Summary: He doesn't need her to love him, salvation is out of style.
Disclaimer: I don't own Bleach. Yeah. That's a new one...
----HeartsOnMute----
He still spent empty hours picturing those Saturday nights they'd spend together infront of his televison set.
& he knew she remembered them too. Sometimes.
But that was before, or after, it depended on what you meant really. It had been a time after school and friends and most relationships with anyone else, and after...well, pretty much the smae thing. He refered to it as the limbo.
Or the time he knew her, again.
When they were small children they'd lived in the same crapped up apartment complex, their mothers had brought them closer together, organizing little play-dates an whatnot. It worked. She'd beat him up and he'd tell her that she wasn't supposed to do that, that she was just a little girl and nothing more, not able of being anything with a greater complexity.
That was before she joined the Dojo and met Strawberry. Which was essentially the reson he'd befriended the red head at first, because he had to know what was so great about him, why she spent all her time raving about how she'd beat up this little punk.
He never really found out-he just fell for the same act eventually. Or maybe he didn't understand, yeah that was it, he'd save it for when he grew up.
He considered himself grown up enough to know that he'd been her kryptonite. The little moptop's sorrow had overflowed and she seemed to absorb it into her soul, it relaxed her. He just blamed himself for not saving her before she sunk into her pity, because that's what it was.
But he didn't want to grow up, even though he did.
And to put it into basic terms; it sucked. He was no longer the cute little boy on the swingsets, he couldn't fit his rump into one of the contraptions. He couldn't wait for her infront of the school to walk home together, because she'd find him creepy, any girl would. And he wouldn't do those things anyway, people would end up talking.
And they'd leave again, just maybe.
He thought that he wanted that but in the end he'd be just as lost as last time. Mizuru would leave him alone with his sister, which he would not have, so he'd stray around the city like a dog just like last time.
Until she found him, that is.
She invited him to watch her practice and he did, every other night of the week. On some nights they sat back at his place and just play video games for hours. Sometimes they played until the early hours of the morning and she slept over-because he wouldn't let her leave at that time of day.
They had an agreement; he needed protection from the trouble he was always getting himself into and she was just looking for her little doggie to take care of until her angel came back to save her.
Because he couldn't do it in the first place(believe it, he's tried)
Besides, he had his muscle back and he didn't need her like he did. At least that's what he claimed and told himself over and over like a mantra. He didn't (want to) need her.
But he wanted her to need him.
So he didn't know why he was standing outside her front door with a mound of older shirts that no longer fit him but would fit her tiny frame, some stripped while others plaid or checkered. He was well aware she was fond of the style so he automatically thought of her to be the canidate for his used goods.
And maybe he just wanted to smell him on her sometimes.
She opened the door and let him inside quickly, told him to put his bag on her bed since her mother wasn't home. And she looked through the whole pile but claimed she only found one decent looking shirt out of the tweenty that had to have been there; the shirt that he was wearing.
He immediately wanted a cold-shower. Maybe it was to wash somethign away, undoubtably the need he had to look at her even though it seemed to burn him like a torch. Or perhaps the need to be rid of the heat under his skin.
He pulled his sweaty shirt over his head that he'd worn all day. It wasn't until he was ripping off his elbow that he heard her whisper.
"wow."
And she was looking at him like a child would stare after a butterfly it was chasing, determined and a bit unsure. She looked at him like he'd known he looked at her when he saw her walking through the hallways or on the streets. He stood frozen at her word until he registered that she had indeed been refering to him, like a deer caught in the headlights.
Icouldhaveher.Icould.Icould, He thought.
He grabbed one of the smaller shirts and slid it on, extended an arm to give her his previously worn shirt. He didn't want her like that (notyet). She was still watching him like he wasn't the weird guy in her class or the first kid she pushed off the swings, but he was some attractive boy wonder that he'd only dreamt about.
He walked out of her room without a sound, ignoring her behavior and telling her to make him some tea. She obliged and set to work in her kitchen, boiling the water. But it didn't work, the scorning tes didn't cure anyhting; not his silent lustings or the fire she caused within him.
It couldn't fix the timing.
----
Yay!
That is the result of a lazy afternoon.
Although it doesn't really say it, it's KeigoXTatsuki for some reason. And I am considering making a sequel or adding another chapter or something if it needs it and teh reviews lead towards that. I know it's not really a common pairing but it happens sometimes.
Reviews?
xFunnyItsNotMex