living corpse Chapter 13: love for you, a bleach fanfic

Her head hurts.

Light burns through her thick lashes, seeking to destroy her eyesight. And in that one moment, when the pain sears, a residing thought whispers that if Hitsugaya Toushirou was the last person Kurosaki Karin saw, she would be okay with that.

Wait.

Just one last time—

Flicker. Flicker.

Blurry outlines surround her in shades of crimson black and honey white.

Cerulean blue whirls around the room, smearing with the cracks in the wall, the outline of the ceiling.

Everything is… dusty.

Yeah. That's how it is. That's how she is.

Dry. Decomposed. Dissolving.

Dusty.

… it's cold.

She's cold.

… the duvet is cold.

His hand touches her forehead.

Cool.

Flutter. Flutter.

"Fuck." Toushirou curses. "You're burning up. Why the hell didn't you grab an umbrella?"

Maybe Karin's not listening to his words, just the sound of his voice; perhaps she hasn't heard him, only the sound of her thoughts.

But she smiles, fragilely, before it breaks into the non-existent breeze.

The damage is done, and now he has to deal with the consequences.

It clicks. Somewhere in the back of his mind, it clicks.

Whatever 'it' is… he's seen it before.

She feels like a doll, her face dressed in stone and plastic leaves.

Make up smeared and left to rot.

Hair dishevelled and falling free.

Light. Pathetic. Feeble.

It hurts to breathe.

And he picks her up, lifting her onto his knees, in his arms.

"Here. Drink this."

Water.

It spills down her cracked lips, her parched throat, her empty lungs.

Ash.

Her… mouth is made of ash, decaying everything it swallows, ebbing away the sensation of feeling.

Light.

Blinding her; choking her; forever trapping her in cold darkness.

She has to stay warm.

Has to stop shivering.

With these thoughts in mind, Toushirou hugs her, giving Kurosaki Karin his body heat.

For the moment; for a while longer; just so—

Just so she can get better.

It's not his fault that he inhales the scent of her hair.

… he's here…

Her heart swells, her heart sighs.

And if her cheeks are flushed, it's only because of the fever.

But still—

He's here.

living corpse
13 : love for you

Chest rises.

Chest falls.

Up. Down. Up. Down.

Breathe in and out. In and out.

And repeat once more.

Heavy eyelids flicker open, eliciting a slight moan, a slight groan.

Karin can hear her heartbeat in her ears.

Can feel Toushirou's hand entangled in her tresses; his body besides hers and on top of the duvet; his breath tickling her neck; slowly stirring as he shifts away from her, losing welcome warmth; and blinking as he rubs his blue, blue eyes, and curses under his breath.

"Fell asleep. Sorry."

It's okay. She wants to say. I didn't mind.

Wants to add. It's the fever talking. Fever's making me feel this way.

Knows that the fever both is and isn't.

But she's still so thirsty.

It's like he's read her mind.

"Oh, fuck – there's no… just stay put, okay, Karin? I'll get some more water. Be back in a minute."

She's losing him, losing his blurry outline, his warmth, the feel of his skin, losing, losing…

Concern is laced in his breath, as he pushes back her fringe, tucking it behind her ear.

"I won't be long."

And he's gone.

The door closes in the aftermath, but the echo resonates in the stillness left behind.

There is only one hotel key and it's hidden in her pocket.

The door will remain shut.

She wants to move and curl up in a ball, wants to move and tumble out of bed, wants to move and snuggle deeper into the duvet.

"…"

Words fail her, dying before they are even formed.

Karin opens her eyes.

"… fine."

Karin closes her eyes.

Opens.

"… am… fine."

Closes.

"I am… fine." Rasping, her voice feels weak, ready to disappear.

Liar, liar, pants on fire.

If you're going to tell a lie, make it a damn good one that can convince people.

"… I am…"

Yeah right.

She's not.

Not in the sense that she can control her emotions whenever he's near her. Not in the sense that her body goes haywire near him.

The fever is killing her. But she's okay with that. She'll recover, and face another day driving too fast and thinking too slow.

It's nothing compared to Hitsugaya Toushirou.

The door knocks, sending waves of pain throughout Karin's head. Her hands move to her ears, glad that she and Toushirou are on opposite sides. He can't see her; he can't know how she suffers.

"Oi! Karin! Open the door."

Her hands are clammy, her head hurts, her body refuses to move.

She can't.

She won't.

Delirium is talking, the moment of clarity amidst the madness.

It tells her that monsters are under her bed and beckon forth when the door opens, tells her that it creeps and crawls against her sweaty, sweaty skin and won't stop until she is eaten up.

Toushirou's name is caught in her throat.

But Karin doesn't say a word, mumbling in the pillow that she's fine, she's fine, and oh, she's not fine.

Not at all.

This is love: she pushes him away.

The knocks slow down, quieter than a whisper.

"C'mon. Please?"

His voice lowers, the edge of anger, desperation gone, vanished into thin air. There is only tiredness left.

Back pressed against the door, he sits.

There is nothing he can do. Except wait.

And think.

Karin sinks into the bed.

… it smells just like him.

The bright light of her phone stings her eyes; though she gazes through them darkly, in her glazed vision where only surface thought matter.

Come visit, 'kay? – Pinta.

Stop moping already! – Ryouhei

Beat Ryou-chan up please? He's so getting on my nerves. – Donny.

My hair needs you! – Zu-kun.

Love you babe, always.

Text messages, both old and new, they break her heart.

It's just another form of detached contact.

Mistake.

She is no stranger to that word. Mistakes made her the person she is, mistakes made her grow and squirm, feel and learn.

She knows of many mistakes in her life. Temper tantrums, violent feuds, vengeful haircuts, unspoken words, undone actions, words said, malicious activity… they all have consequences. Some she regrets, others she does not.

But which is the biggest mistake of all?

"Toushirou… I think… I think I made a mistake."

What does she mean?

One sentence can mean many things, like a prism that scatters light. It just depends on the angle, the where and when you look at it.

Light as a feather; bright like wings.

Fly, soar, plummet down.

Dizzy, dizzy, in a tizzy.

Touch the sky, touch the sun, and smoulder.

Reach the ground and…

… remember to breathe.

I have to go back. The thought flickers in her mind, back and forth, waking her from her dozy mind.

Back to Tokyo.

Back to them.

Back to—

Where this began.

Because, she knows, that running away isn't the answer to everything.

This has to end.

And that thought alone gives her strength to emerge from her delirious dream.

He waits because he is not leaving without her.

He waits because he is going to take care of her.

He waits because he loves her.

This is love: he waits for her to let him in.

It takes hours, it takes days, it takes minutes, it takes seconds.

But the door opens eventually, and there Karin stands; cold, warm, black-haired, blue-eyed, pale, rosy, small, vulnerable, herself, beautiful—

And she says:

"I'm sorry."

The words 'what for' nearly slip past his mouth, but are held behind his teeth.

"Come in."

The door opens wider, and she's standing in pyjamas and the duvet wrapped around her.

"Thank you." Toushirou replies. "You really should rest."

Tucking her into bed, Karin looks at him, gazing through and at him, feeble childlike hands tugging at his shirt.

"Stay with me."

… he makes the nightmares go away.

The sun rises and she's all better.

"Morning, sunshine." Karin grins between locks of fuzzy bed hair. "I see you finally woke up."

Toushirou merely moans, nestling deeper into her neck, his grip on her tightening unconsciously.

"… shut up."

"By the way, I've been meaning to ask: where'd you get that bouncy ball?"

"Kid looked at me funny. I glared. He ran and dropped the ball. He started it. Not my fault."

She smiles, amused. "Of course not."

"…"

"… you're keeping it, aren't you?"

"Memento." Toushirou mumbles in her ear, still within the drowsy mindset.

"Hey, thanks." Awkward, Karin looks down and puts her hands in her pockets. "For looking after me."

His smile is soft and unseen.

"Don't mention it."

This is love, requited or not: something that does not have to be said, only understood.

"So where are we going?" Strapping himself into the car, Hitsugaya Toushirou asks Kurosaki Karin.

The mirror flashes in blinding brilliance.

And she grins.

"Tokyo city, baby, Tokyo city."