Happy birthday, Gin
Who: Ichimaru Gin & Matsumoto Rangiku
What: A quiet birthday
Word count: 487
Fandom: Bleach Beats verse
She watched him move about in her kitchen, a wine glass in her hand, hip leaning against the counter, as he wielded the knife expertly, chopping up the scallions that had given her so much trouble earlier. Tall and lean, fine pale hair a little too long at the back, fringes falling into his eyes constantly, he looked no different than the first time they met.
He'd been a young, perpetually smiling, fresh-faced man with a strange accent and a wicked sense of humour; a rich boy, she learnt later, but not like the other rich boys she'd encountered in the past. He'd been equal parts cynical and hopeful, realistic and idealistic, serious on the inside, utterly foolish on the outside. People warned her not to get too close, warned her that he was dangerous and not in a fun way.
Her memories of Gin Ichimaru were never anything but good fun.
There was a time when whatever there was between them could have become something else, something more. In the end, they remained friends, though. Which was for the best, really.
If that something had become more, he wouldn't be in her kitchen now, cooking his own birthday dinner, and she wouldn't be able to hug him from behind to rest her cheek against a sharp shoulder blade; wouldn't be able to say, "I worry about you," and not have him pull away.
"'Bout me?" he asked with a small laugh. "Don't be silly. I'm livin' the dream, darlin'."
'Whose dream?' she didn't ask, because it would have come out wrong. Gin might be living a dream but it wasn't his. Ever since he started working for Aizen, he'd changed in all the small ways that mattered to her. He'd lost his child-like light-heartedness, had grown dimmer, become less carefree.
He is sharper around the edges now. Sometimes she looks at him and doesn't recognise him anymore. All she sees is the dangerous creature others have warned her of. Every time that happens, Rangiku - being Rangiku - keeps looking, stares until she sees her Gin again. He's still in there somewhere, but it takes her longer and longer each time to find him.
Perhaps he has always been like this on the inside, a snake in the grass, and all Aizen has done is twist and turn Gin inside out, made him less afraid of showing the world what he is. She wouldn't mind so much if Gin was happy. But he isn't; she can tell. She can always tell, can see through his smiles right into his heart, and his heart is still as miserable as it was when they first met.
The worst thing is not being able to do anything to change that. So she wraps herself around his wispy frame, her softness against his edges, and places her hand over his heart, listening to its steady beat and worries and worries and worries.
What: A quiet birthday
Word count: 487
Fandom: Bleach Beats verse
She watched him move about in her kitchen, a wine glass in her hand, hip leaning against the counter, as he wielded the knife expertly, chopping up the scallions that had given her so much trouble earlier. Tall and lean, fine pale hair a little too long at the back, fringes falling into his eyes constantly, he looked no different than the first time they met.
He'd been a young, perpetually smiling, fresh-faced man with a strange accent and a wicked sense of humour; a rich boy, she learnt later, but not like the other rich boys she'd encountered in the past. He'd been equal parts cynical and hopeful, realistic and idealistic, serious on the inside, utterly foolish on the outside. People warned her not to get too close, warned her that he was dangerous and not in a fun way.
Her memories of Gin Ichimaru were never anything but good fun.
There was a time when whatever there was between them could have become something else, something more. In the end, they remained friends, though. Which was for the best, really.
If that something had become more, he wouldn't be in her kitchen now, cooking his own birthday dinner, and she wouldn't be able to hug him from behind to rest her cheek against a sharp shoulder blade; wouldn't be able to say, "I worry about you," and not have him pull away.
"'Bout me?" he asked with a small laugh. "Don't be silly. I'm livin' the dream, darlin'."
'Whose dream?' she didn't ask, because it would have come out wrong. Gin might be living a dream but it wasn't his. Ever since he started working for Aizen, he'd changed in all the small ways that mattered to her. He'd lost his child-like light-heartedness, had grown dimmer, become less carefree.
He is sharper around the edges now. Sometimes she looks at him and doesn't recognise him anymore. All she sees is the dangerous creature others have warned her of. Every time that happens, Rangiku - being Rangiku - keeps looking, stares until she sees her Gin again. He's still in there somewhere, but it takes her longer and longer each time to find him.
Perhaps he has always been like this on the inside, a snake in the grass, and all Aizen has done is twist and turn Gin inside out, made him less afraid of showing the world what he is. She wouldn't mind so much if Gin was happy. But he isn't; she can tell. She can always tell, can see through his smiles right into his heart, and his heart is still as miserable as it was when they first met.
The worst thing is not being able to do anything to change that. So she wraps herself around his wispy frame, her softness against his edges, and places her hand over his heart, listening to its steady beat and worries and worries and worries.