Disclaimer: I still don't own Naruto, I still own the plot.
A/N: Another scenario that actually happened to me...and yes, it's another angst fic. I'm terribly sorry, I don't seem to be able to write anything happy these days.
"I'm going to take a shower, Ruki-baby!" Kakashi cried, his voice coming from the hallway.
"Okay, just don't—" SLAM.
"...leave your vest on the floor," Iruka sighed, lying down his red ink pen as he went to pick up after the jounin.
Sure enough, there was Kakashi's vest, lying in a crumpled heap in the middle of the hall. Iruka bristled slightly in annoyance, snatching the vest up by the hem and making a motion to chuck it into the pile of dirty clothes that had accumulated in a corner of his and Kakashi's bedroom. As soon as Iruka had picked up the vest, however, the pockets spilled kunai, shuriken, and scrolls all over the hardwood floor.
"Damn!" Iruka cursed, bending over to gather up Kakashi's possessions, when a half-unfurled scroll caught his eye. Curiously, Iruka unrolled the paper, beginning to read.
If anyone had been watching him, one also could have watched an expression of curiosity change to one of utter disbelief within seconds. Iruka stared down at the scroll, trying to let it sink in, trying to make himself admit that this note was indeed in Kakashi's handwriting. There was no mistaking that cramped, cursive script, and Iruka dropped the scroll as if he had been burned.
Dear Hayate,
I'm breaking up with him tomorrow...
Frantically, Iruka began to search for Hayate's letters, willing them not to say the things he knew they said.
Dear Kakashi, When are you going to do it...
Dear Kakashi, I miss you, when can I see you again...
Dear Kakashi, meet you at the training grounds at four...
Dear Kakashi, Dear Kakashi, Dear Kakashi...
Those words reverberated in his mind, a refrain that chanted in time to the breaking of his heart. Dear Kakashi...
Still clutching the scroll Kakashi had written to Hayate, crinkling the paper in his death grip, Iruka's back hit the wall with a hollow thump. He slid down, hardly aware of doing so, and gasped as he felt something inside his chest wrench apart. He was suffocating, suffocating from the weight of his own grief, and in a tremendous effort to breathe, he let out a great, strangled sob.
He sat there, shaking, trembling, still gripping the scroll, hot tears pouring down his cheeks, willing himself not to scream, willing himself to keep quiet; if he was quiet, maybe Kakashi would never come out of their bathroom, maybe the masked jounin would disappear forever and Iruka could pretend that all these months had been a nightmare...
Of course, grief does strange things to one's mind, and Kakashi came out of the bathroom, dressed in fresh pants and a loose black tshirt. Iruka looked up at him and even through the veil of his anguish, even though the image of Kakashi was blurred by tears, he was still the most beautiful person Iruka had ever seen...
He wasn't that for Kakashi...
"Squeaky clean, Ruki-babe—Iruka? Iruka, what's wrong?!" The jounin had finally laid eyes on the tightly curled figure of the chuunin on the floor below him.
Upon hearing that voice, that voice that seemed so utterly sincere, Iruka's last bit of self-control went out the window. He let out another sob, a broken, choking sort of sound that caused Kakashi to kneel down to Iruka's level in concern. The next one was more of a scream, a sort of anguished cry that racked his entire body until he was clutching his disheveled hair and pulling at it as sharply as he could.
"Ruka! Ruka, what are you doing, what's wrong?" Kakashi took Iruka's wrists in his stronger grip, pulling the hands away from the hair. His touch sent Iruka's stomach into a backflip, but not in the butterfly sort of way it usually did...this backflip was a sort of nauseated turn, something that made him want to throw up...
With another cry, Iruka thrust Kakashi's hands away, scrambling backward like an injured crab, the scroll still crumpled in his fists. "D-don't t-touch me," he wept, "I d-don't want you near me..."
The crestfallen look on Kakashi's bare face was almost enough to make Iruka crawl back to him, to make Iruka say that he didn't mean it, but then he felt the edge of the scroll cut into his hand and he dissolved into tears once more.
"Ruki..." Kakashi murmured softly, "Ruki, baby, tell me what's wrong, please..."
For a moment, sheer anger overrode anguish, and Iruka's flashing, shining eyes glared up at Kakashi. "Th-this is what's w-wrong, Kakashi," he snarled, and chucked the crumpled sheet of paper at the jounin.
Kakashi carefully uncrumpled the paper, smoothing it out so that the writing on it was once again legible, and Iruka took pleasure at the look of complete shock that crossed Kakashi's face as he took in the very words that he had written.
"Ruki...Ruki, no...you don't...you weren't supposed..."
"N-no one is ever sup-posed to kn-know that they're b-being ch-cheated on, are th-they?" Iruka snapped, shoving the rest of the scrolls toward Kakashi.
"I never cheated on you," Kakashi whispered quietly. "I never touched Hayate, Hayate never touched me."
"Liar," Iruka hissed through clenched teeth, and scrambled to his feet. He slammed the bathroom door behind him, and on the other side of the barrier, Kakashi heard the chuunin dissolve into tears once more.
Safe from Kakashi's piercing eyes, Iruka lay curled on the floor, letting his body shake and rattle and tremble as it wished, letting the weight settle heavily upon him, letting his pain take over his mind, until he felt that if he did not do something—anything—to take the pressure away from the shards of his heart, he would suffocate.
He screamed, sobbed, and wrenched at his hair—the stinging sensation in his scalp somehow helped, it somehow gave him something to focus on besides the ton of grief that was threatening to crush him. He tore and pulled and yanked at his hair, until he felt sure that if he pulled any harder, he would begin tearing off his own flesh.
Ironically, that was exactly what he felt like doing; he was desperate to get rid of anything that was contributing to the darkness that was smothering him, desperate to find a way to lessen the weight of it, and in a fit of despair, he plucked a kunai from its holster on his leg and dug the blade through the fabric of his pants and into his thigh.
Again and again he tore at his skin, as if every gash he made was a gash in the pain that was smothering him. Every cut he made was a quick, refreshing breath, a breath that was keeping him alive...
Knock. Knock.
"Iruka..."
Iruka froze, kunai poised for another slash, when he heard Kakashi's voice outside the door. He calmed his hissing breath as best he could, hiding the bloody kunai in a drawer and absently wiping the blood from his leg with Kakashi's damp, discarded towel.
He stood up—a little stiffly, the cuts on his leg sending sharp jabs of pain down his thigh—wiped his eyes, and unlocked the door.
"Ruki..." Kakashi said gently, "Ruki, baby, please..."
To his horror, Iruka saw tears forming in the jounin's mismatched eyes. It undid him.
"You liar," Iruka cried, "Liar! Every time you ever said you loved me—every time you told me how beautiful I was—what's he got that I don't, hm?"
He was shouting now, screaming, and something sick inside of him relished the tears that were falling down Kakashi's death-pale cheeks.
"Iruka..." Kaksahi breathed, but he was cut short.
"What does he have that I don't, Kakashi?" Iruka shouted at him, "Is he skinnier, prettier? Is he a better ninja than I am? Is his fucking cock bigger than mine?"
"I never..." Kakashi choked on his own words. "I never t-touched him, Ruki..."
"I have a name, you know," Iruka shot back cruelly.
Kakashi's eyes widened, and he reached out to Iruka, put his arms around his shoulders, buried his head in the chuunin's neck, but Iruka shoved him away.
"Don't t-touch me...y-you make me s-sick, K-Kakashi..." Iruka stuttered, feeling the suffocating pain wash over him once more. "G-get out..."
"Ruki—Iruka!" Kakashi cried, remembered that he had been forbidden to use the pet name. "Iruka, please, no, Iruka..."
To Iruka's horror, Kakashi collapsed on his knees, clutching the younger man's shirt in his fists, crying like a child.
"Iruka...I'm sorry, I'm so sorry, Iruka I'm begging you, forgive me...I love you, Iruka, don't, please, I'm so sorry..."
"You don't love me," Iruka said, more to himself than to Kakashi. "If...if you loved me, you wouldn't have done this to me...you wouldn't..."
"No, Iruka, no! I l-love you, Iruka, I d-do...I m-made a mist-take, Ir-ruka, I..." he trailed off, unable to offer an explanation for his behavior, unable to defend himself.
"Why?!" Iruka screamed, and he poured all his emotions into that one word. "Why, Kakashi? Why, why, why...I don't understand, why, just tell me why and maybe we can make this work again..." He fell backwards against the wall, and Kakashi leaned away from him, burying his face in his hands, sobbing.
"Ir-ruka I, I don't kn-know...I d-don't know w-why I was g-going to d-do it, I had m-made up my m-mind not to, I wrote him today and told h-him I c-couldn't l-leave y-you..."
"Why," Iruka whispered into the air, staring despondently at the white tiled floor. "Just...why..."
"Ruki, I don't know!" Kakashi cried. "I d-don't kn-know what made me...I d-don't deserve you, I h-hurt you so m-much Ruki, I've always h-hated myself for it, you...you would have b-been better off without me..."
Iruka's eyes narrowed, as Kakashi crawled back toward him, pleading, begging...it hurt so badly.
"So you decided that because you don't deserve me, you were going to break my heart?" Iruka whispered.
"Ruki, no! Ruki, I—"
Kakashi was cut short as the back of Iruka's hand collided with his cheek, so fiercely that his head snapped in the opposite direction, his eyes wide.
Iruka took advantage of the jounin's distraction, scrambling away from the bathroom and into their bedroom. From down the hall, Iruka heard Kakashi's voice make that same sick, strangled, screaming sob...
A/N: If I get lots of reviews, there's a chance I might not leave them like this... (I'm so manipulative.)