Disclaimer: I don't own these characters nor am I making any money writing this story.
Pairing: Shirosaki/Ichigo. ShiroIchi.
Warnings: Death & resurrection cycle. Future slash. Language. Not beta'ed.
Settings: Mostly Hell and Earth, mentions of others. Futuristic!AU.
…
Paying Dues
…
June 1867
London
The room was in chaos. Books were lying around everywhere rather than standing in their proper places on the shelves. Several crumpled sheets of paper were tossed on the floor. The broken windows could no longer give any sense of security as wild, frosty wind danced inside the Victorian mansion.
He made his way through the chaos towards the bed, carelessly kicking stuff out of his way. He kneeled then down in front of Ichigo, who didn't move an inch and scowled at him in his usual manner. Those unique, abysmal eyes only a true damned one could posses looked down at the boy, regarding him calmly and misleadingly passively as if the being with an alabaster skin colour was trying to hide a tornado of emotions from spilling out in the open. Suddenly the orange head reached out to him, cupping his cold cheek with tanned hand, thumb softly brushing over the flawless, white skin.
Caught by surprise the albino just stayed silent and stared into those innocent eyes that managed to look at him in such a clear, studying way. No judgment or fear polluting their purity whatsoever.
His chest tightened a bit. He loved this boy. Oh gods how he loved him so. Has had always loved him. They were two pieces of a whole, fitting together like yin and yang. Polar opposites or seemingly contrary forces that were interconnected strongly with each other. Even way before the Earth started circling around the Sun the pale being sensed that one day he'd be granted to meet his destined one that would complete him. And he had met him. Repeatedly over the time. A punishment, torture and sweet mercy. Yet… their time was almost up. He couldn't help but feel so... insignificant and far away from the orange haired teen, mere boy in his eyes. Going through those years, decades and ages alone. Suffering in his loneliness. Always waiting, always praying to be allowed meeting his other half sooner. But waiting and suffering alone he could deal with. It was nothing. Something he was used to. It was the life—the existence that he only knew of. What he couldn't stand though was the thought about the impossible vastness of space that separated them and the unbreakable chains he was shackled with. It was enough to pull him under the wave of hopelessness and grief each time they've met and this realization was close to shattering his heart into million pieces.
Because sometimes love wasn't nearly enough. And sometimes it was not a blessing but the cruelest curse imaginable. The pale man's eyes saddened; he knew it firsthand, didn't he?
Ichigo's eyes unconsciously wandered to albino's collarbone then lower, searching for the one thing that was out of place there. Where used to be miles and miles of deliciously milky white skin stretched over the corded muscles. Now there was a large scar, going through the very center of his chest ending near the tender place where the heart should be.
Often he thought that the only time he had completely opened up to Ichigo as well as laid their future on the orangette's shoulders was after that particular, dreadful incident, he refused to be reminded details of not to ruin their last moment together.
Instead, the albino pulled his black coat tighter around him, hating how vulnerable he felt under the steady gaze of those piercing amber eyes. He tried to swallow inconspicuously and calm his wildly beating heart, still feeling Ichigo's touch on his cheek as if it was burning iron brand. The albino welcomed and embraced the close to holy touch of this pure-hearted human on his damned skin. Chuckling inwardly, he thought how he must possess some kind of masochistic tendencies he wasn't aware of before to take pleasure in something that was obviously giving him pain, but he wouldn't dwell on technicalities. It was Ichigo. Not any human, but his—his human. Ichigo. The little protector who never looked with fear at the damned angel—a mere demon now in name after being stripped of his holiness. Ichigo was different, he always looked at him with compassion and hurt at the injustice that befallen the pale being.
Remembering how good the orange head was never ceased to make him feel guilty. His heart was constantly being constricted due to an onslaught of emotions. It was a miracle he still stayed sane to this point.
The brat was seriously bad for him. But he couldn't say that he disliked it. To him Ichigo was like a safe port to a ship when the sea was angry. He clung strongly to the memory of orangette when alone. Waiting for his love to reincarnate. And to the vision before the damned angel's eyes when they were finally reunited. Just like a dying man clutches at straws. The boy was his only freedom, his only purpose to still fight, to still rememebr, to still exist as himself, as a former angel, as Zangetsu—The Slaying Moon.
"I want to be with you, Shiro."
Shiro swallowed with difficulty. "Ya don't know what yer sayin' brat."
"I don't want to be separated from you ever again." Ichigo continued as if he didn't even register the albino spoke at all.
"Never." The redhead growled, accentuating his desire, wish and plea, all rolled in one.
And although he was exhausted, barely in hold of his senses due to a blood loss, but his gaze never wavered. He pulled Shiro's head down by taking a hold of his white, loose shirt that was unfastened there underneath the heavy coat. Then he proceed to kiss him with a passion and force of a dying man that he truly was.
Shiro whined into the kiss, feeling his limbs tremble under the teen's spirit.
He loved the boy. He'd do anything for him. And going against Ichigo's wishes and erasing his memory of another failed attempt at breaching hell was comparable to pouring scalding water over his eyes.
He wrenched violently from Ichigo's grasp, heaving heavily.
"This is already th' eight time ya've incarnated, Ichigo. I don't know how much longer yer body an' soul can take it. It'd be better if we st—" This time his words were cut off by a fist, instead of a bruising kiss.
"Don't you dare to finish that." Ichigo sneered, suddenly regaining all of his strength. "I'll never give up. You hear me? Never in my fucking life. I swear it on my mother's grave!"
"G—goddamn ya, Ichi…" Shiro whined, utterly disarmed. And this time it was the pale damned angel who initiated the bloody and vicious lip-lock. It looked like they were both going to be damned for all eternity if this wasn't going to work. Either Ichigo breached each and every of hell's circles and save Shiro, or they'd both die trying or end up imprisoned forever separately as a punishment.
That would break them. To not see each other ever fucking again.
That's why this was their only option. The only shot at freedom left.
Either way—Shiro's heart was strangely at ease. He had the love of his life fighting a lost battle to free him from the fucking hell itself and it was better than hundreds of empty love proclamations he had received when he was still at the peak of his glory and strength as one of the God's angels.
He was needed, desired, and missed. Fiercely fought for.
And it was indeed enough for him.
It was.
"Reject." Shiro started whispering under his breath the incantation for the eight time since they have started this dance with death itself. He lowered his hand over Ichigo's forehead and painted a cross over the redhead's forehead with his own dark blood. The excess of it dripped onto the floor, creating spots around the dirty but comfortable shoes he liked to summon when in the human realm. His body was becoming to fall under the trance as he chanted faster and faster the words in the dead language known to no mortal but his—Ichigo.
It was important for the success of the spell that the albino stayed rooted to the ground like a tree and immovable like a mountain. The pale hand slowly turned up and the long fingers slightly curled, all attention directed at the long slash that now lay upon the palm he made earlier with glass' shard scattered nearby, the skin split as blood pooled around it and streaked over the edge of his palm. He brought it close to the redhead's lips as if in slow motion.
It 's th' eight time we are doin' this, the thought wouldn't leave his mind. Eight time I'm holdin' 'im bloody an' defeated, but still so damn strong an' beautiful wit' his unwaverin' spirit.
My love.
My salvation.
My everythin'.
Without breaking the electric eye contact charged with thousands of different emotions he let and made the love of his life forget about his cursed existence for the eight time since.
They both knew it that it was their last.
The ninth try.
Watching those amber eyes dull and become unfocused gave him only a small stab of pain in his chest, compared to other times. He was slightly confused why it hurt less to see his other half, long lost and finally reunited, struggle alone to break him out of the unbreakable dimension, but he believed in Ichigo.
Believed.
Such foreign to him word for many centuries, hated even and now—oh sweet irony—now he clung desperately to this thing called hope.
That the next time Ichigo would be trying to do the impossible won't be his love's last.
Failure and repeat wasn't an option anymore.
It was now or never.
It was do or die.
…
A/N: It's going to be a short multi-chaptered story. At first I wanted to make it into a OneShot but due to my lack of working laptop I'm able to write only when I borrow sb else's. Not cool. Srsly. Especially when I want to whore out the men from Bleach on the pages of my fics and sb looks over my shoulder interested in what am I so engrossed in writing. o.0 I wanna say for the hell of it: "Nothing really, just writing prOn." But I doubt I would be able to borrow it again if that were to happen, lol. So yeah, "It's classified. I would have to kill you if I told you" it is, ha.
About this fic. This is the basic idea I had about demon!Shiro and human/shaman!Ichigo, but then I started working as a priority on "Love Spell" first (that was supposed to be a spin off from this OneShot). I decided to refresh the idea and give it a totally different vibe/feel. Something maybe darker and much solemn, but still so achingly painful, sweet and almost real. I'll keep it strictly ShiroIchi, maybe with mentioned IchiShiro, but I want to test myself and write something that is almost against my nature, lol. I mean - Ichigo needs more love and be showed that he has working equipment because many ppl neglect him in their fics, but I'll leave him being the King in "Fair Play"s sequel/continuation I'll write probably near or on my Birdie's aka Toringtino's BDay. But shhh. It's a not-so-surprising-surprise, lol. And in here I'm going to let him save the day/world/damsel in distress that is Shirosaki and the sexy albino will reward him with finally allowing Ichigo to hand over the reins and simply enjoy the fucking ride because hell but he deserved it. I imagined it as a totally heart-breaking, sweet and endearing moment and hopefully I'll manage to put all of my imagination and vocabulary to good use to satisfy even the darkest of your desires.
Thanks for reading and enjoying, stay tunned for more. On your way out stroke my ego, why don't ya? ;)
Apple~