Disclaimer:I do not own Bleach. I make no profit.
Theme: all
Warning:all
Chapter word count: 598
General summary:string of bittersweet short one-shots.
Chapter summary:gone. burned.
*don't be too suspicious
bittersweet
ix
sundown
…o0o…o0o…o0o…
It's his divorce day. That's it. Gone. Burned. Right in the fucking dumpster.
She thinks it's because he's too jealous, aggressive and possessive -like some villain in a goddamn TV show.
He's a man. He guards what's his. She is his.
Unfortunately, he does it every time, displays it to anyone, and always to the extreme.
She thinks its choking her, he thinks he's doing her a favor. She thinks it's pathological, he thinks she's over reacting.
There's a common hell hole all happily married man and woman can fall into –the councilor says. Bullshit he says –he thinks they're indestructible, Rukia and him. Not.
It's spinning, spinning, spinning, everything is.
When he finally sees their crumbling life, that and more often her cheek is red and his hand has a matching red hue, that she cries more than she laughs, that he forces her to eat with him, he realizes she's right, he's out of control.
So he quits. He goes away voluntarily.
He'll come back proper, he tells himself.
Months in rehabilitation forced him to keep his temper and thoughts always checked, to keep his eyes off psychological triggers.
Pathological. Psychological. Whatever the fuck.
So he looks at the sundown and appreciate its motherfucking beauty every time he's close to losing it. The pretty thing framed in tattered wood, its heated beams filtering through the glass and hitting him in the face, disabling his vision for a moment. Yeah. That shit is pretty. Yeah. That shit is pretty. Fucking inspiring. Fucking calming.
But the judge rules out his unfit to go back to her, that he's a danger to her.
Doctors and nurses and psychologists can't do shit about him.
He couldn't move in this shabby wooden seat –actually, he does not know why he even came. It's the judge's decision –not his. Because he wouldn't ever let go of her.
Now he sounds like a damn sap.
He stays still -Ichigo stays still, seating and looking out the window. His divorce proceeding continues.
He looks angry. But he isn't really angry. Because he's more human right now and less of the aggressive male he is –he's sad. Sad like a boy who lost his first beloved puppy in a car crash, sad like a girl who lost her father in a war.
He ruined his marriage. He fucking ruined his marriage.
Rukia gets up from her seat and signs the papers. Well, damn. It's his turn to sign. He forces himself to look away from the window and to her.
No one looks at him, but her. She looks at him straight and hard and penetrating. She's beautiful. For one wild moment, he thinks, what if he kiss her right now? Cancel all these shit? That he's okay now? Tell her that the rehab fucking worked? That he's really, really okay? Get back to her and start again-she hands him the pen. His heart skips a beat or stops -he doesn't care what.
There's no fucking chance.
He takes the pen and signs. The first stroke is a little shaky, he tries hard not to lose it at the last stroke. That's it. Done. Burned. Right in the fucking dumpster.
He tries not to speak when the judge asks him a petty question he does not understand. He nods his head instead, afraid his voice might break or sound girly.
He puts the pen down and sits back down to his previous spot. He looks out the window again. He's close to crying. Fuck.
He hears someone says a stiff 'thank you' then the shuffling of footsteps, minutes pass and he thinks they are gone but out of the corner of his eyes, he notices Rukia is still in the room, watching him. The sundown is pretty. He looks away. The sundown is pretty. Could he talk to her one last time? But the sundown is really fucking pretty, he must not look away. Just one word, maybe a simple sorry-then he hears the doors close. She's gone.
He closes his eyes, slumps in defeat and thinks, that's a really beautiful sundown.
Silences annihilates. Reality descends.
Now what?
…o0O0o…
the end
Author's Note
thanks for reading.
-appleschan
*i never thought this day would come, i'm tired of writing. this is why I'm writing bittersweet.
