HUSH
BLEACH FANDOM
Renji Abarai/Byakuya Kuchiki
AU, Romance, Hurt/Comfort, Friendship, Shonen-Ai, MultiChapters
Summary: "Do you believe there's life after death?"
CHAPTER 1
It was past midnight when Renji got home. He's expecting later than that, but a particular person spoiled the dinner he had planned and went straight to the bathroom to cool himself under the blasting shower. A few hours ago he was in a restaurant, five-star, and waited for three fucking hours dressed in a well fine garb for impression but itching underneath and cursed he should have worn jeans instead of a suit, while staring at an empty plate opposite to his. Son of a – three hours! And the worst part, no one came, not even one phone call to say she'll be late, or dead, or few irritating words like "throw yourself to a fucking goddamn cliff, I don't care!" – none of that, but still he waited.
For his wife.
Ex-wife!
He was a fool and he knew it, and while thinking that, he wondered what the Landlord would say if they saw the hole he'd created on his bathroom wall.
Yeah right, as if he gives a flying fuck.
After that spoiled dinner, he went straight to the bar. Because he needed it, because his day sucks since daybreak, and his homicidal tendencies started to kick in anyway, so, definitely, the need of a fellow human being to talk to was his 911, and despite the stinking crowded place, the bartender happens to agree, listening to his monotonous bullshits while polishing a glass using the back of an apron. Renji knew it was a waste of time but had no other choice to consult an on-the-spot therapist with no opposing manner and can accept countless prose of cuss, that all he had to do is to pay the eight shots of tequila he consumed as the session fee. His friends were always there for him but he's the one who made the choice to blurt it all out on a pretentious bastard, just to avoid the pain of constant nagging.
Renji turned the nozzle off and stepped out of the shower without drying himself, ignoring drips of water lining the tiled floor and opens the cabinet, took three tablets of anti-depressants from a small orange vial and tossed it into his mouth like peanuts from a bowl. He then paced the corridor, straight towards the kitchen, completely naked, trying to summon his appetite and open the fridge, winced when saw its contents: fucking re-heats. He slumped into his favorite chair in the living room, grabbed the remote and turned the TV. It took him for a while to realize he's pressing the channel button repeatedly for the last five minutes before tossing the damn thing away.
Frowning, he snatched the can of beer from his side, glanced at his watch and groaned. 2AM. He placed the beer to his forehead, pleading to make the mild headache to go away so he can sleep. The moisture of the can dripped to his nose, making him more irritable, and wiping away with the back of his hand. I want to go to bed, I want to go to bed, I want to go to... he keeps on saying, like chanting, but the image of the bed never came.
He sighed and opened his eyes, narrowed as he saw an image of a woman, her brown eyes smiling back at him from the picture frame. At first Renji beamed his lips, remembered those painted lips teased him till he was undone, but when the image blurred before him, and the wetness of his tears rolled down his cheeks, his right hand swayed abruptly, tossing the frame away, crashing to the floor.
It's been six months since his life changed, and since then he'd done nothing but but. He speaks in small sentences now while communicating, blaring out sarcasms if not bitter. His demeanor slipped, his temper shortens, his apartment stinks! He began to develop a talent in Chemistry for mixing anti-depressants and sleeping pills. Nobody will ever believe if someone says, "Renji Abarai envied by his peers before". He had it all, a career, a wife, a life. Now everything collapsed right in front of his eyes. He deprived the outside world, and kissing Jack followed by Xanax is the only thing he could think of for a cure.
Renji had a life and it was beautiful.
But his life filed a divorce six months ago.
His friends said it was not his fault. They said he was just doing his part as a husband - by giving her what she needs. However, if he was doing his part then why there was another man involved, sleeping on the other side, his side, of their own bed... with his wife.
He'd just arrived from Middle East when it happened after seven months on station and plans to surprise his wife after the Company granted him a vacation.
However, when he got home...
Oh how he wished he was dead, with the ground to open and eat him alive, or show himself laying in a tin box with a posthumous honor. Anything, just anything to make him sane, to avoid confrontation and blood, to keep him away from killing the son of a bitch who occupies the place where he should have been.
But he just stood there, rooted, wearing the same damn uniform he used in one of his recon missions, while watching his wife and her audacious lover sleeping peacefully.
What went wrong after their three years of marriage? Was it all about he wasn't there all the time when she needed him, that his job was his sole priority? He was servicing a country, for fucksake, did she really bored herself for leaving her alone while he's battling with the real world? Wasn't that lame for an excuse? Or was it really Renji's fault for not trying harder?
Shit happens. Happy Endings happens only in fairy tales. Renji damn well knew that now.
Renji sighed while his eyes fixed to the floor, and then laughed suddenly, throwing his head back, palming his forehead to control the throbbing pain kicking inside.
And then cried for the rest of the night, shoulder hunched, hugging himself till he falls asleep.
•••
There was a man standing beside the stone grave whose name he fully ignored, watching a group of people not too far from him, wearing their own version of sombre faces as the priest mouthed the proverbs of the departed. He was all alone and unwelcome and spying, for he has no right to show his face even for the last time. But the people do glanced towards him in between cries, knowing he was there, or pretending, but their mouth speaks the sorrow and the undying chants of resentment, casting him among the reason why Death took the soul of the woman who is now sealed under the casket, blaming him for her death.
They were blaming him for the death of his wife.
And Byakuya thought perhaps they were right.
At last, after two hours of waiting, one by one the people began to leave. Byakuya wanted to say thank you for coming, a traditional feat, but their eyes passed where he stood, talking to someone, to anyone but him. He averted away, hiding the pain, the guilt. Did they really think he killed her on purpose?
Slowly, he stepped towards the bruised soil, oddly emphasized from the greens, and kneeled. Now is the time to have her for himself. He would like to say a prayer now... but why? Byakuya had run out of words to put in a prayer. Nobody is listening anyway, so why doing it in a first place?
Or perhaps he had forgotten how.
Once upon a time there was a man who defies all the rules and falls for a woman, and prayed to stay that way. Byakuya's love for Hisana declares his liberty from the family who kept him away towards freedom and independence for the sake of their own humility. He was young. He was impulsive. But that doesn't mean he had to surrender and lock himself inside the screaming young man whom he saw each time he looked in the mirror. The mile boundaries between the prince-like life and the pauper didn't stop him for loving the woman he chooses to be with. He doesn't care whatever names they might call him after marrying a commoner. He doesn't care about his wealth, his name, his life...
Byakuya chose her - Hisana accepted him.
And prayed it would stay that way.
But that was many years ago...
One night, five summers ago, a noise waken him from slumber and saw Hisana gripping her own chest, one hand covering her mouth, coughing, wheezing, panting. Byakuya asked her about it, but she just smiled in return, saying it was the sudden change of season did made her ill. Then another day passed, then another, and another. Hisana's health gotten worse each day. This is not just a simple fatigue, Byakuya concludes, and decided to see the doctor the fourth day. The doctor said something about a disease Hisana warred since she was a child. Byakuya was devastated knowing this. The shadow of guilt started to nerve him. He was a fool, thinking only for himself, while the woman he loves carries all the burden of his so-called independence. He must do something in return.
But what can he do? He has no money, no power, not unlike before.
There is one thing though, that is to return to the mansion and beg forgiveness to his grandfather.
No. Never. He will do anything but that. Never, never, never!
I must find a way... I must find a way...
And he did.
Byakuya took three jobs, worked within eighteen hours a day, and changed his name from Byakuya Gunner Kuchiki, the sole heir of the Kuchiki Mining Empire, to Toru Shibayashi, an ordinary citizen, just to avoid to be singled out, or to be tracked down by his grandfather's men.
He threw away his past. He doesn't answer to the name of Byakuya anymore. He'd killed that man since the day he wanted to save Hisana.
It all went well for a few years…
But all good things meant to last, and on one rainy night, after long hours of work, Hisana wasn't there where she used to be. No one is waiting for him. The only thing was there was a goodbye letter on the nightstand. Cold sweat dripped from Byakuya's forehead, thinking it's just a joke... or a mistake, but as he started reading it he realized the joke was his side to entertain. It tore him apart like a knife. He darted towards the door, flung it open, still holding the letter and ran outside in the dead of the night. He doesn't care about the storm, about the cold and the aching joints of his body. Inside his mind was Hisana, his heart, anger and pain.
Why she had to leave? What have I done wrong?
This can't be. This can't be!
Byakuya followed his wife to a point of nowhere. Running under the rain, stumbled, kissing the pavement and then run again, knocking on doors, shouting Hisana's name, praying he would find her in time. Then suddenly he realized he was on the wrong side of the street. The park, he said to himself, Yes the park! She loves the park, loves to sit by the lake, under the cherry blossoms to watch the sunset. That's right, she used to meet me there. She's there!
But before Byakuya could reach the other side of the street, a light flashed before his eyes, blinding him, followed by the sound of screeching tires, then a scream, then a curse. It happened so fast. He felt the cold air to his face as the rain started to choke him. Inside his mouth tasted copper. There's pain somewhere in his body, above him the dark skies. Byakuya's getting weaker, colder every second and before he could close his eyes, a voice was hushing him, felt the brushing fingers over his head, making the pain go away. Hisana.
Byakuya's thought he was dead. He knew he died, but somewhere deep inside him, tells him it wasn't his time.
Then he woke up one day, all he sees were white, vague faces, sombre and stiff, surrounding him, people he'd never seen before. They were crying, and their cries chorused with the apparatus, beeping as if it was malfunctioned.
Who are you? What are you doing here? What's the meaning of this? Where's my wife? No one dares to answer him, no one's listening to him. Where's my wife! My wife! The last face I saw before I closed my eyes! Where's my Hisana! Hisana! He screamed until his voice gave out. Why nobody listens? Answer me!
Byakuya cried, cried like a child. Then as if a command nerved him to halt, he saw a familiar figure standing few feet away, facing the window. Oh my god. Grandfather.
Byakuya jumped from the bed, darted towards the old man... and then paused half way. For the first time in Byakuya's entire life he saw his grandfather that way, and shivered even more when the old man let his tears rolled down his wrinkled cheeks. From that moment, Byakuya knew there was something amiss, but he can't figure what it was.
All he knew that his wife left him with reasons he couldn't contemplate until this day.
And now, as he was kneeling before Hisana's freshly toppled grave, Byakuya wondered why her death never sadden him as he supposed to be. It was like... hollow, as if she was there, but hiding, somewhere.
Finally, thinking it was enough; Byakuya lowered his head and sends off a silent kiss to his wife, straightened himself and walked away.
Leaving the grave, he knew his life would never be the same.