20
hereafter
Buzzing; insects crawled in and out of her ears. Sharp (drops of morning dew did not soften their offense) blades of grass grazed her cheek. She looked at him, lying beside her, staring up at that gorgeous sky. It was for them, it was all for them. The sun shining, the breeze wiping away her sweat with chilly fingers, the world was holding them to sleep.
Kurosaki-kun.
Save us, save me. He had saved her before, from the start, again and again; he lay spent and stared at her with chatoyant eyes that made her feel safe and unsafe at the very same time. Contradictory thoughts, love was like that.
Save me until you can’t.
The death of Ichigo reached in (impaled by Aizen’s arm, ruthlessly fast, he moved through everything now) and squeezed her heart just like Aizen was squeezing Ichigo’s. She wanted to scream, but she couldn’t. She wanted to cry, but she couldn’t. It was just gone; Ichigo had taken everything with him; her smile, her strength.
Aizen was a tumor, he lived inside of them, growing and growing; bruising and festering. On their backs he weighed them down, but he never got into their hearts. That was a special place.
Having no more use for her Aizen’s gaze of nothing found her and pulling his arm out of Ichigo (a line of blood dripping from Ichigo’s mouth drying on his cold skin, his eyes no longer burning with hate for Aizen and love for Orihime) his darkness swallowed her up.
Buzzing; (she hated the sound, it was depressing and she just wanted to shine), insects, medical machines -- dying they sounded the same.
They were too late. Human healers couldn’t do anything, she couldn’t do anything. At least Orihime didn’t have to see Tatsuki cry. That was something.
Ichigo looked at Orihime looking at him. He would rather look at her than the clearest sky, the stars and the moon, explosions bursting into colour; it would always be her soft form his eyes were drawn to. He squeezed her hand. It would be alright.
Buzzing; insects crawled in and out of her ears. Sharp (drops of morning dew did not soften their offense) blades of grass grazed her cheek. She looked at him, lying beside her, staring up at that gorgeous sky. It was for them, it was all for them. The sun shining, the breeze wiping away her sweat with chilly fingers, the world was holding them to sleep.
Kurosaki-kun.
Save us, save me. He had saved her before, from the start, again and again; he lay spent and stared at her with chatoyant eyes that made her feel safe and unsafe at the very same time. Contradictory thoughts, love was like that.
Save me until you can’t.
The death of Ichigo reached in (impaled by Aizen’s arm, ruthlessly fast, he moved through everything now) and squeezed her heart just like Aizen was squeezing Ichigo’s. She wanted to scream, but she couldn’t. She wanted to cry, but she couldn’t. It was just gone; Ichigo had taken everything with him; her smile, her strength.
Aizen was a tumor, he lived inside of them, growing and growing; bruising and festering. On their backs he weighed them down, but he never got into their hearts. That was a special place.
Having no more use for her Aizen’s gaze of nothing found her and pulling his arm out of Ichigo (a line of blood dripping from Ichigo’s mouth drying on his cold skin, his eyes no longer burning with hate for Aizen and love for Orihime) his darkness swallowed her up.
Buzzing; (she hated the sound, it was depressing and she just wanted to shine), insects, medical machines -- dying they sounded the same.
They were too late. Human healers couldn’t do anything, she couldn’t do anything. At least Orihime didn’t have to see Tatsuki cry. That was something.
Ichigo looked at Orihime looking at him. He would rather look at her than the clearest sky, the stars and the moon, explosions bursting into colour; it would always be her soft form his eyes were drawn to. He squeezed her hand. It would be alright.