Author's note: This was originally published in o p i u m – c a t h a r s i s' profile.

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Blistering Thereafter

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Like wine, time can embitter love. Until the acrid aftertaste of pain is the only thing that remains.

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By:
o p i u m – c a t h a r s i s

Dedicated to:
happy-go-lucky-fairy
(From Quizilla)

It was difficult to speak, to confess. For what was there to divulge? Nothing but some uncertain, unripe emotion. It was of little importance; there was no reason to entertain or even think about it. Nima and Renji were best friends—it was incredulous, the thought: she couldn't be attracted to him. No, there were on different planes, different stratums—it was incredulous, the thought. And so Nima decided not to pursue the subject and left it. The matter was closed abruptly and suddenly, without much thought and attention on it.

But, as time passed, the emotion started to plaque her. Her thoughts became disoriented, unorganized, and unruly. How could she find his eyes, his hair, his frown, his skin—his whole being beautiful? How could she imagine herself with Renji romantically? How could she conceive this—this thing?

Without her own volition, Nima found herself awaiting for his return every time he went back to his home. She found herself enjoying their close proximity, welcoming it with shy eagerness when it came.

Then, jealousy.

The envy, that spiteful, grudging admiration tainted the foundation of their bond. It contaminated the friendship that was built on a solemn, mutual oath: secrets. The greatest one Renji gave her and imparted for her to keep, was a name. The name which melded his heart from the languid days of his childhood. Unspoken, revered and understood. The name became a landmark, a milestone, Nima wanted to overcome.

Renji suddenly reciprocated to her subtle actions. He was suddenly awkward, shy and sweet to her. He also asked questions—'Do you think…'—it all made Nima think. Suddenly, she was awake; and that blissful emotion had taken shape into coherent words.

The words threatened to form in her mouth, threatened to spill out everything she instigated and then denied vehemently. She pushed them down in the back of her throat—leaving a sour and bitter taste in her mouth. The feeling tickled her, coaxed her to let it free from the depths of her soul. Even after Renji left, Nima never let it, so it protested violently and fought restlessly against the emptiness of secrecy.

Until it deteriorated and rotted away for fifty years.

Now, she was old. Quite frail too; all wrinkled up and withering with age. All youth in her was already spent—hair white and thin, eyes dim, and her skin clung pitifully to her bones. Her health, her blood, was shriveled up. Nima was eaten up by disease to a point that it has already oxidized her memories into bits of rust.

And seeing Renji Abarai again, it felt like light years returning.

She almost jumped out in joy at the sight of him—almost ran half-blind to him. But the confines of her wheelchair stopped Nima. Constraint and fatigue tied her tongue tightly, forcing her to wave and smile weakly.

"Hey." Renji said, smiling, as youthful as ever.

Her old heart beat painfully against her ribs. Nima squinted through her eyeglasses and peered at his face. What she saw made her inside recoil horridly; Renji's look was painted in pity and grief. For a long while, both of them kept still. Contemplating.

She knew that her death is near, and somehow she felt the need to tell him. She searched herself for the emotion that she left to stagnate for so long. Searched for the right words that were left to hang in her throat.

Finally resolved, Nima garnered Renji's attention and beckoned him nearer with a shriveled hand.

He drew close, taking her hand in his.

"I-I…have…something…t-to t-tell…you…" her voice was raspy from disuse, her lips quivering in effort to speak.

Renji nodded, silent.

"I-It… happened… l-long ago," Nima whispered, forcing her voice to be firm.

"I… almost… loved you."

It was quiet. The seconds stretched, elongated—making the silence deafening. Renji took a step back, his gaze lowered on the ground.

Nima watched his obscure silhouette, waiting for some sort of reply.

He finally spoke, his eyes watching her wizened face carefully, "You could've said it sooner. I wouldn't have waited."

A strange lump found its way in Nima's throat and suddenly, she wanted to run.