A Strange Kind of Love

"Hi, Ran-chan."

That idiot. For a moment, as she opened her door, nothing else came to Matsumoto's mind but the apparent stupidity of the man grinning at her and standing on her doorstep on a cold November night like it was the most natural thing in the world.

What was he doing here? Both of them knew perfectly well that he was supposed to be in Hueco Mundo, busy building an army of arrancar with Aizen. No, she corrected herself. He was supposed to be here, in Soul Society. He was supposed to be loyal to his division.

He wasn't supposed to leave. Not again.

Meanwhile, Gin was busily freezing his ass off waiting for her to answer him. "You gonna say something anytime soon, Ran-chan?" he asked, breath misting in the cold air.

Matsumoto lamely brandished her zanpaktou at him, half-heartedly stabbing it in the general direction of his silver hair and squinting eyes. "You shouldn't be here," she announced. "What makes you think I'm not gonna tell Taichou on you?"

"Aww, ya wouldn't do that, Ran-chan, 'specially not when I came all the way over here ta see ya."

Matsumoto sighed and leaned against the doorframe. But you never just want to see me, do you, Gin? "Shouldn't you be busy making friends with your arrancar?"

Gin pouted. "Ya know, I don't think any of 'em like me. They all say I'm sorta creepy."

You are creepy. "You are sort of creepy." But she smiled in spite of herself. Some things never changed, i.e. there would probably always be people freaked out by Ichimaru Gin. She just wasn't one of them.

"I've missed ya, Ran-chan," he said, cupping her chin with his hand.

"Then why'd you leave?" She had forgotten how much she needed him. His long fingers were soft against her cheek, surprisingly gentle.

The corners of his mouth curved up into a smile. Why were his real smiles always so sad? "'Cause, Ran-chan," he said, brushing his free hand through her hair, "Ya know I've always had a thing fer forbidden love."

He embraced her, lean limbs against strong ones, and standing there on her doorstep in the middle of the night, Matsumoto knew that deep inside, she'd take him back if he came back to her, even still. She'd take him back any day of the year.

But she also knew that he wouldn't stay, that she was never enough to keep him in one place for long. And when he kissed her on her forehead and turned to leave, she couldn't help grabbing his sleeve just like she used to. She had grown too old to cling to him, and he had grown too old to wait for her, but they went through the motions anyway.

"Where are you going?" She didn't expect an answer.

"Got work to do." And he didn't give her one, not a real answer. He turned and shunpoed away, leaving her watching his back, as she had always done before.

She wouldn't hold onto him, not anymore. It was his choice, she knew, and he would have to make it, and maybe then he would be strong enough to stay.