Watching a sunset with you, as if it were old times, like nothing has changed; seeing something so pretty after knowing the horrors of war felt like the universe's way of saying it was all no big deal. He could still hear Obito in his head, and he would never admit it to anyone, but he was starting to forget his voice; it felt like just yesterday, his teammate shouting his name and pushing him out of the way, taking his place beneath a boulder. Kakashi still woke up late into the early morning, sick to his stomach and trying to stop his body from trembling. He could still feel Rin's blood on his hands from when she jumped in front of his jutsu to kill herself; it never went away, the blood was always there. He wished it would come off.

And now it was a few weeks after his sensei died from sacrificing himself to save the village; Minato Namikaze, the only other person that was left of Team 7 besides Kakashi himself. He was alone, all over again. It was his father's suicide all over again. Kakashi could never forget walking in on his father's dead body when he was just seven years old, still feel the blood in the soles of his feet.

No, never truly alone. He always had you; you, who let him stay over at your home, with your family. You, who wordlessly offered hugs when you were alone with him, and he always took it. You, who stayed friends with him despite the amount of times he pushed you away and tried dismissing you. You were always there.

But what if you weren't? Everyone around him died; his entire team. There were rumors going around in the ANBU, a new name they called him; Friend Killer Kakashi. All he seemed to accomplish was murder, even if that was never his intention towards his loved ones. Killing enemies of Konoha was all too easy, helped him release all the bitter emotions that continued bottling up, but he could feel the urge to snap growing. He was going to do something terrible, and it was beginning to eat at him.

You're still here, how long will that last?

His onyx eyes took a glance at you, the syringe in his pocket feeling heavy with burden as he discretely gripped it. He needed you, he was losing his mind, he was crumbling and he couldn't bear even the idea of you leaving or dying on him. You'll be safe. With him.