In Yamanaka Izumi's thoughts, he was omnipresent.
━━ in which Kakashi's childhood friend just can't
seem to let him go and provides him with the love he secretly craved.
KAKASHI HATAKE/OC
PRE-CLASSICS
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forty-four, Is It You I'm Looking For
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KAKASHI COULD FEEL THE BILE CRAWL UP HIS THROAT, his body shivering at the sensation. The wounds and cuts littering his body throbbed painfully, a burning sensation drowning at coherent thoughts.
At the end of the street, the silver-haired ANBU spied a familiar house. The brick he would recognize out of a thousand choices and the way it was illuminated by the warm streetlight left his heart clenching in a painful way, his expression brightening slightly underneath the porcelain. Without much thought, as if it happened on instinct, his feet carried him to the safe haven of his childhood, his figure coming to halt before the front door. As he always did when coming over, he raised his arm to knock, his fist coming to push gently against the wood.
But for some reason, Kakashi couldn't bring himself to knock.
His head hung low as he stood in the warm light, leaning it against the wood. The porcelain of his mask clinked softly against it as contact, his mismatched eyes coming to flutter shut as he did so. A sigh pushed past his lips.
If they saw him like that, would they be disappointed? What would Fuji and Miho think of him?
What would Izumi think?
He should just go home, or so Kakashi thought. It would be best not to burden them.
At the same time, as his mind spoke, his heart refused and only drew him closer to the blanket of comfort once enveloping his frame. And before Kakashi could stop himself, he knocked on the door and then took a step back, his heart thumping against his chest. He could see a light turn on in the hallway, its dimmed remnants visible through the small glass cutout of the door. Inwardly, he cursed himself for having woken them up.
He took another step backward, stepping off of the porch as he did so, his eyes widened in surprise underneath the mask. A hiss escaped his lips at the hurried motion, and before he could turn around and run away, pretending like he had never been there, the door opened.
Highlighting by the warm light stood his best friend in the doorway, her dark brown hair messily lying atop her head, sticking into more directions than he had ever thought possible. Sleepily, she rubbed her eyes as she stood before him, the cerulean of them shining as bright as ever, or so he thought. The shirt she wore gave nothing away about her figure as it hung loosely, going all the way down to her thighs, and neither did her shorts, also fitted loosely-
