Time stands still. One might think so. In winter, days go by that all seem the same. But it's actually not the case, because time seems to pass more quickly, the precious hours of light are fleeting.
Everything is frozen, conserved. And the gaze falls inwards.
Bare branches reach into the night sky like bony fingers. Bare fears embrace the mind as it sleeps, drawing the images of nightmares.
Cool sweat on hot skin. The ticking of the clock a sobering sign that things are continuing. Then and now.
Kakashi sits up in his bed. It's that cold sweat that sticks strands of hair to his forehead, so he runs his hand through it to get rid of the tickling sensation. It is dark, with only the gray squares of the tatami mats flickering once more before disappearing. There is just a wooden floor here. And his father's corpse is not here either.
A question drills through the surface of his consciousness, it is the most necessary at this time.
Will I be able to go back to sleep?
Kakashi swallows once, twice, his throat dry from the cold.
There are tiny cracks and another question threatens to burst out. From him. From him as a human being. He must not let it happen and he hopes that this surface will freeze over again, becoming a smooth mirror once more.
They are preserved beneath it, his sensei, Rin and Obito. They have not lived through time, they are dead and have become immortal right there inside Kakashi. Their faces here are untouched by the atrocities of war, they are smooth, constantly drifting, glazed, perfect porcelain.
No. That's not true. Habits are deceptive and trains of thought also carry such danger. They numb reality and put a dubious veil around the truth.
Obito is not dead.
Kakashi rips the blanket off him and stands up abruptly, the air stinging his skin with needles of cold. Behind the curtains of his bedroom is a moonless night. He also opens his left eye now, the habit of keeping it closed has become superfluous. The gift that Kakashi carried with him for so long has returned to its giver.
He has returned.
No. That's not true. Obito lived in hiding, Obito chose a different path and he let Kakashi suffer alone.
He also suffered.
Yes, that's true.
Konoha is peaceful, everything is peaceful. The war is over and, as it is so often the case, people turn to other priorities of their own accord. They change, time changes them.
Why is nothing changing for him?
The clock is ticking, Kakashi knows he won't be able to sleep. He won't be taking a shower. His hands find the parts of his uniform and he's already outside, jumping from roof to roof.
The prison doesn't let anyone in, not in the middle of the night, and yet it's different with Kakashi, for Kakashi. The cell is at the very bottom, deep in the ground. Where they bury things and forget them.
There are no normal guards here. They are ANBU who specialize in seals, hand-picked, loyal soldiers. They nod at him. The procedure has become a daily ritual.
Down here, Kakashi is relieved, he is not called Hokage or treated with reverence. This burden distorts into a phenomenon of the future, because down here in the damp corridors between the gray tiles and bare pipes, he is one of them again. A nameless shadow, another animal mask. Chased by the pain of the past, he almost dares to run until he reaches his destination through all the passages.
The heavy iron door reveals the old familiar image. One that doesn't want to become a habit to him, one that wants to defend itself loudly like a rebelling twelve-year-old Obito. A chuckle bubbles up from his throat, it's as if Kakashi had forgotten how to laugh. Only now does he loosen his fists, his fingernails always leaving crescent-shaped indentations in the same place in his palms.
The steps towards the sealed figure chained in front of him are numb, fake.
His hair is snow-white.
An impulse shoots through Kakashi's body. The memory of their fight against Kaguya is to blame. Side by side, Obito's fingers intertwined with his own. If only he could put his hand on Obito's once more.
They are sealed, as are his eyes and his consciousness. The latter is a forbidden Yamanaka technique that has allowed Kakashi to keep Obito alive. Just as long as the trial lasts. Sakura had said that for his old friend it must be like anesthesia, the blink of an eye. The thought still triggers an unpleasant feeling in his stomach.
It's not fair. He doesn't deserve peace.
The trial itself provides a distraction, with Kakashi defending Obito. It's a stressful affair, and yet it's more important than anything else. The Hokage's duties just pile up on top of everything else.
Kakashi is far too careless. Shikamaru knows it, but he says nothing.
The straitjacket wraps Obito in a cocoon; he won't move, even over a year later. Kakashi falls to his knees, his face pressed desperately against a thigh. And here he takes a deep breath. Without a doubt, it's Obito. His scent fills Kakashi completely. It's enough. It's enough to keep him going until it becomes unbearable again.
“I'll do anything.”
And suddenly it's over. Books that he had exchanged for the beloved ichaicha series find their permanent place on a shelf. Kilos of files and papers disappear.
Contrary to his expectations, Kakashi feels nothing as Obito's seals are lifted. He is eerily level-headed.
Their eyes meet. Obito is silent.
The sentence leaves Kakashi's lips instead of an intimate greeting. Monotone and memorized. He wonders if disappointment and pain have outweighed affection and longing. Obito remains silent and follows him out of the earth and into the light.
It is Obito who places his hand in Kakashi's and squeezes. As if he had known it all along.
The warmth spreads through his whole body like a sparked fuse.
And now Kakashi consists of just this one question.
Because besides his friend, he is human, he is the little boy, the genius of the ninja academy, he is the jonin in the middle of the third war and the lonely ANBU who comes back to an empty apartment with an equally empty heart and greets his team photo. He is everything at once.
The door of his apartment slams shut behind them and once again Kakashi stands in front of the fragments that have pieced together his life in a merciless arbitrariness until this day. There is no meaning. There is only the next step forward, yet he turns back and looks at Obito.
He has the same eyes, they are full of wild brokenness, only it is so much clearer on him. Almost raw. Kakashi could actually thank him for this honesty, because it's a concession that everything, the way it is now, is somehow fine.
Who is he to judge Obito? And what about the other way around?
They are exactly the same: flesh, blood, sin, pleasure, shadow and light.
The realization still settles in him just as Obito touches his lips. The line is blurred, because it also could have been Kakashi who finally dares to be human and kisses Obito. It's not just that, they breathe new life into each other where they merge. Where their inexperienced tongues meet and only the moment consumes all other thoughts.
It only takes a single drop to stir up these still waters, to make the waves crash, to tear everything out of its order. So that everything old dissolves and something new grows out of the volcanic ash, the fertile ground.
They are hot and cold and hot again and Kakashi pulls at Obito's rough prisoner's clothing. Pulls him even closer. It really is him. The years, the visits to the memorial stone, the guilt, they all fall off him. And it's as if he can breathe again for the first time.
Kakashi's shoulders feel light. His head is empty and full. Everything is so right.
The question becomes the answer: it was always right to love.