Chapter Text
Kakashi woke up to the insistent knocks that echoed against the door of his apartment. He slowly got up from the couch, still drowsy, causing the Icha Icha that had been resting open on his chest to slide a few inches before he took it in his hand and placed it on the table.
Another frantic knock made him sigh.
"I'm coming, I'm coming..." he murmured, scratching his silver hair as he approached the door.
When he opened it, he didn't expect what he found. Sakura was there, her cheeks flushed and her eyes glassy. She didn't say a word. Her gaze was fixed on him, laden with something that Kakashi took a second to identify: desperation.
"Sakura..." he uttered, with a thread of a voice, trying to keep calm while his heart was beating faster.
She didn't respond. She simply took a step forward and threw herself into his arms. Kakashi remained motionless, with his hands inches from her waist, trapped between the will to embrace her and the prudence that always accompanied him. Kakashi allowed himself to feel her. The weight of her head against his chest. The trembling of her body against his, and for several seconds, all that existed was that contact.
"Kakashi... kiss me," she whispered, her face buried against him.
The ninja blinked.
"What?"
"Kiss me..." she insisted, raising her gaze to look at him intently. Her voice was firm, but her eyes... they weren't. There was something broken there. Something that called him out of need rather than desire or love.
Kakashi was not a man who was easily swept away. Not after all he had learned about losing. But the way she looked at him... those green, pleading eyes were his weakness. He lowered his gaze to her pink lips and, for a moment, remembered the scent of her skin, the trembling of her breath at his caresses that night that should never have existed.
The guilt that came after.
"Please..." she begged.
His fingers moved almost on their own, slowly pulling down the mask, surrendering to something he knew he would regret, but still did. Letting the hesitation fade, he gently held her by the waist, drawing her closer. The touch of their lips was light, until Sakura responded, opening her mouth, seeking something more, as if that kiss could erase her pain, her loneliness. Kakashi felt the trembling of her body and held her firmly, cradling her waist and responding with more fervor.
Until he felt the salty lips. He opened his eyes and discovered Sakura's tears sliding down her face. Gently, he passed his thumb to dry them. They remained like that for a moment, until the tears stopped, the heat of her body still very close, his heart beating strongly. Kakashi took a deep breath, letting the urgency slowly dissolve, and soon after, he pulled away.
"I'll make tea."
He didn't wait for a response, and headed to the kitchen and put water on to heat, while trying to get over the taste of her mouth. Meanwhile, Sakura sat on the same couch where he had been sleeping minutes earlier.
During that time, neither of them spoke. Kakashi took his Icha Icha while waiting for Sakura to be the one to break the silence. When the tea was ready, he left a cup in front of her, but before he could withdraw his hand and ask her why she came to his apartment, Sakura captured it between her fingers, he felt the softness of her skin run over his.
"Make love to me, Kakashi," she finally said, her cheeks were red and her gaze shone, but she didn't know if it was from tears or desire.
He swallowed. Every fiber of his being wanted to yield to that tempting request. Painfully tempting.
But he couldn't. He shouldn't.
"Didn't we promise that it would never happen again?"
"I need you..." Sakura said as her cheeks turned redder. Her body leaned towards him, seeking closeness, seeking comfort that he couldn't give her in the way she was asking.
He shook his head, with a weary smile. And he separated from the warmth that her hand was providing on his.
"You don't need me" for Kakashi it was a certainty. Her words were not a confession of love.
Sakura lowered her gaze, biting her lower lip. The tears came back, but this time on the tea cup, mixing with the hot liquid he had prepared in the hope of calming her. Kakashi took a deep breath, maintaining the serenity that cost him so much effort to preserve.
"Kakashi, i want to spend the night with you."
He knew that look. The same sparkle in her eyes he had seen that night was still there, mixed with the vulnerability he knew all too well. It told him that she had come back for the same reason she had sought him before: to fill a void that Sasuke’s absence had made even more unbearable. Kakashi felt a knot in his chest, aware of how dangerous it would be to give in, but this time he held himself back.
He remained silent for a few seconds, observing her face. Then he spoke softly:
"That's not what you want," he assured.
"How do you know what I want?" she asked.
"I've known it since you were eleven, Sakura," his words floated in the air, pronounced by years of observation.
From the beginning of Team 7, from the moment Kakashi asked about their dreams and likes, the answer, the gaze... it had all been for Sasuke.
"How do you know what I want now?" Sakura asked.
Kakashi sighed before answering.
"You want the same thing you wanted when you were eleven," he assured. "You don't want me, you want Sasuke."
"Kakashi, that night..."
"Sakura..." he began. "What we did that night was a mistake," he concluded calmly, though his heart was beating rapidly.
"Do you regret it?" she asked, with new tears.
"Sakura... my whole life is a chain of things I regret."
"That doesn’t answer my question."
Kakashi remained silent. Then raised a hand and carefully caressed her hair.
"Go home, Sakura," he said. She opened her mouth to speak, but closed it when he added: "Sarada is waiting for you."
So she watched him for a few seconds, as if she wanted to engrave him in her memory. Then she nodded.
"That night for me wasn't a mistake," Sakura said before leaving.
Kakashi didn't respond. He just watched her leave. When the door closed, the silence returned.
He took his cup of tea, now cold, and brought it to his lips.
"For me it was a mistake," he said to himself.
But as he tasted the bitter taste of the tea, he knew the truth: he didn't regret having touched her. He regretted that, despite everything, he still wanted to do it again.