"R-Rukia," His voice tremors slightly, the hostile edge wavering uncertainly. Vulnerability is showing on his face, a rare and fleeting thing, visible to so few.
I don't feel honoured, I feel broken.
I am broken.
My eyes are open, and they stare at the ground next to me, at the crimson forging paths between blades of grass, seeping over the cold ground. I try to breath and it's heavy, weighted. The crushed ribs my lungs are so wearily labouring under no longer burn though, I'm past pain.
"Christ, Rukia!" He stutters, words laced with fear and uncertainty. He doesn't know what he should do, and I can tell. I feel an ache in my chest and a lump in my throat that's entirely unrelated to the wounds my body is submitting to.
Finally, after what seems an eternity in this black and white world, I shift my fading gaze to him. A reckless, incompetent, headstrong, grouchy idiot that just happens to be holding my heart in the palm of his hand.
And with shaking fists that hang clenched at his side, he's crushing it. With the trail of silver tears coursing down his pale cheeks, he's flooding it. I can see the sombre smile that graced his face so precious little, I can see the determined scowl that lingered there even after he had finished fighting.
I remember Renji telling me that he'd become my life, I remember him yelling at me about it.
I guess he got at least that right.
"Don't… worry…" I choke out, an attempt at solace. The blood running down my chin is choking me, words are difficult. He makes a sound like a disgruntled boar, glaring at me with such suddenness I momentarily forget my position.
"Worry? Worry? What the hell am I supposed to be not worrying about at a time like this? When Inoue gets here, I'll stop worrying." He scoffs, yet making no attempt to hide the dampness on his cheeks.
He doesn't get it. In his world, miracles happen; people on the brink of death rise to fight again, back-up never fails to turn up when all looks lost, and death gods appear to lend you their strength when those who you love are in danger.
I can't help it; a bark of laughter passes my lips, small flecks of blood speckling Ichigo's cheeks. "Idiot… I'm Dy-"
"SHUT UP." His knuckles have blanched, a mask of pain and rage contorting his features. "You don't get to die. You're not allowed to die. I don't give a shit, anyone can die, just not you."
"You… don't mean that." I mutter, gasping more for lack of oxygen than surprise.
"… No. I don't."
Silence engulfs us, my rugged breaths the only thing disturbing the peace of the night. "Thank you, Ichigo." I say, and I mean every single strangled syllable. Thousands of galaxies are hanging behind him, countless stars and planets and immeasurable miles of darkness.
I look into his hazel eyes, and try not to think about anything.
"Thanks for what, exactly?" He growls, meeting my gaze.
"I didn't want to die alone."
His tear-stained face contorted with confused, stricken and pained. But I'm not going to explain. Even if I wanted to, I don't think I'll be capable of aerobic respiration much longer.
So, I decide, watching the stars twinkling beyond my grasp, to keep this short and sweet.
"I'm leaving my heart… with you." The smile on my face is real, genuine. Whilst there are so many things I regret of this life; not being able to make nee-sama proud of me, not being able to save Kaien-dono, not letting Renji know how much he's meant to me, I knew that if I could, I wouldn't change anything about the time I'd spent with Ichigo.
He had changed my life, and I had changed his. We had warped each other's destiny so profusely, that together we had forged a new one. Every argument, every name he called me, every time my foot connected with his shin, meant something to me.
I didn't have to tell him I loved him, he already knew.
"Take care of it, idiot."
