Have some Ichiruki
It is in the night when he misses her the most. She always loved the night- "There's something comforting in knowing you have the whole world to yourself."
Looking out the glass, watching the brilliant moon in the sky, its pallor stark against the deep black, he decides he hates the night. Night is when he thinks of the shinigami; raven hair and lithe body, clouded eyes and small hands and worried whispers and stolen kisses, hidden under harsh words, somehow gentle when fallen under those small lips.
Night is when he thinks of they used to bicker on and on, meaningless little things turned drastic because he couldn't stand it- how they finally mended the invisible cord that bound them in an endless embrace. Night is when he cries, face expressionless, titian eyes dulled, silent tears escaping lashes as he looks out the glass pane, hoping to see the figure perched atop the lamppost, knowing that the parting was inevitable. He wonders, if he will ever see the lovely smile grace those features, hear that lovely peal of laughter, see the twinkle in moon eyes, feel the glimmer of hope reflected in them. How fitting that her form is a butterfly. She flew away right before his very eyes, ice in the distance.
Is this how you felt when you fell for Dad, mom?
The body that he is left with is empty, heart stolen by that butterfly-girl.
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