Author's Note:
Hey guys, I'm sorry for the inacitivity! I'm sorry to report that in spite of not being updated in two months, my story Sweeter than Revenge will still be a bit inactive! My computer's totally dead and I can barely spend enough time on one to write a new chapter, so you might be getting a few short stories/one-shots in the meanwhile. I can't promise anything, I'm sorry! We'll see what the future holds. c: So here's just a small fic on my interpretation of this particular scene. Enjoy my second-ever fic..oneshot...thingy I don't know what to call it! Hee~
In this dark, dark moment, there is light.
A deep glow illuminates the darkness, casting an eerie orange light over her delicate features. Her eyebrows are furrowed and her mouth shut tight in a small line, her watery gray eyes deeply troubled. She looks tired but she straightens herself suddenly, stretching out her hands to their maximum length. She refuses to let her body relax. Her friend needs her.
Locks of auburn hair sway infront of her eyes as she lowers her gaze, staring at the shinigami beneath her. Underneath this light, there is no movement, no sound save for this woman's shallow breathing. Her eyes are closed and her raven hair lies in tangles around her head. She is wounded.
She wills for her friend to heal quickly. As Orihime looks at her, she notices a softness in her friend's face, as if in slumber she can finally rest and be at ease. Rukia....she inaudibly whispers.
Orange light dances across Rukia's face, painting a vividly beautiful picture of her dear friend. Orihime realizes something now: Rukia is beautiful. Strong. Willful. Wise.....nothing like me, she thinks sadly. A thought stirs inside her mind....
...And she can't hold herself back. She must have a masochistic streak somewhere deep inside of her...because she slowly lifts her deep, deep gray eyes away from the orange light, and lets them linger on the strong, strong face beside her.
Her eyes linger on his face. There is no trace of the scowl that usually distorts his masculine features; no anger or annoyance or confidence or resolve. For the first time in his life as she's known him, his face is...soft, if a bit tense. So full and concern and worry and...
She forces herself to look at his eyes.
Crack.
Her heart breaks.
Those desperate, amber eyes. Staring, searching for life in the unmoving figure underneath the glowing light. They are almost crying out, in so much pain, and Orihime almost believes she can hear them: Rukia, Rukia, Rukia....
Her hands tremble as she takes in this look in his eyes. This look that would send any woman's heart into euphoric oblivion. And they are not for her.
Slowly, her eyelids fall and her gaze wavers. She looks away from him and back down to her dainty, healing hands, resigned to her fate. She is defeated. Broken.
.............
She does not realize, that in this moment, half-lidded amber eyes flutter up and study her features. They study the sadness in her face, the despair that overtakes her usually cheerful, happy, and beautiful face. And they soften.
She does not realize, that in this moment, his gaze flows down to her dainty, healing hands and he admires them. He admires her for her strength, her commitment, her loyalty.
And finally, she does not realize that slowly, he is closing the distance between them, inch by inch.