note: written for a friend, a long time ago. i own nothing!

fever dreams
he's grasping at her afterimage, her shadow, and she's reaching towards him and drawing back, laughter like music.

You would've stayed here back then.

He is rugged and unbending, rough like sandpaper against your skin. She is calm and cool, like goose bumps, shivers down your spine, like mornings alone. And they are from whence he wakes, with dreams of open arms and black black hair still foggy (but slipping away) in mind.

And he notices, after they've been separated, that she no longer walks. She glides– floats through the air, never stopping to touch the ground. And she's leaving, drifting farther and farther away, until she's no longer within his reach, like a star (shining and brilliant), or a moon (and whatever bullshit Kuchiki Byakuya had been talking about).

He's grasping at her afterimage, her shadow, and she's reaching towards him and drawing back, laughter like music.

You'll have to be faster than that, Renji!

Tease, always such a tease.

Damn it, he huffs and jumps onto the roof of a nearby building. Flash stepping, he races after her, chasing her across the night sky, her back illuminated by the glow of the moon. She stops suddenly, and turns around, opening her arms, and he skids to a stop, almost knocking into her. He opens his mouth to bark at her but with a flash of a smile (marked with the slight qualities of a frown), she's gone.

He wakes up, in bed, sweating and punching into the mattress, because it was nothing more than a dream. Maybe he was a little out of it, driven crazy by lingering thoughts and past regrets.

Throughout the day, he's reassuring himself.

It's better now.

We're friends again.

Just friends.

But it's better than nothing?

What about Kurosaki?

What if he–

I've already lost you.

He's nothing but a blur of shunpo (all sharp edges and rapid fire); he runs and sprints and dashes, never stopping. He's pushing himself to the limit, and his wounds strain uneasily, on the verge of opening. But it doesn't matter. None of it matters anymore, not until–

He sees her, in the distance with her hair blowing gently in the wind, dancing. Renji feels slightly dejected, despite her obvious good health, he wanted to be the one to get to her, the one to save her, this time. Hell, Ichigo was nowhere in sight, so how did she–

"Nii-sama came," she says softly, not looking at him, "and Hanatarou."

He forces an awkward laugh, "Kuchiki-taichou? And that kid from the 4th? No wonder you're all better now."

I was worried, he thinks about adding.

She looks and smiles at him wearily, and he itches to wrap his arms around her small body. He steps toward her, almost cautiously, "Rukia–"

There's a blast above them and Chad's reiatsu buzzes in the distance.

But I'll be growing up the whole time.

She tumbles down, a swirl of black and white, taking a direct hit from Espada 0.

He forgets his place and where he is and what he's supposed to be doing, and he flies after her, catching her in his arms. She's light, he thinks, as he shifts he pulls her closer to him, her shallow breathing loud in his ears.

She smells of lilacs and blood.

"Rukia…Rukia…"

He shakes her, and she coughs, blood leaking from her mouth. He's frozen in place, his mind going in a million different directions, and it's all going too fast, and the only thing that rings in his head is: it's not supposed to end like this.

"I love you."

– is what he thinks of telling her, in her (maybe) last moments. Just to make an impact, just to be heroic, just to be above himself for once.

She opens her eyes, barely, slits in her too pale face. He opens her mouth, her body suddenly feeling awkward and heavy, "I–"

There's sudden pain to the back of his head, and then nothing.

06/07/09