A/N: Several things to note here: AU; OOC; adult content
Pardon the few grammatical errors, natural past-tense type here; so there may be a few slips ups in tenses ;)
Disclaimer: I don't own Bleach, obviously.
Trigger warning: For those sensitive to drug use, language, domestic violence, abuse of any form, heavy imagery, religious values/beliefs in question, and psychological disorders such as cPTSD and dissociative disorders-this is your warning.
Prologue
So much has changed.
It's a thought that cannot relinquish its grip on her skull.
She grips the railing, peering out at the dismal gray abyss. She flicks the butt of her cigarette over the edge, snuffed at the filter; watching as it arcs and falls to the road several stories below. A cool breeze kicks up for a second, the scent of an on-coming storm wrapping around her.
She wonders for a moment how things came to this point. Her mind starts to traverse every stepping stone, every event that created this domino effect of pain. She no longer knew reality as she had once thought. Let alone herself.
Tomorrow, she thinks, tomorrow I'll start therapy.
"You've been out here for quite some time," She turns her head towards the soft voice, jumping in her skin for a moment as fear tightly seizes her breath. "Rangiku."
She did not hear the scrape of the screen door sliding open.
"Oh, Unohana-san." She sighs, her heart falling back into a steady rhythm as relief washes over her. It wasn't him at least.
"Why don't you come inside?" Retsu Unohana asks quietly. "Or would you like some coffee?"
"Coffee would be nice." She smiles faintly to her elder.
"Cream and sugar as always?"
"Yeah." She nods, zipping her jacket up tightly. "Please?"
"Right away." There's a dash of a tender smile before Unohana disappears briefly.
Rangiku Matsumoto turns back to the rail, leaning her weight on the cool metal as she stares up at the sky. Her breath beats out in puffs, the crisp Autumn air biting into her lungs. For a moment she is reminded of her existence, that she still has life left in her.
"Christ," She winces, as this realization of her mortality settles in. "why me?"
She hears the screen door skit back open and looks to the sound as Unohana appears with two cups of coffee in her hands. Rangiku's lips turn up in a smirk as she takes in how her confidant is dressed: soft fuzzy slippers and a plush robe cinched tight around the waist. She notices for once the black hair is tied behind, instead of in front.
"It's quite chilly out." Unohana remarks, handing over a cup.
"Thank you." Rangiku sighs, taking a tentative sip. The marbled taste soothes her soul despite her knowing it would be only momentary peace.
It's always momentary, she thinks. A quiet dread starts to flood her nerves.
"My pleasure." There is a brief pause; a quiet lingering shift in the atmosphere. "I can't help but notice you seem troubled?"
Of course, Unohana would notice. Rangiku could not hide much from her mother-figure, no matter how much she wished to.
"With all due respect Unohana-san, I don't know how to explain it." She stares into her mug, her reflection that of a stranger to her, particularly confusing like the thoughts circumventing in her mind.
"Then start with what you know." Unohana urges gently. She knew better than to pry too much. Like most young adults with troublesome history, the concepts of trust and security were tentatively formed.
"What I know is this coffee kicks ass right now." Rangiku chuckles faintly, taking another sip. The heat warms her lungs. She glances at Unohana.
"It is good coffee." She agrees. She takes a seat by the balcony table, listening to the morning sounds. The hum of traffic sounding off in the distance. "But the coffee is not the start, is it?"
Rangiku sits down softly in the chair beside her, laying her pack of cigarettes by the ash tray. Her lighter clatters the milky glass top, echoing in her ears.
"May I?"
The question catches her off guard. In all the years the two have known each other, Rangiku never took Unohana as a smoker.
She looks at Unohana, arching a brow. "You smoke?"
"In secret, usually." She smiles deviously. "Though I can say proudly it's not every day."
Rangiku digs one out, fumbling slightly as she passes it off. She sensed the subtle remark towards her bad habits nestled in the statement.
"I'm just a bit surprised." She admits, watching the older woman gingerly take the cancer stick from her fingers.
"What?" Unohana laughs lightly. "You didn't think I look at battered patients and not see things?"
"Well, no," She stutters. "I'm just—"
"Everyone has their vices. Either way, it's our secret now." Unohana grins to her, lighting the smoke. She takes a long drag, her tone shifting to stern compassion. "Now, what the hell is your problem, child?"
"More than enough." Rangiku mumbles, shifting her weight in the chair. She thinks for a moment, her sky-blue eyes shifting between the mug pressed in her hands and her company. "You know about Madarame-san and me, right?"
"There's talk of you two. Rumors mostly. But, yes, I do. Why?"
"I think…I think I may be in-love with him." She says softly.
"And this is what's bothering you?" An eyebrow raises in disbelief, though admitting to one's own feelings can be a challenge.
Rangiku's face flushes. "No, that's only part of it."
The only part of the entire mess that brought hope. Again, she shifts in her seat, the weight of everything else pressing down on her shoulders.
Deep breath Matsu, deep breath.
"I-I need help." Her voice sounds small like a child in her ears.