PERFECTION IN LOSS - fic, ichiruki
A / N :
WARNINGS! Cursing. AND ANGST. REALLY, TOTALLY, ANGSTY - ANGST. Originally, this piece started out as a kind of five senses vignette series thing but that just ... failed, LOL. I was cleaning out my laptop, found this, and was fairly surprised to find it decent-ish as it was. A few fixes here and there but otherwise okay.
If any errors are found/constructive criticism is offered, I will gladly accept it!
This is your utopia.
The world spins until you can't tell between sky and earth and up and down and hell and heaven and oh hey, were the clouds always stained with red?
This is your utopia.
(He wonders, from a scientific point of view, how it was possible to have those eyes. He swears that they're different for every angle, every mood, every time he's with her. They turn harsh violet in anger. Periwinkle in happiness, and light. Pale lavender when calm, wisteria in emotion, indigo with strength. The list goes on and on, until he realizes he needs some more words for purple.
It's gotten to the point where, when observing her, the first thing he sees is her eyes. He feels like that way, he could always see her true feelings, instead of deciphering through misleading facial expressions.)
This is your utopia.
Some days, you remember lying awake at night, staring at the ceiling until your eyes start to blur.
You wonder an amount between everything and nothing.
This is your utopia.
(When he wasn't looking at her eyes, his gaze often drifted down to the mouth. Petite and delicate. A feminine mixture of pink and red. Then she'd open the mouth, and strings of very un-lady like vocabulary would shoot towards him.)
This is your utopia.
"What is a hollow?"
Blink. And blink. And blink.
The slight curl of lips - not a frown. Too slight, too real to be a frown.
"Blood. And souls."
Pause.
"Death."
Silence, and you forget who had released the final word, slipping through the mouth and lingering.
"Despair."
This is your utopia.
There are so many ways, you think. Ways the exact same thing can be said, and with such different meaning.
Take his name - Ichigo.
When Goatface says it, it's accompanied by excitement and shiny indignant words. Goatface's Ichigo is heard to annoyance, and an automatic reaction of dodging to the right (since he learned long ago his father aimed for that side of his face).
His sisters call out Ichi-nii, Ichi-nii, in various ways. Sometimes with mild annoyance, sometimes with happiness, sometimes with sadness and anger, but always wrapped in love.
Chad's is simple and quiet. Straight to the point. Quick, and always deliberate. The only things heard with Chad's Ichigo is the absolute bare necessity; or whatever Chad deems that as.
The list of Ichigo's seem never-ending - Ishida's, Inoue's, Tatsuki's, Keigo's, Mizuiro's, Renji's, and all the rest. But he knows one thing they all have in common: The way his name is said reflects on the person who says it.
It is with this theory, and knowledge, that you listens to Rukia's Ichigo the most.
This is your utopia.
You watch the light flicker, falter and fall.
Time stretches raw, winding into eternity. All you can see is the light flickering, faltering, falling, over and over and over again.
For some reason, you can't seem to hear your screams, or feel your pain, or taste your blood, or smell your despair.
All you can do is see.
This is your utopia.
They weave and thread together, hammering with brutality into your mind until they become nothing but a mantra. Words that have lost their meaning because they've been So. Fucked. Up. and repeated -
this is your utopia this is your utopia this is your utopia this is your utopia
this is your utopia
You seep through the floor, falling into tunnels and pits of places where you can't be.
This is your utopia.
At first, you think you've gone blind. Then, you realize, No, it's just that damn dark here.
You think you've gone deaf, but you can't tell if it's because there were too many cries or none at all.
You think the scent of blood is gone. Or, perhaps, it has become such a fixture that you can't tell if it's there or not.
You try to touch comfort, but your fingers stretch to meet nothing. You swallow, and gag on the emptiness.
You have a nagging feeling you've been here before. But there had been a piercing light, warmth and love and sanity to guide you
(fuck please no not her don't go don't stop don't slow don't move don't die don't die don't die
don't leave me)
And now it seems to have left, leaving behind black.
This is your utopia.
You wonder what is worse: Living alone -
Or dying alone.
You suppose you're going to find out, as you're going to experience both. After all, you've already lived through one. You plan to die through the other soon.
This is your utopia.
You laugh.
You laugh, and it is hollow.
- - -
AUTHOR'S NOTE ( AGAIN ) : I hope that wasn't too confusing. I wish I could have been more clear in my writing but ... alas, NOT TO BE. The 'This is your utopia' line, I pictured as Ichigo's hollow saying it while Ichigo was going through all of those moments. That dark and, just, never-leaving voice in the back of his head, the constant reminder of Ichigo's hollow nature. Basically, this whole piece was Ichigo's "death" (for lack of better term). Some moments are his memories, memories that just lasted and he flashed back on as he "died". I imagined him in a fight - at least, losing a physical fight, but really a fight within himself, with his hollow. The very last line can be interpreted as the outcome of the battle.
WARNINGS! Cursing. AND ANGST. REALLY, TOTALLY, ANGSTY - ANGST. Originally, this piece started out as a kind of five senses vignette series thing but that just ... failed, LOL. I was cleaning out my laptop, found this, and was fairly surprised to find it decent-ish as it was. A few fixes here and there but otherwise okay.
If any errors are found/constructive criticism is offered, I will gladly accept it!
This is your utopia.
The world spins until you can't tell between sky and earth and up and down and hell and heaven and oh hey, were the clouds always stained with red?
This is your utopia.
(He wonders, from a scientific point of view, how it was possible to have those eyes. He swears that they're different for every angle, every mood, every time he's with her. They turn harsh violet in anger. Periwinkle in happiness, and light. Pale lavender when calm, wisteria in emotion, indigo with strength. The list goes on and on, until he realizes he needs some more words for purple.
It's gotten to the point where, when observing her, the first thing he sees is her eyes. He feels like that way, he could always see her true feelings, instead of deciphering through misleading facial expressions.)
This is your utopia.
Some days, you remember lying awake at night, staring at the ceiling until your eyes start to blur.
You wonder an amount between everything and nothing.
This is your utopia.
(When he wasn't looking at her eyes, his gaze often drifted down to the mouth. Petite and delicate. A feminine mixture of pink and red. Then she'd open the mouth, and strings of very un-lady like vocabulary would shoot towards him.)
This is your utopia.
"What is a hollow?"
Blink. And blink. And blink.
The slight curl of lips - not a frown. Too slight, too real to be a frown.
"Blood. And souls."
Pause.
"Death."
Silence, and you forget who had released the final word, slipping through the mouth and lingering.
"Despair."
This is your utopia.
There are so many ways, you think. Ways the exact same thing can be said, and with such different meaning.
Take his name - Ichigo.
When Goatface says it, it's accompanied by excitement and shiny indignant words. Goatface's Ichigo is heard to annoyance, and an automatic reaction of dodging to the right (since he learned long ago his father aimed for that side of his face).
His sisters call out Ichi-nii, Ichi-nii, in various ways. Sometimes with mild annoyance, sometimes with happiness, sometimes with sadness and anger, but always wrapped in love.
Chad's is simple and quiet. Straight to the point. Quick, and always deliberate. The only things heard with Chad's Ichigo is the absolute bare necessity; or whatever Chad deems that as.
The list of Ichigo's seem never-ending - Ishida's, Inoue's, Tatsuki's, Keigo's, Mizuiro's, Renji's, and all the rest. But he knows one thing they all have in common: The way his name is said reflects on the person who says it.
It is with this theory, and knowledge, that you listens to Rukia's Ichigo the most.
This is your utopia.
You watch the light flicker, falter and fall.
Time stretches raw, winding into eternity. All you can see is the light flickering, faltering, falling, over and over and over again.
For some reason, you can't seem to hear your screams, or feel your pain, or taste your blood, or smell your despair.
All you can do is see.
This is your utopia.
They weave and thread together, hammering with brutality into your mind until they become nothing but a mantra. Words that have lost their meaning because they've been So. Fucked. Up. and repeated -
this is your utopia this is your utopia this is your utopia this is your utopia
this is your utopia
You seep through the floor, falling into tunnels and pits of places where you can't be.
This is your utopia.
At first, you think you've gone blind. Then, you realize, No, it's just that damn dark here.
You think you've gone deaf, but you can't tell if it's because there were too many cries or none at all.
You think the scent of blood is gone. Or, perhaps, it has become such a fixture that you can't tell if it's there or not.
You try to touch comfort, but your fingers stretch to meet nothing. You swallow, and gag on the emptiness.
You have a nagging feeling you've been here before. But there had been a piercing light, warmth and love and sanity to guide you
(fuck please no not her don't go don't stop don't slow don't move don't die don't die don't die
don't leave me)
And now it seems to have left, leaving behind black.
This is your utopia.
You wonder what is worse: Living alone -
Or dying alone.
You suppose you're going to find out, as you're going to experience both. After all, you've already lived through one. You plan to die through the other soon.
This is your utopia.
You laugh.
You laugh, and it is hollow.
- - -
AUTHOR'S NOTE ( AGAIN ) : I hope that wasn't too confusing. I wish I could have been more clear in my writing but ... alas, NOT TO BE. The 'This is your utopia' line, I pictured as Ichigo's hollow saying it while Ichigo was going through all of those moments. That dark and, just, never-leaving voice in the back of his head, the constant reminder of Ichigo's hollow nature. Basically, this whole piece was Ichigo's "death" (for lack of better term). Some moments are his memories, memories that just lasted and he flashed back on as he "died". I imagined him in a fight - at least, losing a physical fight, but really a fight within himself, with his hollow. The very last line can be interpreted as the outcome of the battle.