Kakashi’s steps felt heavy as he made his way up the stairs, moving upward, one step after the other. After another headache-inducing round of missions with the Genin of his Team Seven, exhaustion has long settled into his bones. The most recent squabble between Naruto and Sasuke was still echoing in his mind, as was the intervention of the last member of the team, Sakura. With each time he spent with the three rascals, Kakashi could not help but compare them to the team he had once been a part of, the one of which he was the only member remaining.
The mere thought was a shot to his heart, one that made it squeeze painfully, the sight of the memorial stone flashing in his mind. For a moment, Kakashi stopped in the stairwell and leaned against the cold and bleak wall, his breathing coming out laboured from behind his dark mask. He squeezed his eyes shut to dispel the images flashing through his mind, though, to no avail.
Underneath his fingertips, he could feel the familiar feeling of the paper the Yamanaka flower shop used to wrap their flower bouquets, the way some wet spots littered the beige paper, droplets of water moving down the still-damp stems of the many flowers. It was a feeling he was unable to forget, one that accompanied the flashes in his mind. It was swiftly followed by the feeling of dried flowers in his hands, the ones he replaced week by week. It did not matter how fatigued he felt after long missions, how tense his muscles felt or how unbearable each step was, Kakashi was always able to drag himself all the way to the memorial stone, a fresh bouquet clutched in his hand.
Kakashi breathed in and out. The flash flood of sorrow threatened to pull him under, to drown him in a wave he so desperately wished to be able to escape. His hand moved to rest above the dirty material of his Jōnin vest, a feeble attempt to bring some comfort to himself. Underneath his own touch, he could feel his heartbeat steadily increasing, a telltale sign of his heightened emotions.
A curse rushed past his lips. His hand squeezed into a fist, his nails digging into the calloused skin of his palm.
His body felt heavy and as though there was no strength in any of his limbs remaining, as though he had been almost completely drained of all his energy. His legs threatened to buckle under his weight, so he shifted to lean himself further against the wall, his other hand moving to stabilize himself somewhat.
He was alone, there was no one to help him.
Breathing felt like a chore to Kakashi, each breath was another reminder that there was no one but him remaining. He was the only member of his team still breathing, the only one to have the liberty to take a breath and to let one out.
He could have saved them, no, he should have. Guilt was gnawing at him, eating him alive bit by bit. The sea of his own emotions he was drowning in was merciless, every bit the force of nature his conscious compared it to. He felt like a small ship taking on the harshest of seas, on an expedition that seemed to be never-ending, one hurdle after the other keeping him from the calmness he had once known.
Around him, everything began to spin, the stairs turning into one long, grey shape, blending seamlessly together. Kakashi felt the despair clawing at his throat, every breath like sandpaper.
Kakashi of the Sharingan, they called him. The Copy Cat Ninja.
“‘Kashi?”
There was only one person who dared to call him that, his rock in the turbulent waters, his light shining even in the most consuming of darknesses. You.
“Kakashi?” Soft. Calm. The waves of his emotions became smaller and smaller, a light seeping through the murky waters. “What happened?”
From the seamless blend of the walls and stairs stood out a figure. From what he could discern with his blurry vision, your brows were knitted together into an expression of concern, concern for him, he quickly realised. A frown tugged at your pretty lips, completing the picture of worry.
His fist moved from where it still was settled by his heart and unfurled, and Kakashi moved his hand toward his face, rubbing his charcoal eye. He could see you more clearly now, and dread sank into the bottom of his stomach, swept up by his very own sea of emotions.
Your hand moved toward him and settled on his shoulder. For a moment, he almost didn’t recognize your soft touch that only grew stronger as he flinched in your grip. His survival instinct fought against his consciousness, only soothed as you spoke to him again.
“Kakashi, are you okay?” Your voice was filled with genuine care and affection, as always.
He opened his mouth to speak, but no words came out. So, Kakashi shook his head.
“Let’s get you home first, alright?”
Home, yes, Kakashi wanted to go home, with you.
Kakashi nodded. He felt horrible for the way you looked at him, contemplating the most suitable approach for the situation he was in. Never would Kakashi underestimate you, he put his faith in you after all, but now, he could understand your hesitation when it came to moving him.
Your body moved to support his, one of your arms moving around his hip and settling on it, the other moving his arm to wrap around your shoulder. “Lean on me, ‘Kashi.” You told him, and so he did.
All the way up to the next floor of the apartment complex, you allowed Kakashi to lean the weight of his body on yours, not daring to rush him as you helped him move upward one step after the other. In comparison to the strong Shinobi you have always known, the Kakashi in your arms felt almost helpless, a sight that always had your heart breaking, one you could never get used to.
Once the two of you made your way to the door of your shared apartment, you shifted awkwardly to retrieve the apartment keys you had previously stashed in your pocket. They jingled as you got them out and inserted them into the lock, successfully unlocking the door before you pushed it open.
To Kakashi, things were happening almost in a blur. He could hear the familiar click the lock made as you unlocked the door, as well as the sound of the door falling shut behind the two of you.
“Let’s get you settled down.” The comforting lull of your voice held the dam in his heart together and kept it from breaking against his inner turmoil. Kakashi barely was able to pay attention to anything but you, the light guiding him home time and time again.
He felt almost weightless as you helped him settle down on the couch. Had he been in any other state, Kakashi would have worried about the dirt he was bringing into your shared apartment, but as he felt the couch dip beside him, the thought vanished as quickly as it had come.
“‘Kashi, do you want to talk about what happened?” Came from beside him, your voice filled with genuine care and affection.
Kakashi shook his head, unable to form any words. Were there even words to express the pain he felt, the guilt eating him alive? Instead, he leaned toward your body and almost sighed in relief as your arms enveloped him in a loving embrace.
You held him tightly, your hand moving to stroke his hair at a comforting pace. You whispered soothing words in his ear, reassuring him that you would always be there for him, that you wouldn’t leave him.
“If you don’t want to talk about what happened, then that’s fine,” You told him, pressing a small kiss to the crown of his head. “I’m here for you, ‘Kashi.”
“Thank you.” Kakashi managed to croak out, his voice hoarse with emotions.
You smiled softly at him, a string tugging at your heart. “I love you, ‘Kashi. You don’t have to face any of this alone, you hear me?”
Kakashi knew very well that he was lucky to have you in his life. Your words were like the balm to the wounds inflicted on Kakashi’s heart, for him, there was no better medicine than your presence in his life. You loved him unconditionally, the same way he loved you back.
His heart did not feel as heavy anymore as he leaned further into your loving embrace, cherishing the comfort that only you could provide.