i know that ths is kind of..sappy..and there is definitely alot of OOC-ness, and i apologize! but it wouldn;t quit naggng me, and ifelt like posting something a bit serious..i don't know why..just feeling emo today.. //.*)
Ichigo was just tired of everything. The stupid stressfulness of all these stupid feelings and emotions were going to make him implode.
He was feeling so many different ways about so many things. Too fucking stressed about shinigami-ing, and his fucking school, and every goddamned hollow being every-fucking-where.
It was impossibly draining and tiring, he could've fallen over at any time. And then all the jumbled thoughts confused from sleep deprivation, and just lack of anything.
Everything that ran through his mind through the day was mentally straining. The aching in his body from working passed its limits, the numbness of his overworked mind.
And then those feelings. The horrible draining, tiresome, saddening, and just 'urgh!' feelings. The terrible sadness and depression that coursed through his veins, filling him with despair from just thinking about his mother.
Then there were the other mind consuming and equally melancholy feelings. The wretched feeling of falling forever, the way he felt for his counterpart, his soul's other half. His hollow. That falling feeling in the pit of his stomach, alon with those butterflies. The stomach butterflies that should just be burned.
He would never admit to..love.. but he was madly and deeply and horribly in not-hate with his hollow. And it tortured him to no end that the one he was in not-hate with would like to do nothing more then 'stomp on his skull'.
And all those stupid thoughts piled on top of each other forming a big dark shadowy snowball of gloom and desolation that kept curling up on itself. Now the big ball was just too much to bare.
He needed that not-so-sweet release from his emotions. His escape from himself almost. To him physical pain was so much easier to bare then the emotional wreck he was. He turned to his desk and dug through the drawers till he found the sharp-edged piece of metal.
He pressed it to the inner part of his arm and gently let it glide across the smooth skin among the light pink healing scars. He drew away his little 'friend' and watched the little beads of crimson swelled on his forearm.
He ran the blade across three more times and squeezed his hand into a fist. He just watched with a mild interest and lost himself in the subtle drips of scarlet release. He forgot for a few moments about all that plagued him and just sat there.
The inner-world's sky had been darkening the whole day along with his king's mood. Finally the harsh and icy rain started to beat down ferociously and would not relent in its constant beating down.
Shiro stared at the almost black sky with disgust. It shouldn't rain here. No. the rain always ruined his mood.
No more psychotic vindictive laughter. The rain had that effect in this world. The horrible way his king felt just had a way of making every single rain drop saturated with his king's sadness.
It was not fun to be caught in the down draft. As much as he said he had no feelings he couldn't help but feel the aching sadness that his king drenched him in. he didn't completely comprehend his king's ways, but he didn't torment him any more then he already tormented himself whenever Ichigo felt this way.
In fact somewhere so deep down and hidden so incredibly well was the tiniest smidgeon of a comforting instinct.
Underneath his want to kill his king..he secretly wanted to….make king stop feeling so internally tormented. He..wanted it to stop. He knew, but would never under the most grueling torture admit he was..kind of in a way sort of in not-hate with the one who ruled this world.
Shiro immediately slapped himself across the face for this tiny urge.
Since all he could see was the oh-so-interesting sight of dripping rain, he decided to see what his king was doing.
One small peek told him exactly what. He 'tsk'ed his king for doing this. He didn't need to be so…self mutilating, self-hating. But whatever made the ran go away. ..but..what made the rain start in the first place anyway? Why did he feel so depressed? Shiro wanted to know. He wanted to stop it.
He perused shortly through the saddest memories. The ones dripping with misery and morose and regret. Okay..his mother. He kind of got that one…and..what was that other one? It was emanating confusion. Even more sadness. Hate. And..not-hate..? his eyes widened as he reached out farther into this feeling…the feeling of being deeply, uncontrollably in not-hate with…'ME?' was the thought.
His king had no idea. If only..he wanted..needed so bad to go and stop him from destroying himself. He didn't care anymore about wanting to be in control. He just didn't care. Only one thing mattered. Stopping the rain. Making a strawberry happy. And..wanting to be in not-hate with his king, his strawberry.
The bleeding redhead still sat at his desk. Thinking about putting a fourth red angry gash on his arm when he felt the small piece of metal yanked from his grip.
He whirled around his arm still dripping, to see those beautiful golden hued eyes…he mentally cursed himself for thinking that and stared dumbly and sadly into said eyes. 'why d'ya do this t'yerself king' Shiro asked in a voice so sober and serious it just wasn't his. He leaned closer to Ichigo, and stared straight back into the chocolate eyes.
Ichigo could feel the cold breath on his face and forgot completely about everything and could think of none of his inner plagues or conflicts.
Nothing but the person infront of him. Shiro, following his instincts (who were very nearly shouting at him) leaned forward a little more closing the distance between them, and sealed their lips together.
It was sweet and filled with unsaid words. They were both in not-hate. The sweet tastes just even more intoxicating to eachother.
Shiro tasting of freezing sweet rain and slightly like a coppery blood taste, and Ichigo a spicy floral honeysuckle taste. Neither could get enough. The promise silent. 'if ya need someon' king, I'll be here, to..not-hate..'.
The dark and freezing rain in the teen's mind started to relent its constant beating against the azure buildings. A non-drenched zanpakutou spirit stood upon his perch and a small but content smile pulled at the curve of his thin lips
okay..yep..major OOCness...and sappyness..oh well..don't hate-eth me..and sorry for the repetetiveness of sad sad sad and he he he he..i know it gets annoying..