Characters: Rangiku, Gin
Summary: "Something's wrong. You've been acting really weird lately. More so than usual." Rangiku wonders if there's anything she could have done. GinRan.
Pairings: GinRan
Warnings/Spoilers: Spoilers for Soul Society arc
Timeline: just before the start of the Soul Society arc
Author's Note: Feedback would be much appreciated; I always welcome reviews.
Disclaimer: I don't own Bleach.
…I'm losing you
Trust me on this one
I've got a bad feeling
Trust me on this one
—The Moment I Said It by Imogen Heap
Naturally, the place she has chosen is secluded and not easily accessible. They are standing in a night-darkened alleyway, water dripping sluggishly out of the gutter on the far end; the only source of light is the pale golden glow emanating from a small, frosted window about seven feet up. They won't be disturbed here.
"I was wondering if everything's alright." Her arms folded around her waist tensely, Rangiku's tone is more serious and far quieter than it usually is, her blue eyes wide with concern as she searches Gin's face for any sign of aberrant emotion.
If Gin is at all affected by this line of questioning, he does a good job of hiding it. All he does is tilt his head to one side as though he's trying to peer more closely at her; his eyes remain half-shut even in the darkness, with only the slightest hint of light blue pupils. "What do you mean, Rangiku?"
The all-too-innocent tone he often takes tonight makes a sting of irritation, and, further down, worry, rise in Rangiku's stomach; she knows she's being circumvented. "I'm concerned. You seem, I don't know, preoccupied. That's hardly typical of you, Gin." Only in private can discretion be dropped, can Rangiku really be open like this.
"I don't know where you get that idea, Rangiku. I'm not preoccupied at all; I've actually had less much work to do than normal lately."
A dull roll of thunder booms from far off in the distance—not an immediate concern—and Rangiku bites her lip, shaking her head vigorously, the need to speak bubbling in her throat. "You're lying and you know it. Something's up."
Rangiku raises a hand and tentatively touches his cheek. "Something's wrong. You've been acting really weird lately. More so than usual." Her eyes narrow, as if she thinks she can pierce the surface of his skin, pick him apart and see the truth under every falsehood and vacillation. And maybe she could have, if she had just been given more time. More gently, Rangiku adds, "Gin, whatever's going on, you can tell me. If something's bad enough that it's got you acting strange, stranger, then I want to know."
"Nothing's wrong, Rangiku." Gin is unusually earnest now, the shadows half-veiling his face and, Rangiku notes with foreboding, hiding him from her. He leans forward, hands on her shoulders, and rests his cheek against her hair. "Nothing's wrong, I swear."
Rangiku remains unconvinced, but knows that he will not budge from this stubborn position, realizes that direct confrontation was not the way to get an answer out of Gin.
Nothing more will be accomplished tonight.
Rangiku jerks awake, and almost immediately, her outstretched hand flies to the region of the bed to her left. Her hand hits cool, crumpled sheets and tendrils of her own wavy hair, and Rangiku realizes that she is alone. Of course she's alone. She has woken up with the memories of another night long past fresh in her mind, and the phantom sensations, of gasps and sweat and rising heat, is still enough to make Rangiku's throat constrict and her eyes sting.
Rangiku thinks of Gin every time she wakes up alone.
It's too hot, too humid in this room. The walls are too close. Rangiku feels like she's about to suffocate. With a sudden burst of energy, she rips the sheets off of her and gets up out of bed. Barefoot, she traipses over to the window, usually deft fingers fumbling at the latch, and pushes the pane upwards. Cool night air hits the sweat dripping on her face and making her clothes cling stubbornly to the curves of her body, as moonlight washes her hair and skin white. The white walls of her bedroom are given a soft glow by the light of the moon.
Rangiku wonders if there's anything she could have done.
She stands, sweaty, white-washed, aching in the absence of another who fit into the grooves of her skin like a fitted glove. Listening with her whole body for a familiar voice that will now seem as a stranger, eyes dry but burning like smoldering coals. Waiting instinctively, the knowledge in her mind but not yet in her body that she will remain alone, tonight and every other night, for Gin to materialize out of the midnight darkness.
Is there possibly anything she could have done?
She knew Gin better than anyone else, or at least she thought she did, and now the guilt and pain she feels over her betrayal is the price paid for her complacency.
The night sends in cold fingers of wind, making papers on top of Rangiku's dresser flutter and fall to the floor. They melt into the navy blue darkness.
There is something she could have done. She could have seen beneath his skin, peeled away all the lies and secrets, kept him here, stopped all of this…
…If she had just had more time.