Tightrope [Renruki] [Bleach] [10_inspirations]
Title :: Tightrope
Prompt :: There's always one who loves and one who lets himself be loved. [10_inspirations]
Pairing :: Renruki
Rating :: PG
Wordcount :: 271
Summary :: As a child, she had learned her lessons well.
As a child, she had learned her lessons well.
Look. Don’t touch. It isn’t for you, anyway.
That was one thing that would stay with her, no matter how much else she lost or what else she gained.
And so she walked, tight-lipped and daintily-stepped, and she kept her hands and arms pressed to her sides and she would not reach out even to save herself from falling.
At least if I fall, I won’t have to see anyone else falling beside me.
It was a strange kind of selfishness, but sometimes it was the only way she could get to sleep at night.
She never allowed herself to notice the shadow at her back, and the way it was always just a step behind.
It was safer that way.
But it was not foolproof.
“You’re forgettin’ something.” Laughter rumbled low in his throat, a soft vibration she could feel no matter how closely she kept her hands folded and to herself.
“Oh? And what’s that?”
“If we wanted somethin’ badly enough, we stole it, you an’ me.”
“We stole what we needed to survive,” she countered, and she did not meet his eyes.
“Yeah? So how’s this any different from that?”
Her chest was abruptly still, everything suspended in white; her breath snared and her heart stopped and there was nothing left but ache.
And then his hand, engulfing hers and bringing it to his face, small stiff fingers finding inked skin like magnetic poles.
Worlds could change, but centres of gravity would never shift.
Ya wouldn’t be the first one to fall, and ya know I’ll always catch you.
Prompt :: There's always one who loves and one who lets himself be loved. [10_inspirations]
Pairing :: Renruki
Rating :: PG
Wordcount :: 271
Summary :: As a child, she had learned her lessons well.
As a child, she had learned her lessons well.
Look. Don’t touch. It isn’t for you, anyway.
That was one thing that would stay with her, no matter how much else she lost or what else she gained.
And so she walked, tight-lipped and daintily-stepped, and she kept her hands and arms pressed to her sides and she would not reach out even to save herself from falling.
At least if I fall, I won’t have to see anyone else falling beside me.
It was a strange kind of selfishness, but sometimes it was the only way she could get to sleep at night.
She never allowed herself to notice the shadow at her back, and the way it was always just a step behind.
It was safer that way.
But it was not foolproof.
“You’re forgettin’ something.” Laughter rumbled low in his throat, a soft vibration she could feel no matter how closely she kept her hands folded and to herself.
“Oh? And what’s that?”
“If we wanted somethin’ badly enough, we stole it, you an’ me.”
“We stole what we needed to survive,” she countered, and she did not meet his eyes.
“Yeah? So how’s this any different from that?”
Her chest was abruptly still, everything suspended in white; her breath snared and her heart stopped and there was nothing left but ache.
And then his hand, engulfing hers and bringing it to his face, small stiff fingers finding inked skin like magnetic poles.
Worlds could change, but centres of gravity would never shift.
Ya wouldn’t be the first one to fall, and ya know I’ll always catch you.