So I'm in dead days for Finals don't know if that means there will be slower updates or faster ones, I'm a habitual procrastinator so... We'll see.
Also I forgot to mention this I own nothing- well I own a few things, just nothing that has to do with this fanfiction. Enjoy!
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By the Sea
Aure glared at the two semi-permanent residents of his home. "Trash." He deemed plodding his long white finger against the bowl. Sullenly the little fish swam the white veltail in particular sashaying as it flippantly turned its tail; glum green eyes disappearing in loo of his rump swaying irritably at the man who found favor in poking his home.
He glared.
"Brothzer don't be mean to za fish." He grumbled, poking the large glass bowl a tiny bit harder. "Zey have feelings too!"
"Don't award these stupid creatures with the sensation of emotion Emile. They have the attention span of a parasite, and only accomplish to make waste and procreate. They are filth. Not worth the-"
"Zis one looks like you Aure!" Emile squealed picking the fishbowl up for the nth time and propping the smelly content under his brother's nose. "Look, Look!" The happy vibrations of the little boys voice added in with the exited tremors of his hand as he danced around with tank seemed to make the elegant veltail plod away, in stiff swift strokes. "He acts just like you too." The boy giggled.
Two large eyebrows frumpled down in minute displeasure, he was not amused. Aure crumpled deeper into his couch. His countenance frumpy and exhausted seem to multiply at the shrill vocals of his rather energetic younger brother increase. "I don't want the fish Emile, bring them back to where you got them from."
"But brothzer." the boy whined, knees knocking together. Pouting he fell right before his brother the soft pudgy fingers of hands gripping onto pale cheeks. "I want you to 'ave company. You are always alone. Zese can be your friends!" The boy pleaded laying his forehead against his brother. "I just want you to be happy."
"Hmphh..." He swallowed the haughtiness edging very close to his voice. Slowly cold fingers lay onto the delicate warmth of his brothers curly hair running soft comforting circles. Eyes deadened Aure replied, "I don't need happiness, Emile. I don't need these things."
"you zey that, but you don't mean it!" Rebuked the child, weary to the point of spilling tears. Emile"s voice drew to a grave whisper pleading black eyes blank ushered with emotions that always seemed to complicated for such a young boy to pragmatize. "Just be happy brothzer."
"Emile," Aure called running his fingers down the boys ashen hair, to red supple cheeks until he had the boy by the armpit gently lifting and pulling Emile to a comfortable seat beside him, "I don't need to be happy. I am content as I am, I need nor want nothing." He coldly shouldered.
Lost Emile fumbled beside his brother clasping the poor shuffled fishbowl deeper into his lap. The two fish lapped leisurely, fumbling every two seconds the boy seemed to squirm and wriggle. Shuffling the boy leaned back against the other side of the armrest. His legs propped lazily onto Aure's dark brown crumpling pants almost forgotten of the heavy damp atmosphere which existed mere minutes ago.
The little boy tottered in his seat once again. Somewhat uncomfortable with the bold oddly shaped object digging into his rump . Fishing the item from under his bottom, a look of blissful nastalgia overcame his expression. Eyes narrowing Emile's grin crinkled, "You 'ave so many books Brothzer!"
Juggling the fish into his other arm Emile flipped wildly through the pages. Deep gray eyes alighted in whimsy carried from page to page awed, beseeching towards each little character drawn. "Read ziz to me, sil vous plait." Begged the child.
Unknown to the small child lay the man face serene in slumber. The sudden rush of rich noise spilling from the child stirred him. Aure looked from the crook of his arm, not entirely too surprised of entering a light sleep. He welcomed the interruption. Silently complacent for the grace that was his brother, a child whose energy kept him bobbling like a fish on hook.
Smoothing down his impossible to tame hair Aure yawned. He didn't trust dreams, dare not fall into their irrational whimsy. He preferred the monotony of reality, the safety of it truth compared to the twisted monstrosities that awaited for him in the dream world.
"Brothzer!" Cried the little child, stirring Aure from another faint into darkness. He shuffled himself up, blinking away what little sleep he could from tired green eyes. Grasping his drink he shugged; downing the last half of his cold coffee unmindful that he had already been his seventh cup for the day. "Zis is zat woman." The boys head tilted, "You like her."
"Hmmhph!" He chocked. Glaring all to much at his brother as he wiped the dribble of brew from his lip.
Emile smiled sliding the book close to show the embellished title, "You like ziz woman, Emily."
"I like her poetry." The man corrected collecting the book from the child's hand. "Did you want me to read it to you?" His deep baritone voice airy and almost drunken in the cloak of drowsiness.
Nodding cutely the little boys cheeks surged with fire as he inched over falling with a loud thump side to side against his brother.
"Awwhhh..." Emile fluttered through pages turning thoughtfully as he ooowed and awwed at the tiny imprinted pictures at the bottom, speculating wonderful amazing stories from there scribbles. He caressed the pages asking endless questions- endless speculations of what the tiny insignificant pictures detailed; story almost to wonderful to be real. Arms winding up and down in his excitement created tall tails of fictional beauty "A dragon brothzer- dark and slithe! He shall save her! Ze girl in the tower!" The child's laughter tinkled as he scooted and hopped up in down in his seat making wonderful lies and fairy tales over simple scribbles.
Emile had always been a hopeful change, incredibly naive but dangerously sharp. He couldn't read English but was well on his way of understanding it. The boy grasped languages in a way that made Aure oddly envious, as did almost everything the child did. He reminded Aure of a dainty butterfly, something easily taken by a turbulent change in the wind and yet remaining as vibrant and same as when it began.
Aure had to agree he adored the boy as much as he found him to maliciously annoying. For Emile could turn a fictional world into something beautiful with only lies and unflappable ignorance while he a man who had a way with words unlike any other could only make the pages move as it had always down; recall the wording, the script, appreciate the text and font but unlike a child could not make it come alive.
"Read ziz one, please." Pointed Emile down to the picture of a lone woman holding a small pup close to her heel. She stood on top of pier staring off into the coming ships along the sea. She seemed comforted in her loneliness Aure Imagined, running his hand along the long the ink horizon of the sea.
Turning down to the worn script Aure's orbs, precise, practiced quipped through the text as the tumult of information organized from eyes, to mind, to mouth. He enjoyed this poem a bit more so then he should. It was after all one of his favorite. If he was a man for wishes he would hope to be much like the poet dragged into the safety and emptiness of the sea, to be bombarded and lost there under the waves- left to be nothingness.
He began smooth delicate words pouring deeply from the cavern of his pearl lips,"I started Early, took my dog and visited the sea. The mermaids in the basement came out to look at me." He began. "And Frigates in the upper floor extended hempen hands. presuming me to be a mouse Aground ,opon the Sands." He wondered how cold the sand must have felt under her feet surely without the sun in such early morning it must have been unselfishly cold. He lingered to the next line a story he had read to his brother many times before." Read the next stanza Emile.
"Ah yes. Uhmm... began the boy placing the two fish down beneath the shelter of his feet. "But no man moved me, till the tide-" The man sighed hiding a small nonexistent smile under his exasperation.
"I asked you to read the text not recite it."
Aure sat up as well watching the boy stumble to read the unfamiliar text. "But'ah no ma-hn moved meh... Brothzer zis is difficult! I cant read zis." Planting the large novel back into the coal haired man's hand. The man stiffened in what Emile could only reflect to be the closest thing for laughter for his brother.
"Fine." The man burbled turning the book close.
"Aren't you going to finish?" The boy cried out sending curls every which way against his red puffy cheeks.
Aure stood grabbing his coffee mug as he entered the kitchen. A drawl noise filled the loft, the soft murmurs of the coffee machine working extra hard to produce another pot of brew. "I don't need to read it. I already know what's going to happen." Teased the older man, his voice spitefully even and monotone.
"Brothzer!" Emile whined grabbing the lanky man by the boney middle and sticking his wet salty tears onto Aure's now damp black shirt. "Don't be mean to me!" He shifted the older mans weight from foot to foot refusing to let his vice grip go.
Aure curved his fingers under the boys chin holding his thumb and forefinger against the smaller child's neck pinching just enough to send the boy gasping in discomfort. He was often ungentle with boy not unnecessary so but found words to cruel to break the child so sublimated for controlled pinches and taunts.
"Zat hurts! Aure!" Whimpering Emile cradled his hand against his hot neck. "You hurt me," cried the little boy pulling his neck away and rubbing his fingers against the soreness.
"You put yourself in that situation."
Sticking out his tongue little Aure tried to pacify himself. "Did not."
A trill interrupted the boys. The ruffled child deflating back into something even more serene than his chipper happiness. Emile pulled what resembled a pager from the front pocket of his pulley. "It maman. I guess... I guess it iz time to go." He pouted. He started towards the door fumbling against pleasantly stacked books and material. He turned in mid stride the frumpy sling backpack carasoling with a rather delicate stack of writing material. "I almost forgot! Ah here, zis are for za fishy. Zey are snacks."
Aure fingers dumbly clamped around the little fish flake container unable to tell the child already dissapeared from the apartment he one hundred percent, sincerely, under any circumstances did not want to keep those damnable, unintelligent fish.
As the door came to a close, Aure fell stiffly onto the couch looking down between his legs on the wooden slab flooring at the two gallant goldfish. It would have been deceptively easy enough to prod his leg only a few inches more in order to knock the fishbowl over, strike it down and watch the drying heap flop around. He contemplated the notion but lacked the sadism and time to watch the putrid things flip around for ten minutes in a dance for oxygen. Besides he didn't want to damage any of his books anymore than they had already been by a energetic child and a bumbling red headed woman.
Picking up the bowl he determined the best deed and surest would be down the slippery trail of the drain, disposal and all- he felt the toilet was one step too good for them, they were below waste and excrement, just disposal bits that had no place, no meaning.
Placing the fishbowl down onto the counter top, he turned on the drain wanting it to be an easy, difficult free job. He would just slant the bowl over and let the things run the course of nature. Tipping the bowl dramatically out sunk the large white painted veltail. Flopping loudly against the sink. Unfortunately the cretin fell off to the corner of the modern posh sink refusing to flap or twist around, merely sitting pacified waiting for death. Aure felt a strange surge of appreciation for the animal, He could feel a liberation a sense of community with its actions, but not nearly enough to keep him from tilting more water out of the bowl in an effort to lessen the friction keeping the veltail gripped to the sink.
All of them were dumb creatures where he was concerned. Things unfit for life had no reason to exist, they only lend to soil the air and pollute the world with more idiotic offspring. He remembered the second fish a fat thing, a pretty sight he imagined for the world of goldfishes and how it swept so sickeningly close to the glum veltail. She- he superimposed must as well be an idiot. He imagined the small little ryoukan flailing away sitting at the bottom of the bowel as not to be tipped over, savoring its sweet short life a few seconds more but as he studied the water he noted the creature. She dart from the end of the bowl to the tip not strong enough to flip over the edge and down the drain into assisted suicide.
It tried again, and for the third time. In such an intriguing way it brought back the baffling sensation he felt much earlier in the day when that woman, so petulant and enduring had reappeared in his car seeking to make a relationship, a friendship a courtship of some sort with him. It was foolish, she was foolish but he would soon admit he was too.
Before he knew it the pale man had wrapped his long fingers around the deathly still white veltail. Feeling the way it body deflated in agonizing breath circling and inflating all to slowly.
"You, would have died." He reasoned, "Had this idiot not been an idiot." Stated the man sinking the fish back into the safety of the fishbowl. He ran a fresh thing of temperature water back into the bowl placing the two swimming creatures back onto the cleared end table.
Dumbly he sprawled out onto the couch, body going numb at its comfort. His mind toddling in and out of consciousness found focus on the only subject his mind could coherently think about. A red haired woman, with eyes much to young for her. A soul to kind and childlike to belong to an adult.
He couldn't understand her, didn't understand her, would wish if he believed in a maker that she would all but disappear, turn into an intangible creation much like his dreams. But she was as stupid and unfathomable almost as much as a fish who would seek death with a creature who wouldn't care to live.
Picking up the long thinning Kimono he fisted the garment tightly between his hand remembering the way the tight linen smeared in delicate gold, pearl and tawny red starfish across her summery skin. Why had she been out in such a tight and restricting dress, so delicate, so helpless, moaning and pleading with such deep gray eyes, such searing hot fingers. He had been surprised that he was able to keep his hands of her, at least for the most part the night before.
Tugging on a piece of black hair framing his face he imagined she was what hanging out with a drunk would feel like. Crying to moping, to squeals of laughter to tears again. She drew a warmth and vitality that only came with intoxication. She possessed the kind of torturous personality quirks that she could give a man whiplash.
Thinking of her hot skin he recalled her grey iris wet and glossy as she all but caressed him, mumbling nothingness and everything into the hush of the night.It hadn't been the first time that stupid woman had called him Ulquiorra, then as well last night. As she cried as she giggled, as she begged and even deeply in her sleep. "Ulquiorra." Mumbling tightly into his shoulder as he not to gently fastened her into the car. She had prayed him not to leave, bumbling as she slurred with a raw happiness, curling fastening her fingers against his coat as she lay her head so sweat into the crook of his neck. Looking stupidly in a way which would have made most believe they were lovers. But he a man with no heart, he would not search for happiness, plagued with terrors only the dead should relive had turned away from her; feeling a burn blossoming against his gloomy heart. He didn't have to shoulder her, she did not affect his consciousness in any way- he berated himself. He could and he would turn away and never see this woman, this broken woman again.
That fearful shriek as she lay burying herself onto the cement dispassion and alone did nothing. Those wild gray eyes clouded over in hysteria bought him no pity.
He had left her there to cry, trying as he might to muster a few minutes of energy. But it hurt in a way he was unaccustomed to-his heart ached with a pumping adrenaline as his mind wondered back to that crumpled fallen form. He was not hers, nor she his, yet he felt oddly committed. Committed to this strange woman who had the same instincts, attention span of a odd ruddy fish too ignorant to live.
A sinister curiosity in what was left of his unmoving heart caused him to turn the vehicle in the unfamiliar direction across the bridge. She had fallen asleep in the rain blanketed by a mass of wet red hair haloing her like pool of blood. Asleep the street as absolute and empty as it had been when he had abandoned her.
There she lay under the heady lamplight of the street, broken and brittle like a fallen star. He paused the car, moving to touch her, fingers hesitant to brush against her hot wet form not recalling exactly when he had abandoned his car to retrieve her. Lifting the sopping mess Aure dropped her onto the car seat shuffling only once to pull the long wet red strands of hair into the safety of the car.
Aure reasoned pushing her out some point in the more decent neighborhoods in the same way one would do an abandoned kitten or pup. Her slurred speech, her tears, the mumbles of names lost on her tongue all irked him. Slamming the breaks he halted intrigued to hear what wild things such a girl could fathom in her dreams. He envied her sleep, studying in a dead manner of how she relished in it, how she curled up so content, eyes fluttering under her lids dreaming of sand dunes, fantastical adventures, and a man named Ulquiorra Sciffer.
And before he knew it, glaring at this woman car still running against the side; he too had fallen asleep, and what met him was a blank peacefulness. A rare blackness so abysmal so bleak- it lacked all trepidation all fear, lingering in nothingness.
Aure awoke, the crying of a beast savage and untamed rattled deep in his mind; thoughts scrambled took a few minutes to regroup.
What had he been thinking about beyond the troubles of surrealism- Orihime Inoue. He wasn't kind man Aure knew this for sure, nor was he inherently mean. But somehow a rare tenderness shouldered the contraption in the chasm of his ribcage causing him to clothe the subtle waterlogged woman in dry garments, run a clothe against her burning skin and lay her beneath the soft entrapment of covers. Lay beside her and run white fingers through knotting hair all to kind and gentle in a way he had never been before.
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Message received at 10:42 PM: Orihime did you go home call me-
Message received at 10:57 PM: Hey Hime, where are you? We-
Message received 12:4-
Orihime pulled the plug of the tape recorder, landing on her bed as she washed the voice record machine fumble off the nightstand. It clattered loudly.
She couldn't stand the ambiance of her friends voices, they gnawed at her conscious irritably. Message after message smashup of voices calling in sincerity of her well being. "We were worried about you..." the words fell like a whisper lonely and hostile in the silence of the room.
Throwing her arms in the air Orihime grimaced. Frumping against her yellow and pink sheets in a mild tantrum as mind ran a mile a minute," I don't know what to do!" Splaying her fingers out she looked through the webbed space, until her eyes lay on the calming blank slate of white ceiling. "I..." She kicked her legs using the momentum to throw herself onto her stomach, stretching her arms back out as she whined out into her pillow. She let out a few muffled screams into her firm pillow kicking her feet back and forward in anxious frustration. When she seemed spent out of movement she lay there motionless, "I just don't know what to do."
A few minutes of hopeless thinking soon turned into depressing hours. Before she could think to settle herself more comfortably for a nap, at least grab Mr. Danish her stuffed frog who took a suicidal nosedive of the bed a few hours ago and waffle down a whole glass of milk-
She fell asleep.
The telephone rattled. A startled Orihime tumbled from on top of her sheets finding herself pulled in a messy display of covers and sore rump as she sat dumbfounded on the floor. It was terribly late as she tried to rattle the sleep from her eyes. The phone trilled again sending the alarmed Orhime up to her knees struggling to grab the phone off the hook. As her movements ceased long strands of gold hair fell back into a state of motionless her fingers ghost the phone. The sinewy red head now moved with a phantom slowness, baring her hand down as the ringing continued. It lasted another full second before it twirled into silence.
She breathed deeply happy to belate a coming confrontation with one of her friends. A sigh rushed her features, content. The trill vibrated through her wrist frightening her. Hesitating for only a second her body responded before her mind could. Twisting the phone into her grasp she slammed it to her ear."Owie..." She cried rubbing the red of her ear. " Hello! I'm so sorry I didn't call yesterday, I just uhmm... you see there were fish- and I just disappeared, and I'm such a bad friend- it's all my fault- I forgot to say something- just got distracted by marshmallow muffins trying to... and robot aliens! And-and!-"
"Orihime?" She hushed. Glancing into her phone.
A whisper stretched across her throat, "Kurosaki-kun."
The silence stretched achingly. Orihime listening to the shallow rough breathing of the other occupant on the phone. He sounded distress, although she reasoned he always seemed in a state distress now in days. "Is everything alright?"
A buzz slowly overtook the hallow draws of breathe, achy and rich like the sound of trilling locus and dangling cicadas. "Ichigo?" It was the first time he had called her in years.
"Inou- Orihime. I- can I call you back." He voice was unpleasant almost begging she could imagine he looked rather uncomfortable on the other line. Head dangling in his hands as he attempted a confrontation with his childhood friend. "It wasn't you..."
Orihime gathered herself onto her bed the pulsation of a headache starting to imerge, drawing her knees to her chest allowing the willowy curls of telephone wire to rest in her between the space in her lap. A beat passed, "It wasn't me." She finally responded.
"Orihime..."
"It's okay Kurosaki-san!" She cried a fake cheerfulness abducting her voice as tangent and childlike as it had always been. "I know." Twisting the curling wire between her fingers.
We're all afraid.
Orihime held the phone to her ear waiting for the relieving sound of a dial tone. The somber bleating warmed and settled her frantic heart. Falling down once again sea star shape she contemplated.
"it's not okay... to be afraid." Whispering into the sheets; Orihime turned refusing to cry, spill tears over childhood. She removed her hand, the left which had instinctively moved to dry the hot blotchy tears from her face in response to the achy sick feeling of heart; throwing it back to lay on the adjacent side of the bed.
In her heated state Orihime could only buckle up the energy to let her mind wander. She reckoned that she may have loathed childhood at some point, wiping away porous tears. Like any other she didn't live in a world of fairy tales and breadcrumbs, it was never happy ending and yet she felt safe in those foggy never-land thoughts. Safe in the arms of her friends, safe in the refuge of their heart as they hoarded over hers. They loved her; in adolescence saw such an innocent doleful thing. A child who needed to be coddled and protected, but even she admitted looking upon and inside of herself she wasn't much of a child anymore.
Clasping and wringing her hands together she furrowed her already pulled frown. Much like any other Orihime feared what the world had in store for her, but she wouldn't just as casually deny it. They All fear as much as love, anger, despair and trust. For these integral parts were after all an intimate and lovely composition of the human condition.
She placed the phone onto the hook, unwilling to be lost in childhood whimsy for a second longer. She would fear as only humans could but would wholeheartedly to embrace the unknown hurdling head first at her.
Dangling her feet off the edge of the bed she imagined she looked silly splayed out like a bereft little thing, hands and feet wide as if she were in mid cartwheel taking up space like a lethargic overgrown star fish. Starfish? Star fish... star fi- "Darnit!" Orihime sat up so fast her brain thundered against her skull sending her thoughts swampy. "Tatsuki! I- her, where is it? Where is it!" Frustrated hands met hair, Orihime tried to remedy herself with her one known balm. Fingers dancing against her right wrist she searched for the comforting material of cold clicking metal to even her dowering, distressing mood.
Nothing was there but the sensitive bare of flesh.
Orihime baffled fled towards the door. The familiar space to much emotion on her straining heart. She sat outside bum rested on the top of a red fire lane curb fingering through dry brittle hair, bare feet smudging against the roadside. She dropped her hands into her lap staring up into the sweltering heat of the sky allowing the hallow comforting sensation of drowning cloud her features.
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He smoothed the rich material between his fingers. Finding the clothe slightly coarse somewhat over worn, brittle and holey as if it had sat in a empty closet for too long only to be thrown and manipulated onto a busty foreign body. Running his fingers down the lapel sides he immersed himself not upon the crooked bronze starfish on the dress but of the deep blue richness in which they leisurely swam.
He recalled the poem was again drawn to the sensual tides the lovely ocean decorated onto the fabric."But no Man moved Me, till the tide went past my simple shoe." slowly his fingers moved with the waves falling down into the deepening crevice of the ocean as it disappeared between the open crinkled space of where the material fell upon the chest. His hand slipped over the knot dancing down into the pitches of glistening black sea. "And past my apron,and my belt and past my bodice too."Helterskelter the kimono streamed through his fingers the material pouring down inch by inch onto the floor sensual and lucid as a stream. Candidly he recalled the sopping girl. She constricted breathy in the dress seemed so beautiful and ethereal in her sadness. He drew a breathe,"And made as he would eat me up as wholly as a Dew. Upon a dandelion's sleeve and then I started too."
Aure recalled the open smile on the woman's face, her gentle eyes and childish words. He did not know whether to object or despise it. To reject it was a familiar sensation for him but to despise her was to give the woman substance, to deign a sense of meaning from that girl, woman- child.
Again his eyes reptilian and cold followed the wet strokes of sea against the yukuta puzzled by the insistent glowing starfish so small yet brazen with light. So bold and childish they filled the dark void that bled against the bottom tear of the fabric. Aure's finger trailed one last time,"And he- he followed close behind. I felt his silver heel upon my ankle," Scrawling up in a pert line seeming indifferent as he cut through the gold starfish, blotting them under his heavy finger "then my shoes would overflow with pearl."
He placed the fabric down folding just as neatly as he untangled it. Drudging through the last stanza he humored himself with the possibility of visiting the strange woman again, at least in order to return her dress. Maybe in favor of watching her eyes flutter between hysterical glee and dull lifelessness. She was after all an interesting woman."Until we met the solid town no one seemed to know..."
Dropping white hands down into deep pockets Aure pulled out the trinket. He glanced out into the void undeterred by the vast immenseness of large charcoal buildings, and bustling cars, too baffled with the violent beating of his chest. Which grew only comfort by the warming cold of a crooked broken bracelet. "And bowing with a mighty look-" He tinkered with the bracelet once again unsure of why he felt comforted placing it so boldly against the pocket of his chest. The old broken thing dulling the strange ache by his sternum"At me the sea withdrew."
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I truly hope you enjoy this chapter, and please feel free to review, or chastise me for the chapter and overall story in general. As a note I have this story loosely plotted out to a degree but most the details at least are writing themselves. For anyone curious Emile was never in the rough draft when I began writing the story he just kind of appeared and I was like wtf who is this kid... I like him- he can stay. (Sorry that's how my mind works.) I hope everyone has a wonderful day and good luck for you guys finishing up school and taking finals.
