Such Sweet Sorrow
by: karisome
Disclaimers: I don't own Bleach. No profit is made from this fanfic. Sadly.
Dedicated to Hua, who was supposed to receive this several days ago as an already-bleated birthday present. Happy seventeenth!
She stares at the sheet of paper.
It's not often that she has so much to say and so much difficulty in saying it. She's always had it in her to be straightforward – almost to a fault, really. But as she contemplates the blank page and the pen poised over it, the words dry up and she thinks that she's never been good at these things.
She also thinks it shouldn't be this hard. But it is, because of what she's done for him and to him and what he's done for her and to her, and because such actions as the ones between them aren't possible without making things difficult. Difficult, complicated, and troublesome. So very troublesome.
Whether I like him, whether I hate him...
She wants to tell him she's grateful. She wants to tell him she's sorry. She wants to tell him she trusts him more than she's trusted anyone in a long time, that she sometimes catches herself noticing things like the tapering of his fingers and the reckless slant of his smirk and the way his eyes aren't quite as hard when he thinks of his family, and that she can't stand the thought of him dying because of her. She wants to tell him so much. Too much.
When the time comes when I have to leave...
The pen finally descends and she writes a brief, succinct message. She tells him to forget her, to erase all traces of her and protect himself; then encodes it, just to piss him off one last time.
Love, companionship, and friendship...it's really...
She thanks him for everything, because he deserves something from her, at least, and leaves the letter on the desk. Securing the backpack on her shoulders, she looks over his room one last time, smoothes the skirt of his sister's dress, and climbs out the window. As she runs she tries not to think about him.
...nothing but a saddening emotion.
She's never been good at goodbyes.