Fic - The Mountain
Another Byakuya/Hisana drabble/fic thing. Not beta'd or really looked over, but I'm just glad I finished something. Hopefully you all like it!
~
To love a Kuchiki is to love a mountain. The prospect is, of course, a foolish one. One cannot love a mountain. A mountain is an object reserved for admiration, something artists try to capture in inks and paints, something adventurers try to scale to prove themselves.
Sometimes they succeed, sometimes they fail.
One cannot love a mountain. A mountain is made up of jagged rocks, some loose and deceptive. Hands pressed against a mountainside may produce cuts, a misplaced step could produce broken bones. Nothing about a mountain is tender or gentle. A mountain cannot love.
Kuchiki Byakuya was certain he loved her the second time they met.
Her eyes were almost too large for her face, but he couldn’t help but be entranced by them. Humans say the eyes are the windows to the soul. In her case, she must have been an open book while she was alive.
But Byakuya could rarely read her thoughts, even if she looked right at him. Not that that mattered, really. He was certain he loved her. And her too-big eyes.
A mountain is crowned in snow, emphasizing its cold steadfastness. Nothing about a mountain is warm or encourages playfulness. It is something to respect, never poke fun at or tease. One cannot get close enough to a mountain for silliness, for then they would be drowned in the towering shadow, a silent reprimand for their foolish action.
It was a good day when her usually coy smile was lopsided with devilish intent. Byakuya would notice, of course, as he noticed everything else, but not point it out. Doing so would ruin this game, this rare moment of childlike amusement. He wouldn’t dream of interrupting her.
As soon as he set the brush aside, small hands danced at his sides, fingers tickling him, even under his layers of clothing. Byakuya inhaled sharply as he automatically curled in on himself, trying to protect his body from those mischievous fingers.
It never worked.
Light, airy giggles sounded from behind him and he eventually gained enough control over himself to take her hands in his own, holding them away from his sides, even as he laid his head in her lap.
The warmth in his eyes and smile could melt snow.
A mountain is eternal.
Life is fleeting.
She was going to die.
Byakuya had known this for some time, but the truth never really sank in, not until the last day as he held her hand in his. His skin was still warm, but hers was getting colder as the seconds ticked by, so painfully slowly, but too quickly for him.
The plum blossoms had not yet opened for the spring.
Her too-big eyes had lost that mystery that he found so intriguing and the mischief he could only accept from her. She had never even returned the fullest extent of his affections, though she would never be able to. Everything was falling apart, everything had already fallen apart.
Everyone left him in the end.
To love a Kuchiki is to love a mountain, but even a mountain can be moved.
~
To love a Kuchiki is to love a mountain. The prospect is, of course, a foolish one. One cannot love a mountain. A mountain is an object reserved for admiration, something artists try to capture in inks and paints, something adventurers try to scale to prove themselves.
Sometimes they succeed, sometimes they fail.
One cannot love a mountain. A mountain is made up of jagged rocks, some loose and deceptive. Hands pressed against a mountainside may produce cuts, a misplaced step could produce broken bones. Nothing about a mountain is tender or gentle. A mountain cannot love.
Kuchiki Byakuya was certain he loved her the second time they met.
Her eyes were almost too large for her face, but he couldn’t help but be entranced by them. Humans say the eyes are the windows to the soul. In her case, she must have been an open book while she was alive.
But Byakuya could rarely read her thoughts, even if she looked right at him. Not that that mattered, really. He was certain he loved her. And her too-big eyes.
A mountain is crowned in snow, emphasizing its cold steadfastness. Nothing about a mountain is warm or encourages playfulness. It is something to respect, never poke fun at or tease. One cannot get close enough to a mountain for silliness, for then they would be drowned in the towering shadow, a silent reprimand for their foolish action.
It was a good day when her usually coy smile was lopsided with devilish intent. Byakuya would notice, of course, as he noticed everything else, but not point it out. Doing so would ruin this game, this rare moment of childlike amusement. He wouldn’t dream of interrupting her.
As soon as he set the brush aside, small hands danced at his sides, fingers tickling him, even under his layers of clothing. Byakuya inhaled sharply as he automatically curled in on himself, trying to protect his body from those mischievous fingers.
It never worked.
Light, airy giggles sounded from behind him and he eventually gained enough control over himself to take her hands in his own, holding them away from his sides, even as he laid his head in her lap.
The warmth in his eyes and smile could melt snow.
A mountain is eternal.
Life is fleeting.
She was going to die.
Byakuya had known this for some time, but the truth never really sank in, not until the last day as he held her hand in his. His skin was still warm, but hers was getting colder as the seconds ticked by, so painfully slowly, but too quickly for him.
The plum blossoms had not yet opened for the spring.
Her too-big eyes had lost that mystery that he found so intriguing and the mischief he could only accept from her. She had never even returned the fullest extent of his affections, though she would never be able to. Everything was falling apart, everything had already fallen apart.
Everyone left him in the end.
To love a Kuchiki is to love a mountain, but even a mountain can be moved.