----- Quick update, because I feel bad leaving the story like this! Lol :P
It felt like molten lead was burning behind his eyelids, yet he had to fight hard with himself to pry them open. Everything was hazy, devoid of shape and color, only vague spots of black or white whirled in his vision.
Where…
Something hot and wet made him jump. He tried to raise a hand to his face to brush it away, but could not move a muscle. He felt frozen, out of place, somehow a simple bystander to his own existence. His mind had trouble focusing; everything was parched and stingy to his senses, like spiders crawling over every inch of his skin.
Bone tired, he found the strength to swallow, trying to clear his throat. He tasted something akin to the sea on his tongue, and wet his cracked, ablaze lips to soothe the feel.
What is…
He breathed deeply, fixing a point in nowhere as the stars in his gaze flicked out, until he could see again, albeit with narrowed eyes against the light. It hurt like hell, yet he forced himself to keep his orbs open and aware, fighting against the arms of the goddess of dreams for a little more time of consciousness.
Cold…
He felt frozen inside, shivering, but not to the point of clacking his teeth together. He needed heat, warmth.
Need…
He saw her. A fallen deity. A vision of sorrow. His goddess of death. Torn cloth hanged from her shoulder like a broken wing.
Rukia…
His thoughts reeled in, unable to go on. He exhaled, registering the thought that he had been holding his breath for a long moment. Yet, he wanted that moment to last, again, now, forever.
She wept her face away from him, the cascade of dark silk mingling with the white of her hands. He saw prickles of light fall toward him, so close to his bloodshot eyes, soaking small spots of his skin like snowflakes. He did not remember seeing her like this, hearing such quiet yet sorrow-filled sobs, feeling such sorrow coming from her.
"Don't…"
His voice was barely a whisper, creaking like a door held closed for too long, so weak to his ears. She didn't look at him.
"Hmm…Rmn.."
She couldn't hear, the cries from her mind shielding her hearing against his attempts to speak to her, make her turn to him, see her…
Ichigo sighed softly, his lungs devoid of air. He crooked his fingers, straining himself to make his body respond, wanting to lift his arm, and needing to touch. Weakly, he brought a rough, battered hand to hers, amiss the pool of throbbing ebony mane. His index grazed her knuckles softly, barely moving, feeling the slightest scratch there with intense, tactile scrutiny.
He closed his eyes, too worn out and aching to keep them open. His arm did not fall when he felt the shoulder slack, as a small, warm clutch embraced his upraised fingers with disbelief. He felt her tremble slightly, and then relax. He inhaled, the smell of blood omnipresent, yet layered with a feeling of peace underneath. It had been shed, and all was quiet.
………………………………………………………………………………………………
She marvelled at the feeling of his skin on hers, despite its cold temperature and pale complexion. Holding his hand to her cheek, she cried silently, too content to shatter the calm that bathed then both.
Her fingers traveled the tendons beneath the flesh, tracing to his wrist, revealing in the pulse, weak but steady, that she felt there. Rukia held the warming limb to her, face still cupped in it, while trailing with the other hand up to the base of his neck, then his jaw.
He is…
She had to reassure herself he really was there; her mere eyes were not enough to make it real. With tenderness, she caressed his features with fingertips, and then brought them near his mouth where her tears lingered, shining crystals reminiscent of her earlier fears.
Wishing to wipe them out, to erase the tangible memory itself, she aimed to it and felt his breath, hot, catch her. As her fingers connected with the dampness, he kissed them, eyes still closed, and lips like fire to her core. He weakly brought his free hand to hold hers, similar to the way she held his, and opened the golden stars of his orbs to meet her twilight gaze.
Alive.
Wordlessly, he meant to bring his captured limb toward him, but there was no way she was letting go. She went down, slowly, still clutching his arm, falling until their foreheads came together. Close, shoulder to shoulder, hands intertwined like climbing plants, she felt his blank stare bore through her. He exhaled, pouring scalding air toward her, mingling her senses with his.
"Thank you."
His features softened ever so slightly, his mouth barely twisting up in a tiny smile, yet to her it felt like the sun was born all over again.
----How was it?