a/n: Just something that suddenly popped into my head and simply wouldn't leave me alone. I'm sorry for any grammar or spelling mistakes, English is not my first language and I don't have a beta.

Disclaimer: nothing belongs to me.

Just bend the pieces 'till they fit

Like they were meant for it

But they weren't meant for it

~Dashboard Confessional

Pendulum

In the forty-eight years they've owned it, Orihime has always hated the grandfather clock that proudly ticks away in their living room.

Ichigo is dying. Has been for weeks now, but Orihime does not dare mention it. She knows he is happy, she doesn't need to see the guilt in his eyes. Guilt for his happiness. Guilt for dying. For leaving her.

That doesn't mean she would change anything that happened. She has no regrets, and she is sure he doesn't either. They had had four beautiful children. They had had lifelong friendships. They had seen people they loved die and watched as new lives filled their hearts again. They had lived a happy full life together. So, despite everything, she knows he also doesn't regret a single day of their last fifty years together.

Still.

She can't stand how he eats her food now. Gladly, with a soft smile that is so unlike him. He eats her awful cooking as if it's the last meal he is ever going to have. As if it's delicious and lovely and there's nothing better in the world. He's that happy. Her heart breaks a little with every bite he takes. And the clock continues ticking.

She can't stand how he watches the skies. As if it would suddenly open and embrace him, take him away. Hates the way he gazes upon the stars with longing, but also with patience, as if to say 'Just a little longer'. She is almost sure she can hear the ticking speeding up a bit. Just from his sheer will.

She can't stand the way he looks at her now. Not only at her, really. At the old photos. At the bench on the porch where they used to cuddle together when it grew cold. At their children arguing during their weekly dinner. At their grandchildren hunting for secrets in the old house. As if he were watching something from afar, something that happened long ago. As if they are nothing but memories to him.

She hates how everything about him now is saying goodbye. Everything but his lips. They both know he doesn't need to voice it. His eyes, his heart, his touch are all screaming his farewell.

It's almost as if he wouldn't see her ever again. Which is silly. Ichigo knows better than anyone that death is not really the end. He knows and cherishes this more than anyone she knows.

That was what kept him by her side their whole lives. The whole fifty years they spent together, four children, nine grandchildren, some arguments, some love and some more, none of that was what kept him with her, because, really, he would never be completely hers. What kept by her side was just the certainty that someday he would go back. Back to his love.

Not that he didn't love her. Orihime was the love of Ichigo's life. No, more than that. Ichigo's life belonged to her, she was his life, and for that she was grateful.

But his eternity wasn't his to give anymore. It belonged to the other half of his soul. She knew it wasn't his fault, he couldn't help it, Fate had chosen for him and Fate had chosen Rukia. But that didn't mean it didn't hurt.

All that time, he had been waiting. Fifty years of waiting. Fifty years watching that damn clock. Willing time to go faster. Waiting and then waiting some more. He could have waited forever.

She had always known, of course, but was too much of a coward to say anything. If she could just have him for as long as their human lives lasted, she wouldn't ask and he wouldn't lie. She is not so sure anymore that he would've lied, but it's too late to ask now. It doesn't matter anyway. She knows the truth even without asking. It hurts less than hearing his lie. And even less than hearing him say the truth.

And what was she to do if he were to say it anyway? She had (has) everything she asked for. A life with him. "'Till death do us part" echoes in her head along with the ticking of the clock. Marriages end with death. Ichigo must have thought about that before he proposed, otherwise he would never have done it. She doesn't have the right to expect anything more than he has given her. He has kept his promise.

So Orihime does not complain. Actually, she feels she's owes him something. So, in the end, she waits with him.

She listens to the clock holding her breath those last few weeks when he barely leaves their bed anymore. He is weak and frail and she could never in her wildest dreams have imagined he would ever look like this. She kisses his forehead tenderly before going about her business in the kitchen.

The moment he stops breathing, she feels it in her bones. It's like their bond is suddenly irreparably severed and her heart is torn from her chest. There is no doubt. Ichigo is gone.

Orihime slowly makes her way to the living room, gently tips the clock and then collects the pieces. No more waiting.

Rukia has finally arrived.