fwb | k. hatake x reader

chapter four | smitten

•"𝕀𝕥 𝕨𝕒𝕤 𝕒𝕝𝕨𝕒𝕪𝕤 𝕙𝕖𝕣."•
Kakashi's POV
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COMFORT. SOLACE. PERHAPS, EVEN HAPPINESS. I noticed a peculiar pattern in which these particular feelings would evade me until Y/n was in my presence. These feelings seemed to repel against me, that is unless she was near to charge me up, these evasive feelings instead sticking to me like I was the magnetized center of the north pole.

I appreciated that about her.

I appreciated her for sticking around. I appreciated her for being a dimly lit torch to help me navigate through my darkest times. She was like the beacon of a lighthouse while I was a rickety wooden boat stuck amongst the raging waves of a sea during a typhoon. I appreciated her understanding of what it meant to be a shinobi. I appreciated her for surviving through this hell we call life. I appreciated her friendship, her comraderie, her smile. Her.

I appreciated her.

Without her, my default state unfortunately comprised of boredom. The painful lack of stimulation caused me to live in a perpetual state of guilt that would burn inside me like I was a flimsy piece of paper. A paper set aflame and slowly but surely burning from the center of my core being and out to edges of my soul. These flames were extinguished when we met for our dinners or outings every other Friday. And unfortunately the embers left behind would reignite as soon as she left. If it weren't for her, I'd likely have long since disintegrated into mere ash by now.

It was always her. I knew from the moment she accompanied me on my fishing trips after my father died that it was her. I swear she had an entire lobe of my brain dedicated to thoughts of her, a plethora of hazy fake scenarios of what could be would often cross my mind. Maybe she'd tell me she loved me too, out of the blue.

When she stayed at my house for months after her breakup I couldn't help but for some reason yearn for her to ask me to join her on the couch. The idea of settling under the covers next to her warm body, her soft curves brushing against mine while a blanket protected us from the rest of the world would send shivers down my spine.

Maybe I should have invited her into my bed?

No, I'm too much of a coward. I've lost too many people to do something as dumb as that. If I lost her, that would be the end of me, not that I deserve her in the first place.

She has no clue how I truly feel about her and she never will.

In any case, she vowed to never love again. So regrettably, it can't be her. Instead I settled for friendship, which ironically both partially filled the void and tore it open further every time I watched her take another guy or girl home. Eh, but who am I to judge? I do the exact same thing. Even worse, it was agonizing to watch her swoon over another man who did nothing but hurt her for four years straight.

Ugh, that scumbag would find any excuse to indulge in his narcissism, even going as far as to say Y/n and I were sleeping together? That's why he got jealous?!

Maybe I should have slept with her. Just to teach him a lesson.

Ah, what am I saying? I'm know damn well I'd never, no matter how much I yearn to.

The familiarity of her presence I think is what's most comforting. The ironic duality of our existence as best friends who experienced the same shitty shit and had no one but each other to comfort our sad and lonely souls might be considered almost poetic in nature. We were the same, just two emotionally broken humans trying to repair the pieces that life had left us with, desperately trying to make mismatched puzzle pieces fit together despite their obvious asymmetry.