Could We Maybe
Disclaimer: Don't own Bleach or none of that.
So I felt like having a sappy, passionate Yoruichi today. Bite me.
She could often see that longing, that soft wistfulness within that golden gaze whenever they were in places like these— somewhere public and entertaining and so conceivably romantic. Somewhere like this where they were so out of place.
Look at all of them. Strolling hand in hand, smiling with such affection, flirting with such familiar playfulness. . . .
It was only an amusement park— a place to have fun and enjoy oneself, but also the inevitable hotspot for couples.
She spared a momentary glance across at the one walking beside her— the one so beautiful that she was sometimes hard to look at, so gorgeous that sometimes, she swore she must be dreaming, as this was the girl of her dreams—whose head was turned in a rather desperate crane to watch at a young pair engaging in a kiss so heartfelt that it actually made her heart tug a little in yearning.
When the two broke apart, eyes of molten lava met with hers.
"Did you see that, Suì-Fēng? How precious." A small grin, void of mischief and cunning, but full of very detectable melancholy. "Makes you wish you had something like that, doesn't it?"
Suì-Fēng nodded just to soothe her, and the other girl rested her head on her shoulder with a sigh since they were friends, but internally something akin to desire churned almost sourly in the abyss of her stomach. Because oh, how she did have something like that, even if it were incomplete—a heart bursting and bleeding with an undying love for the one beside her, and she could have that too, the romance she'd always wanted, if she would just look her way.
On impulse, she interlaced their fingers once her love's breath tickled her neck, wondering just what she was doing. The other girl inhaled deeply, didn't pull away, and Suì-Fēng wondered just what she was doing as well.
She wondered just what they looked like as they meandered through the park, hand in hand, her head on her shoulder, surrounded by the various, colorful lights illuminating from the numerous rides.
"Yoruichi . . ." she murmured when it all became too much for her, when this pretend that she wished to be real began to eat away at edges of the box she'd locked her feelings into . . . .
"Mmm?" Said girl nuzzled her face into Suì-Fēng's neck, and in response, she jerked away a reasonable distance. "Whaaaat? It's chilly out here . . . ."
"Yoruichi," she said again, though she didn't know why (perhaps she just liked having the name on her tongue), "How badly . . . do you want it?"
Even though Suì-Fēng had distanced herself, she found that Yoruichi was already so close again that their shoulders were touching— that she could feel her warmth through her orange windbreaker, a warmth that melted her a little on the inside.
She loved the way some things could just be left unsaid, like the origin of her question, but still the dark-skinned girl knew of what she was speaking of, tilting back her head in thought. After a pause, a voice like velvet, yet doused in solemnity replied, "I actually couldn't tell you how much, Suì. You know I'm hopelessly romantic."
"Just know that," Suì-Fēng stiffened as caramel fingers brushed against her cheek, sweeping her hair around one ear, "I'm tired. I'm young, but I'm tired of searching and just ready for someone to love me as much as I love them, y'know?"
She could feel the blush blossoming across her face and creeping up her neck at the gesture, so she just gave an affirmative grunt, thinking that that was exactly what she wanted, what she craved with a passionate thirst as well . . .
However, she only needed it from a certain person.
Yoruichi nudged her gently with one elbow, "What about you?"
As Suì-Fēng stared off at two people before the petting zoo, sharing a stick of cotton candy, the answer rolled unthinkingly right off her tongue, "Same here . . . ."
The elbow nudge was suddenly more jibing, although the tone was understanding, "Ahh~ so the stony, broken bee does have a heart." I do and it beats solely for you.
Their hands met each other's again, this time not of Suì-Fēng's own accord, and when she peered over at the taller girl, the response was: "My hands are cold. Come on, Suì, win me that stuffed kitten over there."
Suì-Fēng decided to acquiesce because there was nothing else she could do when being flashed the most enchanting smile in the world . . . .
It did hurt to scowl that deeply— hurt the fucking bruise purpling on her jaw and the scratch stinging the bridge of her nose from the furrowing of her eyebrows. Hurt the cut on her lip from the silent snarl stretching it out. Hurt that area between her left ribs, already sore and bluish, and that thing in her chest— that wretched thing throbbing and aching.
. . . That thing in her chest that tended to love the unlikeliest, most inappropriate things.
Or, perhaps she was just blaming everything on her scowl now . . .
But her scowl was her lifeline at the moment, the only thing holding herself together. If she scowled enough, then her face muscles would be focused on that and her chin would not tremble, and her lip would not quiver, and— and . . . she would not cry.
She would not cry.
She just needed— needed . . . something. Band-Aids. Alcohol. Advil. Something to drown the pain in. Something to make her forget.
She intensified glower as she sulked along the sidewalk, cursing her parents, and herself, and the fucked-up, discriminating world.
What, I couldn't just be like them? She thought angrily, eyeing the blithe couple, girl and boy, exiting an ice cream shop.
She glanced over at the street— straight and unwinding— and she loathed it, and her jaw hurt, and her lip hurt, and her ribs hurt, and—
Somebody bumped into her, and it might as well have been a brick wall— solid and unyielding. She staggered back a few steps, winded, the injury on her side searing, as well as her aggravation. Everyone would just keep knocking her around, would they?
Righting herself, she snarled in exasperation, "Why can't anyone ever fucking watch where they're going?"
"Well, I dunno." The flippancy of the response startled her, but more so that there was a response. "You tell me, seeing that you're the one running into people."
Her head snapped back, and she was gazing up into gold. There was a girl grinning down at her— perhaps a couple of years older— dark-skinned and bright-eyed, long, mauve locks pulled into a high pony tail.
Absolutely exquisite . . . .
Her mouth was suddenly dry, her heart was fluttering, and she wanted to welcome this feeling, but inside, something was seething in the pit of her stomach, because how dare she instigate such thoughts within her— such thoughts that had caused these bruises on her body and the pain in her chest?
She wanted to drown her hurt. Why not drown it in her fury?
"What?" She could hear the danger, the warning in her own voice— her own, irrational rage. Her own instability.
The other girl raised an eyebrow, appearing unfazed— divine, and exquisite, and Suì-Fēng hated her. "I'm saying you're at fault here. Go on. Apologize."
Apologize? She had nothing to apologize for. She was just being herself. Stubborn. Deliriously temperamental. A shattered, battered, broken bee. Haughty and . . .
As gay as gayness came.
As a broiling heat washed over her and her vision went red, she didn't even see herself swing a fist. She only heard the pop as it connected with flesh, blinking and noticing it buried in a very surprised, young woman's cheek. Somehow, that only fed her flames of wrath, her second fist pummeling toward the girl's stomach, but it was last-minutely caught between two hands with a, "Whoa!"
So Suì-Fēng tackled her. The two of them hit the sidewalk hard, but maybe more so herself, because despite that she'd done the assaulting, she was oddly on bottom. The position weakened her, a firm, intimate straddle, however she wasn't entirely focused on that— only her knee repeatedly jamming abdominals, and her hand yanking on locks of purple, and her head butting and ramming — and she hated— she hated herself right then. (What the hell was this? What the hell was she doing?) She hated the world and her parents and this girl who heightened her insecurities.
She was pinned in twenty seconds, staring up into a gaze that was full of both severity and concern.
"Hey," the girl said, head tilting, a wisp from her pony tail brushing against Suì-Fēng's cheek. "You really pack a wallop."
Suì-Fēng blinked, feeling the rage gradually dissipating, leaving only embarrassment and the vague discomfort of being caught between this girl's thighs. " . . . I . . . ." Her voice left her, but the burning in her eyes returned, tears glistening, and she turned her head, just wishing she was anywhere but here, that this was anything but happening.
Amber orbs were softening, — she wondered why— examining her too closely, too thoroughly. "Mmm, you okay? Did I hurt you?" Warm fingers gently took hold of her jaw, thumb grazing along the manifested purple bruise, to which Suì-Fēng jerked away from once reveling in the sensation several seconds too long, once realization bloomed within irises of molten lava.
She'd never hit her in the jaw.
Suì-Fēng slipped hastily out from underneath her, standing, hand to her face, wondering about the sudden care in that tone, even after . . . Hell, I just assaulted her.
"I-I-I'm fine." She inhaled shudderingly, the heel of her palm wiping away a stray wetness from her eye. Jeez. "Are you . . . ?"
The girl stood as well, staring at her curiously, tightening her pony tail, and straightening her black, one-sleeved top . . . She was going somewhere . . . .
"Yeah, I'm good." She cocked a hip. "But listen— you sure you're—"
At that moment, the dam broke, the pain washing in with a torrent tears. It exploded, leaving Suì-Fēng in a fit of sniffles, of sobs and aches, and suddenly, there were arms around her, pulling her in, wiping away the moisture, soothing the wracking of her body.
She smelled like cinnamon.
"Ahhh, a terrible liar, you are . . . ." Fingers in her hair. "I've got you, alright? So you'll be fine."
. . . you'll be fine.
Why on earth was she doing this for her?
"I . . . attacked you," Suì-Fēng croaked bewilderedly between cries, "I a-attacked you for no r-reason, and it was s-so stupid, so unreasonable of me . . ." Gosh, there really was something wrong with her to be in a situation such as this right then.
"I doubt you didn't have a reason . . . shhh . . . ."
"I'm so sorry. I-I don't . . . I don't know . . . what's wrong with me . . . it just hurts." Everything just hurts so badly. Everything hurt— her chest, her ribs, her head, and why was she revealing all of this to this complete stranger, this peculiar girl hugging her to her bosom in the middle of the sidewalk?
It was so compelling, so comforting, so easy to surrender against the body of this girl, to cling to her, to cry her heart out . . . .
At her words, dark-skinned arms squeezed her tighter. "Then I'll be right here with you until it stops . . . ."
Her mind was as settled as her stomach right about then— uneasy, troubled, and whirring. She lay her head in her palm, observing the girl opposite her, somehow achingly attractive even as she wolfed down the unhealthiest of foods. (Sometimes she wished she wasn't so head over heels so that her heart didn't tire her out so much— always tugging, and jolting, and racing . . . .)
Yoruichi was curiously studying her as well, and it was unnerving, how intent a gaze could become. Or how restless her gaze could cause her to be.
A head of light violet tilted, a French fry hanging paused, thoughtfully, between two, full lips. Flip. At this point, her heart was no longer hers.
"Are you sure you didn't want anything, Suì?" The question was soaked in the same, unconditional concern present the day they'd met, and every day they'd ever spent together (and sometimes, Suì-Fēng liked to indulge in the painfully sweet fantasy where Yoruichi was being purposefully chivalric, treating this as the date they longed for.) "If you'd asked, I would've gotten you something."
But just to ask. Made it sound as if asking could get you anything. If she asked right now, for Yoruichi to love her and stay by her side, would she say yes?
Anxiety overtook her again as she shrugged sheepishly. "I'm fine, actually. Just not a big fan of fair foods."
The girl seated opposite of her, on the other side of the picnic table, pouted endearingly, eyelashes lowered. "Aww, and here I was, planning to share my funnel cake with you."
A warm smile came next, and her stomach plummeted further. The question she'd been meaning to ask that had been on her mind most of the day, and her tongue, finally could not be kept any longer.
"Yoruichi . . ." Suì-Fēng found her mouth to be dry and her face to be hot. She fidgeted and let her eyes drift elsewhere, which happened to frustratingly land on the two canoodling behind the yakitori stand. "What . . . What do you desire in your ideal partner?"
The dark-skinned girl appeared a bit bemused by the question, but seemed to welcome it all the same. Following Suì-Fēng's gaze, she shrugged. "I guess what everyone wants— perfection."
Something was suddenly gripping Suì-Fēng's lungs in its cruel, frigid grasp. She winced and hoped it was subtle— deflated and hoped it went unnoticed.
Yoruichi, could you ever look at me and see perfection?
There was a warmth in her hand, and when she glanced down, she found it was Yoruichi's. Almost as if to say . . . rest assured. Oh. That fluttering there, deep in her core . . . .
"But of course, if I searched for that, I'd be looking forever . . . ."
She seemed to know all the right words to discourage her. Dammit, just look right here.
Yoruichi released a small chuckle, thumb running over the back of Suì-Fēng's hand, fingers dancing, playing with hers, and she shivered. "It would be useless, anyhow, because it's not like ever I'd look for love. I'd want us to fall into each other, to click. Perfection to me would be . . . whoever I happen to fall in love with, and I tend to fall for the unlikeliest and seemingly most inappropriate of things."
The shorter girl blinked at the vague familiarity of the words and might've said something, had Yoruichi not inquired, "What do you think, Suì-Fēng?"
It actually scared her— how fast her mind replied with: Yoruichi, you are the most perfect thing in the world to me.
She gasped something short and flustered. "I . . . I agree with you."
In response, the Shihouin suddenly stood, stretching, the toned area of her abdomen subtly exposed. "I think a girl like you, Suì, should have someone by now."
Suì-Fēng stared at her, aware of the inevitable blush manifesting on her cheeks. A girl like her?
" . . . Where did that come from?" She mumbled as Yoruichi grinned, beckoning her closer to sling an arm across her shoulder.
"My heart," was the offhand reply, and Suì-Fēng smiled just a bit, allowing herself to lean only slightly into the taller girl's shoulder.
"Flattery. With that, I'm surprised you're still single as well, Yoruichi."
Said girl looked down at her, tiger eyes more captivating than the moon, which was now visible and gleaming overhead.
"Yeah?" There was a momentary flicker of . . . something heavy and otherwise unidentifiable. "Heh, well, love is a lot more than flattery, I'm sure."
"Have you ever even been in love, Yoruichi?" The question flew forth from her mouth before she could even think it through, and for a fleeting second, the Shihouin appeared to falter, nearly stumbling as well. She stopped, arm slipping from its perch on thin shoulders, and Suì noticed that it was meant to seem like a thoughtful pause instead of a startled halt.
"Ah . . ." Their fingers brushed. "Just once."
It was then that Suì-Fēng fully understood.
"What about you?"
"Yeah . . . just once."
"So what's your name, huh?"
"S-Suì-Fēng . . . ."
"Suì-Fēng, like first name, surname?"
"No, like altogether . . . a nickname."
"Ohhh, nicknames already~? . . . Ah, okay, I'm Shihouin Yoruichi."
Yoruichi . . . .
They sat there moments after that, silently on the wooden park bench, the shorter girl soundlessly whispering the new name to herself, tasting it on her on tongue, liking the flavor, and the taller girl with her arm thrown over the back of the seat, legs crossed.
Yoruichi broke the silence, and Suì-Fēng wasn't surprised. She did seem like that kind of individual— outgoing and free-spirited, a trait that, for the life of her, Suì-Fēng could not seem to obtain.
"So, what was that all about, hm? Earlier?"
"I . . ." There was a throbbing in her temples as she tried to think of an excuse, what to say, how to respond. Of course she'd want answers. You couldn't just jump someone and not provide them with a reason why. Even so,
Why am I still here? I don't have to answer this . . . .
She looked down at her fingers, fumbling amongst themselves in uncertainty, recalling why she was even at this park.
But I don't want to be alone. And she'd . . . she'd said . . .
"I'll be right there with you until it stops . . ."
But she couldn't tell her.
She raised her gaze, opening her mouth. "I . . . I thought you were someone else."
Yoruichi blinked lazily at her. "Someone else?"
"Yeah." It was simple, absolute, please shut up now.
The Shihouin's expression remained unconvinced, almost pouty even, and she cocked her head back to the sky. "Keep your secrets then, kid—"
"I told you, I—!"
"—But I meant what I said."
Suì-Fēng instantly shut her mouth, her spike of anger dissolving to nothingness, leaving only shock and confusion and something . . . warm. The dark-skinned girl merely grinned lightly, knowingly, and Suì-Fēng didn't understand.
She could only tremble, gape, rasp in voice so pleading, "Why?" Why? Hell, she didn't know her. She'd wailed on her for letting her emotions get the better of her. Yoruichi didn't have to comfort her, she didn't need to be here trying to talk to her . . . . She ground her teeth. "You know, I don't need your pity!"
"Great," came the shrugged reply, complete with a provoking smirk, "because I haven't any to spare."
Suì-Fēng stared at her, a stare turning fast into a glare, the dislike for this girl returning. Yoruichi stared back, a stare that was still entirely a stare, with the exception of her gaze, softening into something less harsh. "You just . . . intrigue me . . ." she eventually said, words drawn out with an uncertainty Suì-Fēng was sure didn't show itself often.
The younger girl could feel the familiar formation of a grimace. Of course. "So I assume my situation amuses you?" Damn it, why was she still here, humiliating herself further?
"No."
"Then what?"
"You draw me in, Suì-Fēng."
Said girl froze, something tightening in her chest, a something that wasn't entirely uncomfortable. She closed her eyes, inhaling unevenly, wondering just when her breath had left her. "How . . . should I take that?"
"Exactly how it was said. It holds no other meaning."
Eyes still shut, voice trembling for a reason unbeknownst to her, she queried again, "Why?"
And they only opened when she felt the warm wisps of breath on her face, heard the soft answer, "Because I can read you like an open book."
Her eyelids finally lifted before blinking at their sudden proximity, before flinching back a few.
"And it's refreshing," Yoruichi continued with a not-quite-smile, "because normally, I can't read people, and they can't read me. It's an enigmatic miscommunication— but I can understand you.
"Do you think you can understand me?"
Suì-Fēng thought she could. She thought she figured she knew the kind of person Yoruichi was. Playful and easy-going, but strong and stern when she could be. Heartfelt when she wanted to. Dangerous when she had to. But elegant, always.
The younger girl nodded.
The Shihouin sat back, seemingly content. And Suì-Fēng just looked at her, taking in her attire and appearance once again.
" . . . Were you going somewhere, Yoruichi-san?"
"Gross, it's just Yoruichi, Suì-Fēng." She huffs tiredly. "I had a date."
Suì-Fēng faltered. A . . . date? "Am I . . . keeping you?"
Laughing somewhat, the dark-skinned girl dismissed her entirely, "Nah. He probably went home by now, after I didn't show."
Suì-Fēng wondered how she could say that so offhandedly as if it didn't bother her . . . .
Yoruichi probably noticed the look. "Don't sweat it. I don't think he would've been right for me, anyway."
"But aren't dates are supposed to be where you decide if they're right for you?"
"No," The Shihouin snorted with a hint of a grin. "Dates are where I find my inevitable partner for life."
And despite her personality, her words were oddly passionate, much like the ones uttered to her at her breaking point, as she'd collapsed into coffee-colored arms . . . .
"How would you know?" Suì-Fēng asked quietly, more absently than anything, idly musing how one would deduce such a thing.
"Because when I meet them," and suddenly, Yoruichi was sidling closer, arm about Suì-Fēng's shoulder, hot breath, alluring voice in her ear, "we should attract. We should immediately go . . . click . . . ."
And Suì-Fēng swallowed thickly with difficulty, ears burning, cheeks burning, heart thumping but also yearning, yearning, yearning . . . . For something . . .
. . . just now . . .
. . . had went . . .
click.
Her face, silhouetted against the soft glow of the moon, made the unsettling rocking and creaking of the Ferris Wheel gondola the tiniest bit more bearable as she tensely clenched the bar before her in a killer grasp, a mantra of "Don't look down," reverberating in her head.
The expression was a mixture between childish excitement and utter bliss, violets wisps of hair blowing lightly away from her face, fingers treading through the fur of the stuffed kitten, and Suì Fēng couldn't stifle the fond smile altering her lips at the sight, despite that she was practically jumping each time the basket tilted.
Yoruichi caught her gaze. "You're smiling."
I find myself doing so a lot more when I'm with you. "I was just thinking . . ." She paused, eyeing the fair happening below them and found that she actually hadn't a manner to end the sentence. And for some reason, it was perturbing— the fact that Yoruichi could just numb her like that, make her much too cognizant of the atmosphere. The atmosphere —with the gorgeous flickering of park lights, and the overhead view of the entire area, and the moon, still bathing the one beside her in its ethereal radiance, and- and the fact that Yoruichi was looking at her like that (whether she was aware of it or not)— was stifling. " . . . About . . . ."
Stop pretending— that was another mantra swirling about in her mind, chanting, chanting, chanting, around and around like the very wheel of which she was riding. I want to stop pretending.
That friends were all they were. That there was no ache to be more. That this was so effortless when it hurt. And she'd been trying, enduring for the entirety of the day, yet . . .
They ended up in these types of places for a reason. These types of places, feeling jealous and craving something . . . fulfilling.
She did recognize the hand on her thigh, the feigning friendliness, when it was so much something more intimate.
Yoruichi, I understand what you've been doing.
She placed her hand above the darker one.
And what you'd like for me to do.
" . . . A lot of everything, really."
Yoruichi furrowed her brow, and Suì-Fēng discerned the look as pressing. But behind it was something knowing– this she knew because reading the taller girl had become a talent of hers. "Is it bothering you?"
"It is. Because I don't know . . ." She halted, staggered, numbed again by her companion, by the hand on her leg. "No, I know. I know why we're here, and what we're doing, and these are the sort of things I think about. I can see. I can feel. And that's why I think so much about . . . " She inhaled shakily, finally finishing, " . . . How it would be if we were to maybe . . . fall for each other . . . ."
Keeping her eyes on the land below her, she swallowed thickly, noting the relaxation of the hand underneath hers.
"Why would you fantasize about that?" Yoruichi breathed quietly at last, voice low, face near.
Suì-Fēng became lightheaded, her head still turned, looking anywhere but at the one beside her. She realized she was trembling and hoped it was only because of the chill, even though her face was steaming. In her cowardice, off her tongue rolled, "W-Well, y'know, we both seek love, so . . ." and then sensed as the Shihouin tensed her hand.
No, wait, wait! The thing in her chest wouldn't slow down. Answer honestly . . . .
She took another breath, her attention drifting to the red carousel lights blinking in time with her wretched heart. "Because . . . I think we look at each other the same way, Yoruichi . . . ." With same longing, the same wishing, the same pining present in their eyes.
The hand on her thigh turned palm up, locking fingers with hers.
"So what," the words were even softer, nearly wavering, almost lost in the wind, "if I told you that your fantasy had become reality, Suì-Fēng?"
"Well," She felt as though it were the final, deciding answer to some sort of test— that the only thing to fall from her mouth should be her heart. She finally lifted her gaze, silver locking onto golden, locking onto the eagerness within gold, and experienced something . . . blithe. "There would be no words . . ."
"No words?" Yoruichi repeated in a whisper, so achingly close, her radiating warmth so bewitchingly scrumptious.
"None," Suì-Fēng confirmed quietly, her lips brushing Yoruichi's as she spoke, who, in turn, shivered lightly, gripping onto her fingers as though they were a lifeline. And just witnessing the Shihouin as anxious as she— Suì-Fēng couldn't help but unravel, succumb, push more more, kiss her . . . something soft and chaste and . . . warm. Something that gave her a sense of completion, a taste of the fulfillment of love she had so longed for.
Yoruichi, Yoruichi, Yoruichi . . . how do you always do this to me? Fill me with such elation?
Just one kiss, sweet, only about five seconds, but it was . . . it wasn't anything astonishing. Anything jolting. Yoruichi's lips to hers . . . it was just oddly familiar, filling her with a sense of blissful naturalness, like this . . . like she'd done this before, like it was second-nature for her to do so.
As if it were meant to be.
And thatone kiss was her moment of realization. Her awakening. This could— they could . . . .
"Didn't I tell you . . . ?" her beloved murmured, drawing closer again, holding her gaze, dark hand on pale cheek. "We can have this, too . . . ."
Yeah, yes, they honestly could— she believed they could, believed that they deserved to.
"We can have everything we wanted." Yoruichi drew another kiss from her, longer, taking her breath with her so that she was panting, eyelids fluttering, but so overwhelmingly happy. "We can go to romantic places and kiss and touch and have other people look at us, wishing they had the love we did . . . ."
She . . . liked the sound of that . . . .
"Right?"
And she liked the sound of Yoruichi's voice, so enamored and smitten and exactly how she was feeling, and her touch, something hot and cold . . .
And she realized that she rather liked the sensation of the Ferris Wheel as made its last descent, loved this moment, loved how it was so
"Right . . ."
A/N: Oh, jeez, this took forever . . . R&R please, mi amigos!