Requested by ravens rising- thank you
Ukitake x Shunsui
Message
If you knew how to read it, if you studied long enough, you could see a message on Ukitake's body.
If you unfurled his tightly clenched fists, you would see crescent-shaped cuts on his palm, dark and freshly red. They had been there as long as he, or anyone who knew him well, could remember; never quite healing over as he dug his nails in once more, not noticing the thin line of blood that dripped to the floor. He simply got so filled with frustration, sometimes, that he thought he might burst.
You could trace the contours of his ribcage, which stuck out from his chest like a birdcage, what little weight that had ever been on him slowly wasted away until he looked brittle, ready to snap. He felt so fragile, sometimes, that he thought he might cry for his weakness, his delicacy.
There were shadows as dark as the sea underneath his eyes, caused by so many sleepless nights, which quickly gave way to the pale colour of his cheeks, the pale colour of illness. So many fears crept up on him in the darkness of night, surrounding him until he thought he might scream.
There were few new scars on his body, partly because he was too strong to be easily injured, and partly because he was too ill to be in too many fights these days: there were still plenty of old ones that laced his limbs and chest, slowly fading away to the delicacy of silver to match his hair. He hated that fact, that illness dictated his life. When he looked in the mirror now, he felt so frail he thought he might die from sorrow.
And if you were to look closely, you would find soft red marks on the inside of his thighs, some tender and new, and others waning away. Past the swing of his hair, there were slightly darker ones on the curve of his neck, underneath his ear and further around where no-one could see them; all the same shape, the shape of tender gravity.
They were placed there by a man who, despite the message that Jyuushiro's body was sending out to the world, knew that each disappointment could be dispelled with warm arms, all his delicateness ignored, any appearance of debility was false, and that each and every dread could be kissed away.
Luckily enough, Shunsui knew just how to read him, and just how to see past all of his weaknesses to the beauty and the strength of the thing that still was, and always would be, his Jyuushiro.