Disclaimer: I don't own Bleach!
Summary: She haunts him even now. Even after she's dead. HitsuRuki, oneshot
This is just a little fic I wanted to write. I definitely haven't written as much Bleach as I'd wanted. Originally, this one was a YGO fic with the pairing of MalikAnzu, but I rather like it like this. It was originally posted on 2/8/10, but then I had a change of heart about the pairings, and now I've rebooted this. I wanted to change the characters to Bleach, since that's my main fandom right now. I hope y'all enjoy! (btw, congrats to the Saints!!)
Misguided Ghosts
The hot midday sun on his face is almost blinding.
He doesn't feel the heat.
In fact, he doesn't feel anything.
Turquoise eyes stare out in front of himself, seeing and yet unseeing, and then she comes into focus, like an ethereal illusion, vivid against the waves of the ocean that crash behind her.
It's like this almost every day.
She's as radiant as she is every day, her raven colored locks fluttering around her face and her violet, jewel-like orbs glittering like she had just finished laughing at something particularly hilarious. A smile was on her face, genuine and caring, and she just stands there, the flowing white dress billowing about her form.
The breeze, a hot and humid one, touches his face, and he looks at her, as vibrant and breathtaking as he remembers.
And he knows he is going insane.
Hitsugaya runs a hand through his ivory locks as his eyes waver across her form, taking in every last detail of her body. The delusion is even more vivid today in the sunlight than it usually is, in the confines of his bedroom late at night.
She walks toward him.
The icy taichou instantly stiffens, his muscles locking into place, and his liquid blue pools widening with the shock that he feels jolting throughout ever muscle, every fiber, every inch of his being.
Her feet sink into the sand beneath her feet. They are bare, as always, and the sand rolls over them as if she is actually solid, visible, within reach.
The white haired youth is unable to move, unable to think. The only thing he is capable of is feeling.
The remnants of his feelings for her crush him like those waves in front of his eyes, rolling over him, carelessly tossing him about in the undertow, threatening to drown him.
At this point, he wouldn't mind.
She approaches, getting closer, closer, closer with every dainty step of her feet.
He used to be surprised that her feet wouldn't burn when they came in contact with the scorching sand, but then again, she isn't real, and therefore can't feel pain. Not like the pain that pounds his chest at this moment.
She almost dances toward him, the graceful arches of her feet and her powerful gait maneuvering her body towards his.
He contemplates running - to her or away from her, he is not sure.
Funny how someone like him is afraid of a ghost.
Right, she's a ghost.
A ghost, a ghost, a ghost. He chants in his head, desperately trying to convince himself that she is just that.
Then, she's in front of him.
He squirms in his seat, desperately tries not to look in her eyes. Those violet, almost blue eyes, the color of the deepest oceans, he's sure, not like the playful, laughing of the ocean around him. She takes a transparent finger and raises his tanned chin, the contrast of her milky white skin and his caramel, sun kissed skin striking and beautiful at the same time.
And, there she is, in all of her inhuman beauty.
Her face is just inches from his, her cold fingers press deeply onto the soft skin of his chin before moving to cup his cheek. She kneels down, so that she is at his level, and she smiles.
She smiles.
What a strange occurrence.
Every time she has come to him, there has been sorrow, there has been remorse, there has been deep regret, hidden in those violet orbs of hers, and now, her eyes are alight with happiness.
Hitsugaya decides he likes this change as her lips curve even further upward.
He gets lost in her eyes, and she knows this, keeping him hostage with the most lively glances she can. Her hand moves along the outline of his cheek, brushes past a strand of snow colored hair, and then moves down over the front of his shirt. Though cold, her touch burns him even more than if she were made of flames.
She looks at him, her eyes now half-lidded, and she leans in closer, a cold breeze brushing along his lips. The sweetness of her breath enraptures him, but he doesn't dare close his eyes to revel in the smell. The sight of her is always brief, and he wants to cherish it, though it pains him.
"Toshiro." She breathes, and the cold breeze flushes his skin again.
The sound of her voice caressing his first name is music, and he finds his lips curving into a bitter smile, filled with sadness and unsaid words. He is unable to speak as her plump lips press firmly - much too firmly for a ghost - against his own and linger there for a matter of seconds before she pulls away. He is never able to capture her lips on his own; she must make the first move first, he has learned this rule about there strange meetings.
She rocks back on her heels, and then the smile is back. He hopes this is how the future meetings will be.
"I love you."
No, this was too short. Usually she is with him longer. He panics, wanting to be with her for as long as he can. She starts to fade away, the sadness returning to her eyes as she becomes transparent.
"I love you too!" He cries desperately, his eyes wide and hoping.
The smile becomes bittersweet, and she says with awe, "You never say it back."
Hitsugaya almost breathes a sigh of relief. Maybe this would buy him a few extra minutes with her.
"Thank you."
Her outline is barely visible now, and he notices that she is still vanishing. Though he would be sure to see her again tomorrow, it still stings, not having her near him every day, bundled in his arms, saying his name, smiling at him…
"Rukia!" He cries, reaching out to grasp at her, but his hand only catches the air, and a breeze blows around him, as if mocking his futile attempt to make her stay.
She is gone.
Until tomorrow, when the cycle resumes, she is gone.
He only hopes that it will continue.
End.
And there you have it! I don't know how I got this idea, but I rather like what I did with it. I hope y'all liked it too! The title comes from the Paramore song "Misguided Ghosts", which I adore.
So, I hope everyone enjoyed this. It was short, but it was something I wanted to write. A sad HitsuRuki. This may not comply with the rules of Soul Society, but just go with it. Rukia could be a real ghost, or just a figment of Hitsugaya's imagination. It's up to you to interpret.
Thanks so much for reading!