living corpse Chapter 12: at the seams, a bleach fanfic

"I love you."

Her lips taste of alcohol and unshed tears.

Her eyes stare at the ceiling.

Her heart pounds against her ribcage.

"Karin."

The bath is cold and smooth against her skin; the duvet is soft and warm against her skin.

Her skin is hot like lava and freezing like a fridge. It feels like a marble statue, unable to move yet flowing with emotions that cannot help but bleed in place of tepid water.

Red locks of hair slide onto her face, covering her darkened eyelashes, shadowing a moon-white liquid.

"Don't you get that?"

Kami, she wants to punch his brains out.

Anger boils and belches within her, simmering as her lips compress into a thin line.

That stupid—

Fuck. She can't even curse him properly!

Hopelessness stirs at the pit of her stomach, almost like butterflies that flap their wings in elation. But those beautiful winged creature soar on shredded velvet wings, spiralling downwards.

Hands curl, digging deeper and deeper until crescent shaped moons are marked on the palms of her hand.

Why'd he have to go and get himself drunk?

Why'd he have to ki—kiss her?

Why'd she have to like it?

Karin sighs, and tries to detach herself from the spectrum of emotions that glisten in her eyes.

"You're tired."

Dammit.

Her hand covers half her face; her attempt a failure already.

Doesn't he get that he's just a job?

How could he? He doesn't know a thing. He doesn't know a damn thing.

Yet she does. Regardless, all those feeling that were meant to be buried up in the past… resurfaced beneath her friendly façade.

And Hitsugaya Toushirou has become so much more than just a job.

"Just get some sleep, Toushirou."

How is she supposed to get to sleep when every time she closes her eyes she can feel his lips pressed against hers?

"And when you wake up, it'll all have been a dream."

When she finally falls asleep, she dreams of smoke, dragons and a moon reflected in the rippling water.

… bang.

living corpse
12 : at the seams

His head hurts, he realizes as he moans into the pillow, hoping to muffle out his quiet, quiet death.

What happened last night?

Blinking, he tries not to let the sun gouge out his eyes with such bright intensity.

… he doesn't have a duvet, yet he's still on the bed.

Huh. That's so typical of—

Oh.

Oh, shit.

Karin's going to fucking rip out his intestines and recreate the bloody wall of China with it!

Or… or maybe he's overreacting. Sitting up, he mulls over the exploration of the option.

Last time they almost, but didn't kiss, and the both of them were drunk. This time, only he was drunk. And he swears, through his hazy memory that she… she kissed back.

The bathroom door opens, Karin appears, with messed up hair and a black storm cloud, the duvet instead of Santa's bag, on top of her shoulder.

They make eye contact. It lasts for a very long and angry second.

"…"

Forget about the Glare of Doom.

She can be a freaking harbinger and call forth the apocalypse with one mean glower.

The silence is loud and deafening as she grabs her suitcase and rummages for clothes. Her movement is sharp and short; staccato, in other terms, quick bursts of anger, quick stomps as she foxtrots back to the bathroom, mumbling curses beneath her breath.

Hitsugaya Toushirou flops back onto the bed.

Yeah. No doubt about it.

She's fucking mad at him.

Saying 'sorry' doesn't appear to be appropriate.

And impossible to do, since she either ignores him, sends scowls in her direction, or snaps whenever he tries to talk to her. A mere touch sends her scuttling away, flinching like he's made of electricity, and burning her at the very touch.

This has got to stop.

Kurosaki Karin is being ridiculous.

She hasn't talked to him in days. Always gone before he wakes up, too tired to argue when night falls, snuggling in the duvet-bath.

The thought occurs that he should get her a couch.

But he knows that she wouldn't use it.

What about post-it notes? That could work.

At least some communication could be made.

… not a good idea, it turns out.

All that remains of them is burnt ashes.

Before his very eyes.

For the sake of future use, he is not going to even attempt to use the phone.

His breaking point happens to be when her hair turns black, black as death, black as the night, black as a crow.

"Are you done?"

"What?" Instantly put on guard, her arms fold, and her foot taps impatiently. She doesn't look at him.

"With this. Whatever issue you have with me, can you just drop it?" Blunt, he's a stickler for maturity.

"Right. Sure. Because you know, that happens when you get drunk. You get all… affectionate." Her voice rises only in pitch, not volume, coming faster and faster as each word is spat out reluctantly.

Aw, crap.

She's panicking. Twitching. Growing red-faced at the mere sight of him.

So not good.

"Wait." Blinking, he tries to exhale, the memory passing him by. "All I did was kiss you."

"Yeah. You did. And you also said—you do remember, right?" Pausing, her cheeks turn to flames at the remembrance.

"Karin. All I did was kiss you." He repeats, talking very slowly and trying to take it in.

"No, no you didn't!" Swallowing, her enraged expression becomes mollified. It's becoming hard to breathe. "You really don't remember."

"What are you talking about?"

"You said—nothing. Never mind. Doesn't matter. At all. At all."

Toushirou arches one eyebrow. Repetition is such a giveaway. "Really?"

"Absolutely." Karin nods frantically, blazing in emotion. "So. Um. I'm going to go."

She turns and all he wants to do is hold onto her. Just to—

Just to let her know that he's sorry. And that they're okay.

"Karin."

She stops, motionless, fists tightly clenched. But she's listening, and that's better than her cold front.

"What did I say?"

Her head lowers, and he waits for her to level her head, instinctively knowing not to push her.

She runs her tongue on the roof of her mouth, both dry.

"… you told me you loved me."

He steps back.

"I was drunk. I lied. I mean, you know. I was just drunk."

Hitsugaya Toushirou is babbling, saying the first things that come to mind. When facing a hangover, the best thing to do is deny, deny, deny.

Damn repercussions.

"Liar." Kurosaki Karin's voice cuts like ice, like glass. "You're such a terrible liar."

"…"

"Give me a break. You were in love with me then, and you're in love with me now. I mean, seriously. Why? Why would you do such a thing?" She spins back and for the first time in a while, makes eye contact, midnight blue searing with torrid emotions. "That – this wasn't meant to happen!"

"Since when?"

"Since always; it's an unspoken rule between us. And, oh, kami – you didn't even argue." Horrified, she steps back, tensing.

The thought has never crossed his mind, too absorbed in her.

She's so odd, being open when it's all about him, being so closed when it's all about her. And whatever happens, she's so alive, so vulnerable… so… he can't find the words to describe it. Under her happiness, beneath her ire; emotional baggage rips her apart.

And what's the point of arguing when it's true?

"Because you're right, Karin. And you know it."

She jumps at that, closer to the door. Her cheeks, flushed like cherries, change into pale ash.

"Why the heck can't you just deny it and say that's nothing's wrong? Why can't you be that stupid fucking idiot just like before?" Karin's voice rises into a shout, her body shaking.

"Because I like talking to you!" Angrily, he retorts; blinding him. "I like being with you! And I—"

Cold, she interrupts, staring through him. "Don't say it."

Don't say them.

Those three words.

It's like he's seeing her in a different light. He's so much more perceptive to her than he originally thought.

Those words – her words – bind him, lacing up his throat so he is mute.

Shaking, trembling, shuddering, Kurosaki Karin steps back, her action releasing his larynx.

"Karin."

Her back faces him, and he misses her long locks of hair that would tumble afterwards, swaying to the breeze and falling like water to a waterfall.

Her hand turns the handle of the door, yet the door stays closed.

Her face gazes, meeting his, and he swears that he can see tears forming in her eyes. But when she blinks, the moment is gone.

"I can't deal with this. When I can… I'll be back."

Wait!

And the door is closed, the silent slam the sound of his heart breaking.

The hotel keys are left on the floor.

So are her car keys.

He doesn't chase her. Doesn't know that's what she wants him to do.

Doesn't know that was the problem in the first place.

Lonely.

That's the word he's been looking for to describe her. All this time, she's been lonely.

And even if he's here… he's not by her side.

Sitting under a park bench, Kurosaki Karin leans back, eyes closed, beneath the flickering light of the lamp post. Smoke escapes from her lips, the cigarette disintegrating at her fingertips.

She hasn't smoked in a long time. It's not her thing to be honest. To die by tar filling up the lungs, corroding the blood? It's fucking unsexy and so not hot.

Only, it reminds her of him.

The ghost of a memory long past.

It's not a case of letting go, for her. It's a case of accepting what's right in front of her.

Because that scares her.

So much for keeping a cool head around Toushirou.

The cigarette falls to the floor, but to Kurosaki Karin, it's like a body collapsing to the ground.

The smoke dies away, his breath fading away.

And the rain begins to fall.

Droplets. Wet. Light.

They slide down her face, her neck, and her cold, cold hands. They drench her clothes; make it harder to walk, slowing down her pace, no matter how much her mind screams to rush to shelter. They soak up her hair, black locks of hair now clumpy; mirroring a water rat.

Raindrops are soothing.

They spill to the ground, like blood, like water, like the emotions one cannot see, draining Karin of all her anger and replacing her fiery emotions with calm logic, clear thinking and comforting thoughts.

As well as creating the mood that she's a fucking idiot for not bringing an umbrella and being so damn cold.

But the best thing about the rain?

It's the fact that nobody can tell if someone's crying or the rain is simply on their face; obscuring the reality that some people live in.

Hitsugaya Toushirou thinks about calling her, using her number for the very first time.

The television is chattering mindlessly, and all he's doing is staring at a phone that never rings.

And then someone knocks on the door.

… knocking the tune of Jingle Bells.

It's her.

He opens the door slowly, soundlessly, his mouth twitching into a smile.

Because there she is.

Pale. Barely lucid. Shivering.

"Hey. It took you long enough."

She's soaking wet and yet she can still smirk at him, though it doesn't reach her eyes.

"Toushirou… I think…"

All he wants to do is get her out of those clothes and make sure that she's not going to get a fever, replenishing her healthy pallor.

Yet as she stumbles forward, her legs buckle beneath her and fuck—she's freezing cold!

Karin's voice is mumbling something, as he lifts her into his arms, getting quieter as she becomes more and more drowsy, her teeth chattering, her limbs shaking, and holding on to him for dear life.

"… I think I made a mistake."