Masked are the souls, not faces for beneath this mask is more than flesh; but a personal vendetta, a war being waged against himself. Beneath the masks faces suffer loneliness.

Kakashi Hatake: the copy ninja, the masked son of the "White Fang of the Leaf". Captain of Team 7, your very own squad. He's a self proclaimed paradox and a man who puts up these walls in attempt to hide himself and his feelings from the rest of the world. And oh how awful, how pathetically despairing it is to see someone whom you think so highly of, bottle their emotions the way he does.

Forcing the door before you open with a dull creak, you entered the apartment unannounced. The atmosphere of your sensei's living quarters was surprisingly clean, absent of the smell of liquor or cigarette smoke which you were surprised didn't meet your nostrils. Any day that would be treasured as a good sign; someone who takes care of them self. But not today, the very anniversary of Sakumo Hatake's suicide. So what was the White Fangs's son doing to distract himself from the events of this day, one of the main sources of his depression?

The sound of your boots sinking into the carpet was the only noise that disturbed the silence. Your steps were continuos although not consistent for you could hear hesitation in every movement. Kakashi's mop of gunmetal hair hung over his face as a curtain, preventing you from seeing whatever distressed expression may be etched into his features. His mask remained but you can read eyes, and if only you could see his you would be met with nothing but a cloudy, dismal over cast mirroring the weather outside his window.

For a moment you said nothing. Only taking notice of the contents scattered across his table. Untouched bottles of alcohol and packs of cigarettes littered the surface, along with spare kunai and old photographs. Your eyes scanned over everything, processing the fact that your sensei has several different forms of self medication right in front of him, yet they lie unopened and undisturbed, as if he couldn't even bear to look at or touch any of the objects he could use at his disposal.

Before you could even utter a coherent word, you were beaten to it:

"What're you doing here?"

That voice; it sounded tired, empty, hurt. His voice.

What exactly are you doing here? You plan to break down all his walls, and rebuild them adding windows to let the sunshine in. You're here so he can open up to you, so he doesn't have to keep his emotions bottled up inside of him. So you can create a window in his brain of severe depression, washing him in the light of the sun and the brightness of the stars.

"I'm here: so I can help you; be here for you." You answered, stern enough for him to know you're not leaving.

And for the first time, in what felt like eternity he looked at you instead of the floor, with an expression that screamed 'help me'.

A humorless chuckle escaped his lips. There was a disoriented aura emanating from him as if he was intoxicated. Except he was drunk on his thoughts and sadness instead of substance; his mind was the perpetrator for creating such a manifestation of his bad side: his very own blurry face.

"I'm forced to deal with what I feel, you holding my hand through it won't mask what is real," he replied in monotone.

His eyes pierced your own, as black as chaos and just as deep; they seemed to devour everything in its wake, which was kind of ironic since his eyes do possess the power to do very that. It was as if he was telling you not to bother. His penetrating gaze made you question why you came here in the first place; one side of your mind incredulously scolding you for being so rash, but how could you just standby and do absolutely nothing to help someone in need? You can't and that's exactly why you are here.

"No, I can't mask what is real. Me being here for you won't make things just pass by and be easily breezed through. But Sensei, you do realize you don't have to face your demons alone? The least I can do is hold your hand through the process being your support," you replied, sitting next to your teacher and resting your hand on his forearm. Your touch so gentle, you couldn't bear the possibility of breaking him more than he already is.

"I've always been afraid of losing people I love, but now that they're lost sometimes I wonder if there is anyone out there afraid of losing me," Kakashi's eyes met a photograph resting on the table completely caked in dust. Konoha's White Fang and his son; Kakashi's father's arm draped across his shoulder and a smile so genuine it could've only sprouted from his fatherly love, and even though a mask was stretched across Kakashi's face there was no denying that twitch at the corner of his lips forming a sincere beam that even the fabric couldn't shun.

The tears began to fall freely from Kakashi sensei's eyes and you instinctively grabbed his hand, intertwining your fingers with his. Your eyes followed in suit each photograph of someone he lost: Minato, Obito, Rin, even Sasuke. All people who he was closely bonded to whether he liked to show it or not: gone in one way or another.

"I'm afraid of losing you, in fact I'm terrified of losing you. I love you, Kakashi-sensei and Naruto too. He'd be broken without you- we need you. Never ever think for even a second that any of us will leave you; because we know how much you need us. We're not going anywhere, I promise." You consoled, giving your sensei's hand a squeeze. You had come to a resolve, and your purpose was to show him his worth and help him maintain his depression- if not get over it.

Very slowly, you could visibly see the calm begin to flow through his veins, starting to replace his anxiousness. He needed someone to prove to him his worth, and you were doing just that. Your comforting hand felt soft against his, your presence washing away his melancholy.

"You promise?" He questioned, needed a confirmation, as he wiped at his eyes.

A small smile crept across your lips for you couldn't help finding what he said to be adorable. It reminded you of a child asking his mother to be honest about there being no monsters underneath his bed.

"Mmhm, I promise," you replied nodding your head.

Reaching out with your free hand, you gently pulled your sensei's face lower, so it became level with your own. Your evergreen orbs came in contact with Kakashi's onyx ones before you slowly began to pull down the mask, the navy blue piece of fabric hiding such a beautiful discovery to behold. Your eyes grazed his lips, his chin, his jaw line, drinking in every aspect of his face which you had been deprived of for so long- and softly you placed your lips over his, transporting all your love and care into such a simple yet meaningful gesture. Your lips were the medicine he'd been lacking for so long, and the release of endorphins in his brain appeared as fireworks, crackling in his ears and warming his heart and entire being right down to the bone.

"I'm here. I love you. I don't care if you need to stay up crying all night long. I will stay with you- there's nothing you can ever do to lose my love. I am stronger than depression and I am braver than loneliness and nothing will every exhaust me."

And he smiled- a real toothy genuine grin, because he believed you.