Inspired on a line from Nottoca's Icha Icha Sakura and based on my own experiences on how hard it is to let someone go.

Disclaimer: Do Not Own Naruto.

It was a balmy night. The night air was warm, covering the town of Konoha like a blanket on a winter's day. It was comfortable. It was nice.

Laughs decorated the town square, the sounds of the summer cicada songs ringing in ears over the music playing from the speakers and the clinking glasses as people said 'cheers' to the blushing bride. He found himself to be one of them.

"Hi Kakashi-sensei!"

And he looked her up and down as she smiled, having not gotten enough of her at the wedding ceremony. Encased in white satin silk with light makeup and a breath-taking smile, she was beautiful. Stunning.

And not his.

"Sakura-chan," he said with a smile and reached out to ruffle her hair like he always did before reconsidering. Not only because of the miffed look she sent him, but the fact that mussed hair would lead to other things in his mind and he just didn't want to mess up her hair. It was her night to feel special, and he wasn't going to ruin it for her because he didn't want to let go.

"Sensei…" she said with a roll of her eyes before laughing good-naturedly and lifting a glass of champagne. He lifted his in return, and let the hollow tinkle of glass against glass linger in his ears, savoring the sound and letting it fall into a box of memories before offering his congratulations to the bride and her groom before watching her become swallowed by the crowd of well-wishers and knocking back the liquor, wishing for something stronger to dull the pain.

"Kakashi-sensei!"

She was calling his name, and he looked up with a slight start that didn't escape her sharp gaze before beaming at him.

"Sensei! Dance with me!"

There she was again, calling him that. A hated reminder that he was much older than her and her former teacher, a taboo that would not let him go.

"Sakura, I don't think I should. I mean, you don't want to dance with your old sensei, now, do you?" he asked with a crinkle of his eye to show her he was smiling, however shallow it may be. It escaped her notice, too enthralled by the magic of the day's happenings to care, and he let her. Who was he to spoil her fun?

"Sensei, you're not that old! You're only fourteen years older than me."

And he inwardly flinched at her words. She was saying that now, but what would she think about that if she knew how he really felt about her?

"Hai hai," he answered and pushed back his seat and listened to the fabric of her dress shift on the grass as his shoes caused the grass to squeak and rustle slightly as he moved.

He stepped on the dance floor Izumo and Kotetsu set up the night before for the event, and held out his hand for her to accept, and she did, only for him to notice how small her hand was compared to his and how rightly they seemed to fit together, only to inwardly shake his head and dismiss it as the alcohol affecting his brain.

The music started, a surprisingly somber song as they moved together, stepping in time with the music. He shifted his hand on her waist and savored the feel of her against him as she rested her head over his heart, unaware of the feelings that lay within, screaming and shouting to be let loose and heard. Instead, he ignored them in favor of moving his head slightly lower to inhale her scent and memorize it before she faded away from his life forever. She shifted against him once more and looked up at him.

"Something wrong, sensei?" she asked and he bit back the words that almost flew out of his mouth, instead replying with an amused tone, "Why did you want to dance with me so badly?"

And she smiled at him again, eyes lighting up with a delicate blush staining her cheeks that made him want to shout at the world and cry at the unfairness of it all.

"Because it's the father-daughter dance, sensei."

So that was it. He was her father figure. Even when her father was still alive, he was her father figure. Wasn't there some saying about this? Always the bridesmaid, never the bride?

"Sensei, you seem sad? Are you alright?" She looked troubled and he realized his mask had slipped enough for her to see the torrent of emotions in his eyes.

"Oh, nothing. Just sad to see my Sakura-chan go. Makes me feel old," he smiled. He had lied, and swallowed the disgusting aftertaste of it easily after reminding himself that he shouldn't spoil tonight for her. She'd probably forget all this by tomorrow anyway.

She smiled up at him again. "Oh sensei, you're being silly. I'll always be with you." But for how long, he wondered.

"I still can't believe it, sensei," she said with her voice quavering in her whisper.

"Can't believe what?" he asked in return, hoping to stretch the time they had with each other. He could already hear the song beginning to wind down.

"Everyone's here. Everyone's back again. You, Naruto, Sasuke. We're all here again, and I'm Mrs. Uchiha Sasuke. It's like a fairytale," she said with a teary smile, and in the back of his mind, he had to disagree. If it was a fairytale, he would have had it end differently.

With a sad smile, he let his calloused fingers skate over her skin, smoothing away her tears and carefully etching everything about this moment into his mind as a reminder of what could have been. He lifted her chin up quietly.

"Don't cry, Sakura-chan. Your makeup will run," he said, no trace of the sad smile on his face from moments ago; just one of fake cheer, carefully honed after years of heartbreak. Better for them to see you smile than cry, right?

She choked out a laugh, dabbing away the tears with the back of her hand. "Thanks," she smiled, only to look up to see everyone staring and she looked up in question at him.

"The song stopped a while ago," he whispered, for her ears only, and delighted in the flush that appeared on her face at those words. He'd miss doing that.

"O-oh," she said in a startled tone. She turned to him, ready to thank him for the dance when he moved away, still holding her hand as she watched him with curiosity and wonderment as he brushed his lips over the back of her hand with his mask pooled around his neck, sending a small spark up her system. Before she could ask him what that was for, he looked up at her with a faint smile on his lips, and a sadness in his eyes.

"Think of it as another wedding present," he answered before tugging the fabric up over his face again and walking off the dance floor, loosening his tie as he went.

People were staring at him, he could feel it in the way their eyes crawled over his body, but he couldn't care less. Pulling away the tie from around his neck, he popped open the first few buttons of his white shirt when he spotted Genma leaning against a tree a little way from the party. He slowed his pace.

"Genma."

"Kakashi."

Silence floated between them for a few minutes before Genma sighed heavily, raking his hand through his hair as his toothpick moved to the other corner of his mouth.

"Why didn't you tell her?" he asked with a hint of frustration in his voice. Kakashi shrugged indifferently, not at all surprised that Genma knew. They were partners-in-crime when it came to romantic endeavors, and Genma was more perceptive than people gave him credit for.

"I don't know."

"Bull," Genma spat angrily. "Tell me the real reason."

And he sighed in frustration. He should've expected this. A wry, wistful smile crept onto his face.

"It's her wedding night, Genma. I don't want to spoil it for her. She deserves to be happy."

"But so do you," Genma argued, voice rising in tone. Kakashi shifted his hands in his pockets.

"What am I supposed to do, Genma? Tell her on her wedding day that I love her? That I have for the past five years?"

"She's twenty-four, not fourteen! She can handle it."

"No, she can't."

"What makes you think she can't?!"

"Because I know her!" he shouted, years of pent-up emotions suddenly escaping in a rapid flood that he didn't know how to stop. Genma looked at him in shock. Kakashi tried to figure out why he felt so tired all of a sudden.

"Genma, she's not as tough as she thinks or wants people to think of her. She'd be devastated to know I harbored feelings for her, and guilty that she chose Sasuke over me. She doesn't need that on her conscience, and I don't need that on mine."

Genma stayed quiet for a few minutes, absorbing the information presented to him and feeling ashamed of his outburst.

"What are you going to do now?" he asked quietly.

"Now? Now I'm going to go on an Anbu mission," he answered easily as he shed his clothes, revealing the Anbu uniform beneath his clothing. Grabbing the ninjaken and the mask he stashed in the hollow of a tree, he shifted the mask over his face, shuddering slightly at the feel of the cool porcelain against his skin that shot sparks up and down his spine.

He secured the sword against his hip, knowing full-well he was going to drown his sorrows in his work, but caring about that seemed like a trivial thought. With a curt nod to Genma and a glance back at the festivities, lingering on the smiling pink-haired girl before she shared a kiss with her husband, he shook his head and took to the trees.

It was a few minutes later, and a few meters away that he heard Genma mutter, "always the bridesmaid and never the bride," that Kakashi threw his head back and laughed.

Those were his sentiments exactly.