[Log] Gin Ichimaru, Rangiku Matsumoto
Title: Come Home To Me
Characters: Gin Ichimaru (lcpdragonslayer), Rangiku Matsumoto (some_scribbles)
Timeline: March 24th, 1950
Rating: PG (for mention of drug use)
Summary: It's raining, but it's not the storm causing Gin to seek shelter. Rangiku does what she can, but she can't protect him from himself.
Rain descended from the zenith of the skies, like dew from the heavens falling and gracing the earth below. Gin had always hated the rain - the feeling of cold water against his skin, the stickiness afterwards when the Sun came back out again, the smell of the gravel and grass after a shower, the potholes breeding mosquitoes on the road...
Everything about rain was... unpleasant.
But today, the rain... wasn't so bad. The droplets were cool against his heated skin, washing away the stress, the pain, the sins indelibly stained on his ensanguined hands.
She was the last person he wanted to go to, but he knew that she would welcome him with open arms, even... after all that he had said and done to her.
Gin was the safest in the arms of his angel, but she wasn't here. She wasn't home - she was probably still working at her malt shop.
And so he waited for her, sitting at the foot of the steps leading up to the security worker guarding the entrance to her apartment. With his hands on his knees and his head buried in his arms, he waited, the rain relentlessly pattering down against his back, into his hair, dangling at the tips of white clumps of his fringe before dripping down against the pavement, splashing against the small puddle.
Rangiku didn’t mind the rain. It was dark and a bit cold, but ‘April showers bring May flowers,’ after all. She’d closed up the shop at its regular time; business was still business even if it was slow, and she was making her way back to her apartment to have dinner and change before going out for the night. The rain made a cheerful pattering sound on the surface of her umbrella, and for a moment Rangiku’s forehead crinkled in memory-a vulpine smile with a hint of shyness, the heat of his body as she pressed close against him, a mad dash through the rain-before she forcibly put the thoughts from her mind.
She had a lifetime of practice of not thinking about him. Her mouth twisted bitterly downward as the rain fell harder against her umbrella as if mocking the remembrance of why she was carrying it. Rangiku determined after he’d come that day to make sure to keep an umbrella in her office. After all, she couldn’t count on him for shelter. Not anymore.
She was right. She hadn’t seen him in almost a month. Not since that day with Shuuhei…
Squaring her shoulders, Rangiku smiled at a passerby, causing him to blink and stop short. It was time to put that life-long habit into practice and not think about him again. It was harder in some ways, because she wasn’t struggling every moment to survive, she didn’t have anything to distract herself from those thoughts of What did I do wrong? Why did he…
But she wasn’t thinking about that. She was going to go home, she was going to eat dinner, and then she was going dancing. She could always call Yumi and see if he was free. Or maybe she’d hit up one of those bars and pull a little grift. Either way, she was not going to spend her night home alone and thinking about-
There was a sodden lump of a person on her front steps. George hadn’t shooed him away, and there was something about his posture that was painfully familiar. Without thinking about it, Rangiku began to walk faster.
The closer she got, the more familiar the figure became, and her heart began to pound painfully in her chest as she recognized him. Gin.
What-why was he-what had happened?
Any thoughts of preserving her pride-where had he been; how dare he just show up like this-vanished when she saw the sorry state he was in. His hair was plastered to his head; his clothes were soaked through. She moved quickly to stand over him, shielding him with her umbrella.
Rangiku’s eyebrows drew together in concern as she regarded him in silence for a moment, the last vestiges of her pride and reason demanding that she walk right past him into her apartment building.
She crouched down in front of him instead. “You idiot,” she breathed out softly, before speaking in a more normal tone of voice. “What are you doing out here in the rain? You’ll catch your death!”
She didn’t touch him. She didn’t quite dare. The shock of seeing him in this state almost drowned out the pain she felt at seeing him again after not seeing him in so long, but it still echoed inside her, and she was scared he would vanish if she tried.
He didn't know how much time had passed - everything was... all a blur, as if the rain had gotten into his eyes. Maybe he was just tired and wanted to go to sleep, or maybe he was having second thoughts about bringing his mess to the one person he had to keep out of his life at all costs.
He didn't even know why he was here. He walked where his feet had taken him and they didn't take him home.
Not to Aizen's home, anyway.
A shadow loomed over him, and the rain stopped even though he could still hear it all around him. He lifted his head a little, eyes peeking out over his arms to see two shins in front of him.
Blinking a few times, as if in a daze, he remained motionless until he saw her face.
Ran.
She was talking to him - trying to say something to him, but nothing was coming through. He couldn't hear anything; couldn't hear her, and somehow knew that even if he could hear what she was saying, he wouldn't understand a word of it.
She was here - that was all that mattered.
"...Ran..."
Was that his voice? It sounded so foreign.
"I..."
Help me...
Gin went silent, just breathing, just looking at her, and then after a moment he lowered his head back down on his arms, concealing his expression, which must be... ugly, with his perpetual mask half-shattered.
Only you... can save me.
Her breath caught in her throat when he lifted his face. It was understandable that he wasn’t smiling, he was sitting out in the cold rain for God knows how long, the idiot. But she didn’t think she’d ever seen him look so lost.
He said her name and something twisted inside her. And suddenly it didn’t matter that he’d gone and disappeared on her again-all that mattered was that he was here and he needed her. She’d sort the rest out later, but she wouldn’t turn him away.
Sighing out, “You stupid idiot,” Rangiku bent down further, her hair brushing against his wet cheek as she worked her free hand under his arm and around his back.
“Come on,” she tucked her chin over his shoulder, brought her chest in contact with his, and began to lever him up, “Let’s get you inside.”
She was warm against his soaked clothes, his wet, cold skin. He didn't need her help getting to his feet but receiving help once in a while - from Ran or Aizen or whoever else - wasn't a bad thing every once in a while.
He'd like to think that they cared about him - at some point, anyway.
Gin almost stumbled over the steps, making his way up into her apartment. Once he went in there was no going back - he didn't even know what he was going to say to her, nor did he have any sort of plan.
She didn't look like she minded, but there were a lot of things she was hiding from him. They just weren't as bad as the kinds of things he was hiding from her.
"I... I'm sorry - to impose..."
Rangiku’s eyes narrowed at his words. Don’t. Don’t say that. Because apologizing took the distance between them and made it real and that was the last thing she wanted.
She took a deep breath as they entered the building, smoothing her expression as much as she was able. “It’s all right,” she said lightly. “I’ll let you make it up to me later.”
She led them past George and bypassed the elevator. He needed to take the steps. She wasn’t sure how long he’d been sitting out there in the cold, but she knew enough to know that he needed to get his blood flowing again. She remained by his side, her arm around his back to support him as they walked up the stairs and towards her apartment.
At her door, Rangiku dropped her umbrella and withdrew her keys from her pocket, leaving her other arm around Gin in case he needed the support as she fit her key to her lock. Once they stepped inside, she locked her locks, dropped her umbrella and turned to face him. He was soaked through. “You need to get out of those wet clothes. Strip as much as you can here, I’ll go get you a towel. And I think I have a change of clothes for you too.”
He thought he was floating between consciousness and unconsciousness, hovering in limbo. It felt a lot like getting beaten up and left to die on the streets; memories from long ago when he could barely remember small hands grabbing onto his arm, shaking him, a desperate voice like a distant cry, fading away into the darkness with him.
He didn't do anything except sit there, and yet he was... a wreck.
Well, that wasn't... too big of a surprise. He was always a wreck.
They tracked back the familiar steps to make their way towards Ran's apartment. He had walked this exact same path before, he was taking the exact same steps - except the setting had been much different. Except things were... in another set of circumstances back then.
He stood at her doorway, rainwater dripping from his hair, pooling onto the floor. His gaze remained glued to the floor, and he slipped his hands into his empty, soggy pockets.
"Y'don't... I uh... 'm not plannin' ta stay."
Rangiku rolled her eyes and unbuttoned her coat. “You sit on my front steps for God knows how long, in the rain, and now you’re telling me you’re not planning to stay? This, after disappearing on me for almost a month?”
He wasn’t even looking at her. She stepped closer to him and grabbed him by the collar, yanking him down to her level, “You’re not walking out on me like this. Look at you! I’d never be able to live with myself if-“
She stopped talking. Ran took a breath, her eyes narrowing, and let go of Gin’s collar, her hand slipping to rest light on his shoulder instead. “If you need help getting out of your clothes, I’ll help you. If not, you might as well go to the bathroom and grab a towel. I’ll throw the clothes in for you. I’m not just going to walk away and let you walk out. If you want to leave, you have to go through me.”
She stepped to the side and let her hand drop back down. “You know where it is,” she said softly.
No, he... He did not wish to stay. He wanted... he just wanted to see her for a little while. Wanted to touch her, and see her smile - and then he would go.
He couldn't stay. He couldn't possibly...
Gin couldn't tell her what she wanted to hear. He didn't have any reason, any excuse for his disappearing acts, why he treated her this way, why he was... who he had become.
Without saying anything, he brushed past her a little and went into her bathroom.
On the cold tiles of the floor, he sat down, leaning against the bathtub. It was even colder than his wet clothes clinging to his skin.
He shouldn't be here...
Rangiku sighed and shed her coat, too frustrated to be hurt by Gin’s silence or affected by his touch. At least he’d gone in towards the bathroom. That was something. Left a hell of a trail of wet, but she could clean that up later.
She started towards her room, eyes narrowed and brow drawn in concern that she wouldn’t let him see. She had no idea if something was wrong -- should she be concerned for the Captain? But no, Gin wouldn’t come here if he’d… --or if Gin was just in one of his moods. It was clear that something was wrong; he hated getting wet, why would he sit outside on her front porch step in the pouring rain? If he just wanted to see her there were other ways…
Rangiku kept a draw of clothes that didn’t belong to her. She had a set of Akon’s nice clothes for when she kidnapped him away from his lab and a few other bits and pieces for more casual occasions. Dante crashed here occasionally. She even had a few things of Yumichika’s which she’d somehow collected over the years. Gin was about Akon’s height and skinny as Yumi was slender… she dug around until she found a pair of Akon’s pants and a soft discarded sweater of Yumi’s. He’d just have to suffer through wet underwear or strip completely, because she didn’t want to have to explain to Akon why she’d purchased him another pair.
As she stood to walk towards the door, she saw a blur out of the corner of her eye and then tiny claws digging into her skirt. Leaning down, Rangiku detached the kitten from her and set her back on the floor, “Not right now, baby. Mommy has to deal with a big fat idiot.”
Cat didn’t want to take no for an answer, but Rangiku shut the door on her mewling. After his non-reaction in the malt shop, Rangiku remembered: Gin had never really liked cats.
Rangiku did her best to smooth the concern from her features as she walked towards the bathroom to find that Gin had left the door open. Peering in, she found that he had done absolutely nothing to help himself. He was sitting on her floor, still dripping wet, and leaning against her bathtub.
She sighed softly and moved quietly into bathroom. She set the fresh set of clothes on the sink and retrieved a towel before going to kneel in front of him. “Gin…”
What the hell happened to you?
Then she grabbed his knees, shoving them apart and scooting forward before he could protest. His long legs were on either side of her as situated herself an inch or so above his knees. Rangiku reached out and began unbuttoning his shirt. Her movements were quick and efficient and she made herself concentrate just on her fingertips and not on the cold pale skin she was revealing or the intimate pose. She just needed to get him warm and dry. It was nothing she hadn’t seen before.
Cold... even with Ran around, Gin felt so cold. He had tried to run from his world, his feet taking him away as fast as he could, and this was the only corner of his universe that wasn't enshrouded in darkness, dripping with blood.
He just hoped he wasn't bringing his hell to Ran. He had walked out on her twenty years ago precisely because he wanted to walk through his hell alone.
Why was she helping him? After all that he had done - and all that he... had not done. She should have just walked past him; she should have kicked him and left him to die, or left him on the porch where he would have most likely been shot at by nightfall.
Frozen hands rested on Ran's wrists as she started undressing him. Holding her for a few seconds, just breathing, just panting lightly.
And then he slipped his arms around behind her back, holding her against him. He lowered his head and rested his forehead upon her shoulder. She was warm, and he thought he could fall asleep here, forever.
Gin's arms fell away, and he moved to stand, struggling a little, almost slipping on his own puddle of rainwater.
"I'm leavin'. Take care."
Trudging his way back to the door, Gin fumbled with trying to do his buttons back up again. While he was still able, while he was still sane, while he was still alive - he had to go.
Her breath caught when his arms wrapped around her, only to exhale in a soft hiss when he pulled her to his chest and lowered his head to her shoulder. Frozen, with his cold arms holding her to his wet body, she just sat there and let him hold her, listened to his uneven breathing. She uncertain of what she should do with her arms, of why he was doing this-
And then just as suddenly as he embraced her, he released her and struggled to his feet. Called out a careless goodbye after he turned around and started to walk away from her.
She sat back on the floor and stared after him wide-eyed, feeling like the world had flopped and she had suddenly been dropped from a great height. He just-and then-and now he was walking away??
Let him go. Her eyes narrowed. She should. And she should shout out that he shouldn’t come back. She didn’t need him, she didn’t need this.
But then she remembered that lost look on his face, how desolate he had seemed… and maybe she didn’t need him… but maybe he needed her.
“Damnit,” Ran hissed and planted her hand on the floor beside her and shoved up, coming to the doorway of the bathroom.
“Gin Ichimaru!” She wouldn’t go after him. But she wouldn’t let him leave like that either. “What the hell do you think you’re doing?”
He paused, leaning against the wall a little for support. The door was a few steps away, and once he walked out he was certain he would not be coming back. Perhaps not now, perhaps not forever.
He didn't have to answer her. He didn't have an answer that would make her happy, that would make her stop worrying, that would... fix everything and make everything right again.
But she might be the last person he would ever talk to. The last person he held in his arms, the last person who... touched him, and talked to him, and wanted him to... live.
He lifted his head a little and turned so he could see her out of the corner of his eye.
"...the right thing."
She might have been angry at him, but he etched her face into his memories, so that he might be able to see it once more when he drew his last breath.
So that, at the end of the ensanguined path, he might be happy.
He lowered his head again and straightened, heading for the door.
He’d leaned against the wall like he’d been hit when she called out to him, and she watched him turn his head, her heart suddenly heavy when she was presented with that silver of his profile. Through her frustration and shocked offense, she felt the skin on the back of her neck prickle with apprehension-and she suddenly knew that if she let him walk out that door, she would never see him again.
Her brows drew together and her mouth went dry as she tried to absorb his words-the right thing-but then he was making up her mind for her, turning to go, to leave--
And the little girl that she had been, the little girl that looked at him like he hung the moon and the stars, the little girl who’d cried out his name in her dreams, the little girl who never stopped looking for him screamed inside her.
Ran was moving forward before she knew she’d taken the steps. “The right thing if you want to catch your death,” she said firmly as she quickly gained on him. “I don’t know what brought you here like this and you don’t have to tell me, but I told you,” she was right behind him now, close enough to reach out and grab him if she chose, but her arms were heavy at her sides, “the only way you’re leaving now is through me.”
She swallowed, unable to completely keep the note of pleading from her voice despite her best intentions, “So go in the bathroom and change. I’ll make you something hot to drink.”
“Gin.” Her voice on his name sounded almost foreign, like she had to force herself to say it but it slipped through her lips with the ease of a thousand different prayers and memories. Please.
She knew.
He didn't have to say anything; she already... knew.
What was there to say?
He wanted to leave, but... he didn't want to, at the same time. He wanted to be with Ran, and yet he didn't want her to see him like this. And he knew that he hadn't taken a shot since he left; he hadn't wanted to think about it because he knew that the craving would start, and once that started there would be no stopping until everything spiralled out of control.
Nowhere to go, nowhere to run, nowhere to hide. Nowhere to be free.
"I'll stay... for a while."
He would do what she told him to, if only to see her smile, if only not to make her angry at him more than she already was.
And then he would leave while he still could, before insanity begins to sink in.
He said he’d stay and she felt like someone had cut her strings as all the tension abruptly left her body, only to be replaced by a more coiling unease in her stomach. She’d only put off the inevitable. He wasn’t going to stay. He’d even said as much.
Her eyes narrowed as she firmly set that thought aside. This was for him, not for her. Her face softened as she once again stepped to the side, “Go get changed, then.”
Say what he might, she wasn’t moving until he did. He’d never lied to her before, when they were younger, but she still hadn’t forgotten exactly how she’d learned what his job was.
He went back to her bathroom, to the wet puddle on the floor where he had been. He was tempted to sit there again and do nothing, fade away into nothingness - but he moved. His hands moved to get himself changed into someone else's clothes; it hadn't crossed his mind yet as to why Ran would have another man's clothes in her wardrobe.
It fit fine, and it was a lot warmer than the soggy pile on the floor - but no amount of heat could even begin to melt the block of ice Gin was trapped in.
Stepping out of the bathroom when he was more or less dry, so that he wouldn't drip everywhere all over her house, he trudged back to her living room and sat down on the couch. He wanted to lie down; he wanted to sleep and never wake up again - but instead he opted for planting his feet at the edge of the seat and hugging his shins close to him, burying his head between his knees, going silent again.
How long could he stay here? How long could he stay sane? How could he do this to Ran?
What should he do?
Rangiku waited until he’d moved passed her before she started towards the kitchen, warming the water for tea and reaching for the booze on route. She’d make him a hot toddy and maybe take a shot or two herself, good God, what the hell had they gotten into? Why was this so complicated?
She thought they’d worked it out, that he would come by and visit and the two of them could just… be together. It didn’t have to be anything. Didn’t he want to see her? Had she screwed things up that badly?
And why was he here, sitting in the rain and waiting for her like that - just to leave? It didn’t make any sense.
She turned her head when she heard the bathroom door open and watched as he went to sit on the sofa and curl in on himself. Her eyes narrowed in concern, and she absently reached for the tea kettle-only to brush her wrist against the hot metal.
Stifling a yelp turned it into more of a squeak than anything else, Rangiku hissed through her teeth at the burn, quickly walking over to the sink to run it under cold water. Gin would just have to wait for a minute, but one foot began to tap impatiently even as she held her hand under water - this needed to hurry up, she needed to get Gin a blanket.
Everything might have gone out of control but somehow the world around him wasn't collapsing. He might have been sitting in the ninth ring of hell but he didn't feel the pain, the torture, the heat, the despair.
He was overwhelmed with emotions, pulling him in all directions just a moment ago, but now he seemed to be past it all, and just... feeling nothing.
He thought he heard Ran say something or make a noise, but he remained frozen like a gargoyle, perched on her couch, staring into the blankness in front of him.
How nice it would have been, to stay here with Ran and not have to think about the world he came from. To have never left her and just hold her hand like they used to, to be happy like they used to, to be everything just as they had been so long ago.
But it wasn't possible. He couldn't rewind time, and he knew that they would have never had a happy ending. Not when he was already insane to begin with.
He couldn't have protected her, nor could he have brought her happiness.
She was happier without him. She was a better person without him. Everything would have been just fine if he hadn't found her, if he hadn't come back.
But he couldn't give her up again. He had to, but he couldn't, because she used to be the only one who could hold his crumbling world together, and everything about Ran drew him towards her. He was ensnared by her everything, and no matter how hard he could struggle to break free, she would always...
She would always have him.
Rangiku focused on the pain of the burn, letting everything else fade away until her wrist was finally numb from the cold. An angry red welt showed when she pulled her hand back, but that would fade; she hadn’t been burned that badly. And on the plus side, the tea was done seeping.
She was careful in her compiling of the ingredients this time, steadfastly refusing to think about Gin or about what had brought him here, what it meant that he came to her like this. But she could still feel him in the apartment; feel him behind her like some jagged missing part of herself or some wild thing which she knew had to be watched.
Her heartbeat was painful; she could feel each heavy contraction even as she concentrated on not thinking. He was here now. He was wet, and cold. She had to take care of him. That was all.
Squeezing in the last bit of lemon, Rangiku stirred the mixture before leaving the kitchen to stand in front of him. She frowned when she noticed his feet on her sofa - she’d forgotten to give him socks.
In a bid for his attention, her free hand reached out to touch one of his raised knees. She couldn’t bring herself to smile at him or to stop the way her brows came together in concern. He still looked so… so…
“Here,” she said, holding out the hot toddy. “Drink this. I’ll be right back with a blanket.”
He made the quietest of noises, and that was the only reaction Ran got from a distant, disconnected Gin. Automatically he reached out to take the cup from her, not knowing what was inside, not feeling how hot it was, burning in his hands, not knowing what to do with it now that it was in his grasp.
His hands were trembling; they weren't shaking that badly but he knew that they were visibly shaking - neither from the weight of the drink nor the heat but because of something inside of his body that he was slowly starting to lose control over.
Nearly dropping the cup, he swiftly put it back down onto the table and withdrew into himself once more. He gripped onto the fabric over his knees to stop the shaking, to stop more paranoia seeping in, to stop the world from crumbling.
"R-Ran..."
He didn't want her to see him like this but she was and there was nothing he could do about it. He'd walked out on her because he wanted her to be safe and happy and yet he was bringing trouble right to her doorstep.
He wanted to go home, but he didn't know where home was or how to get there or whether he would die before he got there.
He just wanted to go home.
Aww, hell. All the little things she’d been ignoring about his behavior clicked into place as Rangiku recognized the symptoms: Gin was coming down off a high.
Something in her stomach twisted, and her frown deepened as a rush of confusing emotions overtook her. He needed help, he was cold, he was a mess, weak, how could he have done this to himself.
For a moment, she was tempted to just turn around and get him his blanket. A blanket would be, practically, the best thing for him. He could sweat it out himself. She didn’t want to see him like this; an early preview of Gin’s death was the last thing that she wanted.
Then he said her name and shame overtook her. Yes, he’d done this to himself. But he’d come here for help, and then he’d almost left - and suddenly she couldn’t blame him. If he saw her react like this… then he’d never trust her with this part of himself again. And if the way he’d lost himself in the rain was any sort of tell, if he hadn’t come here he’d have ended up under a cardboard box. In the cold rain, two steps away from falling asleep forever.
Damn, but she hated hop.
Ran sat down beside him, wrapped her arms around his shoulders, and pulled him to herself. “Shh,” she said, running her hand soothingly down his arm, his side, “It’s OK. I’ve got you.”
He lowered his head and rested his forehead on Ran's shoulder. She was here, and she was trying to reassure him even though they both knew that things wouldn't be fine.
He slipped his arms around Ran tentatively, slowly relaxing in her arms. He would have liked to fall asleep here and not have to worry about waking up again, but there were a hundred other thoughts dancing around in his head.
If he hadn't let go of Ran all those years ago, what would have become of them? Would they have been alive to live this long? Could he hold her like this, as he was now?
Bony fingers curled into the fabric on her back.
"I'm tired..."
Rangiku responded to his embrace, allowing him to draw even closer and sliding one hand down to rub circles on the small of his back. She tucked her head over Gin’s still wet hair and sighed softly.
It was strange, comforting him like this. It had always been the other way around, save for those times when he had been beaten - often in getting her out of trouble. And now he’d done this to himself…
She felt his grip shift and tighten on the back of her shirt. He was still so cold, she could feel it through her clothes.
Ran eased further back into the sofa, making room for him to slide down onto her lap if he wanted, or even to get up and leave him the sofa, “Do you want to lie down, then? It might be better for you if you slept.”
Of course, she wouldn’t get her answers this way - she still didn’t know why he’d decided to come here to come down off his high, or why he felt it so necessary to just wait out in the rain, but sometimes hopheads didn’t make the most sense and, as much as it pained her, she had to admit that Gin was very much… she clenched her jaw and forced the thought through: Gin was very much a junkie. It was possible that the answer was just that simple.
As much as he wanted to sleep, he couldn't. And while he was still clinging on to sanity he knew very much so that this was not going to last. He was going to sink further into the depths of his self-created hell and there would be no rest to come until he exhausted himself into unconsciousness or died.
And he had to protect her. He was bringing trouble to her by being here. Shinsou wasn't here but he could still fight with his bare fists. He wasn't in the best state to be fighting in but he could still hold his ground long enough for her to find a way out, if the need ever arose for that.
Her lap was warm. Enticing enough for Gin to rest his head on it, a hand finding its way to her knee, clutching at the fabric covering it.
"I thought I... was gonna kill someone."
The memory flashed past. The glaring, the curt conversation, the gunfire that wasn't from Shinsou. The running, the chaos, the panic; the world crumbling around him.
"But I think he's killed me."
That gunfire...
"I don't know what to do."
By now probably half the underworld was looking for him. Even Aizen. Aizen would want him dead, too. All he had done over the past decade was bring the man trouble and complicate things. He was useless; a failure. He was only good for one thing and he'd stop doing it some time ago; trapped behind a desk, trapped behind his own facade, his own stupid smile.
Aizen, who had been his world. Maybe not angry, but... disappointed.
Disappointed with him. Disappointed in him.
Aizen.
"Aizen..."
She wasn’t surprised when Gin shifted to lie down in her lap, and one of her hands automatically went to his hair and began combing through the still-damp strands.
And then he started talking. His first sentence, and she wanted to stop him - “I thought I… was gonna kill someone.” Did Gin know who he was talking to? She was one of the few people the captain of homicide called a friend; she hadn’t spent years building that trust to throw it all away. Why would he tell her this?
And on a deeper level, Rangiku admitted to being disturbed at the way he said it so casually. She knew what his job must have involved, but she didn’t spend time thinking about it. Making logical assumptions was one thing, hearing him admit it was something else.
And it was enough to still her hand on his head.
But Gin didn’t stop there. He didn’t make much sense, but he kept going. So - he’d tried to kill someone, but messed up somehow? And then he said That Man’s name, confirming what she’d already figured out, and her throat closed up. Anything she could have said - what could she say?
She knew what she could do. She could stand up and shove him off her sofa for daring to even say That Man’s name like he was the final arbiter of all things when he’d come into her apartment looking for - for what? For comfort? For safety? And what had he brought clinging to his heels?
Her curiosity, her desire to help him figure out what was wrong and fix it were overpowered by her hurt and her sense of self-preservation which told her loud and clear that she was better off not knowing.
Sliding to the side, Rangiku was sure to go quickly enough so that Gin’s grip couldn’t keep her and she tried to be slow enough so that his head wouldn’t hit the sofa too hard at his sudden lack of cushioning. She didn’t want him to throw up all over her furniture after all. And if he did, her eyes narrowed, he was cleaning it.
“You’re not making any sense,” she said flatly as she stood. She didn’t turn to look at him when she continued, standing there with her back to him, “Think about what you’re saying. You’re alive. You’re here. I’ll go get you that blanket now.”
She was angry at him.
And it was just as well. He would rather that she be angry at him than take pity or be concerned or - well, anything else. He would rather she told him to get out, forcibly removed him from her home and locked him out forever so that he would know that she never wanted to see him again.
It would hurt him, but he would know for sure.
He curled up a little on the sofa, resting his tired eyes, his tired body, his tired mind; his tired entity. How nice it would be, just to fade away from the world right now like this and never have to worry about anything again?
He wanted to apologise to her but it wouldn't fix anything and she didn't seem too keen to want to hear his apologies anyway.
He could say he was sorry a million times and he knew there were some things she would just never forgive him for.
One of the things happened to be what was making him restless. He needed his dope. Needed to feel it coursing through his veins in order to feel alive.
A sudden stop in administering the drug to someone so heavily dependent on it, and he might not live long enough to leave tomorrow morning.
He was trembling lightly on her couch, his fingers curled into the top of his shirt. It wasn't even his own shirt or pants that he was wearing but that was hardly a pressing concern now.
Gin was slipping slowly into withdrawal and there was nothing he could do to stop it.
She half expected him to stop her from walking away and told herself she wasn’t disappointed that he didn’t. Opening the door to her bedroom, Cat expressed her displeasure by making her immediate escape into the rest of her apartment, and Rangiku didn’t bother to try and stop her.
Muttering under her breath, Rangiku picked up the spare blanket from across the foot of her bed before expelling a frustrated breath. She closed her eyes. As soon as she turned around, she knew what she would see. Gin. Starting to go through withdrawal. On her couch.
She wanted to scream at him for being such a goddamned idiot. She wanted to demand an explanation for - showing up, for leaving, for what he was doing. She wanted things to start making sense again.
But she couldn’t have those things, because if Gin was going to be weak and vulnerable, she wanted him to be here and not out there where anyone could get him. Sighing, she turned and walked back to Gin, bending over him to put the cover over him before grabbing the coffee table she had by the sofa, scooting it closer, and sitting across from him.
She was silent for a minute, at a loss of what to say to this stranger with her friend’s name. Searching for something, anything to take his mind off of what was going on in his body, she let herself prod at long buried memories. “Do you remember that time when I lost my first tooth? We’d lifted some apples and had run into the alley - and I took my first big bite and it fell right out. I didn’t know what had happened until I saw it sticking out of the apple. And I thought that the tooth had been there waiting for me? You teased me for weeks.”
He could barely feel the blanket covering him, or the voice calling out to him, saying things to him he wished did not sound so incoherent. He wanted to hear her voice properly - he wanted to hear her.
He wanted a hundred things that he was just not going to get in this state.
Curling up a little beneath the blanket, Gin couldn't stop the light trembling, the heavy breathing, the pain coursing through his veins.
He didn't want to be here. He didn't want to be near Ran even though he wanted to hear her voice and feel her touch.
Maybe all he wanted was just to sleep, and not wake up.
Well, no response was a good response. Especially recently. She searched her mind for another happy memory. It was hard, especially when she’d tried for so long to forget. And she wasn’t sure that her happy memories would be happy for him, and digging them up again hurt, and she felt a little bit like she was offering her treasures to someone who wouldn’t care, who’d just throw them away.
But she’d do it, if it would help him.
“Do you remember your birthday? That one time I found you moping in the park? And we went on the carousel and I wanted a white horse and you wanted a black one, but the white horse was up too high? So you lifted me up, but the carousel started, and you had to slide on behind?”
Ran let out a shaky laugh, and reached out to smooth back his hair before dropping her hand back down across her knee. “I’d sing you a lullaby,” she said with a wry smile, “but you know I can’t sing worth a damn.”
She was still talking, still trying to reach him, but he might as well have been in another planet. He was sweating a little, shaking, two steps away from clutching at his head and screaming, coherent thoughts a thing of the past.
He could guess at what she was saying though - something to distract him. Something like what they used to do. He couldn't remember a lot of things but there were certain specific moments in time or events that he could remember; a painful life lived that were now happy memories.
If they could go back, maybe he would have chosen to stay just to see what would have happened. They might have died out on the streets but they would have died happy, and they would have died together.
They might have lasted to this day and then he wouldn't feel so wrong about loving her. He could see her without worrying about the cops and Aizen and the whole fiasco and he could hold her and kiss her and watch her sleep just like how he used to and she could be his everything.
Maybe it could have worked.
Or maybe they would have just died out on the streets.
He would never really know. And right now he was finding it difficult to care.
Well, that wasn’t working. He was still awake - jittery and sweaty and miserable. Rangiku reached out her hand again to touch his forehead and wasn’t surprised to find him warm. That’s it, she was done being nice.
She got off the coffee table and crouched over by his face, “Gin. You need to sit up.” Reaching for the hot toddy on the table behind her, she cradled it in her hands glad to find that it was still warm. “I need you to drink this.”
The more fluids he had, the more quickly his system would flush the hop - which meant she was going to need to get a bowl. And probably some ice. She doubted that one night would be enough to clean him out, but if he could get some sleep he might be able to ride out the worst of it - enough to get him straight enough to be able to walk out the door, at any rate.
“Can you sit up?” And maybe, if she was lucky, the brandy in the hot toddy would help settle his stomach. And if she was really lucky, it might take some of the edge off. “Or do I need to feed you?” And by ‘feed’ she meant “Shove you upright and pour this down your throat so it can help you, you stubborn son of a bitch.”
He didn't want anything. He didn't even think he could move without throwing up - and he didn't want to move, either.
"Let me sleep..." he said quietly, curling up a little more on the couch, wanting the world around him to just fade away.
"Please... let me go..."
His hand curled into any part of the couch that he could grasp.
"Just let me go..."
Her eyes narrowed as she watched him curl in on himself and grab onto the couch like she was going to rip it away from him. The very same couch she practically had to tie him to not a half hour ago.
He was going to drive her out of her mind.
For a moment, Ran considered his request. Just let him go, huh? Even halfway into a la canona, he still had the ability to make her question his words. Well, whatever he meant, tough. She wasn’t letting him go just yet.
“Don’t be dumb,” she said. “If you were sleeping, I’d let you sleep. But you’re not, you’re sitting there shivering and miserable and this will help.”
Sliding off the table, she worked one hand under his head to gently elevate it an inch or two off from the couch. “Come on, Gin,” Ran urge softly as she brought the mug towards his face, “You can do this.”
He wasn't sleeping but that didn't mean that he didn't want to. It had been a long time - almost too long - since he had withdrawals. He anticipated that this one would last longer and would not be so easy to fix.
If he wasn't going to die from a bullet in his skull, he could very well die from this. He'd been using the drug so regularly just to keep himself normal and sane that stopping suddenly could only have dire consequences for his body.
She was touching him and he thought he melted into her hand. He was hot to the point where it was bordering on abnormal compared to her cool skin.
He would drink whatever it was just to make her happy.
Just to make her happy...
And then before he wrecked everything, he would leave.
He was so warm - feverishly hot, really. Her annoyance didn’t fade - rather it was pushed away for the sake of an overwhelming concern. It looked like this was going to be bad.
But there was very little else she could do for him. Ran watched him do his best to finish what was in the mug, and to her satisfaction he managed to keep a good portion of it down.
Unwillingly, the thought crossed her mind that there was something that she could do for him. Gin wasn’t the only one she knew who had less than desirable connections, and some of them owed her. If she showed up with a wad of cabbage and told them to keep mum… she’d be able to bring back some hop for him.
Her brow furrowed. It was a good, solid course of action, and while it wouldn’t fix him - nothing would fix him - it would make it so that he wouldn’t have to suffer through this.
Dropping her head down, she brushed a kiss against his forehead as she eased away, taking the mug with her. “I’ll be right back. I’m going to get you a bowl in case you need it. Try to sleep.”
Walking into the kitchen, Ran made up her mind: she wouldn’t just leave him like this. She’d watch him through the night, make sure he was jake. If she had to… if she thought he was dying… she’d go out and get it for him.
Sleep... it was what he had wanted all along but he didn't think the fates would be kind enough to give it to him. He'd done enough bad deeds that anyone with half a brain cell would probably treat him the same way.
He didn't know why Ran was helping him, why she wasn't letting him go, and he didn't know if it was a good thing or not.
Gin would try to sleep even though he knew he wouldn't. Try to do everything she wanted him to even though nothing would come of it, and pretend that everything was okay.
And maybe - just maybe - things wouldn't be so bad after all.
Creasing his brows, he kept his eyes closed and tried to drift off. He was hyperaware of his surroundings - of every little noise, of every little movement, of the bloody cat prancing around everywhere, of the buzzing in his head that wouldn't cease.
Sleep; he should sleep.
Sleep...
Rangiku retrieved a large mixing bowl from a cabinet under her counter and started running the water on her sink. She splashed her face with the cold water and began absently washing her hands.
What am I doing? Would she really risk everything just to get him hop? Why had he come here? Should she… make some calls? Find out if everything was all right?
She was still washing her hands, and it took an effort to turn off the water and then another effort to step away from the hand cream. She’d tried to hard to erase the traces of the streets from her - even from her hands. And all Gin had to do was walk in and she was as lost and scared as she had been, all those years ago. She could wash up and try to soften herself all she wanted, but she could never change who she was. Who he’d made her.
At least she had tried. She was straight, she was clean. What was Gin’s excuse? Why had he let himself become this?
She closed her eyes and sighed before turning, straightening her shoulders, and walking back to him. With each step she took, she discarded another question. All that was important right now was that he needed her. And as long as he was here, she’d watch over him.
He didn't sleep. She asked him to sleep but he didn't - even when night had crept over the skies and the moon was high in the pitch-black clouds.
He couldn't stay here anymore. He could barely think straight, and his body felt dislodged from his mind. He had caused enough trouble - both for himself as well as Ran.
She was asleep, close to him. He moved, trying his best not to wake her. She'd been caring for him the whole day and he should have at least thanked her for her help, but it wasn't in his nature to even tell her goodbye.
He hated sad stories, after all. And he might never see her again.
Gin almost stumbled his way out but somehow managed to slip his feet into his shoes and exit through the door.
He lingered outside her apartment, in the corridor, standing there just thinking for a little while - about what had happened, about her, about Aizen.
And then he was gone.
Gin wasn’t as quiet as he thought he was. But his movements were obviously intended to be stealthy, and it was instinct that kept Ran breathing quietly, eyes half-closed as he stood and made his way to her door. She opened her eyes in time to see his shadowed figure slip into his shoes. She propped herself up on her elbow to watch him open the door-he’d see she was awake if he turned, but she didn’t care-and he never did.
Her lungs constricted and her heart pounded painfully in her chest. He was doing it. He was leaving her again.
She wasn’t going to chase after him. He’d known that she wanted him to stay, she’d done everything but beg him to let her take care of him. If he was going to walk away, if he was going to risk whatever was chasing him alone and in his weakened condition-it was his choice. At least he hadn’t been shaking so badly. At least he-
Ran closed her eyes and took a harsh breath before exhaling softly. She’d known he was going to hurt her again. She just hadn’t imagined it would echo around inside her so much.
She wasn’t going to think about it. Instead, she stayed in that spot, staring at the door until necessity moved her. Casting off the coverlet she’d drawn around herself, Rangiku walked to the door and locked it behind him. She forced herself not to linger and turned to head towards her bedroom.
But she couldn’t stop herself from detouring by the couch where he’d slept. One hand reached out and touched the cushion. It was still warm. Before Ran knew what she was doing, she’d curled up there, drawing the blanket over herself and closing her eyes tight.
He didn’t even say goodbye.
Characters: Gin Ichimaru (lcpdragonslayer), Rangiku Matsumoto (some_scribbles)
Timeline: March 24th, 1950
Rating: PG (for mention of drug use)
Summary: It's raining, but it's not the storm causing Gin to seek shelter. Rangiku does what she can, but she can't protect him from himself.
Rain descended from the zenith of the skies, like dew from the heavens falling and gracing the earth below. Gin had always hated the rain - the feeling of cold water against his skin, the stickiness afterwards when the Sun came back out again, the smell of the gravel and grass after a shower, the potholes breeding mosquitoes on the road...
Everything about rain was... unpleasant.
But today, the rain... wasn't so bad. The droplets were cool against his heated skin, washing away the stress, the pain, the sins indelibly stained on his ensanguined hands.
She was the last person he wanted to go to, but he knew that she would welcome him with open arms, even... after all that he had said and done to her.
Gin was the safest in the arms of his angel, but she wasn't here. She wasn't home - she was probably still working at her malt shop.
And so he waited for her, sitting at the foot of the steps leading up to the security worker guarding the entrance to her apartment. With his hands on his knees and his head buried in his arms, he waited, the rain relentlessly pattering down against his back, into his hair, dangling at the tips of white clumps of his fringe before dripping down against the pavement, splashing against the small puddle.
Rangiku didn’t mind the rain. It was dark and a bit cold, but ‘April showers bring May flowers,’ after all. She’d closed up the shop at its regular time; business was still business even if it was slow, and she was making her way back to her apartment to have dinner and change before going out for the night. The rain made a cheerful pattering sound on the surface of her umbrella, and for a moment Rangiku’s forehead crinkled in memory-a vulpine smile with a hint of shyness, the heat of his body as she pressed close against him, a mad dash through the rain-before she forcibly put the thoughts from her mind.
She had a lifetime of practice of not thinking about him. Her mouth twisted bitterly downward as the rain fell harder against her umbrella as if mocking the remembrance of why she was carrying it. Rangiku determined after he’d come that day to make sure to keep an umbrella in her office. After all, she couldn’t count on him for shelter. Not anymore.
She was right. She hadn’t seen him in almost a month. Not since that day with Shuuhei…
Squaring her shoulders, Rangiku smiled at a passerby, causing him to blink and stop short. It was time to put that life-long habit into practice and not think about him again. It was harder in some ways, because she wasn’t struggling every moment to survive, she didn’t have anything to distract herself from those thoughts of What did I do wrong? Why did he…
But she wasn’t thinking about that. She was going to go home, she was going to eat dinner, and then she was going dancing. She could always call Yumi and see if he was free. Or maybe she’d hit up one of those bars and pull a little grift. Either way, she was not going to spend her night home alone and thinking about-
There was a sodden lump of a person on her front steps. George hadn’t shooed him away, and there was something about his posture that was painfully familiar. Without thinking about it, Rangiku began to walk faster.
The closer she got, the more familiar the figure became, and her heart began to pound painfully in her chest as she recognized him. Gin.
What-why was he-what had happened?
Any thoughts of preserving her pride-where had he been; how dare he just show up like this-vanished when she saw the sorry state he was in. His hair was plastered to his head; his clothes were soaked through. She moved quickly to stand over him, shielding him with her umbrella.
Rangiku’s eyebrows drew together in concern as she regarded him in silence for a moment, the last vestiges of her pride and reason demanding that she walk right past him into her apartment building.
She crouched down in front of him instead. “You idiot,” she breathed out softly, before speaking in a more normal tone of voice. “What are you doing out here in the rain? You’ll catch your death!”
She didn’t touch him. She didn’t quite dare. The shock of seeing him in this state almost drowned out the pain she felt at seeing him again after not seeing him in so long, but it still echoed inside her, and she was scared he would vanish if she tried.
He didn't know how much time had passed - everything was... all a blur, as if the rain had gotten into his eyes. Maybe he was just tired and wanted to go to sleep, or maybe he was having second thoughts about bringing his mess to the one person he had to keep out of his life at all costs.
He didn't even know why he was here. He walked where his feet had taken him and they didn't take him home.
Not to Aizen's home, anyway.
A shadow loomed over him, and the rain stopped even though he could still hear it all around him. He lifted his head a little, eyes peeking out over his arms to see two shins in front of him.
Blinking a few times, as if in a daze, he remained motionless until he saw her face.
Ran.
She was talking to him - trying to say something to him, but nothing was coming through. He couldn't hear anything; couldn't hear her, and somehow knew that even if he could hear what she was saying, he wouldn't understand a word of it.
She was here - that was all that mattered.
"...Ran..."
Was that his voice? It sounded so foreign.
"I..."
Help me...
Gin went silent, just breathing, just looking at her, and then after a moment he lowered his head back down on his arms, concealing his expression, which must be... ugly, with his perpetual mask half-shattered.
Only you... can save me.
Her breath caught in her throat when he lifted his face. It was understandable that he wasn’t smiling, he was sitting out in the cold rain for God knows how long, the idiot. But she didn’t think she’d ever seen him look so lost.
He said her name and something twisted inside her. And suddenly it didn’t matter that he’d gone and disappeared on her again-all that mattered was that he was here and he needed her. She’d sort the rest out later, but she wouldn’t turn him away.
Sighing out, “You stupid idiot,” Rangiku bent down further, her hair brushing against his wet cheek as she worked her free hand under his arm and around his back.
“Come on,” she tucked her chin over his shoulder, brought her chest in contact with his, and began to lever him up, “Let’s get you inside.”
She was warm against his soaked clothes, his wet, cold skin. He didn't need her help getting to his feet but receiving help once in a while - from Ran or Aizen or whoever else - wasn't a bad thing every once in a while.
He'd like to think that they cared about him - at some point, anyway.
Gin almost stumbled over the steps, making his way up into her apartment. Once he went in there was no going back - he didn't even know what he was going to say to her, nor did he have any sort of plan.
She didn't look like she minded, but there were a lot of things she was hiding from him. They just weren't as bad as the kinds of things he was hiding from her.
"I... I'm sorry - to impose..."
Rangiku’s eyes narrowed at his words. Don’t. Don’t say that. Because apologizing took the distance between them and made it real and that was the last thing she wanted.
She took a deep breath as they entered the building, smoothing her expression as much as she was able. “It’s all right,” she said lightly. “I’ll let you make it up to me later.”
She led them past George and bypassed the elevator. He needed to take the steps. She wasn’t sure how long he’d been sitting out there in the cold, but she knew enough to know that he needed to get his blood flowing again. She remained by his side, her arm around his back to support him as they walked up the stairs and towards her apartment.
At her door, Rangiku dropped her umbrella and withdrew her keys from her pocket, leaving her other arm around Gin in case he needed the support as she fit her key to her lock. Once they stepped inside, she locked her locks, dropped her umbrella and turned to face him. He was soaked through. “You need to get out of those wet clothes. Strip as much as you can here, I’ll go get you a towel. And I think I have a change of clothes for you too.”
He thought he was floating between consciousness and unconsciousness, hovering in limbo. It felt a lot like getting beaten up and left to die on the streets; memories from long ago when he could barely remember small hands grabbing onto his arm, shaking him, a desperate voice like a distant cry, fading away into the darkness with him.
He didn't do anything except sit there, and yet he was... a wreck.
Well, that wasn't... too big of a surprise. He was always a wreck.
They tracked back the familiar steps to make their way towards Ran's apartment. He had walked this exact same path before, he was taking the exact same steps - except the setting had been much different. Except things were... in another set of circumstances back then.
He stood at her doorway, rainwater dripping from his hair, pooling onto the floor. His gaze remained glued to the floor, and he slipped his hands into his empty, soggy pockets.
"Y'don't... I uh... 'm not plannin' ta stay."
Rangiku rolled her eyes and unbuttoned her coat. “You sit on my front steps for God knows how long, in the rain, and now you’re telling me you’re not planning to stay? This, after disappearing on me for almost a month?”
He wasn’t even looking at her. She stepped closer to him and grabbed him by the collar, yanking him down to her level, “You’re not walking out on me like this. Look at you! I’d never be able to live with myself if-“
She stopped talking. Ran took a breath, her eyes narrowing, and let go of Gin’s collar, her hand slipping to rest light on his shoulder instead. “If you need help getting out of your clothes, I’ll help you. If not, you might as well go to the bathroom and grab a towel. I’ll throw the clothes in for you. I’m not just going to walk away and let you walk out. If you want to leave, you have to go through me.”
She stepped to the side and let her hand drop back down. “You know where it is,” she said softly.
No, he... He did not wish to stay. He wanted... he just wanted to see her for a little while. Wanted to touch her, and see her smile - and then he would go.
He couldn't stay. He couldn't possibly...
Gin couldn't tell her what she wanted to hear. He didn't have any reason, any excuse for his disappearing acts, why he treated her this way, why he was... who he had become.
Without saying anything, he brushed past her a little and went into her bathroom.
On the cold tiles of the floor, he sat down, leaning against the bathtub. It was even colder than his wet clothes clinging to his skin.
He shouldn't be here...
Rangiku sighed and shed her coat, too frustrated to be hurt by Gin’s silence or affected by his touch. At least he’d gone in towards the bathroom. That was something. Left a hell of a trail of wet, but she could clean that up later.
She started towards her room, eyes narrowed and brow drawn in concern that she wouldn’t let him see. She had no idea if something was wrong -- should she be concerned for the Captain? But no, Gin wouldn’t come here if he’d… --or if Gin was just in one of his moods. It was clear that something was wrong; he hated getting wet, why would he sit outside on her front porch step in the pouring rain? If he just wanted to see her there were other ways…
Rangiku kept a draw of clothes that didn’t belong to her. She had a set of Akon’s nice clothes for when she kidnapped him away from his lab and a few other bits and pieces for more casual occasions. Dante crashed here occasionally. She even had a few things of Yumichika’s which she’d somehow collected over the years. Gin was about Akon’s height and skinny as Yumi was slender… she dug around until she found a pair of Akon’s pants and a soft discarded sweater of Yumi’s. He’d just have to suffer through wet underwear or strip completely, because she didn’t want to have to explain to Akon why she’d purchased him another pair.
As she stood to walk towards the door, she saw a blur out of the corner of her eye and then tiny claws digging into her skirt. Leaning down, Rangiku detached the kitten from her and set her back on the floor, “Not right now, baby. Mommy has to deal with a big fat idiot.”
Cat didn’t want to take no for an answer, but Rangiku shut the door on her mewling. After his non-reaction in the malt shop, Rangiku remembered: Gin had never really liked cats.
Rangiku did her best to smooth the concern from her features as she walked towards the bathroom to find that Gin had left the door open. Peering in, she found that he had done absolutely nothing to help himself. He was sitting on her floor, still dripping wet, and leaning against her bathtub.
She sighed softly and moved quietly into bathroom. She set the fresh set of clothes on the sink and retrieved a towel before going to kneel in front of him. “Gin…”
What the hell happened to you?
Then she grabbed his knees, shoving them apart and scooting forward before he could protest. His long legs were on either side of her as situated herself an inch or so above his knees. Rangiku reached out and began unbuttoning his shirt. Her movements were quick and efficient and she made herself concentrate just on her fingertips and not on the cold pale skin she was revealing or the intimate pose. She just needed to get him warm and dry. It was nothing she hadn’t seen before.
Cold... even with Ran around, Gin felt so cold. He had tried to run from his world, his feet taking him away as fast as he could, and this was the only corner of his universe that wasn't enshrouded in darkness, dripping with blood.
He just hoped he wasn't bringing his hell to Ran. He had walked out on her twenty years ago precisely because he wanted to walk through his hell alone.
Why was she helping him? After all that he had done - and all that he... had not done. She should have just walked past him; she should have kicked him and left him to die, or left him on the porch where he would have most likely been shot at by nightfall.
Frozen hands rested on Ran's wrists as she started undressing him. Holding her for a few seconds, just breathing, just panting lightly.
And then he slipped his arms around behind her back, holding her against him. He lowered his head and rested his forehead upon her shoulder. She was warm, and he thought he could fall asleep here, forever.
Gin's arms fell away, and he moved to stand, struggling a little, almost slipping on his own puddle of rainwater.
"I'm leavin'. Take care."
Trudging his way back to the door, Gin fumbled with trying to do his buttons back up again. While he was still able, while he was still sane, while he was still alive - he had to go.
Her breath caught when his arms wrapped around her, only to exhale in a soft hiss when he pulled her to his chest and lowered his head to her shoulder. Frozen, with his cold arms holding her to his wet body, she just sat there and let him hold her, listened to his uneven breathing. She uncertain of what she should do with her arms, of why he was doing this-
And then just as suddenly as he embraced her, he released her and struggled to his feet. Called out a careless goodbye after he turned around and started to walk away from her.
She sat back on the floor and stared after him wide-eyed, feeling like the world had flopped and she had suddenly been dropped from a great height. He just-and then-and now he was walking away??
Let him go. Her eyes narrowed. She should. And she should shout out that he shouldn’t come back. She didn’t need him, she didn’t need this.
But then she remembered that lost look on his face, how desolate he had seemed… and maybe she didn’t need him… but maybe he needed her.
“Damnit,” Ran hissed and planted her hand on the floor beside her and shoved up, coming to the doorway of the bathroom.
“Gin Ichimaru!” She wouldn’t go after him. But she wouldn’t let him leave like that either. “What the hell do you think you’re doing?”
He paused, leaning against the wall a little for support. The door was a few steps away, and once he walked out he was certain he would not be coming back. Perhaps not now, perhaps not forever.
He didn't have to answer her. He didn't have an answer that would make her happy, that would make her stop worrying, that would... fix everything and make everything right again.
But she might be the last person he would ever talk to. The last person he held in his arms, the last person who... touched him, and talked to him, and wanted him to... live.
He lifted his head a little and turned so he could see her out of the corner of his eye.
"...the right thing."
She might have been angry at him, but he etched her face into his memories, so that he might be able to see it once more when he drew his last breath.
So that, at the end of the ensanguined path, he might be happy.
He lowered his head again and straightened, heading for the door.
He’d leaned against the wall like he’d been hit when she called out to him, and she watched him turn his head, her heart suddenly heavy when she was presented with that silver of his profile. Through her frustration and shocked offense, she felt the skin on the back of her neck prickle with apprehension-and she suddenly knew that if she let him walk out that door, she would never see him again.
Her brows drew together and her mouth went dry as she tried to absorb his words-the right thing-but then he was making up her mind for her, turning to go, to leave--
And the little girl that she had been, the little girl that looked at him like he hung the moon and the stars, the little girl who’d cried out his name in her dreams, the little girl who never stopped looking for him screamed inside her.
Ran was moving forward before she knew she’d taken the steps. “The right thing if you want to catch your death,” she said firmly as she quickly gained on him. “I don’t know what brought you here like this and you don’t have to tell me, but I told you,” she was right behind him now, close enough to reach out and grab him if she chose, but her arms were heavy at her sides, “the only way you’re leaving now is through me.”
She swallowed, unable to completely keep the note of pleading from her voice despite her best intentions, “So go in the bathroom and change. I’ll make you something hot to drink.”
“Gin.” Her voice on his name sounded almost foreign, like she had to force herself to say it but it slipped through her lips with the ease of a thousand different prayers and memories. Please.
She knew.
He didn't have to say anything; she already... knew.
What was there to say?
He wanted to leave, but... he didn't want to, at the same time. He wanted to be with Ran, and yet he didn't want her to see him like this. And he knew that he hadn't taken a shot since he left; he hadn't wanted to think about it because he knew that the craving would start, and once that started there would be no stopping until everything spiralled out of control.
Nowhere to go, nowhere to run, nowhere to hide. Nowhere to be free.
"I'll stay... for a while."
He would do what she told him to, if only to see her smile, if only not to make her angry at him more than she already was.
And then he would leave while he still could, before insanity begins to sink in.
He said he’d stay and she felt like someone had cut her strings as all the tension abruptly left her body, only to be replaced by a more coiling unease in her stomach. She’d only put off the inevitable. He wasn’t going to stay. He’d even said as much.
Her eyes narrowed as she firmly set that thought aside. This was for him, not for her. Her face softened as she once again stepped to the side, “Go get changed, then.”
Say what he might, she wasn’t moving until he did. He’d never lied to her before, when they were younger, but she still hadn’t forgotten exactly how she’d learned what his job was.
He went back to her bathroom, to the wet puddle on the floor where he had been. He was tempted to sit there again and do nothing, fade away into nothingness - but he moved. His hands moved to get himself changed into someone else's clothes; it hadn't crossed his mind yet as to why Ran would have another man's clothes in her wardrobe.
It fit fine, and it was a lot warmer than the soggy pile on the floor - but no amount of heat could even begin to melt the block of ice Gin was trapped in.
Stepping out of the bathroom when he was more or less dry, so that he wouldn't drip everywhere all over her house, he trudged back to her living room and sat down on the couch. He wanted to lie down; he wanted to sleep and never wake up again - but instead he opted for planting his feet at the edge of the seat and hugging his shins close to him, burying his head between his knees, going silent again.
How long could he stay here? How long could he stay sane? How could he do this to Ran?
What should he do?
Rangiku waited until he’d moved passed her before she started towards the kitchen, warming the water for tea and reaching for the booze on route. She’d make him a hot toddy and maybe take a shot or two herself, good God, what the hell had they gotten into? Why was this so complicated?
She thought they’d worked it out, that he would come by and visit and the two of them could just… be together. It didn’t have to be anything. Didn’t he want to see her? Had she screwed things up that badly?
And why was he here, sitting in the rain and waiting for her like that - just to leave? It didn’t make any sense.
She turned her head when she heard the bathroom door open and watched as he went to sit on the sofa and curl in on himself. Her eyes narrowed in concern, and she absently reached for the tea kettle-only to brush her wrist against the hot metal.
Stifling a yelp turned it into more of a squeak than anything else, Rangiku hissed through her teeth at the burn, quickly walking over to the sink to run it under cold water. Gin would just have to wait for a minute, but one foot began to tap impatiently even as she held her hand under water - this needed to hurry up, she needed to get Gin a blanket.
Everything might have gone out of control but somehow the world around him wasn't collapsing. He might have been sitting in the ninth ring of hell but he didn't feel the pain, the torture, the heat, the despair.
He was overwhelmed with emotions, pulling him in all directions just a moment ago, but now he seemed to be past it all, and just... feeling nothing.
He thought he heard Ran say something or make a noise, but he remained frozen like a gargoyle, perched on her couch, staring into the blankness in front of him.
How nice it would have been, to stay here with Ran and not have to think about the world he came from. To have never left her and just hold her hand like they used to, to be happy like they used to, to be everything just as they had been so long ago.
But it wasn't possible. He couldn't rewind time, and he knew that they would have never had a happy ending. Not when he was already insane to begin with.
He couldn't have protected her, nor could he have brought her happiness.
She was happier without him. She was a better person without him. Everything would have been just fine if he hadn't found her, if he hadn't come back.
But he couldn't give her up again. He had to, but he couldn't, because she used to be the only one who could hold his crumbling world together, and everything about Ran drew him towards her. He was ensnared by her everything, and no matter how hard he could struggle to break free, she would always...
She would always have him.
Rangiku focused on the pain of the burn, letting everything else fade away until her wrist was finally numb from the cold. An angry red welt showed when she pulled her hand back, but that would fade; she hadn’t been burned that badly. And on the plus side, the tea was done seeping.
She was careful in her compiling of the ingredients this time, steadfastly refusing to think about Gin or about what had brought him here, what it meant that he came to her like this. But she could still feel him in the apartment; feel him behind her like some jagged missing part of herself or some wild thing which she knew had to be watched.
Her heartbeat was painful; she could feel each heavy contraction even as she concentrated on not thinking. He was here now. He was wet, and cold. She had to take care of him. That was all.
Squeezing in the last bit of lemon, Rangiku stirred the mixture before leaving the kitchen to stand in front of him. She frowned when she noticed his feet on her sofa - she’d forgotten to give him socks.
In a bid for his attention, her free hand reached out to touch one of his raised knees. She couldn’t bring herself to smile at him or to stop the way her brows came together in concern. He still looked so… so…
“Here,” she said, holding out the hot toddy. “Drink this. I’ll be right back with a blanket.”
He made the quietest of noises, and that was the only reaction Ran got from a distant, disconnected Gin. Automatically he reached out to take the cup from her, not knowing what was inside, not feeling how hot it was, burning in his hands, not knowing what to do with it now that it was in his grasp.
His hands were trembling; they weren't shaking that badly but he knew that they were visibly shaking - neither from the weight of the drink nor the heat but because of something inside of his body that he was slowly starting to lose control over.
Nearly dropping the cup, he swiftly put it back down onto the table and withdrew into himself once more. He gripped onto the fabric over his knees to stop the shaking, to stop more paranoia seeping in, to stop the world from crumbling.
"R-Ran..."
He didn't want her to see him like this but she was and there was nothing he could do about it. He'd walked out on her because he wanted her to be safe and happy and yet he was bringing trouble right to her doorstep.
He wanted to go home, but he didn't know where home was or how to get there or whether he would die before he got there.
He just wanted to go home.
Aww, hell. All the little things she’d been ignoring about his behavior clicked into place as Rangiku recognized the symptoms: Gin was coming down off a high.
Something in her stomach twisted, and her frown deepened as a rush of confusing emotions overtook her. He needed help, he was cold, he was a mess, weak, how could he have done this to himself.
For a moment, she was tempted to just turn around and get him his blanket. A blanket would be, practically, the best thing for him. He could sweat it out himself. She didn’t want to see him like this; an early preview of Gin’s death was the last thing that she wanted.
Then he said her name and shame overtook her. Yes, he’d done this to himself. But he’d come here for help, and then he’d almost left - and suddenly she couldn’t blame him. If he saw her react like this… then he’d never trust her with this part of himself again. And if the way he’d lost himself in the rain was any sort of tell, if he hadn’t come here he’d have ended up under a cardboard box. In the cold rain, two steps away from falling asleep forever.
Damn, but she hated hop.
Ran sat down beside him, wrapped her arms around his shoulders, and pulled him to herself. “Shh,” she said, running her hand soothingly down his arm, his side, “It’s OK. I’ve got you.”
He lowered his head and rested his forehead on Ran's shoulder. She was here, and she was trying to reassure him even though they both knew that things wouldn't be fine.
He slipped his arms around Ran tentatively, slowly relaxing in her arms. He would have liked to fall asleep here and not have to worry about waking up again, but there were a hundred other thoughts dancing around in his head.
If he hadn't let go of Ran all those years ago, what would have become of them? Would they have been alive to live this long? Could he hold her like this, as he was now?
Bony fingers curled into the fabric on her back.
"I'm tired..."
Rangiku responded to his embrace, allowing him to draw even closer and sliding one hand down to rub circles on the small of his back. She tucked her head over Gin’s still wet hair and sighed softly.
It was strange, comforting him like this. It had always been the other way around, save for those times when he had been beaten - often in getting her out of trouble. And now he’d done this to himself…
She felt his grip shift and tighten on the back of her shirt. He was still so cold, she could feel it through her clothes.
Ran eased further back into the sofa, making room for him to slide down onto her lap if he wanted, or even to get up and leave him the sofa, “Do you want to lie down, then? It might be better for you if you slept.”
Of course, she wouldn’t get her answers this way - she still didn’t know why he’d decided to come here to come down off his high, or why he felt it so necessary to just wait out in the rain, but sometimes hopheads didn’t make the most sense and, as much as it pained her, she had to admit that Gin was very much… she clenched her jaw and forced the thought through: Gin was very much a junkie. It was possible that the answer was just that simple.
As much as he wanted to sleep, he couldn't. And while he was still clinging on to sanity he knew very much so that this was not going to last. He was going to sink further into the depths of his self-created hell and there would be no rest to come until he exhausted himself into unconsciousness or died.
And he had to protect her. He was bringing trouble to her by being here. Shinsou wasn't here but he could still fight with his bare fists. He wasn't in the best state to be fighting in but he could still hold his ground long enough for her to find a way out, if the need ever arose for that.
Her lap was warm. Enticing enough for Gin to rest his head on it, a hand finding its way to her knee, clutching at the fabric covering it.
"I thought I... was gonna kill someone."
The memory flashed past. The glaring, the curt conversation, the gunfire that wasn't from Shinsou. The running, the chaos, the panic; the world crumbling around him.
"But I think he's killed me."
That gunfire...
"I don't know what to do."
By now probably half the underworld was looking for him. Even Aizen. Aizen would want him dead, too. All he had done over the past decade was bring the man trouble and complicate things. He was useless; a failure. He was only good for one thing and he'd stop doing it some time ago; trapped behind a desk, trapped behind his own facade, his own stupid smile.
Aizen, who had been his world. Maybe not angry, but... disappointed.
Disappointed with him. Disappointed in him.
Aizen.
"Aizen..."
She wasn’t surprised when Gin shifted to lie down in her lap, and one of her hands automatically went to his hair and began combing through the still-damp strands.
And then he started talking. His first sentence, and she wanted to stop him - “I thought I… was gonna kill someone.” Did Gin know who he was talking to? She was one of the few people the captain of homicide called a friend; she hadn’t spent years building that trust to throw it all away. Why would he tell her this?
And on a deeper level, Rangiku admitted to being disturbed at the way he said it so casually. She knew what his job must have involved, but she didn’t spend time thinking about it. Making logical assumptions was one thing, hearing him admit it was something else.
And it was enough to still her hand on his head.
But Gin didn’t stop there. He didn’t make much sense, but he kept going. So - he’d tried to kill someone, but messed up somehow? And then he said That Man’s name, confirming what she’d already figured out, and her throat closed up. Anything she could have said - what could she say?
She knew what she could do. She could stand up and shove him off her sofa for daring to even say That Man’s name like he was the final arbiter of all things when he’d come into her apartment looking for - for what? For comfort? For safety? And what had he brought clinging to his heels?
Her curiosity, her desire to help him figure out what was wrong and fix it were overpowered by her hurt and her sense of self-preservation which told her loud and clear that she was better off not knowing.
Sliding to the side, Rangiku was sure to go quickly enough so that Gin’s grip couldn’t keep her and she tried to be slow enough so that his head wouldn’t hit the sofa too hard at his sudden lack of cushioning. She didn’t want him to throw up all over her furniture after all. And if he did, her eyes narrowed, he was cleaning it.
“You’re not making any sense,” she said flatly as she stood. She didn’t turn to look at him when she continued, standing there with her back to him, “Think about what you’re saying. You’re alive. You’re here. I’ll go get you that blanket now.”
She was angry at him.
And it was just as well. He would rather that she be angry at him than take pity or be concerned or - well, anything else. He would rather she told him to get out, forcibly removed him from her home and locked him out forever so that he would know that she never wanted to see him again.
It would hurt him, but he would know for sure.
He curled up a little on the sofa, resting his tired eyes, his tired body, his tired mind; his tired entity. How nice it would be, just to fade away from the world right now like this and never have to worry about anything again?
He wanted to apologise to her but it wouldn't fix anything and she didn't seem too keen to want to hear his apologies anyway.
He could say he was sorry a million times and he knew there were some things she would just never forgive him for.
One of the things happened to be what was making him restless. He needed his dope. Needed to feel it coursing through his veins in order to feel alive.
A sudden stop in administering the drug to someone so heavily dependent on it, and he might not live long enough to leave tomorrow morning.
He was trembling lightly on her couch, his fingers curled into the top of his shirt. It wasn't even his own shirt or pants that he was wearing but that was hardly a pressing concern now.
Gin was slipping slowly into withdrawal and there was nothing he could do to stop it.
She half expected him to stop her from walking away and told herself she wasn’t disappointed that he didn’t. Opening the door to her bedroom, Cat expressed her displeasure by making her immediate escape into the rest of her apartment, and Rangiku didn’t bother to try and stop her.
Muttering under her breath, Rangiku picked up the spare blanket from across the foot of her bed before expelling a frustrated breath. She closed her eyes. As soon as she turned around, she knew what she would see. Gin. Starting to go through withdrawal. On her couch.
She wanted to scream at him for being such a goddamned idiot. She wanted to demand an explanation for - showing up, for leaving, for what he was doing. She wanted things to start making sense again.
But she couldn’t have those things, because if Gin was going to be weak and vulnerable, she wanted him to be here and not out there where anyone could get him. Sighing, she turned and walked back to Gin, bending over him to put the cover over him before grabbing the coffee table she had by the sofa, scooting it closer, and sitting across from him.
She was silent for a minute, at a loss of what to say to this stranger with her friend’s name. Searching for something, anything to take his mind off of what was going on in his body, she let herself prod at long buried memories. “Do you remember that time when I lost my first tooth? We’d lifted some apples and had run into the alley - and I took my first big bite and it fell right out. I didn’t know what had happened until I saw it sticking out of the apple. And I thought that the tooth had been there waiting for me? You teased me for weeks.”
He could barely feel the blanket covering him, or the voice calling out to him, saying things to him he wished did not sound so incoherent. He wanted to hear her voice properly - he wanted to hear her.
He wanted a hundred things that he was just not going to get in this state.
Curling up a little beneath the blanket, Gin couldn't stop the light trembling, the heavy breathing, the pain coursing through his veins.
He didn't want to be here. He didn't want to be near Ran even though he wanted to hear her voice and feel her touch.
Maybe all he wanted was just to sleep, and not wake up.
Well, no response was a good response. Especially recently. She searched her mind for another happy memory. It was hard, especially when she’d tried for so long to forget. And she wasn’t sure that her happy memories would be happy for him, and digging them up again hurt, and she felt a little bit like she was offering her treasures to someone who wouldn’t care, who’d just throw them away.
But she’d do it, if it would help him.
“Do you remember your birthday? That one time I found you moping in the park? And we went on the carousel and I wanted a white horse and you wanted a black one, but the white horse was up too high? So you lifted me up, but the carousel started, and you had to slide on behind?”
Ran let out a shaky laugh, and reached out to smooth back his hair before dropping her hand back down across her knee. “I’d sing you a lullaby,” she said with a wry smile, “but you know I can’t sing worth a damn.”
She was still talking, still trying to reach him, but he might as well have been in another planet. He was sweating a little, shaking, two steps away from clutching at his head and screaming, coherent thoughts a thing of the past.
He could guess at what she was saying though - something to distract him. Something like what they used to do. He couldn't remember a lot of things but there were certain specific moments in time or events that he could remember; a painful life lived that were now happy memories.
If they could go back, maybe he would have chosen to stay just to see what would have happened. They might have died out on the streets but they would have died happy, and they would have died together.
They might have lasted to this day and then he wouldn't feel so wrong about loving her. He could see her without worrying about the cops and Aizen and the whole fiasco and he could hold her and kiss her and watch her sleep just like how he used to and she could be his everything.
Maybe it could have worked.
Or maybe they would have just died out on the streets.
He would never really know. And right now he was finding it difficult to care.
Well, that wasn’t working. He was still awake - jittery and sweaty and miserable. Rangiku reached out her hand again to touch his forehead and wasn’t surprised to find him warm. That’s it, she was done being nice.
She got off the coffee table and crouched over by his face, “Gin. You need to sit up.” Reaching for the hot toddy on the table behind her, she cradled it in her hands glad to find that it was still warm. “I need you to drink this.”
The more fluids he had, the more quickly his system would flush the hop - which meant she was going to need to get a bowl. And probably some ice. She doubted that one night would be enough to clean him out, but if he could get some sleep he might be able to ride out the worst of it - enough to get him straight enough to be able to walk out the door, at any rate.
“Can you sit up?” And maybe, if she was lucky, the brandy in the hot toddy would help settle his stomach. And if she was really lucky, it might take some of the edge off. “Or do I need to feed you?” And by ‘feed’ she meant “Shove you upright and pour this down your throat so it can help you, you stubborn son of a bitch.”
He didn't want anything. He didn't even think he could move without throwing up - and he didn't want to move, either.
"Let me sleep..." he said quietly, curling up a little more on the couch, wanting the world around him to just fade away.
"Please... let me go..."
His hand curled into any part of the couch that he could grasp.
"Just let me go..."
Her eyes narrowed as she watched him curl in on himself and grab onto the couch like she was going to rip it away from him. The very same couch she practically had to tie him to not a half hour ago.
He was going to drive her out of her mind.
For a moment, Ran considered his request. Just let him go, huh? Even halfway into a la canona, he still had the ability to make her question his words. Well, whatever he meant, tough. She wasn’t letting him go just yet.
“Don’t be dumb,” she said. “If you were sleeping, I’d let you sleep. But you’re not, you’re sitting there shivering and miserable and this will help.”
Sliding off the table, she worked one hand under his head to gently elevate it an inch or two off from the couch. “Come on, Gin,” Ran urge softly as she brought the mug towards his face, “You can do this.”
He wasn't sleeping but that didn't mean that he didn't want to. It had been a long time - almost too long - since he had withdrawals. He anticipated that this one would last longer and would not be so easy to fix.
If he wasn't going to die from a bullet in his skull, he could very well die from this. He'd been using the drug so regularly just to keep himself normal and sane that stopping suddenly could only have dire consequences for his body.
She was touching him and he thought he melted into her hand. He was hot to the point where it was bordering on abnormal compared to her cool skin.
He would drink whatever it was just to make her happy.
Just to make her happy...
And then before he wrecked everything, he would leave.
He was so warm - feverishly hot, really. Her annoyance didn’t fade - rather it was pushed away for the sake of an overwhelming concern. It looked like this was going to be bad.
But there was very little else she could do for him. Ran watched him do his best to finish what was in the mug, and to her satisfaction he managed to keep a good portion of it down.
Unwillingly, the thought crossed her mind that there was something that she could do for him. Gin wasn’t the only one she knew who had less than desirable connections, and some of them owed her. If she showed up with a wad of cabbage and told them to keep mum… she’d be able to bring back some hop for him.
Her brow furrowed. It was a good, solid course of action, and while it wouldn’t fix him - nothing would fix him - it would make it so that he wouldn’t have to suffer through this.
Dropping her head down, she brushed a kiss against his forehead as she eased away, taking the mug with her. “I’ll be right back. I’m going to get you a bowl in case you need it. Try to sleep.”
Walking into the kitchen, Ran made up her mind: she wouldn’t just leave him like this. She’d watch him through the night, make sure he was jake. If she had to… if she thought he was dying… she’d go out and get it for him.
Sleep... it was what he had wanted all along but he didn't think the fates would be kind enough to give it to him. He'd done enough bad deeds that anyone with half a brain cell would probably treat him the same way.
He didn't know why Ran was helping him, why she wasn't letting him go, and he didn't know if it was a good thing or not.
Gin would try to sleep even though he knew he wouldn't. Try to do everything she wanted him to even though nothing would come of it, and pretend that everything was okay.
And maybe - just maybe - things wouldn't be so bad after all.
Creasing his brows, he kept his eyes closed and tried to drift off. He was hyperaware of his surroundings - of every little noise, of every little movement, of the bloody cat prancing around everywhere, of the buzzing in his head that wouldn't cease.
Sleep; he should sleep.
Sleep...
Rangiku retrieved a large mixing bowl from a cabinet under her counter and started running the water on her sink. She splashed her face with the cold water and began absently washing her hands.
What am I doing? Would she really risk everything just to get him hop? Why had he come here? Should she… make some calls? Find out if everything was all right?
She was still washing her hands, and it took an effort to turn off the water and then another effort to step away from the hand cream. She’d tried to hard to erase the traces of the streets from her - even from her hands. And all Gin had to do was walk in and she was as lost and scared as she had been, all those years ago. She could wash up and try to soften herself all she wanted, but she could never change who she was. Who he’d made her.
At least she had tried. She was straight, she was clean. What was Gin’s excuse? Why had he let himself become this?
She closed her eyes and sighed before turning, straightening her shoulders, and walking back to him. With each step she took, she discarded another question. All that was important right now was that he needed her. And as long as he was here, she’d watch over him.
He didn't sleep. She asked him to sleep but he didn't - even when night had crept over the skies and the moon was high in the pitch-black clouds.
He couldn't stay here anymore. He could barely think straight, and his body felt dislodged from his mind. He had caused enough trouble - both for himself as well as Ran.
She was asleep, close to him. He moved, trying his best not to wake her. She'd been caring for him the whole day and he should have at least thanked her for her help, but it wasn't in his nature to even tell her goodbye.
He hated sad stories, after all. And he might never see her again.
Gin almost stumbled his way out but somehow managed to slip his feet into his shoes and exit through the door.
He lingered outside her apartment, in the corridor, standing there just thinking for a little while - about what had happened, about her, about Aizen.
And then he was gone.
Gin wasn’t as quiet as he thought he was. But his movements were obviously intended to be stealthy, and it was instinct that kept Ran breathing quietly, eyes half-closed as he stood and made his way to her door. She opened her eyes in time to see his shadowed figure slip into his shoes. She propped herself up on her elbow to watch him open the door-he’d see she was awake if he turned, but she didn’t care-and he never did.
Her lungs constricted and her heart pounded painfully in her chest. He was doing it. He was leaving her again.
She wasn’t going to chase after him. He’d known that she wanted him to stay, she’d done everything but beg him to let her take care of him. If he was going to walk away, if he was going to risk whatever was chasing him alone and in his weakened condition-it was his choice. At least he hadn’t been shaking so badly. At least he-
Ran closed her eyes and took a harsh breath before exhaling softly. She’d known he was going to hurt her again. She just hadn’t imagined it would echo around inside her so much.
She wasn’t going to think about it. Instead, she stayed in that spot, staring at the door until necessity moved her. Casting off the coverlet she’d drawn around herself, Rangiku walked to the door and locked it behind him. She forced herself not to linger and turned to head towards her bedroom.
But she couldn’t stop herself from detouring by the couch where he’d slept. One hand reached out and touched the cushion. It was still warm. Before Ran knew what she was doing, she’d curled up there, drawing the blanket over herself and closing her eyes tight.
He didn’t even say goodbye.