White looks good on you, I realize.
It makes you look even more spotless and clean cut with that perfectly ironed dress shirt and cravat mocking my ruffled ones as you wiped and swept. A personified cleaning agent. You noticed I wasn't really cleaning and glared at me with hooded eyes while you stalked ( 'I do not stalk, I go in for the kill' is what you might've said) towards me. Lost in the torrent of multiple sensations, clothes a fitting mess on the floor ('You're picking that up later') , our general cleaning day was soon forgotten.
White looks good on you, I realized when you were slightly wrapped in bandages after a particularly brutal expedition. We all were. But it was only you who looked brave and intimidating even if you had a temporary gauze eye patch and layer upon layer of bandages on your chest and arm. I never did leave your side though it was embarrassing to admit. I almost lost you back there and I don't know what I would do if it did happen. Though you jokingly scoffed at me, I thanked whatever was up there that you were still here barking orders and wanting to get up because damn it, I wasn't called Humanity's strongest for nothing!
I always liked waking up to you sleeping in a sea of white sheets and pillows. It continued to secretly be one of the few pleasures I'd allow in my life. With nothing but fighting and strategy and lives on the line, sacrifices ought to be made in order for optimal performance in our field. But with you, it was easy to forget we were in a world of gore.
Attachments were dangerous , they say, in our work where loss of human life is its twin. Yet it never stopped anyone. Including us. I was a firm believer in the ties that bound us, no matter how obsessive that sounded. But it seemed, as time wore on, you moved farther and farther as if to loosen that metaphorical tie.
Until one day suddenly, your sword that brought hope with each slice was brought between us.
White looked good on you, but it looks better on your wife as she walks down the aisle.
She looks so beautiful and young with her hair up, her face shining with happiness and innocence. I never pegged you to be with a civilian, but with all the horrors in the world your eyes have witnessed, I might possibly understand why you'd want someone that isn't much tainted with the bloody claws of life, our kind of life to be precise.
I wondered then for a short moment, where was humanity's strongest if the reason I actually gave was true?
I answered my own question when I looked in front. You stood there in black, in a damned tuxedo, not a single wrinkle in place.
Do you think that if I wore white that was as pristine as your wife (to be)'s, could we have become each other's yin and yang?
White looked good, not on you, but on the tiny bundle currently in Hanji's arms. It was a child born at a time when freedom was finally achieved after centuries of living like caged rats.
I always think back to whether I should have knot the loose ends tighter or tied a new one just to free myself from peripheral glances and wet pillows in the coming years but I saw the light in your eyes — much more brighter than when there was you and I.
I did lose you but at the very least I know what I'm going to do. You found happiness, even if it wasn't with me, and there is nothing I can do but wish more for you.
A/N: Hi, I'm rrvaille on Tumblr and I decided to post my fics here as well. Thank you for reading!