What you never know won't hurt you

What you never know won't lie

What you never know won't desert you

What you never know won't say goodbye

At the tender age of four, he silently looked on as his mother packed her belongings. As she was placing a picture of him into her suitcase, he spoke: "Where are you going, mother?"

She paused a moment, taking a deep breath and sighing, before answering, "On a very long mission. I will be gone for many years."

He did not miss her hesitation, but gave no indication of it. "How many?"

She closed her suitcase and turned to him, placing a hand on his shoulder and looking directly into his eyes, "How ever many it takes to complete the mission."

She turned back to the bed, picked up her bag, and started toward the door. She stopped just inside the room and looked over her shoulder at her son with a gentle smile, "Come be my little gentleman and walk me to the door?"

He nodded and silently passed her, leading her down the hallway and to the front door, opening it widely and looking toward his mother expectantly.

Setting her suitcase down, she knelt so as to be at her son's height. Placing her hands on his upper arms, she pulled him close to her chest, the closest they would ever get to a hug, and whispered, "Goodbye."

Pulling back, she reached into one of her pockets and pulled out a small package. Taking his hand, she placed the gift in it and closed his fingers around it. She then stood, picked up her suitcase once more, and left, not once looking back.

What you never know won't hurt you

What you never know won't lie

What you never know won't desert you

What you never know won't make you cry

After his mother was no longer in his sight, he had looked down to the parcel that she had placed in his small hand. A light green ribbon was tied around the dark brown, rectangular box. Gently removing the ribbon—carefully tucking it into a pocket—and lifting the lid revealed that it contained a small pair of round, dark glasses, just like the ones his parents always wore. He had immediately picked them up with his free hand, tucked the box under his arm, unfolded the arms of the glasses, and put them on as carefully as he had often watched his mother do.

Now he stood with his back to his father, awaiting an answer.

Sighing heavily, his father's gaze was riveted on his son's back as the answer was given: "Because she didn't love me anymore."

The morning had started off as usual; the two of them were eating breakfast together when he had asked the question that had plagued his mind these seven years: "Mom left because of me, didn't she?"

His father had immediately responded with a negative shake of his head and a "No, son."

Silence had taken over for a few minutes before he spoke again, almost as a whisper, "Then why did she?"

He had heard his father's sharp intake of breath, but when, after a minute or two, his father had given no indication of answering, he had muttered an "I'm sorry" before standing and beginning to clear the table.

A long heavy sigh just as he was about to leave the kitchen had stopped him until his father spoke. Upon hearing the shaky response, he could do nothing but nod once before exiting, leaving his father alone to his tears and him to his thoughts.

I'm falling for you

I'm falling for you

My heart's torn in two

I'm falling for you

After the conversation with his father six years ago, after hearing how the topic had cracked the man who prided himself on his control over his emotions, he had promised himself that he would never fall in love.

Now, at seventeen, he was finding that promise increasingly difficult to keep.

A year after he had made that promise, they had been placed on the same team. He had thought nothing of it at the time, but as he watched and helped her grow from a shy, weak, easily embarrassed girl to a bold, powerful, unshakeable young woman, he grew to love her, first as a sister, but swiftly as something more.

Now, he watched as she shyly confessed her feelings to the young man of her affections. He watched as that young man turned her down. He watched as she swiftly walked away, trying to hide her tears. He could only watch; his heart breaking as he did.

What you never know won't hurt you

What you never know won't lie

What you never know won't desert you

What you never know — unless you try

Silently, he had followed after her, hoping to be a source of comfort, no matter how small that amount might be. He had allowed his fear of being rejected—just as she had been—to stop him. Against his better judgment, he had gone home, convincing himself he would speak to her privately tomorrow.

It had been five years since that day and he still hadn't told her. He had continued observing her from afar as if she were one of his beloved insects. He hadn't realized how only she hadn't noticed this.

"She'll never know unless you tell her."

His father had come to his room while he was getting ready to train with her. He had said only those seven words before walking away, leaving his son to ponder on the meaning of that simple sentence.

And ponder he did.

I'm falling for you

That was why he was now walking toward her after a long, hard training session.

That was why he was now going to interrupt the conversation she was having with their other teammate.

I'm falling for you

That was why he was clearing his throat to get her attention.

That was why he found himself saying, "Hinata, may I speak to you alone? I need to tell you something I should have told you several years ago."

I'm falling for you