Disobedient Desires (KakaSaku)

Pity Party

Kakashi sat in the quiet of his house, the low hum of the refrigerator in the next room the only sound cutting through the suffocating silence. His body felt heavy, like the weight of everything that had happened was pulling him into the ground. He leaned forward, elbows on his knees, head buried in his hands as his mind churned with guilt and regret.

What have I done?

His thoughts echoed, relentless and unforgiving. He couldn't shake the image of Sakura's face as she'd left—eyes red and swollen, lips pressed into a tight line to keep from trembling. She had tried to stay strong, tried to act like everything was okay, but he had seen the cracks. He had hurt her, and for what? For his own selfish need? For his inability to control himself?

Kakashi's hands clenched, fingers digging into his scalp. He felt sick. The memory of that afternoon, when they'd crossed the line—when he'd let himself go, completely ignoring the boundary of teacher and student—clung to him like a dark cloud. He hadn't known it then, hadn't realized she was a virgin, that it had been her first time.

But now that he did know, the weight of it was unbearable.

She trusted me, he thought, the guilt gnawing at his insides. She trusted me, and I failed her.

He had been her teacher, her mentor. She had come to him for guidance, and he had taken advantage of that. No matter how much she insisted that she wanted it, no matter how much she claimed to know what she was doing, it didn't change the fact that he was the adult. He should have known better. 

I should have stopped this before it started.

But he hadn't. And now? Now, he was spiraling, trying to justify his actions to himself when deep down, he knew there was no justification. He had crossed an unforgivable line. He had taken something precious from her—something that should have been a cherished memory—and twisted it into something forbidden and wrong.

The worst part was, despite the guilt that was suffocating him, despite the moral battle raging in his mind, Kakashi didn't want to stop. That was the real horror of it all. He wanted her still. Even now, after everything, the thought of cutting her off, of walking away—it twisted his gut in ways he didn't want to admit.

What's wrong with me?

He had always prided himself on control. He was Kakashi Hatake. A man who had been through hell and back, who had faced down some of the darkest moments of life without flinching. Yet here he was, utterly undone by a girl—no, by a young woman. A student. His student.

It wasn't just her beauty or her intelligence that drew him in. It was her strength, her resilience, her ability to push past every obstacle thrown her way. She made him feel something he hadn't felt in years—something raw and dangerous. But that didn't excuse what he'd done. Nothing could.

He stood up, pacing the small space of his living room, running a hand through his already disheveled hair. His heart pounded in his chest, the same conflict raging inside him. He wanted to protect her, to shield her from the inevitable consequences of their relationship. He didn't want her to suffer because of his selfishness. But at the same time, the idea of never seeing her again, of severing the connection they shared—it felt like a knife twisting in his gut.

I've ruined her birthday, he thought bitterly. He had ruined so much more than that.

How could he possibly make it right? Could he even? Or had he set them both on a path that would only end in disaster? He imagined her at home now, maybe crying again, hating him for ruining her day, for making everything so painfully complicated. The thought tore at him.

She deserves better than this. Better than me.

But walking away felt impossible. Every time he thought about it, about the idea of cutting her out of his life, it was like something inside him rebelled. He didn't want to lose her, didn't want to let go of whatever this was, no matter how wrong it might be.

He knew he had to make a choice. But how could he choose between the person he had become and the man he was supposed to be? Between what he wanted and what was right?

As he sank back onto the couch, exhausted from the emotional storm raging inside him, he realized that no matter what decision he made, there would be no escaping the guilt. This wasn't something he could undo. The damage had been done.

The question now was: how much more damage was he willing to cause before it all came crashing down?