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Kisame was not expecting to be confronted with a life-changing decision that night. Your head was rested gently on his chest, hand wrapped around his stomach and stroking lightly as the two of you talked in the dark. It was a bedtime ritual at this point - each night, you would turn off the lights and climb into bed. Kisame would listen while you talked about your day, and he’d chime in with whatever popped into his mind. Tonight, however, you were unusually silent. When he inquired, you asked a question that took him far too long to answer.
“What if you were given the choice to see your alternate life?” you had asked so simply, as if the question didn’t need any elaboration. He furrowed his brow, thinking for a moment, before responding.
“What do you mean?”
You hummed, thinking to yourself for a second to attempt to gather your thoughts.
“Like,” you sighed, “what if a man came up to you and asked if you wanted to see what your life would have been like without me?” You were silent for almost ten seconds before you quietly added, “would you want to see it?”
Kisame, only thinking of why you would be asking such a question, rubbed your shoulder and expressed his concern. “Why are you asking me this, sweetheart? Did someone say something to you?” The rough callus on the pads of his fingertips tickled your bare shoulder, but you didn’t bother to move. You shook your head. “Just curious,” you murmured.
Kisame thought about what his life would be like without you.
If he hadn’t seen you that night, shivering under the protection of a narrow divot in the mountain that was keeping you from being rained on, his life would undeniably be different. For starters, Kisame would not have offered his cloak to the stranger that was clearly terrified of his presence. He wouldn’t have given them a warm meal or offered a place to stay for the night, and he certainly wouldn’t have gone through the trouble of picking up some extra clothes on his way back from a mission for you after he insisted on letting you stay.
Kisame wouldn’t have watched the sand wash away into the sea in a new way. He vividly remembers the moment where you mindlessly dug a hole into the sand as you commented on the freezing water. The hole was quickly washed away as the wave crashed onto your feet. He remembers your exclamation from how cold the water was, and the way you clung onto his arm because of it.
He wouldn’t have looked in the mirror the same way without you. Before you were there, Kisame avoided his reflection. The only thing he saw in the mirror was a monster and, for the longest time, someone undeserving of love. All Kisame saw was the hideous scars and the terrifying gills attached to his face - until you one day ran your fingers over his features and whispered with fascination about how handsome he looked. You were so genuine, so kind , that Kisame no longer hated the way he looked. He didn’t avoid his gaze whenever he entered the bathroom. Instead, he smiled at the memory of you showing even the smallest admiration for him.
If Kisame had never met you, he wouldn’t be happy. He wouldn’t have someone to come home to each night after a long day of battling. He wouldn’t have someone that would patch him up and playfully scold him for getting into so much trouble. There would be nobody to wipe the blood off the door handles, nobody to kiss his wounds better. There would be nobody to turn off the lights and slip under the covers with him, nobody to shower him with the love and affection he craved so deeply.
Kisame was lost in thought until the movement on his stomach came to a stop. Your fidgeting ceased and it drew him back to reality - back to you. With a kiss on your forehead, he mumbled his response.
“Absolutely not, my dear,” he mumbled, “a life without you is not something I desire.”
You giggled lightly, very clearly feeling yourself be overtaken by the powerful force of sleep. “You’re cute,” you whispered.
“Go to sleep,” Kisame said with a smile, “or perhaps I’ll reconsider my answer.”
With a fake-gasp, you rolled over and buried your hand into the pillow. “I can’t believe my fiance hates me,” you said with a smile.
A hand snaked itself onto your waist and caressed your stomach lightly as you felt Kisame’s body shift and press into you further. He pushed his face into the crook of your neck and breathed in deeply. “How horrible,” he whispered.