Summary: AU. Angst. Post TYBW.
Weekly fic prompt for @deathberryprompts - āLeftoversā (sorry Iām a MILLION YEARS late!).
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What happens when you die here?
Heād asked himself that the first time Rukiaās world had merged with his, that pivotal point of change andā fate, maybe. Something as wild as that.
It had come to him of itsā own accord, a striking question in this after-life world. Because, if you die to come here, where do you go next? Do you die to go back?
Ā Ā Ā Ā Ā (He doesnāt ever want to know.)
Your soul. It disappears. That bright, beautiful energy, her energy, and it is pouring through his fingers in floods and leaving behind rivets in his chest.
She steals his breath, again, but it is choking on a storm.
Ā Ā Ā Ā āRukia! Rukia!ā
He no longer knows where his throat and mouth and nose and chest connect, just fire, and a lack of air, and a severe, dragging sense of hopelessness that caves his gut in. He screams her name until it scrapes his throat raw, and still he tries, tries to pool her attention, tries to cup her hand and force some sort of reiatsu to do something do something do anythingā
Ā Ā Ā Ā Ā Ā āRukiaāā A broken, strangled sob, āāRukia, Rukiaāā
Ā Ā Heās already too late - he knows this.
Why he seeks her reiatsu is beyond him; it carves him open more, spilling anger and bitterness and screams into the burnt earth. Seireitei lies broken, torn asunder by souls and thunder and the people who took her away, took her to deathā bring her back, bring her backā
Movements fumble like a blind manās and he is still pleading with her to wake, a breathless, rugged string of nonsense he canāt quite seem to fit togetherā āPlease, fuck, noāā
Her skin might as well be marble, with all the heaviness, and the coldness, and that deep, irreproachable white marred with red on russet on blue. It doesnāt look half as pretty when fractured.
Ā Ā Ā (He had known. He had known.)
There was an ice cold fist to his heart and then that familiar, gaping valley splitting his gut as he had screamed, forced himself to move faster, faster- slow.
He feels like an earthquake; like his touch is watery, like her flesh falters under his fingertips. This is what happens when you die.
(Nothing. Nothing. Nothing.)
He envelopes her with tremors. Cradles her chin, and that spread of claret scarring her from skin to bone, blood to soul.Ā
Death, death is cruel, and inescapable, even to those who command it. Death burrows his hold to ice-hands, and closes his throat, and leaves his temples splitting.
Ā Ā Ā When you die here, you get nothing.
You get broken vocal chords and eaten-out hearts and cold, cold eyes that burn into the backs of yours.
Ā Ā Ā He is never getting that out.
Hopeless. Itās hopeless.
Ā Ā Ā Ā Ā Ā Ā Ā Ā (She is gone.)
Ā Ā Ā Ā Ā The leftovers of her reiatsu hang in the air like iron to his back.
gummygunk
jbbartram-illu
prguitarman
pixelskylines
theartofmadeline
