Kakashi was lying flat on his back staring up at the sky. It had been a long time since he'd just taken in the world above him. Winter was pressing in; if it hadn't been evident in the muted blues of the skies, it was known by the wind blowing through branches shedding themselves of their foliage - the blaze of red and orange leaves extinguished as brown ones fluttered down around him like snow.

Winter had always made Kakashi a little sad. The days were shorter and it was colder, and he'd always found it difficult to stay warm. Everything just felt lonelier, and he found himself reminiscing more. The memories were bittersweet as he tasted them.

Even though he'd accepted the reality of his biggest regrets, it didn't make them any less painful. But then he began to remember the tender moments: Rin's smile, the way Minato would encourage him, how Obito's antics would pull a secret smile from him.

He couldn't remember his mother, but he could remember the feel of her hand brushing through his hair. The smell of rice, and the eggplant his father would grill for him.

Naruto's energy and enthusiasm, as much as Kakashi would deny it, was infectious. Even if the blond was loud and brash, he got things done. His faith was unshakeable. Kakashi admired that about him, was maybe even a bit envious of that quality.

The laughs and close encounters with death he'd shared with Tenzo - there were times he never felt more alive as he did than when returning from a mission with him.

And Sakura. He smiled just at the thought of her. She was perhaps the most bittersweet. They had spent so long dancing around one another, and the transition from friends to something more had been so gradual - so subtle - that he'd been unsure if she held any feelings for him at all until the night of Naruto's inauguration.

Like a photograph, he could remember every detail of her that night - how her hair was styled, the color of her dress, how she smelled, the way her laughter reverberated into his chest, his soul. He could still see the dust of pink on her cheeks as they slow danced off in the back corner of the room, as she pulled herself closer and whispered how she didn't want him to let her go as the song ended.

He could remember the thrill in her chakra as he pulled her out onto the terrace and into the shadows, as her fingers curled into his hair, and around his heart, as he dragged his mask down and kissed her. And Kakashi knew from that moment on that he was hers.

Sakura, she'd been just as fiery in their relationship as she'd been on the battlefield. Sometimes she knew just the right buttons to push, the right combination of words to elicit his knee-jerk responses. Their arguments had been as passionate as their embraces under the crisp white sheets of her bed.

But most of the time she'd been quiet understanding, and even now if he closed his eyes he could still feel of the smoothness of her skin against his cheek as he lay curled up in her arms.

The soft mornings they shared were rare, and treated with care as if anything beyond a whisper would shatter the fragility of the moment. But those mornings - when their legs were twined together and his nose buried in her hair, her slender arms around his middle - were always his favorite.

Beyond dinners and scattered empty bottles of shochu, more than holding hands on the balcony and how she looked dwarfed in his clothes, aside from how she'd sigh his name or how she'd laugh at his dry jokes… those mornings were more precious to him than anything she could give him.

And she'd given so much, and tried to give more and more. Her love could be nearly suffocating at times, but that's just how she was. When she loved - when she fought, when she attempted anything - she went full force. And she deserved the same full force of his love, but he had no idea how to reciprocate.

She insisted that she was okay with it: she didn't need to hold hands as they walked the village. She didn't need kisses stolen when no one was looking. She didn't need extravagant dinners or double dates with her friends.

But she wanted it, he knew. He could see it in the tightness in the corners of her eyes when Naruto would kiss Hinata and make her blush in the middle of the marketplace. He could hear it in her voice when she turned down invites.

"I only need you, Kakashi," she'd say time and again.

But he could hear the change in her tone every time she reminded him. Light and airy with a smile, to sounding like she was convincing a child there were no monsters under the bed, to sounding like she was convincing herself.

He never wanted to do that to her, to dull any of her edges, smother any of her fire. Sakura had been one of the best things to happen to him, however Kakashi did not feel that the opposite was true. She deserved so much more. The last few weeks of their relationship had been arguments about their future, about the state of her happiness, and how much more she could be if he just stepped back.

He can still see the angry tears rolling down her face as she'd yell at him to shut up, to stop pushing her away. As she asked if he still loved her. Which he thought was a ludicrous question. Of course he did, which was why he was doing this, she just couldn't understand. And every fight would end with them hugging, with her pleading him to just come to bed, that they'd figure it out, that they'd be okay. He loved her and she loved him and that was enough, was in it?

"Tell me it's enough."

Those delicate mornings never came again.

Kakashi had been ready to take all the blame, to shoulder all of her discontent. He could do this for her. He'd been ready for everything except the quiet devastation on her face. He had been expecting more yelling, more pushing, more fire. Instead, he could remember with perfect clarity the exact moment he'd broken her heart. The hurt and betrayal she felt screamed on her features though she didn't say a word, only crumbled.

A shaky breath parted Kakashi's lips and he closed his eyes, cutting off the view of the sky. Warmth spilled down his cheeks and he sniffled, reining back the emotions. If only he had a second chance, he'd do things so much differently. He cracked bleary eyes open again, his gaze drawn to the cottony wisps of clouds passing. Another breeze passed through, shaking more leaves free, rattling his bones. Briefly, he considered that it was time to go inside, but his body felt so heavy, as if his limbs had rooted him to the ground.

With all of his energy he lifted his hand up, up, blocking what little sunlight remained. Crimson dripped from his fingers and slid down his forearm.

That's right…

A single humorless laugh jerked his shoulders as his hand fell to the ground. Iciness had gripped his body and for the first time Kakashi wished for a miracle. He'd spent so many of his Anbu days wondering which mission would claim his life. He had volunteered up that same life to save his village. He'd been ready to meet his maker so many times. But now, now he wanted to live, to have the opportunity to fix his wrongs, not even for him but for Sakura. Because she deserved more than this. Because she was still listed as his contact, even all these months later. She didn't deserve that visit.

Kakashi concentrated, but he could barely pull any chakra forward to his hand. He laughed, a deep and hollow sound, before he pulled in a sharp breath through a sob. His eyes focused back on the blurry sky. Please, someone... anyone... come for me. Find me... save me…

If only he had a second chance.