Bet you never saw this one coming. Life has unfortunately taken over my life, so dividing time between the real world, some of my own personal writing ventures, and other things, writing fanfiction has taken a back seat. Wayyyyyyy in the back. I still do think about these stories (and yes, I am still determined to some day finish 'Lilies') but my interest in Bleach has definitely gone down as of late. I got bored with the lack of Renji and other characters I loved and stopped reading right around when Ichigo had to fight the giant bear-thing...that being said, my version of Bleach is still preserved in my mind, so I won't feel guilty for messing with the canon.

Not that I ever did...

This chapter is awfully bitter, but I figure poor Rangiku has every right to be bitter.

Enjoy!

Today is my birthday.

I wonder if you remember it. To be honest, it wouldn't surprise me if you did. You always had a knack for details.

I don't know the exact number of birthdays that I spent with you, I lost count years ago, but I'm sure that it's a fairly large number. I still have a small array of trinkets that you gifted me on those many occasions.

One I still wear everyday, I wonder now if it's as penance.

I remember when you gave me this necklace, so light and airy to the touch. You knew me well—you still do—and you knew that I wouldn't like anything ostentatious. Showy jewelry never had much appeal to me. I don't need help attracting attention to myself.

You had wrapped it in a small, wooden box, displayed it with reverence on a blue silk pillow. We were out of the academy at this point, me with a position in the tenth squad and you in the eleventh—you would be promoted to the position of third squad fukutaicho a few years later.

You had snuck into my quarters, something you never seemed to have any problem doing, or any qualms about. Given our relationship at the time, it's not surprising. Just as I can't count the number of birthdays I spent with you, I also can't count the number of nights we spent tangled together. Memories of those nights can still make me shiver. No one has ever been able to play my body as deftly as you did.

"Konbanwa, gōjasu," you crooned from your sprawled position on the floor near my futon. "I've got somethin' for ya."

I protested weakly that you shouldn't have, just as I always did. You fixed me with a stern but amused stare, your cold blue eyes boring into mine.

"We both know yer gonna take it, Rangiku," you purred.

It was true, we did. I moved slowly towards you, ignoring the annoyed purr my Haineko was making as I drew nearer. She never did like you. I knelt down before you, my fingers tracing the simple necklace you'd laid out for me, fascinated by the elegant simplicity of it.

"Would ya like to wear it?" you asked softly in the tone of voice that mean you'd been watching me. I never could think of an accurate way to describe your voice at those times; it seemed to take on an odd, airy quality, while being sensual and husky at the same time. The memory of that tone, just like your touch, can still give me goosebumps.

That's all that's left of you here now. This necklace, and the damn goosebumps your memory gives me.

I've tried to get rid of it, you know. I've taken it from around my neck and stood over ferocious rivers and never ending cliffs, daring myself to drop it, to try and rid myself of your continued hold on me. I've gotten close a few times, but just as the chain is about to disappear forever from my hand, I draw it back and eventually refashion it around my neck. I know that disposing of the necklace, of any of your gifts for that matter, wouldn't solve anything.

I know I'd regret it later. Funny, how out of all of the things I could regret about you and our relationship, it would be the loss of the trinkets you'd given me.

Sometimes I try and justify it, saying that really, that was all you gave me. Pretty but cheap gifts to keep me happy, to keep me oblivious to your schemes and plans and betrayals.

I'm not very good at keeping that charade up, either.

For some reason, inexplicable to me, I don't believe it—don't believe that you're really that cruel or black hearted. You always had your reasons for doing things, even if they didn't make sense to me right away.

My taicho tells me I'm being naïve. He is probably right.

Even still, I find myself here, alone in my room on my birthday, wishing you were lounging beside me, looking at my through half lidded eyes while presenting me with something you picked out, just for me.

I suppose in some twisted way you are still gifting me with something— a lonely, inconsolable bitterness.

'Happy Birthday, Rangiku', I can't help thinking to myself.

'You're still in love with that bastard.'

I don't think Rangiku admitting that she is/was in love with Gin is something I've ever actually put into words, but definitely implied (obviously...). Felt kind of nice to do it here, even though it's sad that she's not happy about it. Love should make you happy, but I feel like it's something that also has the power to make you inconsolably sad.

Please review (if you're still out there...guys...?)!

- Luin