Bleach Byakuya/Hisana Not!Drabble
I wanted to write last night. So I did. And this came out. I haven't beta'd it, so hopefully it's not atrocious, but...I hope it's likable. Do tell me if it's really weird or horrid, though. I want to do some credit to this pairing, after all!
~
She stares out across the garden, huddled inside a blanket as she kneels under the eaves of the walkway. Water drips from the edges, each drop seemingly disappearing into the scene as the rain continues to fall. Leaves and petals bounce slightly in the gentle bombardment as the drops hit their fragile beauty and yet they stand strong in the shower, defiant.
He sees her, grows concerned for her solitude, but doesn’t approach her right away. She is in thought and he will her give her that freedom without overcoming her daydreams or her worries or her memories with his own silence. So he watches, eyes the color of the rainclouded sky, drinking in everything about her. He sees a beauty he has never seen before, but never wishes to see again, for fear of trivializing such simple perfection. He sees a tiny body standing (sitting) tall, bold in every way that should be humble, though the opposite is also true. He sees his heart, shivering under the fabric that seems to be barely keeping out the chill of the breeze.
He sees a tear roll down her pale cheek, hang onto her chin for far too long, and then splash onto the material for less than an instant, becoming all but a tiny discoloration.
He doesn’t know why she cries. Maybe she finds the scene before her, of the rain on the flowers, to be unspeakably lovely, so she tries to mirror it on her face, an artistic endeavor. Maybe she had wished for warmth, so as to get a chance in the sunlight.
Or she cries because it may be raining on her, somewhere, somewhere, somewhere, and she cannot protect that small(er) body, that tiny soul in the cool rain. She was supposed to, remembers telling her parents in a life long gone that she would keep both eyes on her. An impossible promise to keep, just like the child.
Another tear falls, following the same track on her face and he finally moves, kneeling beside her. No words are spoken, no judgment passed. He lifts a hand to her cheek, lightly rubbing his thumb over her damp skin once, twice, as she sniffles and composes herself, ever emulating their idea of perfection. But he rests his forehead against her temple and breathes in, the barely-there smell of salt still lingering from her tears.
The rain falls.
~
She stares out across the garden, huddled inside a blanket as she kneels under the eaves of the walkway. Water drips from the edges, each drop seemingly disappearing into the scene as the rain continues to fall. Leaves and petals bounce slightly in the gentle bombardment as the drops hit their fragile beauty and yet they stand strong in the shower, defiant.
He sees her, grows concerned for her solitude, but doesn’t approach her right away. She is in thought and he will her give her that freedom without overcoming her daydreams or her worries or her memories with his own silence. So he watches, eyes the color of the rainclouded sky, drinking in everything about her. He sees a beauty he has never seen before, but never wishes to see again, for fear of trivializing such simple perfection. He sees a tiny body standing (sitting) tall, bold in every way that should be humble, though the opposite is also true. He sees his heart, shivering under the fabric that seems to be barely keeping out the chill of the breeze.
He sees a tear roll down her pale cheek, hang onto her chin for far too long, and then splash onto the material for less than an instant, becoming all but a tiny discoloration.
He doesn’t know why she cries. Maybe she finds the scene before her, of the rain on the flowers, to be unspeakably lovely, so she tries to mirror it on her face, an artistic endeavor. Maybe she had wished for warmth, so as to get a chance in the sunlight.
Or she cries because it may be raining on her, somewhere, somewhere, somewhere, and she cannot protect that small(er) body, that tiny soul in the cool rain. She was supposed to, remembers telling her parents in a life long gone that she would keep both eyes on her. An impossible promise to keep, just like the child.
Another tear falls, following the same track on her face and he finally moves, kneeling beside her. No words are spoken, no judgment passed. He lifts a hand to her cheek, lightly rubbing his thumb over her damp skin once, twice, as she sniffles and composes herself, ever emulating their idea of perfection. But he rests his forehead against her temple and breathes in, the barely-there smell of salt still lingering from her tears.
The rain falls.