marionette
(rangiku&gin)
if there's something capable of defining
our relationship, it must be this:
a beautiful mess
.
Blue eyes penetrate into the figure before her; unwavering, unyielding, the storm that runs across them is veiled by strawberry blond locks which hang limply across her fatigued countenance. Shaking under her childhood friend's pokerfaced gaze, she tries to garner every ounce of courage left inside her.
(and constantly reminding herself to)
Breathe.
Her hands tremble; perfect, slender fingers curling up on the hilt of her zanpakutou. Beads of sweat roll down her face as transitory silence passes between them; a fragile thread, knocked back and forth by even the gentlest, most harmless breeze. A delicate string that has been growing and growing and setting them apart, an evidence of unspoken good bye, a cataclysm to their past.
Even now, the thread that separates them grows even longer, still.
Suffocating her.
Breathe.
She just watches as he, deadpan, smiles his usual grin; heedless to the distance that lapses between them. As if there was no distance at all. As if he never betrayed his home, his comrades, Gotei 13.
As if he never left her.
(he always does)
She wants to ask so many questions. She wants to cry in frustration, bombarding him with why why why why until the lack of air smothers her lungs, crippling both her voice and feigned composure. She wants to lash out every bit of emotion raging and pulsing through her veins at him. Like pointed arrows with perfect aim, merciless and demanding.
Breathe.
But here he is, standing meters away from her, his lips stretched wide to form a maniacal grin.
She wants to cry
(there's nothing to smile about)
and shake his shoulders, asking why he left her again, insisting answers, reasons, the truth—anything that can explain everything.
Yet all that comes out from her parted lips is "why did you betray Kira… when he had so much faith in you?" tinted with fear, afraid of the upcoming answer yet at the same time dying to know the truth. Shifting relentlessly, looking for some solid ground to stand on. Something to believe in. Something to hold onto. Something to
Breathe.
Instead of answering, he asks back as he approaches her, closing the gap between them.
(the distance has never been this big)
His cold touch sends chill down her spine, electrocuting her shaky body like it always did back then. It steals away the warmth residing (keeping her sane) in her, takes the air away from her lungs, smothers her in a deadly embrace of long-desired reunion.
The way her name rolls off his tongue, it's almost too exotic. Dreadfully exquisite, like a sweet-induced poetry that hides death wishes behind its every word.
All the same, despite the tremor his voice has wrought upon her, she still bends to it, succumbs to it.
(falling, again)
A voice almost forgotten, only chiming in her wildest dreams of dormant flower fields, mingled in the nonexistent wind that asphyxiates her.
Breathe.
And the world shatters before her when
(a wish to live, innocent days, a struggle for power, playful remarks, the sun red like blood, carefree summer days, the inescapable distance, genuine smiles, starless nights, blurred photographs, unspoken good bye, fading in and out from her mind—)
his sword punctures her chest, a dull pain stabbing and tearing her flesh apart. Rivulets of fresh, crimson blood cascade down ever so freely, like tears. Even after he releases the blade, the pain still lingers, aching in the same manner as her heart beats.
A constant pain that has always been there all along, only beating faster with each passing second, an upcoming end that can't be thwarted.
Breathe.
She wants to ask him why again, but her voice is lost. He doesn't say anything either; grin waning ever so slightly, he gives her the look as he did back then, when she failed to capture him. And she lets her eyelids drape over her inquiring blue eyes, feeling his presence moving away from her—hesitantly at first, but then the distance grows even wider.
Gazing at the impeccable azure sky overhead, she lets her childhood friend, her best friend, her lover,
(a stranger, an enemy)
walk away. Again.
Breathe.
Even with his presence gone, his voice still hums in her ears, low and distinct and far away at the same time;
"Is it really Izuru whose faith in me was betrayed?"
Unblinking, she stares at the flawless firmament above her, which limit is unknown, width too far and too ominous to comprehend.
(just like the distance between them)
He knows that he has betrayed her, left her for numerous times. Yet despite the special bond that was formed between them
(friendship and distance and love and distance and understanding and distance and acknowledgement and distance and –)
still he chooses to be merciless, choosing to tread his path alone, and once again leaving her behind.
And there she is, lying on some roof of a building, breath coming in short rasps, wielding both physical and mental pain, of poignant past and hopeless present and clouded future. There she is, pondering on what could have beens and what ifs.
There she is, broken and unmended, like a porcelain doll whose beauty has dimmed and is slowly breaking away.
And she realizes that he has left her tangled in faithless strings. A beautiful mess.
There is no distance anymore.
Breathe.
Just the sky, impassively glaring down at them, their end.
And let go.
a/n: After reading chapter 412, I just knew I had to write this. I haven't got the chance to write an angst Rangiku in my current project, so here it is. I love this pairing and their tragic-ness, and I hope Kubo Tite will be merciful on them. Oh yeah, I used the translation from Onemanga because the one on Mangastream was a bit 'off'; check it out if you haven't, I think it's a lot better.
Now I shall stop rambling and start working on chapter four of Momentum.
Opinions, thoughts on this fict? Anything you'd like to tell me. Thanks for reading!
- 07. 18. 2010; minor edits -