Can We Love

Infamous Sharingan

Two weeks later, Mother was gone and with her went most of my fears, I have officially settled into the apartment, my room practically as bare as the rest of the place, and Kakashi and I have fallen into a gentle rhythm of avoidance.

Neither of us are very comfortable with the other's presence.

We don’t have a lot of time to really get used to each other, Kakashi leaves early in the day, I assume to work with his Genin, and he doesn’t come back until late. 

Kakashi gave me an allowance, he claimed it was for me to use for personal items, feeling uncomfortable with the bareness of my room after my Mother’s fit of rage, and claimed that he would take care of everything else.

At first, he would bring food home from some restaurant in the market every day and we would eat together silently.

I could tell both of us were uncomfortable with the silence, that we both wished to bolt back to our rooms.

But something kept me there, whether it was out of respect or guilt I wasn’t sure.

It kept him there too, a sense of responsibility to eat with me. 

At first, I was satisfied, acclimating to the new environment, no longer having maids to take care of things for me was a hard change, but soon I grew irritated with the routine and decided a change was in order.

So I went to the store using my ‘personal money’ to buy everything I need for a nice home-cooked meal.

Kakashi had been surprised when I dropped a plate in front of him and took the take out to the fridge, saving it for lunch the next day.

I vividly remember his confused sputters. 

“What-Why-How?” and so on, a light blush peeking out of his black mask.

I just flashed him a smile and sat down across from him, stuffing my face.

Politely I keep my head down, allowing Kakashi to eat in peace, though in my first few days I tried endlessly to get a glimpse.

When we finished eating I had expected him to bounce as he normally does, shutting himself into his room.

But instead, for the first time, he stayed.

Helping put the food away and washing the dishes.

Granted, we never had dirty dishes before with all the take out. 

I smiled as I thought back to our teamwork, washing and drying side by side, allowing a gentle companionship to come in between the cracks in our awkward dance around each other. 

“How did you do this?” He had asked, voice gentle with hesitancy, like he feared the question would ruin something. 

“By buying ingredients and cooking at the time approximately twenty minutes from your arrival.” I said, a teasing tone. 

“With what money? You know I didn’t want you worrying about these things. That money should be spent on you.” He said, handing me a plate to dry.

I hummed as I put it away.

“I did spend it on me.” I replied, shrugging.  

“How did you even know when I’d be home?” He asked, eyeing me out of the corner of his eye.

I just stared at him incredulously. 

“You’re always home at a certain time.” I said, briefly flushing at the word home.