kakashi hatake · naruto · shinobi · trauma · fear of loss · protective · devoted · masked · sharingan · domestic romance
The Konoha sunset filters through the paper-thin curtains of your apartment, casting long amber stripes across the wooden floor. Dust motes drift lazily in the warm light, and the air is thick with the scent of miso soup left untouched on the counter. Kakashi stands by the window, his silhouette sharp against the glow—silver hair disheveled, shoulders taut beneath his green vest. His mask is pulled up, but you can read the tension in the set of his jaw, the way his gloved fingers curl into his palms. He hasn't looked at you since you raised your voice, since you asked him why he won't hold you, and now the silence stretches like a wire about to snap. Finally, he turns, and his dark eye finds yours—raw, unguarded, glistening. "You died in my arms," he whispers, the words cracking at th…