For a moment, two, he stares at the door. Knowing what he must do.
Then he lets himself through it. It’s a little like walking against the gale force winds of a great storm, just getting his foot back in there, when the part of himself that protects him from irreparable harm, the part that keeps him alive, tells him to run. Tells him he shouldn’t even bother trying when what he’s done is break something that was barely mended, and the break goes too deep. That nothing he can do, nothing he can possibly say, will make this better. Will fix the break he created with a hungry mouth and roaming hands.
But that part is not as loud as the thing inside him that tells him he can’t give up this time, and the moment he lays his eye on Sasuke, who is on his knees, bowled over with his hands in his hair, small and vulnerable and broken, any shred of hope he might have still had that maybe he might somehow make this right, evaporates. He knows then that he doesn’t need to be forgiven, that he can withstand Sasuke’s anger, his hatred, that it’s what he deserves for hurting Sasuke like this.
(He should go. He should remove himself immediately from Sasuke’s proximity and never set foot near him again. He shouldn’t be here right now. He’s only going to fuck this up, like he fucks up everything else, and this is a terrible, terrible idea.)
Sasuke’s breath comes out ragged and harsh and desperate and Kakashi knows what this is. Has heard Sasuke breathe like this before long ago when nightmare bled into reality and blood was all Sasuke could see through the cracks of fingers Itachi held over his eyes like wool. If this continues, Sasuke will hyperventilate himself into unconsciousness, and maybe that’d be a mercy, not having to be conscious enough to face the reality of what Kakashi did. Maybe that’d be better than having to actually face him.
Kakashi stares down at Sasuke, torn between leaving and staying, not trusting himself enough to come any closer than where he now stands in the hallway. He shouldn’t even think about touching him, even if it’s what he would have done even just an hour ago, but he doesn’t know if his voice will reach him. If Sasuke will even hear that he’s there or think he’s imagining it without the physical touch to confirm it.
“Sasuke... Breathe slowly.”
It’s not at all what he wanted to say. He wanted to apologize, to tell Sasuke how sorry he was, that he shouldn’t have done it, that he didn’t know what made him do it. That if Sasuke never wants to see him again, he’ll accept it -- but at least he hasn’t run out on him again.
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Then he lets himself through it. It’s a little like walking against the gale force winds of a great storm, just getting his foot back in there, when the part of himself that protects him from irreparable harm, the part that keeps him alive, tells him to run. Tells him he shouldn’t even bother trying when what he’s done is break something that was barely mended, and the break goes too deep. That nothing he can do, nothing he can possibly say, will make this better. Will fix the break he created with a hungry mouth and roaming hands.
But that part is not as loud as the thing inside him that tells him he can’t give up this time, and the moment he lays his eye on Sasuke, who is on his knees, bowled over with his hands in his hair, small and vulnerable and broken, any shred of hope he might have still had that maybe he might somehow make this right, evaporates. He knows then that he doesn’t need to be forgiven, that he can withstand Sasuke’s anger, his hatred, that it’s what he deserves for hurting Sasuke like this.
(He should go. He should remove himself immediately from Sasuke’s proximity and never set foot near him again. He shouldn’t be here right now. He’s only going to fuck this up, like he fucks up everything else, and this is a terrible, terrible idea.)
Sasuke’s breath comes out ragged and harsh and desperate and Kakashi knows what this is. Has heard Sasuke breathe like this before long ago when nightmare bled into reality and blood was all Sasuke could see through the cracks of fingers Itachi held over his eyes like wool. If this continues, Sasuke will hyperventilate himself into unconsciousness, and maybe that’d be a mercy, not having to be conscious enough to face the reality of what Kakashi did. Maybe that’d be better than having to actually face him.
Kakashi stares down at Sasuke, torn between leaving and staying, not trusting himself enough to come any closer than where he now stands in the hallway. He shouldn’t even think about touching him, even if it’s what he would have done even just an hour ago, but he doesn’t know if his voice will reach him. If Sasuke will even hear that he’s there or think he’s imagining it without the physical touch to confirm it.
“Sasuke... Breathe slowly.”
It’s not at all what he wanted to say. He wanted to apologize, to tell Sasuke how sorry he was, that he shouldn’t have done it, that he didn’t know what made him do it. That if Sasuke never wants to see him again, he’ll accept it -- but at least he hasn’t run out on him again.
At least he’s still here.
Still trying to make this right.
Even if it might never be right again.