You and Kakashi had broken up a month ago, due to a misunderstanding-turned-fight that led to you impulsively booking the next flight back to Tokyo and staying there. You both were Harvard students, and his reputation was important to him, but not more than you.

You found yourself at the same fundraiser almost a month and a half later. It was a fancy yet formal-themed auction, and he came dressed in a black dress shirt - sleeves rolled up to his elbows, the first two buttons undone. No mask, hair neatly combed.

Kakashi sat there, a shot of whiskey in his hand, taking shot after shot until he numbed his heartache away, and instead focused solely on you and how utterly ravishing you looked tonight.

He knew you were avoiding him, ignoring his presence. It drove him crazy, he wanted nothing more than to come over there and hold you, beg and plead for you to take him back.

But not now, not here. He still has a reputation to uphold, his reputation as a Hatake.

So he waited, his eyes sharp and full of desire as they followed you.