She tied you to a kitchen chair,
She broke your throne; she cut your hair,
And from your lips she drew the hallelujah
Hallelujah
-
She was curled up on a bench staring out at the tranquil snow. Momo didn't feel tranquil, though. The Winter War was over, but its affects were still in her mind.
It hurt. It hurt a lot.
Every day, the dark-haired girl would stare the scar in the middle of her chest down in the mirror. As soon as she could stop sobbing, she would slowly do up her shirt and walk, dull and dead, to her duties.
Being left behind was so painful. Momo had worshipped him, loved him even, and Aizen had used her. Used her like a tool and left her.
Her thoughts were interrupted by a crunching of snow.
"Momo," Izuru's voice came kind and strained, full of worry and earnest. "I thought you might want this." He carefully draped a coat around her shoulders, nuzzling his face into his own comfy scarf.
"Thanks," she didn't say much to him these days. Izuru. Izuru, Izuru, Izuru. He had come to her, practically on his knees, begging for forgiveness, explaining that everything he'd ever done was to protect her, and he didn't deserve any sort of mercy.
That only made it hurt more. His penitence was his liberation, in its own way. Izuru was no longer chained to his past transgressions. Momo knew her absolution would truly free him, so she could never quite bring herself to say those words, "I forgive you."
That made her feel even more selfish, even blinder, even guiltier.
Izuru hadn't left her alone on the bench, now, though. Momo's gut twisted incriminatingly. What did he want? Her words of exoneration? No, Izuru would never come to her like this for her pardon. Not in a million years.
"Momo—" Izuru coughed to dislodge the hoarseness of his voice. "Sometimes, I still wish I knew what to say, even though I know there's no way I can fix this all."
Momo didn't say a word. Izuru sat down next to her anyways.
"But I—I just think you should know," he took a deep breath, "Aizen never loved you."
A small sob would have escaped from Momo's lips if she hadn't run out of tears to cry. She hadn't expected that name or this conversation. It was painful too, but she owed this at least to Izuru.
"I understand that," she whispered. "It was nice to pretend, though." Surprisingly, Izuru laughed, and surprisingly, it was a hollow and broken sound.
"Pretending has never done anyone any good," he ran a hand bitterly through his blond hair, tiredly closing his blue eyes.
"It makes people happy. Maybe that's good?" Momo posed her statement as a question, looking to Izuru.
"But it hurts when you've stopped pretending," the fact came so simply from his lips, but his numb voice echoed the depth of his understanding.
Momo nodded numbly, tired and sad.
"Momo—Aizen didn't really love you—" Izuru felt her flinch where he'd laid his fingertips on her shoulder "—but somebody did. There was someone who loved you—loved you so much that he couldn't ever think of words to describe how he felt." Izuru bit his lip.
Momo stiffened under his fingertips on her back. The snow catching on her dark, beautiful lashes, she turned to face him, her chocolate eyes wide with shock. Her eyes caught his desperately, asking a silent question.
Izuru nodded, smiling just a little sadly. He was happy that his pretending was over too, even though it burned him like fire and froze him like ice, this feeling of the end of his charade. It was unimaginably painful to stop pretending. It hurt so much.
He grabbed her hand and gave it a small squeeze as he rose to his feet. Kissing her on the forehead, Izuru gave her one last sad smile before he turned on his heel and left her alone on the bench in the courtyard as snow came down, freezing the world inside and out.
-
That song from the top is by Rufus Wainright. It's called Hallelujahs, and I suggest you find it, because it really sets the mood for this fic. (and FYI, cut your hair refers to Delilah and Samson. Delilah destroyed his strength by cutting his long hair while he slept)
Dedicated to Elyse, my good friend and inspiration, and without whom, I would have never posted a thing for this pairing.
I'm not Catholic, but being a well-read, confessional Lutheran, I do know quite a bit about their practices. I've always wanted to do a KiraHina 3-shot named after the three stages of catholic confession. If you know what those are, then maybe you know what to expect, and if you don't, maybe you're in for a surprise!