makes an uncomfortable feeling stir in her stomach. She knows that smile. That’s the smile he gives to people like Naruto, or Yamato. It’s not the smile he used to give her. “What’s confusing you?”
“Us.” The one word makes his smile falter. It’s the closest either of them have ever come to putting a label on what they are. He cocks his head to the side, but before he can voice his confusion she continues. “You’ve been ignoring me for days.”
“What?” he asks, confusion shrouding him again. They had been cuddled up on the couch just last night.
“When was the last time you kissed me?” she asks, and her glare sends him into a frenzy as he scours his memories. “When was the last time you held my hand?” she presses on, her tone getting harsher the longer he's silent. “I know the answer, it’s been days. Almost a week.”
She lowers her voice and her expression sends a pang into Kakashi’s chest. She looks beyond hurt, and she’s not meeting his eyes, “What, I told you I didn’t want to sleep with you… and now you’re just cutting me out. Is that why?”
That was definitely not it. He might not have known how long it had been since he'd kissed her, but he knew that that was not true. Kakashi instantly spoke up, having finally found his voice, “No, that’s not it at all.”
Her sea green eyes snap up to his and he feels like she’s seeing through him. Down to the center. It doesn’t matter that his mask is up, the way she’s staring at him bores through the material and her question makes him falter. “Then why, Kakashi? Why are you ignoring me?”
“I didn’t think I was,” he answers honestly, but from the look she gives him he knows it’s not the right answer. She shoves her papers together and stuffs them in her bag, standing abruptly from the desk. “Sakura, wait—”
“Why?” she asks, whipping around to face him. “So you can just ignore me some more and not notice? I haven’t been able to think straight the past few days because of it, and it didn’t even cross your mind, Kakashi.” She watches the recognition flash behind his eyes as he realizes where he messed up.
She tries to loosen her grip on her bag, trying to diffuse the tension as best she can. She doesn’t want him thinking she’s walking out on him completely, even though part of her would be glad to let him think that, he doesn’t deserve it yet. “I’m going home tonight. Maybe you need time to figure out whatever’s going on with you.”
“Sakura, wait,” he stands up, watching her walk towards the doors, and he doesn’t follow. Had he really not kissed her in days? Had he ignored her that much? The question that made his head hurt the most was the last, how had he not noticed?
It seemed his entire life revolved around Sakura at this point. She was always there for him at the end of the day and would visit him on her days off. How could he have ignored her? He drags his hands through his hair, dropping into his chair with a huff.
The thoughts swirl around his brain in an endless loop. He knows the first one is true.
He doesn’t deserve her.
He doesn’t deserve her patience or kindness. He doesn’t think he’ll ever deserve her, and this just proves his point. He’d ignored her for days and hadn’t noticed.
She’s too good for him.
The second one is a fact, that most would agree with if they knew they were together. Her generosity and talent, her heart that she put into everything she did; it was too good to be spent on him. She was too good to be with him.
He doesn’t want to ruin her.
The last thought was the one that plagued him most often. After she’d fall asleep against him on the couch, he would look down at her and wonder. What if she became like him? What if the light she always carried was put out and it was his fault? He could never forgive himself for something like that. Sakura was too good, too pure.
He wastes away at his desk for the next few hours, but work isn’t being done in the slightest. As the sun begins to descend and streaks of orange fill the room, he’s on the same page he was when she left. He feels guilty that part of him is relieved.
If she leaves, he doesn’t have to worry about it. If she leaves, he doesn’t have to wonder if he’ll hurt her or taint her or ruin her chance at normal. And it dawns on him, that maybe he had been ignoring her. And maybe, it wasn’t completely unintentional.
But the look on her face as she had left, the hurt that was there was enough to make him question everything. He had already hurt her. If she stuck around him any longer, the damage was soon to be irreversible, and she’d be like him.
He stares himself down in the mirror and shakes his head, Sakura, no matter how far she drifted, would never be like him. She would never kill a comrade, she would never sacrifice the safety of her team for the mission, she would never miss something like Itachi’s internal struggle or ignore an attack like that of the Nine-tails.
Not like him.
He doesn’t sleep that night. Or the next. When he closes his eyes, all he can see are his mistakes glaring back at him, over and over. He doesn’t think he can continue like this, and if the dark circles under his eyes are any indication, he’ll be forced to sleep soon.
And when he finally does, she’s there.
She’s the one he finds on the floor of his childhood home. She pushes him out of the way of falling rocks, sacrificing herself for him.
They don’t stop there.
He’s forced to watch as she murders the people she loves, tears in her eyes and a question on her lips, “How didn’t you see it? Why didn’t you help me?” It’s her heart that he’s punching through, not Rin’s. She stares at him, her green eyes wide, whispers his name and then her legs buckle as he pulls his hand back.
And when he sits up, gasping, his entire body drenched in sweat, his heart threatening to beat out of his chest, she’s not there. She’s not there to comfort him, hold him close and promise it would be okay. And it’s not, it’s not okay, nor will it ever be okay.
Because he’s Kakashi Hatake, the darkest ninja with a twisted past that he carries across his shoulders.
And she’s Sakura Haruno, a burst of light and energy with a future ahead of her that’s promising.
. . . . . . .
Shikamaru watches Kakashi over the next few days. There’s no sign of Sakura, and it’s clearly taking its toll on the Hokage. He looks like he’s barely slept in the past week, and the mistakes he’s making are sloppy.
He asks one day, keeping his voice casual and careless as usual, “Haven’t seen Sakura around in a while. Are you guys doing okay?” Kakashi flinches as he says her name. Shikamaru sighs, knowing he’s getting himself involved, but he drops into the chair across from him, “What happened?”
“Nothing happened, Shikamaru.” Kakashi’s voice is too forcibly soft.
Shikamaru picks up on this, “I’m not buying it.” Kakashi stifles a sigh as Shikamaru watches him, “So what’s going on?” when he moves to protest, Shikamaru plays the logic card. “No, whatever it is, it’s making you mess up your paperwork which leaves double the work for me. Half the time I don’t think you even read what you’re signing these days. So either tell me and we can figure something out, or you can get someone else to do this for you.”
Kakashi finally looks alert. “You’d walk?”
He shrugs casually, like the threat of leaving his job at the Hokage office is an every day occurrence for Shikamaru, “It’d give me more free time.” He levels his gaze with Kakashi, “But honestly. What happened between you two? And don’t say nothing.”
Kakashi gives him the bare minimum of details he can, but he knows even that is too much. Shikamaru is incredibly gifted when it comes to filling in the blanks. He nods slowly, his eyes calculating as they drift toward the desk. He asks, “So why are you not doing anything about it?”
“What?”
“You’re clearly miserable if she’s not here. So why not do something about it?” he rolls his eyes at Kakashi’s look, “Look, it’s a drag but it’s true. You like her, she likes you, so why not go fix this? She isn’t going to be the one to do it, especially with how things seemed to have ended between you two.”
Kakashi doesn’t reply. He doesn’t know how. He manages to ask, “What am I supposed to do?”
Shikamaru shrugs, “I don’t know. I can’t tell you even if I did. That’s something you need to figure out.” He leans forward, leveling his gaze with Kakashi’s, “But sooner rather than later would be good, I know that much.”
He stands up, leaving the Hokage to his own devices. He complains that he needs to go over the files from last night to make sure everything’s correct, mumbles something about a drag, and then heads out, leaving Kakashi in the office.
And Kakashi, whenever he doesn’t know what to do, or feels lost, does what he always does.
. . . . . .
He hears her approaching from behind, and his back is given a brief escape from the raindrops that pelt against it. She places her hand on his shoulder, her touch still gentle, but he goes board stiff, determined to keep distance between them, even though all he wants to do is lean into her.
Her hand drops back to her side with a sigh, “I can’t keep doing this.” Shikamaru had shown up at her apartment that evening, explaining that Kakashi was struggling the past few days. Clearly, Sakura realized, leaving Kakashi to his own devices was not a good idea.
And she knows she should have known—Kakashi would get lost in his mind if no one was there to help him walk through it. And for a while now, it had been her. The rain started to pour by the bucketful as she made her way to the graves, the bleak atmosphere matching the bleak conversation ahead of her.
“Doing what?” he asks hoarsely.
“Watching this. I’ve known you for years Kakashi, and I have watched you over and over fight against every ounce of happiness you find. I watch you shut people out. You shut me out, and every time you come back here.”
He doesn’t have anything to say. He doesn’t know what he can say.
“And I just can’t keep this up anymore. I’ve watched you agonize over it, if you’d been faster, stronger, less of a coward, more of a coward and it changes nothing. Nothing, Kakashi. The outcome is still the same because even if you had been any of those things, you wouldn’t have seen this coming, you still wouldn’t have known what was going to happen. But it doesn’t matter what I say, because you do the same thing every time, and I can’t keep watching you torture yourself.”
He knows she’s right. He knows that he can’t change the past and thinking about it doesn’t fix anything, but he can’t stop. He sees them everywhere, his mistakes constantly reflecting back at him and he can’t escape it. Those mistakes scare him from making any others, and those mistakes are the ones keeping him from Sakura, from anyone.
She’s blinking back tears, and her voice sounds like it’s about to break. “I can’t keep doing this to me, because you let me in, and it just hurt that much more when you threw me back out.” He slumps forward, hanging his head and she can see his shoulders shaking. “I’ll tell you over and over that it wasn’t your fault and there was nothing you could have done but it doesn’t change your mind. Nothing does. You’re always going to believe that it’s your fault that Rin and Obito are dead.”
It is, thinks weakly. It is his fault. If he looks at his hand he can still feel it tearing through her heart. Terrifyingly, he could feel it tearing through Sakura’s too. And every time he catches his sharingan’s reflection, he’s reminded of Obito’s hands shoving him out of the way.
There’s anger in her tone now, “You were the one who taught me that loss is inevitable as a Shinobi! You drilled it into my head when I was twelve that comrades die and we have to move on. But here you are, refusing anyone and anything that can bring you happiness because you don’t think you deserve it!”
I don’t. Especially not you.
“I’ve lost comrades too! I watched Neji die, I held Naruto’s heart in my hand while I forced it to keep going—that’s right it stopped. He died in my arms! But I’m still trying, Kakashi!” Her voice loses its bite, and she’s softening again, “I’m trying to make you happy and be happy and live the way they would want me to live. Do you really think any of them would want this for you?”
He doesn’t say anything. The weight that’s settled in his chest makes it impossible to breathe, much less say a word. He’s thankful for the rain because he can weakly blame the wetness on his face from that. What she says next nearly shatters him, “And I know you see them in us.”
She kneels to his level, the wet grass cold under her knees, “But I am not Rin. And Naruto is not Obito, and you aren’t Sasuke, so you don’t need to keep doing this. Distancing yourself from me, like you’re going to hurt me. And I know it’s hard to let people in, it was hard for you to let me in, but…” her voice trailed off into silence.
“You need to let this go. This grief that you so desperately cling to because it’s all you know—you need to get rid of it. It’s been years, Kakashi, and I know, I know you’ve lost so many. Too many. And it hurts, it will always hurt, but you can’t keep doing this to yourself.”
Her voice hardens slightly, but it’s not cruel. It’s just honest, “If you stop, let yourself be happy, enjoy life, find some semblance of peace, it won’t hurt as bad. Remembering them will stop being a burden. But if you keep going like this, don’t expect me to watch anymore. I can’t keep picking up the pieces.” She moves to get up, but his hand grabs hers, his grip vice-like and she’s frozen. The rain bounces off of her skin, slowly matting her hair to her face, but she doesn’t move to fix it.
When he speaks, his voice is broken, so unlike the normally lazy tone he carried. But when he looks up at her, she knows it’s the realest she’s ever heard him, “You’re wrong about one thing. I don’t deserve you, I never will.” He locks eyes with her, the rain streaming down his face, and he can’t tell if any of it is tears. “But don’t leave. I won’t shut you out, not anymore. And I’m sorry. I’m so sorry,” he says it over and over again, until she’s pulling him into a hug, tears leaking from her own eyes.
He wraps one arm around her waist, and the other braces against her back, his fingers grazing her neck. She feels his hand gripping her shirt tightly, trying to pull her in closer and she’s relieved. He’s not hiding it anymore, he’s not forcing her away. Not replacing his emotions with the aloof personality she’d known him to have. And while it’s cold, and her clothes are soaked through to the bone, she doesn’t mind. She isn’t going to leave him like this. Not when he is opening up to her, finally letting her in to see all the darkness. And she won’t let it consume him—not anymore.
It takes a few days for them to find their rhythm once again. After Sakura gets him back on his feet and they walk back through the village in the rain, they’re completely drenched when they get to the manor. For the first time, they walked huddled together; if anyone saw, they could blame it on the rain and their trying to stay dry.
Kakashi tries to offer her the shower first, but she’s shaking her head. He looks like hell and clearly needs it more than she does. He gives in easily enough, and as the warm water soothes his aching muscles, his exhaustion catches up to him. He hadn’t slept properly in days.
His silver hair is plastered to his forehead once he steps out, and he drags a towel through it just enough so it’s no longer dripping and glances at himself in the mirror. The darkness under his eyes looked more like bruises than dark circles at this point, and part of him is tempted to pull on his mask to hide them. But he doesn’t want to, he doesn’t want to hide from her anymore. He steps back into the living room.
She’s standing by the window, watching the storm roll by. Her hair has been towel-dried, and she’s opted for one of his shirts again since hers was undoubtedly soaked. Even in the faint light from the stormy sky, she looks heavenly. She glances back at him with an easy smile, “Storm’s getting pretty bad. I might just have to stay here tonight.”
He crosses the room in a few steps, reaching for her and pulling her in. Her lips are against his and he’s breathing her in like a drug. It’s setting his body on fire as he feeds his addiction for the first time in weeks, realizing just how awful withdrawal had been. That he decides, had been his glimpse into hell. Self induced, but what hell wasn’t?
She pulls away from him after a moment, and she’s smiling. The familiar sight makes his heart clench and he wants to commit it to memory. She reaches up, her cold hand pressed against his bare cheek and her thumb runs familiarly along his scar. He leans into her touch, his eyes fluttering closed at the motion. He whispers, “I’m sorry.”
She needs to tug him down to kiss his forehead, “I know you are. We can talk about it later.” Her fingers run through his hair as he rests his head on her shoulder, “You need to get some sleep, Kakashi.”
He nods, letting her guide him towards his bedroom. He’s weakly aware that she deserves more than an apology, that he should be taking care of her, but Sakura, as always, puts him first. She pulls her hand from his own, moving to her side of the bed.
Her side.
The thought makes him smile.
The curtains are already drawn, and the only light comes from the hallway, and the brief flashes of lightning. He crawls into the bed beside her, his hands reaching for her automatically. When they make contact, he’s relieved. Because she’s there again.
She’s still there, choosing him after everything.
He pulls her in until she’s curled onto his chest, her hair fanning out behind her. Until she’s close enough that he can whisper, “I’m sorry.”
She lifts her head enough to look at him, her eyes finding his in the darkness, “I know. And we’ll figure it out.” She finds his hand with her own and intertwines their fingers together, “Just, don’t shut me out anymore.”
He wants to promise, never again, that he will always keep her on the inside, but he can’t make it, not yet. Even if he said it, Sakura wouldn’t believe him. He can’t promise it yet, so he squeezes her fingers between his own, thankful for the flash of lightning that lets him see her smile.
“Now please, get some sleep. You look exhausted.”
He was. He really, really was. But now that she was here, in his arms, he could finally sleep. And he didn’t have to worry about his nightmares waking him up—even if they did, he knew she’d be there. For the first time in weeks, the storm in Kakashi’s mind calmed as the winds whipped outside. With her head on his chest and the sound of her light breathing filling his ears, Kakashi finally feels at ease.
He still doesn't understand why she's choosing him, why she comes back to him, after everything, but he resolves then. He would take hell in a heartbeat if it meant he could spend another day with her. If he got another chance to tell her just how much he appreciated her, that he loved her, then hell would be worth it.