A/N: Written pretty much straight out, very little changed from the first draught. I hope it's up to scratch. Second Renji/Ichigo! Enjoy!
Pain
They were a twisted couple.
Hardened by the war, each was left cold and numb, devoid of feeling. Surrounded by death and suffering they'd become isolated. No-one could touch them; no-one could save them. No-one could make them feel.
They fought to feel something, anything, battling themselves to the point of absolute exhaustion, punishing their bodies mercilessly, pounding themselves into the ground in the hope that some ounce of pain would seep through their thick skin.
It was like a drug: the more pain they felt, the more they needed in order to retain that tenuous link to normality; keep open that slight crack in their shells that allowed a tiny chink of light from the real world to penetrate their dark, hollow souls. They had to struggle more and more, cut deeper and deeper, hurt harder and harder, so as to keep bridged the gap between them and reality: stop themselves from falling completely into a void of sorrow, the edges of which were already crumbling beneath their fingertips as they clung frantically to their sanity, determined not to let go. Yet.
They hurt themselves, they hurt each other. They hurt to survive. They brought themselves inches away from death in order to live; a warped game of cat and mouse that spiralled out of control as they wildly chased the pain to which they had become addicted.
Pain that presented itself in numerous guises, each as torturous and delicious as the next, be it knife, drug or flesh.
Renji carved valleys and rivers of skin and blood into his arms, new terrain for him to explore later with better, sharper blades, defining every scar with excruciating detail. Ichigo ran cold metal over delicate wrists, crimson warmth spreading over the silver and dripping from once white fingers that were now stained with guilt and shame.
Renji tied tight tourniquets, teeth biting down hard on leather, sliding needles and relief into his battered veins, tracks running from the crooks of his elbows to meet the tears that cascaded down his cheeks. Ichigo inhaled deeply smoke and fumes of comfort, lungs tired and ragged, hacking coughs ripping at a throat already burnt and damaged.
As Renji tore into Ichigo, shredding his insides, grinding him into hard, jagged floors, Ichigo dug fingernails into his back, clawing at the tattooed skin while he screamed at the rough friction within. Neither went a night without drawing blood from the other.
They were slowly destroying themselves: cut after cut, hit after hit, fuck after fuck.
They were drowning in self-loathing and fear. In helplessness and defeat. In the loveless prison of a world they had created for themselves, totally and utterly dependent on each for the pain that they so desperately needed, wanted, hated.
They were a twisted couple, killing each other in a selfish bid to remember what it felt like to be alive.
Pain is a terrible thing, a terribly wonderful thing.
For metaphorixx, whose review this is inspired by completely. (Whether she likes it or not is yet to be an issue)
Please forgive the drug abuse/self-harm content, it's totally OOC, but I felt it was time for an angst-fest. And I just love this pairing too much to leave them alone.
Review? Yes? Good.