An obnoxious yawn emitted from your lips, erupting your body in a fit of shakes and tiresome moans. It's not a lie that you're a hard worker; you take the hardships and lifestyle of a shinobi very seriously but the mental stress and constant strenuous exercise on your muscles wore you out. 

But today was an especially bad one. All your life you've dealt with anxiety. Not the severe "shyness" or social disorder. You suffered from a more stressful emotion that has had you in it's clutches since you were a child. Every day you wake up, your stomach in knots. You can't leave a task undone; even if it means you have to stay up all night to complete a written prep test for an upcoming ninja rank exam or accomplishing a new jutsu or mission thoroughly and correctly. Whenever there's a task at hand you can never settle down until it's finished. 

You're squad teammates were aware of your disease since day one and have been nothing but supportive. Urging you to "take a break" or just go "take a nap" when they can tell unnecessarily worn out, but if you have a mission to complete, a civilian or comrade to protect, there's no one who could possibly knock down your walls and get you to give into yourself. You're a very humble and outgoing girl , and that's commonly what you're mistaken for. But your habit of putting everyone and everything before you derives from your endless anxiousness and stress, not just a simple personality trait you've acquired just by being a "good person".

You are so consumed with your life of a ninja to the point where you hardly ever even give yourself time to lay back and hang out with friends or go out on dates. Much of your comrades enjoy the occasional party and there are quite a few of your friends who are in relationships but like you always say: "I'm too busy." Not exactly the typical attitude of a sixteen year old girl.

Still, there is one boy you can't help but feel attracted to: Kiba Inuzuka. Kiba is the only boy you're actually close to and consider a "best friend." Being raised one house over obviously influenced the friendship and your parents' really get along so it was inevitable that a bond would spark. Your fanged friend also knew of your stress disorder and was probably the only friend of yours who tries to make an effort to help you be pro active in making a change for the better. You'd both hang out at your house while doing paper work, training, and Kiba would just watch you. Little did you know he was more like admiring you -and your techniques and jutsu you complete with "passionate" or as he referred as "desperate" dedication. 

Kiba wanted nothing more than to see you comfortable with yourself; lacking the usual perspiration at your brow, tense shoulders and stubborn attitude. He wanted to witness with his own eyes who you truly are as a person. Someone calm and collected but also likes to have a good time. 

Dragging your feet and untying your hair which was tied back lazily to prevent getting in your way, you continued your endless journey back to your home, coming from a three hour jutsu and full body workout at the training grounds. Kicking a twig that had crossed your path you heard the sound of foot steps stepping in sync with your own, and the sense of the presence of another. Turning your head, causing your long, raven hair to flick off your shoulder, you were met with your good friend. Kiba must've just come back from a mission because his routine usually consisted of walking with you on your route home, but for the last week he's been absent. You shot him a small, toothy smile and before you could ask him how his mission went he had already beaten you to getting the first word out. 

"How are you, {Name}?" He asked, walking your usual cut through home, shoulder to shoulder.

This wasn't the usual "how are you, how was your day" routine that every human alive tends to instinctively start a conversation with. Kiba never used the phrase in an introductory context with you, he genuinely was curious and concerned for your well being; unlike most people who anticipate "good" being the response and probably have no idea how to react when otherwise. 

To be brutally honest: you're not okay. 

"Good," you replied, your voice slightly cracking. 

You mentally slapped yourself for getting emotional, especially in front of Kiba. 

Kiba lightly grabbed your hand, causing a blush to tint your pale cheeks.

"Did you get all your work done?" He inquisitively asked, knowing you well enough to interpret 'good' as being anything but. 

That was your problem; you had. You had completed all your assignments from the Hokage, trained yourself alone and with your squad. There was nothing left for you to do, but still you had butterflies in your stomach, and this time the only logical reason for that would be for eating caterpillars.

"Yeah," you nodded your head, tears prickling at your eyes, threatening to spill. 

You and Kiba have always been close, on a physical and emotional level, so you weren't very surprised when he made you stop everything and pulled you closer to him.

"Baby, don't cry. What's wrong?" 

"I'm anxious and it's making me sick. But I don't have anything left for me to do. I can go home and do whatever I want, but I'm still stressed out." The tears spilled and once they started dropping they never stopped. 

You always felt as if nobody could understand the way you were feeling, no matter how many or what choice of words you use to express yourself. You felt on edge, nauseous, and cold. It was a sickness, an intensified stomach bug that never went away. You craved peace and relaxation but most of all: comfort; in mind and in body.

"I know, I'm sorry. You're the last person to ever deserve to feel this way. But I promise I will do anything I can to help you, all you have to do is tell me what you want and I'll get if for you." Kiba cooed, stroking your face and playing with your hair. 

The feeling he was giving you made you feel sleepy, and you instinctively reached out for his arm for support. As for answering his question, what you wanted wasn't exactly a 'thing' that could be bought or made. It was more an emotion, a feeling, something not everyone would be able to oblige to. 

"I want a nap, with you, on my couch. It will make me happy and feel so much better," you replied, voice muffled due to your face buried in his shirt, inhaling his scent. 

Kiba pulled back, gently lifting your face causing you to look at him and he wrapped his arms around your waist securely, his fingers even "unintentionally" brushing your skin under the fabric of your jacket. When your eyes met his gaze you couldn't help but notice how prominent his features were: sharp jawline and defined cheekbones. Big brown eyes that held a glimmer of curiosity and playfulness, like a cute baby golden retriever. His caramel colored hair sticking out in all directions. But what you admired the most was his red markings symbolizing his clan; they stood out and you loved the way they'd widen whenever he smiled.

Kiba's eyes were locked on yours, a fang mischievously poking over his lip. He then removed the red ribbon you had tied around your wrist, and putting it in his mouth he began to pull back your long locks in a high ponytail centered at the back of your head. Making sure to leave your bangs hanging in your face, he then securely tied the ribbon, humming a calming tune while making sure it was tied in a perfect bow. Kiba always reminded you many times how much he loved the way you looked with your hair up, saying that "you looked more you". 

By now you had stopped crying but the blush on your cheeks only intensified. You continued to stare up at Kiba with wide eyes, while he towered a good head taller over you. Twiddling your thumbs, Kiba pulled you closer to him, lifting you up so you could stand on the top of his shoes. He then kissed the wet tears that had stained your face, lightly pressing feather light kisses to your cheeks and forehead, covering every inch of your face. Finally his lips settled onto yours, surprising you by how gentle and soft they were. Kiba's lips were like butter and you completely melted into the kiss, your hands cupping his cheeks. But as soon as it started, it was over. 

Kiba rested his forehead against yours, a small smile twitching at the corner of your mouths'.

"We really need a nap," he clarified before picking you up and running home with you in his arms. 

Once you entered the house Kiba gently laid you on your couch, grabbing several pillows and a big comforter from your bedroom. He slid in next to you, wrapping one hand around your waist and weaving the other through your hair, lulling you to sleep. You lightly gripped his shirt in weak fistfuls while you buried your face into his neck. 

As you began to fall asleep, you faintly made out what felt like Kiba pushing a strand of hair behind your ear while in a hushed tone singing a soothing lullaby. 

Before you were unconscious, you realized that this would be your first night in years where you actually had a peaceful sleep, all because of a beautiful boy who would do anything just to make you happy and feel safe.

You and I'll be safe and sound