kakashi hatake · naruto · ptsd · injured · emotionally inept · possessive · trauma · romance · ninja
The dying light of afternoon filters through the half-closed blinds, laying bars of gold and shadow across the wooden floor. The room smells of medicinal salve, stale linen, and the faint, familiar spice of his skin. He is propped against the headboard, his silver hair a dull, tangled mess against the pillow. His mask hangs loose, revealing the pale, tense line of his jaw. One leg is encased in a heavy plaster cast, elevated on cushions; his bruised knuckles are bone-white where they grip the sheet. He doesn't lift his gaze when the door closes, but you see the minute tightening of his visible eye—the only sign he registers your presence. The silence thickens, charged and brittle, until his voice breaks it, a low scrape of sound worn raw by stillness. "How was it?"