It's silly. It's beyond silly, really. Things are happening, things Iruka never expected, because Iruka never expects anything, and Iruka is powerless to stop them, or slow them down, or even change them. Iruka hates Kakashi.
Kakashi's lying on his bed, head turned to the wall, but his eyes are open. Iruka bites his lip, tastes blood, and shoves his hands into his pockets.
"Kakashi," he begins, but there's nothing else to say. He wonders if Kakashi realizes this, too, because Kakashi closes his eyes with a weary sigh.
"No."
"What?" Iruka's confused again, not sure what Kakashi's saying, and Kakashi rolls over, face grimacing with pain.
"I said," Kakashi repeats slowly, "'no.'" The scar running down Kakashi's face moves when Kakashi talks and Iruka watches it, a sick feeling in his stomach.
"What are you talking about?" he asks with a patience he doesn't feel. Kakashi narrows his eyes, his left eye moving slower than his right, and swallows.
"What are you talking about?" Kakashi counters. He smiles quickly and the scar pulls the left side of his mouth out of balance, warping the smile.
Iruka watches Kakashi, almost fascinated. The older boy looks different, smells different, tastes different. Iruka's stomach drops out from beneath him again and he stumbles forwards a few feet to sit on the edge of Kakashi's bed. Kakashi's leg is pressed against Iruka's and Iruka stares at the space between Kakashi's fingers, stares until it blurs together, fingers and bandages and sheets.
"Iruka?" Kakashi asks, and Iruka closes his eyes when Kakashi's cold fingers touch his forehead. For a moment, if feels like the old Kakashi, the Kakashi who could take care of himself and Iruka, not this new person who screams himself awake and throws up everything he's eaten and can't even take a piss by himself.
"Shove over," Iruka grumbles, sliding further onto the bed when Kakashi does as requested, however slowly. The younger boy lies himself out carefully, on Kakashi's right side, because that's the only part of Kakashi that hasn't been fucked to high heaven. Kakashi's fingers are on Iruka's arm now, the fingertips little cold points on Iruka's skin, and Iruka scoots closer until he's lined up with the older boy, arm touching arm, leg touching leg.
"Iruka," Kakashi says softly, and his head is resting against Iruka's shoulder. Iruka breathes slowly, trying to ignore the way he feels dizzy, lying on the bed, the way he feels like the world's spinning around him. It's too much, to have to try to put Kakashi back together, piece by god-damned broken piece. Iruka hates him for this, for the way Kakashi says his name in such a resigned way. Too bad Iruka feels like he loves him, too.
!-!-!
Sometimes, Kakashi has bad days. On these days, he dreams about riding in cars with Asuma. In these dreams, brains dribble down the car seat and splatter across his face, and he's pinned by metal and flesh and he's drowning in blood, only it's not his blood, it's Asuma's. And sometimes, in the dreams, Asuma turns into his mother, or kids from college, or, sometimes, Iruka. When Kakashi dreams on the bad days, he wakes himself up by screaming, screaming until his throat is raw and he can taste blood in his mouth.
He's lying on his couch now, because his bed is wet with sweat and piss and he can't remake it himself, just like he can't do anything since the he got so fucked up in the accident. He's licking his bloody lips in what he knows has got to be a nervous habit. He's made all these bad habits, ever since the accident, and he hates them. He licks his lips again, then bites his tongue to stop himself from licking them again.
He turns on his side so he's staring across the empty room and wonders when his mother will get home. He idly chases the thought of calling Iruka, of making sure that the brains slipping down his cheeks aren't his, but he knows they weren't. He knows that Iruka's alright, that he's alive and breathing and not dead and smeared into the car seat. He knows it, but he can't believe it, and when he takes a strangled sob of air into his lungs, feeling as though his head's about to burst, and he can feel Iruka's brains and blood on him, he wonders if he's crazy.
!-!-!
"Kiss me," Kakashi commands from the couch. Iruka looks up, startled, and Kakashi smiles at him. Iruka smiles back hesitantly, then stands, walking slowly over to the couch. Kakashi reaches out with his arms and grabs Iruka's hips, curling his good arm around Iruka's waist, and begins pulling the younger boy closer. Iruka grabs the back of the couch, holding himself up carefully, and, with as much space between himself and Kakashi as possible, leans down, kissing the older boy. Kakashi groans impatiently against Iruka's mouth and Iruka nips at Kakashi's lips, pulling at them with his teeth.
"God," Kakashi whispers, trying to pull Iruka closer. The boy won't move, won't lean any closer, and Kakashi wants to scream from the frustration. He grabs Iruka's waist, digging his fingertips into the skin beneath the jeans, and pulls, as much as his fucked-up arm will let him. Iruka yelps in surprise and Kakashi feels a flash of triumph as he grinds up against Iruka, pulling the boy down until their groins are shoved together. He thrusts up against Iruka, hard, again and again, and somewhere in the back of his head he's aware of Iruka kissing him gently, rubbing against him gently, doing everything so gently that Kakashi wants to die.
He snaps his hips up against Iruka's, fast and hard, and closes his eyes, stuck somehow. His pajama pants are a mess, wet and sticky, and he rubs himself against Iruka, now too tired to do much more.
"Shit," he mutters, falling back into the couch. He closes his eyes and drops his hands from Iruka's waist, exhaustion dragging his limbs down. "Shit," he says again, wondering if he has enough energy to even kiss Iruka.
"Idiot," Iruka says somewhere to his side. Kakashi groans, turning over onto his side slowly.
"'m tired," Kakashi grumbles. He hears Iruka leave the room and sighs, shoving his head further against the couch pillow. After a few moments he feels Iruka return and lift up his shirt. Something cold and wet is pulled across his stomach and his dick. He sighs as Iruka cleans him up, too tired to do much more.
"Idiot," Iruka says again, with feeling. Kakashi feels a smile pull on his scar and opens his eyes slowly. He turns his head, trying to pull Iruka into sight, then reaches up, grabbing Iruka's shirt gently.
"Kiss me?" he asks. Iruka leans down, a frown on his face, and Kakashi lifts his head a few inches, kissing Iruka lightly before he drops back down onto the pillow. "Thank you."
Iruka watches Kakashi's eyes close, watches as Kakashi's breaths even out. When he's sure Kakashi's asleep, he leans forward, kissing Kakashi's forehead with a dry brush of lips. He watches as he leans back, but Kakashi doesn't move, doesn't sigh, doesn't turn over in his sleep. Iruka feels cheated.
!-!-!
Somehow, while taking care of Kakashi (and how careful he has to be, how very careful), Iruka began to like it. He still misses the old Kakashi, misses the boy who would pick him up and fuck him against the wall, but in some way, he likes this new Kakashi, the one that's so dependant on Iruka for everything. He likes being needed, more than he likes being wanted. He likes the power.
"Shouldn't you be in school?" Kakashi asks, looking up from the couch when Iruka walks in. Iruka settles down next to Kakashi, careful to sit on Kakashi's right, where the boy can see him.
"It's Saturday."
Kakashi looks at him, a confused look on his face. "Is it? I thought..." He trails off, shrugging his right arm carelessly. After a moment he leaned closer to Iruka, shoulders touching. "Did my mom let you in?"
Iruka nods, pulling his legs up so he's sitting cross-legged, and Kakashi leans a bit harder.
"Wanna go upstairs?" Kakashi pauses, bites his cheek, then smiles at Iruka. "That sounds stupid, doesn't it?"
Iruka's not sure what to say. Kakashi's so warm against him, Iruka feels like he's about to burn alive. Kakashi's eyes are staring at him and Iruka stares back at them. Kakashi's left eye is dull and droops too much. Iruka reaches out, wondering if he's entranced, and tries to touch Kakashi's face. Kakashi jerks back, hissing in pain when he puts his weight on his bad arm. Iruka swears and pulls away, then hovers near Kakashi, not sure what to do. The older boy holds his arm, knuckles turning white, and swallows hard.
"I-" Kakashi begins, but he stops, swallowing again. His face is pale and his lips are pulled into a tight grimace.
"Sorry," Iruka babbles, his face flushing hot and red. "Oh, God, I'm sorry, sorry, sorry."
"Fine," Kakashi manages through a strangled voice. "It's fine-"
Iruka isn't aware of Kakashi's voice, or of the way Kakashi's trying to grab his hand. Iruka's too busy apologizing and apologizing and apologizing, because Iruka's just had an epiphany. It's all his fault. He's not entirely sure how, but it is his fault. The guilt burns just like his face, and his chest tightens to the point where he wonders if he'll just die from not being able to breathe. To die, he thinks, would be a hell of a lot better than seeing Kakashi like this, but then, anything would be better than seeing Kakashi like this.
Iruka does the only thing he can think of doing, the thing he does best. He runs.
!-!-!
"You're back." Kakashi's voice is hoarse and Iruka wonders if he screamed himself awake again. Iruka sets his backpack down next to Kakashi's bedroom door and looks at the older boy.
Kakashi's sitting at his makeshift desk, a pen in-between his fingers, and Iruka looks down at the desk at the papers scattered across the top. They're all blank, white with pale blue lines that look lonely without words or letters or even scrawls. Kakashi looks just as lonely, pale skin and pale hair, empty.
"I'm sorry," Iruka whispers, blushing when his voice breaks. He is sorry, sorry for everything in the whole damn world, and sorry for the way he can't make anything better. Kakashi looks up at him, surprised, and Iruka crosses the few steps needed to reach the other side of the room.
"Iruka?"
"I'm sorry," Iruka says again, stopping in front of Kakashi. He crouches at Kakashi's feet and raises his hands, folding them along the sides of Kakashi's face, then pulls Kakashi's face down closer to him. "I'm sorry," he repeats, kissing Kakashi.
He kisses Kakashi again and again, over and over and over until his lips are numb and Kakashi's limp. He kisses Kakashi's eyes, Kakashi's fingers, Kakashi's throat. This is his penance, to kiss Kakashi until he can't remember anything but kissing Kakashi, and he whispers his apologies with every brush of lips.
Iruka kisses his way down Kakashi's body, following lines and scars and muscles, pushing away the too-big clothes. He says one last apology, then takes Kakashi into his mouth.
Kakashi doesn't ask why.
!-!-!
Kakashi's limp is a most noticeable thing. The first time he went to the store with his mother, people had stared at him. He wasn't sure if it was because of the limp, or the scar, or both. He smiled at the people, because that made the scar grow and twist, and God help him if he was a vengeful man. His smile had grown each time the people had blushed and looked away, and he'd felt, curiously enough, amused.
Kakashi neither likes nor dislikes his scar. On the same page, he neither likes nor dislikes his limp. Since the accident, he hasn't liked or disliked anything, really. He's indifferent about everything, from the food he never eats to the books he sometimes pretends reads. Life is blank, grey and dull and empty, and when he told his doctor, right after he'd been released from the hospital, the man had just smiled (sadly, of course, because everyone smiled sadly at him) and patted him on the knee.
"Give it time," the old man (a Southern gentleman, even) had said. Then he'd written prescriptions and talked about the long-term effects of accidents on mental and emotional states, and Kakashi hadn't listened. Instead, he had watched the people outside on the street, the way they walked around each other and the way some of them would wave and run to meet each other. It hadn't interested him very much.
It's been months, and Kakashi's been taking the medicine faithfully, along with all the other pills. Morning, afternoon, evening. A pill for this, a pill for that. Kakashi wonders if they've even made a difference, because he still doesn't feel any different. He's blank, empty, some grey slush from January, slopped onto mud flaps on cars that don't stop in time.
The only thing that breaks the monotony of his life is Iruka. Kakashi likes Iruka, feels interest in the boy, even feels something like excitement when the boy comes over. Of course, that could just be his dick talking, Kakashi's never quite sure. But as it stands, Kakashi likes Iruka. Sometimes, he even thinks (while pretending to read a book, because he can't quite see well enough to read anymore) that he might even love Iruka. That is, he would love Iruka, if Iruka didn't look at him with such sad eyes.
Kakashi doesn't like sad eyes.
!-!-!
Someone had knocked at the door while Iruka was straddling Kakashi, kissing him. Iruka had stumbled to the door, fixing his pants, and had opened the door when the person had knocked again. Two boys had been standing on the doorstep, arguing, and they'd fixed Iruka with curious stares.
"Is this Hatake Kakashi's house?" they'd asked, and then, when Iruka nodded, they had pushed their way in, one after the other.
Now Iruka's sitting at Kakashi's feet, glaring at the boys. They're standing in the middle of the room, staring at Kakashi, and one of the boys is laughing, a disbelieving laugh.
"Damn, Kakashi," he says, and Iruka wants to kill him, "you really fucked yourself over. Damn."
Kakashi's threading his fingers through Iruka's hair, a possessive gesture, and Iruka finds himself leaning back against Kakashi. The boys finally look at him with inquisitive eyes and the laughing boy stops laughing.
"Who's he?" he asks, and Kakashi runs his fingers through Iruka's hair again.
"He's my boyfriend," Kakashi says, and he sounds angry. Iruka twists, trying to see Kakashi's face, and Kakashi's frowning at the two boys.
"No shit!" The laughing boy's laughing again, and he only laughs harder when his friend punches him in the arm. "No shit, Kakashi's gay?"
Kakashi's hand stills on Iruka's head, just resting on Iruka's hair, and he says "The idiot's Genma, and the other guy's Raidou. They go to college with me."
The laughing boy, Genma, sobers up and shoves his hands in his pockets. "We heard you got in an accident, so we thought we'd stop by on our way home.
Kakashi smiles now and Iruka feels a flash of jealousy. For the first time, he really i looks /i at the boys, but he's confused. Are they boys, or are they men? They seem higher than Kakashi and Iruka, somehow, and Iruka wonders if Kakashi's ever going to be like that, if Kakashi's ever going to grow up, or if he's just too screwed up now, if he's always going to be a boy.
"The semester's over then?" Kakashi asks curiously. Genma and Raidou look at Kakashi strangely.
"The semester ended last week," Raidou says with a glance at Genma. "We left yesterday."
Kakashi's eyebrows come together into a knot and he leans down, closer to Iruka. "What day is it?"
"Monday," Iruka says, almost gently. He turns his head so he's facing Kakashi then, with a flash of impulse, kisses him. Kakashi's smile is wider when Iruka pulls away and Iruka looks at the men. They look decidedly uncomfortable, looking everywhere but at Kakashi and Iruka, and Iruka feels a burst of savage glee.
"We were gonna ask if you wanted to drive around town with us," Genma begins cautiously. Raidou's still looking at the floor and Iruka watches him swallow.
"Around town?" Kakashi repeats, his hands slipping down to circle around Iruka's neck. Iruka leans into the collar of Kakashi's hands. "Do you want to, Iruka?"
Raidou and Genma both look at Iruka and Iruka stares back, eyes hard. He doesn't want to go. He wants to stumble upstairs with Kakashi, kissing and biting and petting, not go out driving. Iruka shifts until he can feel Kakashi's right leg against his side, then shrugs.
"I don't care, I don't have anything to do tonight." He feels Kakashi shift next to him to stand, and when Kakashi's hands fall away from Iruka's neck he feels cold.
"Sure," Kakashi says, and he's grinning. Iruka climbs to his feet slowly, moving to stand closer to Kakashi. Genma's staring at him and Iruka stares back until Raidou punches Genma again, pushing the man towards the door. Kakashi and Iruka follow the two men.
!-!-!
Iruka has a scar running across his nose, from cheekbone to cheekbone. When he's nervous he rubs it, traces it back and forth with a fingertip. He's nervous right now, and he's touching his scar again and again. The four of them are at a gas station, Genma and Kakashi inside paying for the gas and Raidou and Iruka outside, waiting next to the car.
"What happened?" Raidou asks, and Iruka pulls his hand away from his scar and fidgets.
"What?"
"The scar," Raidou says calmly. Iruka likes this man, somehow. He's different from Genma, as different as possible. Where Genma laughs and yells and swears, Raidou smiles and murmurs and sighs. He wonders how the two men can even be friends, but then he wonders if he and Kakashi are really that different from Genma and Raidou. Kakashi's always so calm, whenever Iruka feels like he's going to fly apart and scatter across the winds.
"An accident," Iruka begins to lie, but then he stops, still fidgeting. "When I was little, someone robbed our house, and I got cut up." It's as close to the truth as he's ever told anyone, and he feels like he's going to break out into a cold sweat.
"Yeah?" Raidou asks. The man rubs his own scarred face and Iruka tries not to watch, tries not to be fascinated. "My house burned down when I was little. This big piece of the roof, it fell on me, pinned me to the ground." Raidou smiles at Iruka and Iruka looks away, embarrassed.
"Three of us are fucked up then. Is Genma the only normal one?" Iruka says caustically. Raidou's smile widens and he opens the backdoor.
"Genma? He's more fucked up than the rest of us put together."
Iruka looks back at Raidou, curious, then opens his back door, getting back into the car as Genma and Kakashi come out of the gas station.
!-!-!
Kakashi's in the front passenger seat, slumped against the window. Iruka can just see his face through the side mirrors, and he watches Kakashi with something like an obsession. Kakashi's eyes are lightly closed, flickering now and again, and his mouth is slack. Iruka leans forward, snaking a hand through to the front seat, and touches Kakashi's arm lightly. Kakashi's warm from the sun shining through the windows and Iruka smoothes his hand over Kakashi's sleeve. The older boy's eyelids flutter and Iruka sits back in his seat, pulling his hand back into his lap.
They've been driving up and down back streets for hours, Genma and Raidou telling Kakashi about the last semester at college. Now they're driving, slowly, towards Kakashi's house. Genma turns here and there, taking a most roundabout way, and for once, Iruka doesn't care. It's soothing, sitting here in this car. He feels like he's being rocked by the car, and it's comforting. The sun's hot through the window and he lets his eyelids droop.
Iruka looks forward through the lidded eyes and watches Kakashi's face through the mirror. Somehow, this is perfect. Kakashi looks like the old Kakashi and the new Kakashi, all rolled together in one. He's beautiful, perfect in his imperfections, and Iruka closes his eyes, trying to fix the picture in his memory, to label it A Perfect Afternoon, or maybe The Car Ride, except that one brings back stinging memories of a car accident. Perhaps May Twenty-sixth?
He opens his eyes after a few moments and blinks sleepily in the warm sun. Raidou's cheerfully bickering away with Genma, and the radio's turned down low. Iruka slumps lower in his seat and watches Kakashi's reflection. It's too perfect, too perfect and wonderful and lovely, and Iruka's never called anything lovely before in his life, but this boy who is and isn't a man is somehow lovely, and Iruka feels happy. Maybe, he thinks as he folds his arms, sinking in onto himself, they'll actually make it.
Maybe.
And the word 'maybe' has never sounded so good in all his life.