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It shouldn’t hurt this much. Kakashi had been alone for the majority of his life. He had carved out a solitary home within himself. He defined himself by what he lacked and that allowed him to survive loss after loss. Inside, he was a cavern within a shell. Cold, dark, and empty. At least that’s what he thought—before he met Tenzo.
Tenzo was the one to create the spark within him that he didn’t know he was capable of sustaining anymore; the spark of humanity that Kakashi thought he had lost long ago was first ignited by the shared friction of their bodies, but over time it evolved into a blaze that warmed him from the inside out. The progression of shared body heat to a shared heartbeat, one that raced in the face of an overwhelming and unusual feeling of safety.
Kakashi had been cracked open by Tenzo, who so effortlessly made himself at home within him. The cold and dark place within him was made warm and hospitable, if only to Tenzo. That was fine, Kakashi didn’t need anyone else. He was used to being alone.
That’s why it shouldn’t hurt this much. Why he shouldn’t be snarling as he tugged on Tenzo’s lip with his teeth, only barely conscious that he should be careful not to hurt him. He does it to hide the sting of tears in his eyes. Every ounce of pain becomes channeled into the same friction that connected them to each other at the start. He grips his long, brown hair like he’s holding on for dear life—because he is.
Kakashi doesn’t know what’s coming next, but he knows the life he’s currently living is at an end. Tenzo doesn’t know that yet. Kakashi wanted to savor one last moment basking in the glow and heat of their love one last time before he had to tell him: he was being forced to leave ANBU.
Kakashi and Tenzo were being torn apart. It made sense. Ever since falling for Tenzo, Kakashi had been struggling to balance the nature of the job with the nature of his humanity. It was wearing on him and people could see it. Being pulled from ANBU was necessary for the state of his wellbeing. He understood that. It was this new kind of loss that he didn’t understand.
Death was easy to comprehend. Kakashi’s whole life had been drenched in it as long as he could remember. Mourning the loss of someone living, however, was a completely different beast. He had to live out the remainder of his days thinking of Tenzo, wondering if he was alive, if he thought of him too, if he found someone else to help him brush the tangles out of his hair after missions, if he found someone else. He had to make peace with the idea that he may never know these answers, but even worse was the thought that someone else would get to know them instead. Kakashi had to carry this longing, never truly understanding why it clung to him so strongly compared to what he felt for those who had passed on. One day, it would become clear to him though, as he lay in a hospital bed flanked by Jiraya and Tsunade.
As Tsunade introduced “Captain Yamato,” the new co-leader of his beloved team, Kakashi’s eyes went wide and his pulse found that former accelerated rhythm that had been so familiar to him in years past. He saw standing before him, a taller, more muscular, short-haired version of Tenzo. It was in that moment he realized what kept Tenzo clinging to his heart and his mind after all these years: hope.
There is no hope in death, but Tenzo was alive and he was here, ready to forge new bonds with the team he had grown to love and by extension, with Kakashi. In that moment, Kakashi understood that all of the grief and pain of being ripped away from ANBU, from Tenzo, was a stepping stone to the moment where they could start again, not as those building a fire within each other to survive the dark, but as two people who could plant roots together and bask in the sun. Their love that was born in the dark would finally be able to blossom in the light.