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A/N: Random drabble thing that refused to not be written; may contain vague spoilers if you squint and stare at it hard enough. As always, reviews, comments and constructive criticism welcome. Gin/Ran.

Hanging by a Thread

He always did leave her hanging. The edges of her emotions so close to his, close enough to intertwine and then he'd leave, never saying where, leaving her frayed and searching - dangling in his wake.

The distance somehow made everything sweeter when he did come close. Like being held back made the moments hit so much harder when they were there and hurt so much more when they were gone. They had a dance, always had. Cryptic words, sly glances and distance; they alone knew how it played out. How it ended. How it always had. All the sweeter for the dance and the tension and the game.

He'd broken the rules.

She'd gotten used to sewing herself back up when he was gone. Gotten used to finding ways to pretend she hadn't mismatched her seams – drinks and smiles. She could lie to herself that she was fine, that she hadn't left anything out, until he reappeared and the few threads she had left hanging pulled the whole thing apart and she was dragged back to him again. She had somehow built a life outside of him, in the gaps while he was away, forced to delve into herself in his absence only to throw herself into him anew when he returned. She thought she knew him better than anyone, even with his secrets.

This time she had severed herself from him. A ruthless cut showing no signs of where it had been sewn, resewn, pinned and stapled closed so many times only to be ripped open again every time he returned. There was no return here. Whole spools of hate, bitterness, pain and sake had sewn it closed this time and nothing was going to break her resolve. He said he could stand to be held longer. She could stand to never have had to let go in the first place.

She wondered if he felt it, how could he not? Yet how could he walk away, knowing. Surely he could hear her sobs even before he went, surely he knew that she couldn't love him after this – he had chosen this over her love, to still feel anything for him was illogical, foolish. Was she expected to just walk away? Did he think she even could? If she'd had the chance she would have sat on her own for hours, the pain burning through her till she had to douse it with anything nearby, hoping it would stop but it never did. Instead she leant on the strength she had built while she was wasting away the time for him and she wasn't left weakened.

Yet somehow…

When she sensed him she couldn't not go. Somehow the hurt made it worse and better all at once and she fled to him, just like she always had. Some deep seated instinct that being remotely near wasn't close enough. Not for them. She had guarded her heart against this, walled and reinforced with resolve and the aftermath of betrayal but somehow that melted away when the mere thought, the mere concept that she could be near him again presented itself. She thought he'd stolen it all away only to find everything was exactly where she'd left it. Anger and pain… they weren't nice but they were still feelings, she was still hopelessly tied up in him, just with different thread this time. Beyond the lies, the pain, the confusion, the back and forth, the distance, the time, their everything, her heart still only ached for one thing.

This pain was all she had left of him - maybe that's why she couldn't bring herself to make it stop.