inspiration: Bleach Episode 291 ... I cried.
dedication: my darling friend who has been with me since my first fanfic.
author's notes: just remember that love does not necessarily make people 'good', and that their love itself cannot be defined as 'good'. Love may be different for all of us; or it may be the same while we have different interpretations of it. This is merely one of mine.
.
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What was a kiss?
Was it the emotion, the passion behind it? Imbued in it? Or was it the simple act of the pressing of the lips to something?
He did not know - could not tell the difference. The line was so far blurred, into subjection. She did not notice.
He worried - would she look too far into it? She decided to not to - because she loved him, loved him enough to know that the stress and the betrayal might kill him... And that possibility tore at her stomach, twisted her heart, shook and rattled her very soul and essence until she could have doubled over with pain.
But she had to be strong. For him. For the both of them.
But she was frightened, too. So very afraid that she almost wished that Komamura-taichō was here instead - because Shūhei was standing on the edge of a cliff, and she was not sure how to get him to come back to her.
"This ... this was where I told him I didn't want to - didn't deserve to be a Shinigami anymore. I feared battle; my sword ... and the hand that held it. Not that I really had felt comfortable holding it. My hands - " He held them up and turned them over in the pale light of the moon. " - they shook every time I reached for my sword. And once I had managed to grasp the hilt, they were heavy - " He then clenched his hands until they became bloodless fists.
She wanted to scream at him, yank and drag him away from that terrifying edge, punch and kick him for scaring her so badly. She wanted to scream selfishly in his face, make him see what he was doing and how it was affecting her. Maybe shake him for good measure.
But she could not. This was about him.
She trembled and quaked from where she stood. Her stomach felt the sudden need to turn inside out, and her heart stammered and stuttered a frenetic conversation with her ribs. She resisted the urge to pull at her hair but instead slid her hands over Shūhei's.
He was startled, his breath halting, his reverie returning to reality. Her hands were calloused like his but not in the same abundance. His were roughened from the chains of Kazeshini and guitar strings, but mainly Kazeshini. He did not resist or push her away - for when had he ever? - when her fingers pried open his fists and intertwined with his. The two sets laced together until it seemed as though it was one alternating ridged expanse; olive finger, peach finger, olive, peach, olive...
She led him away from the edge, taking one step at a time. Her feet were silent in their retreat so not to spook him. He did not want to let go - so he maintained the distance; for each step she took, he followed in some sort of slow, cautious dance.
His eyes were downcast, but he still took that extra step despite Sakura already stopping. Their grip quickly grew gawky in such a cramped position held before them, the bridge between their chests.
She let go first. He did not want her to - his fingers dropped from hers quite reluctantly. He did not know what to do; his hands floated in an awkward limbo, and he did not know where to place them.
Reaching up, Sakura gently placed a hand on Shūhei's jaw, cradling the hard line. With the other hand she brushed his bangs from his eyes - and such surprised eyes she found with that sweep. They were clear now, that glorious gray that she knew so well - not the brittle slate that came with anger, not the hazy mist that came with nostalgia, but a rippling silk that told her that he saw her.
"Sakura - !" His voice was suddenly very loud but just as suddenly switched dynamics. "... Why are you crying?"
Her thumb caressed his cheek, feeling the raised scar tissue under the pad. "Oh, Shūhei," she whispered, keeping her sorrowed eyes on his. "I'm so sorry."
She could have chuckled at the irony. She had known. She recognized vengeance when she saw it - even if it be in the eyes of a blind man. There had been that consuming hatred and single-mindedness, too. She had seen firsthand the atrocities that it all had dealt - the way the individual was warped and distorted as he chose the downward spiraling path. Descending then falling until the inevitable sinking to the furthest low. The similarities were incredible to the point of disturbing.
"I'm sorry," she repeated, ignoring the taste of salt on her lips, "You lost your Tōsan - "
A breath of rueful laughter blew over her face. " - Tōsen, Sakura, Tōsen," he reminded her, his hands finally settling at her waist.
She smiled briefly. But then his amusement was gone, so she was unhappy, too.
Eyes glazing over, he murmured, "I had already lost him."
Panic filled her - she was losing him again. "Shūhei ... You promised to open his eyes - and you did that! Even if it was for a moment."
He was focusing again on her; his gaze searching her eyes and roaming her face. Sakura filled his vision; her expressions had never been difficult to read. Her eyes - so green - glimmered with the film of tears and shined in the moonlight. She was all he had left. He leaned closer, his gaze dropping to her lips and their unique shape, the way they said his name -
"... - Shūhei, stop."
Sakura gently placed a firm finger on his lips. "Don't do this - not now."
He released a disconcerted sigh, his mouth parting and his warm breath against her skin, and she made no effort to disguise her shiver.
"When?"
Sakura removed her finger and looped her arms around his shoulders. He held her tighter, their bodies now flush. Her head rested on his chest as her fingers threaded themselves in the shorter hairs above the nape of his neck.
Her voice was slightly muffled, but the only thing here to distract him was Sakura herself. "When you kiss me... Kiss me for me. Kiss me when I'm the first thing on your mind."
It was a selfish demand - she knew that - but she did not want to be convenient or an afterthought; she who just happens to be there. She knew he loved her. She loved him, too, whether or not she was ready. She was not quite sure if she was ready to take that jump - that jump before falling in love, that fall before landing, and that landing that was so hard that it did not break her bones but her heart.
He did not quite understand. But that was okay because he loved her enough to do what she wanted of him. He did not agree, but he did not disagree. So he leaned his head over hers, his cheek and lips brushing against her hair and took what he thought he could.
.
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author's notes: this was going to be part of my drabble series, but I decided that it should stand on its own and to expand it. While it may look like it, Sakura and Shūhei are not my favorite BleachxNaruto pairing. Sakura and Renji FTW.