'Did you think that I would cry?'
He watches her lips move and the corners of his smile flickers. He finds her repetitive. He surveys her through feathered eyelashes.
She looks up at him coolly.
That's a lie. You are crying. That's the sound your eyes make, isn't it, the sound of rain on a pane of glass. Your eyes are crying and you don't even know it.
She smiles lightly, leans her head back against the wall, exposing the pale curve of her neck, her thick hair cascading over her shoulders. Still pretty, even when her skin had turned to ash, even when her hair had grown dark and lank.
'O'course not, Ran. I know you much better than that.'
Smile, darling. We'll make you beautiful. We'll make you burn away like a paper doll.
She sighs airily, calloused fingers picking at the edges of her sleeves. They had worn thin.
'Then why are you here?'
The room was dark spare for the bleached and pallid moonlight that filtered through the bars. They sliced over the concrete, illuminating her shoulders, the smoothness of her collar bone and the swell of her breasts, casting her face into darkness.
'Why else would I be here, darlin'?"
--
He tires of this game.
'Ran, red is such a pretty color on you.' His thumb swipes over the narrow incision, spreading the red over the milky white of her inner thigh.
She tries to collect herself. Her fingers dig at her arms restlessly.
'Will you cry now, Ran? Will you cry for me?'
There is so little that keeps him from laughing.
'No. I will not.'
Oh, this satisfies him.
He slides upward smoothly. He kisses her eyelids and they flicker but do not open.
Then he stands and he does not look back at her when he closes the door.
--
'I'll scare ya until you cry.'
Her breathing is ragged and he can feel her heartbeats. Like a weak bird. They fluttered frantically beneath her skin, grown papery and delicate.
She will break soon.
He will break her soon.
His fingers, lighter than cobwebs, ghost over her neck, pausing to take in her pulse. Delicious.
The scars across her chest and collar bone rise up, paler than the rest of her. He kisses each one tenderly.
'See how purdy they are, Ran,' he says breathily. 'Dontchoo see how pretty I've made you?'
Disgusted. Her lips part in a silent grimace, her teeth gritted, but she will not open her eyes.
'Look, Ran.' He says. 'I've made you beautiful. Aren't ya happy?'
Smile like you're happy.
She's hiding in her safe place, hiding with her eyes shut tightly, she does not want to look at the vandalism he has desecrated her body with.
Leave the lies to the liars, dear.
--
'Have you had fun your, Gin?' He asks smoothly. His voice is like chocolate. Lurid. Silken. Sweet. Delicious. He could listen to it all day.
'Why, yes, I believe I have, Aizen-sama.'
'Are you finished?'
'Not quite.'
'Be swift.'
'Oh, but Aizen-sama,' falsely abashed. 'You know me. I like ta take my good sweet time.'
--
'Just one tear, Ran. Just one. It would me the happiest man in the world.'
'You're sick.'
His eyebrows arch. He flicks his silver fringe forward.
'Ran, you haven't spoken ta me in days, and that's all you can say to me?'
'You're a sick bastard, Gin.'
He smiles.
'Will you cry for me, Ran?'
'I will not.'
A/N: It is short, isn't it. Sorry.