"What do you want?" Iruka's voice sounds rough and Kakashi wonders if he's sick. Iruka was always sick, always got sick so easily.

"I'm home for Christmas, and I thought I'd come to see you." It sounds lame, lamer than it did when he rehearsed it in his car.

"Go home." This is the Iruka he's used to, the Iruka that snaps and bites and hates so easily.

Kakashi stands up and he tries to ignore the way his knees are shaking, or the way that he feels light-headed, lost. "Merry Christmas, then."

The walk through the house is long, and the walk to the car is longer, and he can't start the car, because he can't leave, but he can't stay, and he's so lost and confused and none of this has gone as planned, as he worked so hard for. When he's shaking and the windshields covered with snow, he finally starts the car, twisting the key with numb fingers.

"Damn," he whispers as the windshield wipers clear the snow off the windows. "Damn..."

!-!-!

It's the second day of school, January third, and Iruka's in class, waiting for it to start. The teacher's out in the hall, speaking to other teachers in hurried, hushed whispers, and the students are taking advantage of this, sitting on desks and shouting across the room to friends. When the teacher finally walks in, he looks tired, old and gray, and the students slowly quiet down, sliding off desks to sit in their seats.

"The principal," he says when he reaches the front of the class, "has just informed us of an accident involving two students who used to come here. Hatake Kakashi and Sarutobi Asuma were in a car accident late last night. Asuma graduated two years ago, and Kakashi graduated just last year. Asuma was killed, and Kakashi's in critical condition. If any of you knew either of the students, there's a grief counselor down in the office."

Iruka looks around the room, curious. All of his classmates are leaned towards each other, whispering, faces stuck in strange, serious masks, like little children playing at being adults. He feels like he's somewhere else, anywhere but here, and when a girl touches his shoulder he jerks.

"Iruka," she asks, "weren't you Kakashi's friend?" Another classmate leans over, too close to him, and starts talking to the girl, and he doesn't understand what they're saying, why they're staring at him. He stands slowly, grabs his books, and his pencil rolls across the desk, falling to the floor. The teacher's watching him and when Iruka passes the front of the classroom, heading for the door, he touches Iruka's shoulder, just like the girl.

"Iruka, do you want someone to go with you?"

Iruka feels like laughing. He's dizzy, out of control, and when he shakes his head he nearly falls. He doesn't need anyone, not one person, because he's best when he's alone, isn't he? His teacher looks worried and Iruka gives him a half-hearted smile.

"I'm fine." He's lying out of his ass, and everyone knows it. He can feel their eyes on his back, staring at him, waiting for him to break or cry or scream or just fall. His smile widens, falters, then disappears. "I'm fine." He stumbles out the door, repeating it, over and over. "I'm fine, I'm fine, I'm fine, I'm fine-"

!-!-!

He's not sure how he got home, but he's lying on his bed, looking out the window. His aunt is sitting on the edge of his bed, smoothing back his hair, and it's exactly the same as when they died. Just him and his aunt, sitting, waiting, watching. She pushes a few pieces of his hair behind his ear and he closes his eyes.

"I've made dinner," she says softly, and he loves her for being her. "I can bring some up, if you don't want to come down."

"Tired," he mutters, turning on his side, away from her, and she smoothes back his hair one last time. When she stands up, the bed moves, and he curls up.

"Is there anything you want?" She's so soft, pastel shades and blurred edges. It's just the same, from the way she runs fingertips over his cheek when he doesn't answer, to the way she leans down to kiss his forehead, to the way she closes the door halfway.

Iruka digs his arms under his pillow, pulls it up and pushes his face against it, and he closes eyes, trying to ignore everything, from the way his aunt is talking, softly, to her husband downstairs, to the way it's snowing, big flakes that blot out the whole world, to the way that his eyes are burning with tears.

!-!-!

"Kakashi?"

It's the very beginning of February, and it's snowing again. The snow's piled up everywhere, feet and feet of it, and Iruka's sure that it will never stop snowing. The window at the end of the room looks out over the parking lot, and there's mountains of snow, dirty and grey and frozen, just like the whole damn world.

Kakashi turns toward him, face pale, nearly the same color as the bandages covering half of his face. Iruka smiles at him, a pitiful smile, and he sets a book down on the table. There are flowers everywhere, the room's full of them, and the sickly-sweet smell of them reminds Iruka of a funeral.

"I thought you'd like a book." He looks at the window again, trying not to look at Kakashi, and at the bandages- so many- on the older boy's face.

Kakashi swallows, reaches out his right hand to touch the book with his fingertips. "Thanks," he says, voice hoarse, and Iruka nods quickly.

"How are you- how are you doing?" It's a stupid question and they both know it. Kakashi smiles, the right side of his mouth rising higher than the left, and Iruka shifts his weight from one foot to the other.

"Great," Kakashi grunts out. He stares up at Iruka until the younger boy flushes, embarrassed, and then he leans back onto his pillows. "I get out next week, get to go home."

"You happy?" Iruka asks, and when Kakashi pats his bed, he sits down on the edge. Kakashi shrugs, and his movements are clumsy.

"I'm tired of being here, I want to go home." He looks to the side, at one of the bouquets, and Iruka follows his gaze. "I missed Asuma's funeral," he says conversationally, and Iruka stiffens. It's uncomfortable in the room, the air's heavy, and Iruka wants Kakashi to shut up, to shut up and never say another word.

"He was driving, you know. We were going to the store, to pick up a present. Kurenai was sick, and he wanted to give her a teddy bear. He was stupid like that, always doing things for her." He coughs, covers his mouth with his right hand, then turns his face away from Iruka. "She came by a few days ago, brought me a teddy bear." He points at the toy as though it had offended him, and Iruka kicks his feet.

"What about you?"

"Me?" Kakashi sighs, raising his shoulders, then letting them droop with another sigh. "I lost one of my best friends, I lost one of my eyes, I can't even move my left arm. I'm great." He turns over restlessly, and Iruka nearly jumps when he touches the younger boy's arm. "Kiss me?"

"What?" Iruka looks back at him, eyes moving from Kakashi's pales lips to the bandages and back again.

"Kiss me?" He smiles, a careless smile, but his eye seems to droop. Iruka feels something die inside, and so he leans forward, brushing his lips gently over Kakashi's mouth. Kakashi kisses back tiredly, dry lips moving ever so slightly.

"I'm great," he says again when Iruka pulls away, blushing madly. "Just great."