Business: I don't own bleach. I do own heirverse, Cherry, hellish voice. Also go read In Another Life by my packmate Ganymede Lullaby as that gave me the push to finish this.

A/n: posting before I cough up my lungs because of a bad cold. For Ganymede Lullaby, a counterpiece to her counterpiece for my piece [also vengeance] :)

notes: Heirverse. Story crossreferences everywhere. Sou's pov written as if he is addressing Gin directly. Later Game era. Related to a scene in Game located in 'Love, War and Tea' chapter 6 that I recommend reading first for more context/understanding.

Also totally not palehomaging Lull at all in the first line no...*shifty eyes*

Enjoy. Will catch up with reading/comments/reviews/leaving reviews when I feel better. I have a huge reading list and I want to leave the best comments. Seriously who gets colds in summertime? I feel cheated out of summer enjoyment here.

Things You Don't See

In another life, I'd have met you first. Before any of the others.

I wouldn't have wasted so much time with things that didn't matter. People that didn't matter. Playing games that didn't matter. If I have one regret about the life I've chosen to live, its that I didn't meet you sooner. Because if I had, my life would have been just that much fuller. That much richer. That much happier.

I wish I'd met you sooner. Though, better late than never, right? That's what they say, isn't it?

Though you don't seem to think so. But you don't see what I see.

You don't see how much better you've made my world just by being in it. Just by being... you.

You make life bearable.

You make me smile.

You make me laugh.

And its good, that you make me laugh. Otherwise my mind wanders off to darker places, and that hellish voice inside my head comes out to play. Saying I don't deserve joy or happiness. Or you. Asking who could ever love me because I'm such a goddamn mess.

You don't see that when my minds racing like rush hour, you bring it to a peaceful standstill. Giving me thinking, breathing space. Though I doubt you're aware of it.

You may think I don't know you, but I do. I've already mapped out most of you. Committed you to memory, just in case you disappear.

You enjoy the constellations. Sirius the Dog Star is your favourite. You take sugar in your tea. You have a pet fox that you love and dote on, and that you're proud of. You want to see the Northern Lights. You love me, though I don't think you know it yourself yet. And when you smile, it lights up your whole face.

I know what it sounds like when you laugh, and I could listen to that sound for days. It's loud and musical, just like you. Though when you're nervous it comes out higher and just a touch strained.

And when you sleep, you like to snuggle close to me.

It's the little things. All the little things that you don't see me take note of. Like your eagerness to learn. Which is good, because I want to teach.

I want to teach you the language of flowers, that I haven't shared with anyone else.

I want to teach you the art of love, and open up entirely new experiences of pleasure for you.

I want to open up worlds to you, and watch you change and grow.

But most of all, I want to teach you to love yourself.

I don't know who it was that decimated your self-belief, but if I ever find them I will make them pay dearly for doing so. For making you believe no-one could ever love you. Pot-kettle-black, I know. But still. Ruining a fine instrument like that... it's criminal.

I think this is why you got as upset over Urahara as you did. Because you don't see how much I want you. You don't see how much I care. You don't see how it hurts me when you cry.

You don't see what I see: the bright white moon in a dark and starless sky.

Love me, you beg of me. Unseeing. Love me.

I have been. You just haven't seen it.

I walk you home safely at night. I look after you when you're sick, or when you've drunk too much.

I make you breakfast. Shield you from malicious gossip. I make a mug of tea for you just the way you like it every morning.

It's in all the little things you don't see. Which is why it takes you some time for you to hear me when I say that I like you, just as you are.

But you do hear me, in the end. And when you do, finally, the tight feeling in my chest loosens and I can breathe again.

And when you sleep that night beside me, still in my arms. I know two things for certain:

you are the moon of my life. That is all I know and I need to know.

And that- as you sigh and murmur my name in your sleep – you are here with me, and nobody else in the world even matters.