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Summary
Obito often wondered what your obsession with touching his scars was. They were ugly, gross, unpleasant in sight and in texture, but you treated that side of his body just like the rest. He wasn't sure if you loved him, but at the very least, you cared more than you should have, and you made it apparent that you wanted him to be aware of such.
You thought his face was beautiful, though, even with half of it scarred the way it was. His eyes were round and soft despite his otherwise hard exterior, one a color that reminded you of fresh ink and the other a bright vermillion with three black swirls. You weren't a ninja, but the kekkei genkai was infamous enough for you to be aware of it. You knew it was a sharingan. You knew the entire clan aside from the man who'd committed the massacre and the one lone survivor, who was a child, were dead... Apparently, your secret lover was an exception that The Leaf Village wasn't aware of. You never questioned any of it.
Your thumb grazed over the scars from the boulder, and you didn't flinch at the hard ridges. You treated them like the rest of him. You always did.
"Thank you."