I would just like to give a hugeeee shout out to IDoubt, who gave me the idea to make a counterpart with Momo's side of the story to my one shot, Driven by Insanity. :D Hope you enjoy it, & sorry it's wayyyyy late. Like seriously, I feel like an asshole. My computer broke for the 1630262th time & my Wi-Fi shut down on me for months on end, leaving me in a bottomless pit of sorrow.
This has a slightly different take on thoughts, but I thought it'd be better to explain how Momo developed her feelings. So...yeah. But if any of you haven't already, then I suggest you read DBI before you read this one so you have a little bit more background information. Or you could read it afterwards. Or not at all. That's cool too.
Disclaimer: Still don't own Bleach. But I'm working on it.
It's in small moments like these, when you're simply sitting all alone in a room and have nothing better to do than reflect, that you realize the big things in life. How people have changed, how your relationships with people have changed, and how you've changed, yourself.
Aizen Sosuke. A year ago, if you had even so much as thought his name, you'd break down into fetal position and bawl your eyes out, praying to some god in the heavens that the memories would just go away. You'd lay in a tangled mess of hospital sheets that smelled of bleach and fabric softener, until you felt a familiar pair of arms come out of nowhere and wrap around you.
And then you'd cry harder. Your thoughts would go back to how you had betrayed him, tried to kill him, and here he was− coming to your rescue like it was no big deal. You remember that every time he showed up to comfort you, you'd immediately start apologizing in a rush of tears and hiccups and stumbling words that only halfway made sense to the both of you. And, being the overprotective nutcase he is, he'd tell you to shut up because he didn't give a damn anymore, so you should just stop worrying yourself about it and get some sleep because the bags under your eyes were starting to make you look like an old lady.
When they let you out of the hospital three months later, you were put on bed rest for another two weeks before you could work on paperwork or start running your division again. You sighed and tried to argue that you were fine, but inevitably lost that battle because you were dealing with Unohana-taichou's sickeningly sweet voice that seemed to have a small threat engraved behind every word. So you just kind of went with it.
You had thought you would be placed in your own barracks again, but imagine your surprise when they lead you to the 10th Division. Your thoughts went from confusion to understanding to surprise in a matter of seconds. Squad 4's Taichou only gave you a small smile and didn't say a word as she helped you get situated in what would be known as your new room for the next few weeks.
It didn't take you very long to realize who exactly asked for this arrangement, and you heaved an exasperated sigh. He really was extremely overprotective. But you smiled anyways, since that was his own personal way of letting you know he still cared about you.
A week had passed. You were confined to your bed most of the time, but allowed to roam freely around Seireitei for a maximum of an hour a day, as you saw fit. But, being bed ridden wasn't as awful as it sounded. Rangiku would be with you most of the time, skipping out on her duties as usual and talking about all the gossip you had missed out on while unconscious− like how one day Kyoraku had decided to just walk up to Nanao and kiss her in front of all of Soul Society like it was nothing (even though it earned him a very large dictionary to the head several times over), or how Kenpachi basically destroyed half of the Seireitei when Ichigo came to visit. Ukitake, Yachiru, and even others such as Renji had come to visit, too. They'd let you know how great it was that you were doing better and would talk for a while until they had to go back to their jobs or Hinatarou came in for your daily check-up.
And you soon found your favorite part of the day was the mornings and evenings, because that's when he would visit. Though it would be brief and you'd be half asleep, he'd ask you how you felt, chat for a few minutes, and then go off to either start up his day with training, or go to bed himself.
One morning during your walk around the division, you decided to take a different route and go visit him and Matsumoto in his office (even though the latter was most likely still in her room hung over). It was a rather nice day out; the sun was shining, grunts and clanks of swords from training exercises rung in the air, and a small breeze was blowing contently from the west. You smiled, an occasion that was becoming more and more less rare, much to everyone else's relief.
As you stood outside his office, you stumbled upon the fact that you haven't been in there in almost a year. A lot had changed in those twelve months; basically everything you had come to know fell apart right before your eyes. Crazy, right?
Shaking your head slightly, you pushed open his door and entered the lobby. Taking the necessary six steps to get to the actual door that lead to the main office, you push the wooden frame open without a second thought.
And then you kind of wish you had stayed in bed that day, or at least knocked.
Because there the child prodigy was, in all his sweaty, shirtless glory. You presumed he had just come back from training with his squad, and that's why he looked so indecent, but you honestly couldn't help yourself as your eyes raved over him on their own accord.
And that's the moment when you realized he'd grown. His cheek bones had lost their slight childhood roundness and had become more defined, making him look remarkably older and wiser. His hair was still silky and white, but the spikes were less prominent and smoother as his single bang now diffused into side bangs that barely reached over his sparkling turquoise eyes that uncharacteristically held surprise. And, to be honest, his muscles were far more toned than you remembered them ever being, and you couldn't help but stare at him and forget the reason you came there in the first place.
He had stood there like a deer in the headlights, wondering why you came barging into his office. As soon as you could function properly again you spit out an embarrassed apology and then locked yourself in your room for the rest of the day, refusing to come out even when somebody brought you your dinner or when Hanataro was spilling out worried fragmented sentences about him being demoted and having to face the wrath of Unohana if you wouldn't let him in.
During the few hours of your self-confined solitude you were thinking about things far more than you probably should have. Because the more you mulled it over in your thoughts, the more you realized that he wasn't just your friend anymore. He was a person of interest. And, honestly, why hadn't you seen all of that potential before? Because instead of the little boy who used to spit watermelon seeds at you, he now resembled something of a Greek god.
And, if you thought about it, he was essentially the epitome of perfection. He had the looks (and if he didn't you wouldn't have hid away in your room), was a child genius and the youngest ever appointed to a Taichou, welded the strongest ice type zanpakuto, was finally taller than you if only by an inch, and you knew absolutely everything about him, from what his favorite food was to how he used one hand to write with but the other to weld his sword.
You blinked.
And as soon as you recalled everything you had just gone over in your head, it was the moment you realized you were hanging on the edge of a cliff. You could stay on land: comforting, safe land that you're familiar with, or you could plunge into the unknown and take a chance, whether for better or worse. It takes two seconds to make the decision that you honestly have more than feelings of friendship towards him, but it's only the thought that he might not reciprocate those feelings that scares you. He could reject you in front of all of Seireitei, and then you'd lose your best friend− and you seriously don't even want to go into detail about how you would handle that emotionally. It'd be like the whole Aizen situation, except five billion times worse.
But you really want to try it out; test the waters, if you will.
And why shouldn't you try? So what if he was a few months younger than you? His maturity level proved otherwise.
And yet now, eight months later, you still feel scared of what his feelings are for you. You were just glad they let you live in your own barracks a week after that incident so you didn't have any more accidental awkwardness.
He still comes to visit you a few times a week to check in on you, even though you both know that your days of worshipping Aizen are far in the past. But you don't ever complain.
Sighing, you stand up and walk over to the large window on the east wall of your office. It has a rather lovely view Sokyoku Hill, and it seems quite eerie at this time of night with the darkness and fog blanketing it in the moonlight. Looking at the moon, you are yet again reminded of him. His shaggy, semi-spikey white hair, his love for snow, that icy personality that's really not all that cold once you get to know him.
And as you were deep in thought, trapped in your own little personal bubble of scattered ramblings, you were forcibly ripped back to reality in utter surprise when somebody decided to come barging into your personal office at 10 at night. Honestly though, who visits somebody this late in the evening and causes such a commotion? Well, minus the 11th Division, but something must be incredibly wrong for that to happen. Either that, or maybe they were just drunk. Both seem fitting, you think.
But when you look away from the moon only to see that it wasn't a drunkard stumbling around, that it was him that was standing there (very much sober), you can't help the small smile creeping its way on to your face. In order to hide the fact you were thinking about him, as if some force would suddenly allow him to temporarily read your mind and let him know those romantically inclined thoughts, you question him. Ask if he needs something. (Well, of course he does idiot, why else would he come at this ungodly hour of the night?)
But it sort of off-sets you when he doesn't answer you and only continues to look at you with, what you guessed, were primal eyes. Deep and resolute. Something driving him. Driving him to do what, you aren't sure. But he came here with a goal, and it didn't look like he was going to back down any time soon.
And you realize you were right, as his feet carry him to stand in front of you. His reiatsu feels incredibly faulty, making you think he wasn't a hundred percent sure on the matter himself. You aren't scared, you never are around him. It would be stupid to think anything but safe thoughts when he was near.
Though, you admit to yourself that you feel a little intimidated (and maybe a little turned on) as he lightly pushes you into the wall, his hands lying on the wooden surface on both sides of your face. Your eyes are screaming out question after question, and he either is oblivious to them or pointedly ignores them for purposes unknown.
You feel your eyes grow wide and you swallow your heart in your throat as his forehead lands softly on yours. Deep blue meets burnt amber for two seconds before his lids close and he takes a ragged inhale. You believe that he did it to calm some force in his mind, but you realize his reiatsu now seems even more disturbed than before, which is quite odd. Though, you aren't about to question it. Hell, you aren't even planning on speaking anytime soon. Partially because you don't want to disturb the silence since the looks you exchange hold disconcern for words at this point, and partially because he's kinda sorta taking your breath away at the moment. So no, speech really isn't an option.
Then, you come to realize that his lips are entirely too close to yours to just be friendly, making your stomach plunge.
Barely a breath keeps you from your desires. Hell, you could probably fit a grain of rice comfortably between the air that separates his lips and your own. Time ticks away, ever so slowly, before you feel his forehead pull quickly away from you, and lightly chapped lips push onto yours not even half a second later. You find it strange yet comforting how your lips seem to mold together and fit into perfect place. Also, it didn't harm anything that he was a good kisser, either. Or that your heart is practically jumping back into your throat (the damn thing wouldn't stay in its place). Or that your head feels kinda foggy. Or that he doesn't mind as you hold his face with your fingertips in one hand, softly curling your fist in his soft white spikes with the other. In fact, he only ends up kissing you harder.
But you do find it a wee bit strange this is happening. I mean, come on, this the 10th Squad Taichou we're talking about. The shy, awkward, innocent, never-expressed-interest-in-a-girl-before Taichou.
But then you disregard that fact as he breaks away with an unsure but almost giddy look in his eyes, and then there's something else− some unspoken emotion that you can't quite make out, but understand all the same.
You know, they say when you have your first kiss, that you see fireworks. You see carnival colors and your head spins and things are supposed to click into place right then and there and you feel that essence of finding a reason to live− something to live for. But, you realize that's not what happens at all.
Because in that single moment when your lips meet, when you both feel that sense of desperation and belonging within yourselves, all you can think about is each other.
End.