You Don't Think About It

.

.

You don't have to think about it, and so you don't.

You cast away thought of déjà vu, because they will only make you hesitate and it will destroy you both. You ignore the pounding of your heart – ignore the fear and excitement, because this is just like what you would feel if you ever decide to jump off a cliff. You are damning him again and this, you know, should concern you. You are giving him back a world of monsters and swords, of bloodthirsty maniacs and waking up in the middle of stormy nights with his hand flying to his own blade in fear of the demons lurking in the dark.

Your mind catches up to your hesitant heart – is it the other way around? You never know, not with him – and it quells your worries with memories of his powerlessness, his internal defeat despite gaining the ultimate victory.

You know that he has the power to fight off his monsters and demons if you give it to him – and he is asking for it so desperately that you can hear his silent cries rattle your bones.

This is what reminds you of the reason why you approached that man who betrayed you and made you a vessel for something terrible, and asked for his help. It is why you trusted him, why you have allowed others to share their power with him alongside you.

A surge of possessiveness – this is yours and his; this is your connection, the start of everything, of your life with him and his with yours.

But you know that all you can give him will not be enough to give back what he has lost.

The gate opens in front of you and his scream pierces your ears, drowning out the sound of that infernal rain.

He is crying and you are breaking.

He has lost power again and he is close to madness, and his cure is in you. In your hands. You cannot hesitate, not now, not when he needs you –

You do not wait for the others. You are the first one through. You barely notice his father and that man, Urahara Kisuke – they are both strictly observers.

You do not think about it.

They stand beside you when you drive the sword through his chest.

You don't think about it.

Not the slight tremors that run through him when he accuses his own father of the ultimate betrayal, not when he suffers from ultimate despair.

Not your hummingbird heart or the fire that rages through your veins as you will him to look at you, to see you.

You don't think about it.

How this is just like that first time, except you are so desperate to save him now more than you ever did all those months ago. You care for this man who was once the boy who scowled at you because he can see ghosts. You go past the boundary of merely caring for this man with the broad, defeated shoulders and the waves of anguish that flow through you.

You don't think about it.

Not the slow movement of his head, of his gaze tantalizingly sweeping in your direction.

You don't think about it –

Until you do.

Until he makes you.

With those eyes of full of wonder – like colour exploded in a monochrome world, like you are the whole truth in a deceptive world that has betrayed him too many times. With those lips that form your names and a rumbling, deep voice that washes over you. With that longer hair in the same bright shade of orange that you so fondly remember, with the face that's sharper…cleaner.

With the tears that were shed in the sudden blast of sadness at not being able to see you again, and are washed away in the rain in his soul that your presence is quickly drying away.

You smile and tell him – it's been a while – and his name escapes you. Your seventeen-month taboo of not-thinking and not-feeling is broken.

This same taboo that allowed you to stand in the presence of your superiors and defend him without cracking under pressure, this taboo that has allowed you to rise in the ranks as a Lieutenant, this taboo that allows you to smile without truly smiling, to be a true shinigami whose emotions are kept under a tight leash.

The taboo for him – he makes you break it with that single, pleading look and the mere mention of your name.

The explosion resulting from his returned power is not unexpected, but you maintain a strong hold on the sword until you're sure that it is successful. You withdraw and he holds his gigantic blade over his shoulder and you almost laugh at the ridiculousness of this familiar scene and you think – please let this be the last time he breaks.

You compliment him, and it sounds odd coming from you. You can already see the confusion forming on his brow –

You shout at him and he smirks. You smile when you drag him forward with your words and he silently thanks you with those eyes.

When he begins to fight his own battles –

You don't think about it.

You just stand by him and fight those he can fight, hoping that he will defeat his own dilemma and you will leave him nothing but you to focus on when the dust clears.

And maybe this time, your reunion will be a little bit better.

.

.

A/N: I should be working on my other fics butI'msorrynotsorry, I just needed to write something like this since it's been bugging me. I wrote this in Biology class because I hate the teacher and while I respect her as a person (just like I do to everyone), I just generally dislike her. Anyhow, enough of that - I wrote this because I haven't wrote anything like this before. I hope it's not too shabby, considering it was done in starts and stops, but oh well. Please check out my other stuff, and as usual, reviews/comments are appreciated.