This is the section of the page where authors usually ramble, right? Y

First attempt at a songfic, wahoooo.

Disclaimer: I own nothinggggg! Teehee.

………

He said the way my blue eyes shined,
put those Georgia stars to shame that night
I said "That's a lie."

Byakuya was the type of person who did not show emotion. Typical of him; captains, let alone Kuchiki clan captains, did not allow themselves to be weak. And emotion was weakness.

So it came as a great surprise when he had told her, in that cold but warm voice, that juxtaposition of a voice, that he loved her.

Just a boy in a Chevy truck,
That had a tendency of getting stuck,
On back roads at night
And I was right there beside him all summer long
And then the time we woke up to find that summer'd gone

It had been beautiful, so beautiful. Kuchiki Byakuya, the bitter, cynical sixth division captain that always hid behind a cold stone mask of ice, had matched, had really clicked with her. Little old her.

But then again, it had all been a lie, hadn't it?

When you think Tim McGraw

I hope you think my favorite song

The one we danced to all night long

The moon like a spotlight on the lake

He had held her, he had kissed her, he had done so much for her, had made her whole, had been her way back into love; but in the end, he had left her.

"I'm just trying to protect you," he had said. Protect her from what? From hollows? From other shinigami who would hurt what was his? From people who would target her for being associated with him?

From himself?

But it didn't matter any more, did it? It was over.

When you think happiness

I hope you think that little black dress

Think of my head on your chest

And my old faded blue jeans

But back then… days filled with joy, with the pure upliftedness that comes from being in love. In true love. Swinging together on a makeshift little porch swing erected in the middle of Kuchiki Manor's most extensive garden. Holding hands, taking impromptu walks around the older sections of Seireitei… she would never forget anything.

The first, and last, dance that he had taken her to, to which she wore a tiny, tiny black dress that he could not take his eyes off, was, in retrospect, the climax of their relationship. He had mentally undressed her all night, until he could take it no more; he grabbed her and they had walked out of the hot and stuffy club. First, a shallow, tentative kiss that had then developed into something so much deeper, filled with so much passion and wanting that it had left her weak at the knees. He had swept her off her feet then, and brought them, in a few flash steps, to his bed, and stripped that tiny black dress off of her.

As they connected, she had never felt more fulfilled in her life.

When you think Tim Mcgraw

I hope you think of me.

He had gone on a mission roughly three months after he had professed his love for her; it just so happened that his mission had been a decoy, so that he would be distracted while she was taken, kidnapped from her own home.

September saw a month of tears,
I'm thankin' God that you weren't here,
To see me like that
But in a box beneath my bed,
Is a letter that you never read,
three summers back

The whole issue had blown over; he, in a rage, had returned and had rescued her, like so many other countless times. However, this time was different. And she had known it was coming.


It's hard not to find it all a little bitter sweet,

And lookin' back on all of that, it's nice to believe

When you think Tim McGraw,
I hope you think my favorite song
The one we danced to all night long
The moon like a spotlight on the lake

When you think happiness,
I hope you think that little black dress
Think of my head on your chest,
And my old faded blue jeans

It was then that he had left.

He brought her back to her old apartment, left her on that little back doorstep that she still could not bear to look at.

"Goodbye, Matsumoto fukutaicho."

Unbelievable. Impossible. She could not think.

"You…" her voice cracked a little. "What happened to being together forever?"

He had opened his mouth, almost on the verge of saying something, but at the last moment he just shook his head, turned on his heel, and left.

She broke down completely.

Nanao had come looking for her later; one look at her face and she had understood. Good, sweet, dear Nanao. She had known. She had been her only lifeline during that time.


When you think Tim McGraw,
I hope you think of me.


And I'm back for the first time since then
I'm standin' on your street,
And there's a letter left on your doorstep,
And the first thing that you'll read

Is "When you think Tim McGraw,
I hope you think my favorite song
Someday you'll turn your radio on,
I hope it takes you back to that place"

She did not know what fit of insanity had possessed her when she had written that letter, and what could have possibly gone wrong in her head when she set that said letter on his front doorstep.

Afterwards, she could not even remember what she wrote.


When you think happiness,
I hope you think that little black dress
Think of my head on your chest,
And my old faded blue jeans
When you think Tim McGraw,
I hope you think of me
Oh, think of me.

But it must have been one hell of a letter.

As speedily as he had left her life, he was abruptly back again. (She had the sneaking suspicion that maybe, just maybe, his sister and the substitute shinigami had spoken to him. Well, maybe not spoken; more like shoved a stick up his ass.) It was overwhelming to her that he was back; back complaining to Hitsugaya about her "insane" paperwork load, back in her head, her arms, her bed.

This time there were no promises, no spoken, tangible words.

But she could feel it; his changed attitude, but his never-ending and unwavering love for her. After all, she was a fukutaicho in her own right; she did not need protecting. It was utterly stupid to think that she wouldn't be in danger at all times even if she was associated with him. But of course, that was Byakuya's way. The mad hero complex. Act first, according to his sense of justice, and think it over later. Later, Rukia had told her that those six months apart had affected him negatively as well. It was a small comfort, but a comfort nonetheless.

She knew it was hard for him to open up. She knew he had a warped sense of what was good for her. She knew all this. But she still loved him, in the end, and that was all that mattered.

A/N: LOL. Kinda sucky… I have an AP bio test tomorrow TT Dooomsday for the lose. It's so retarded.