Characters: Uryuu
Summary: The month when he can't speak to them is the loneliest of his life.
Pairings: None
Warnings/Spoilers: general spoilers for Arrancar arc
Timeline: Arrancar arc
Author's Note: He had to be having thoughts along these lines at some point.
Disclaimer: I don't own Bleach.
There's nothing to do but bleed silently on the wall while trying to gather his bearings enough to get up and walk home, breathing harsh and labored, all the wind knocked clean out of him. Ryuuken's certainly not going to lift a finger to help; he's already left, leaving Uryuu to pick himself up by himself. Something Ryuuken considers sound practice, apparently; it's nearly impossible to tell what he's thinking on a daily basis. The thing about having a face that looks like it was carved out of marble is that it doesn't show emotion under normal circumstances.
Uryuu really didn't want to spend any more time than was necessary in his presence anyway. He bites back a curse as one leg tries to give way under him, more due to exhaustion than the thin trickle of blood that splatters and hits the floor and the fading wall.
The scene shifts, and Uryuu's lying on his bed in his apartment, staring up at the ceiling in the dark. Having finally found a comfortable position, he intends to hold that position and actually get some sleep tonight. He was a little more careful about the bandages this time; no need to bleed all over the sheets again (That was a nightmare to explain to the lady at the Laundromat).
It's quiet. The only sound to greet his ears is the sound of footsteps overhead, and his own heart beating, steady, and muted.
Everything, from the darkness to the footsteps to his heartbeat to the way the bandages itch on his arm just serve to remind Uryuu that he's alone.
But this is different.
He's had many lonely days, lonely weeks, lonely years. He's had far worse days, weeks, months and years as far as pain is concerned. This is just a dull, gnawing ache.
But nothing has ever been so lonely as the feeling that seeps over him now.
Was it worth it?
Uryuu counts over names and faces in his mind. People he counts as friends now, even when—in certain cases—he can't stand being around them. People's he's given up. People he tossed away, and shouldn't have.
Had Ryuuken known that literally every person his son interacts with, apart from himself, is either a Shinigami or somehow connected to them? Uryuu wouldn't be surprised if he had known that, when he laid down his terms.
Was this worth it? Was coming back to himself at the expense of every friend he's ever had worth it? Uryuu's not sure. He's never been good at lying to himself; he's just not sure.
This loneliness is far worse than anything he's ever felt. Uryuu had thought he knew what loneliness felt like before, but that had been different. That had been before he had friends he would miss if he had to dissociate from them. Now, it's worse, because he's actually known what it feels like not to be lonely. He's actually lost something by withdrawing.
And he's not even sure it was worth it.
Eventually, lying silent in the dark, Uryuu's certain it wasn't worth it.
This, he decides, is what loneliness is: lying awake in the middle of the night, listening to footsteps overhead on the second floor, and knowing that there is absolutely no one to talk to.