Fanfic: Etched (Kira/Hisagi)
My other fics on this pairing: Pieces | Breathing With Him, In Time | Utterly Spoiled | All Along | Sense of Normalcy | Feverish Burning | Divide | 12 Drabbles | Heartbeat | Stepping Stone

You guessed it - the ever-obsessed Harmony has cooked up yet another fic with this pairing. Silver's been busy recently with her winter classes, meaning she won't be posting her pretty art for a while (aww)... so I thought it'd be my duty to keep our journal updated with fandom stuff until she's back in business - which is hopefully soon *winks*.

Please enjoy:


Title: Etched
Author: Harmony (Silver Harmony)
Pairing: Hisagi Shuuhei/Kira Izuru.
Rating: PG
Word Count: Approximately 770.
Disclaimer: Not mine – otherwise this pairing would be canon.
Notes: Cross-posted to asterisk_plus, bleach_yaoi and kurosaki_clinic (EDIT: also to shuukira now).
Feedback: Very much appreciated, as I would like to write much better Bleach fics. Your concrits mean a lot to me, especially when it tells me what you think of the story and what I can do to improve. Please and thank you.
Summary: ‘Shuuhei wasn’t, in theory, bothered by those scars, and he was used to them. He wasn’t even really sure how this had come to be an exception.’


***


He couldn’t help shrinking back, and as he’d predicted, Kira was quick to notice.

Maybe it was out of sensitivity. Maybe it was out of self-consciousness. Whatever it was, he knew that at least he should have grown used to them by now: those three pale lines.

It felt too much like an exposure, an uncovering – the uncertainty was awkward. And he had too-obviously shied away, however slightly, the day the blond had reached out to touch that side of his face and finally came to realize that something was amiss.

‘I’m sorry,’ Shuuhei had uttered, his eyes lowered. ‘I didn’t mean to do that.’

Kira had simply gazed at him wordlessly, unmoving, where he knelt between the dark-haired vice-captain’s knees; it was that reaction of stillness more than anything, perhaps, which filled Shuuhei with the most guilt. Even in disappointment, the blond was as refined, as composed, as he was with almost everything. Shuuhei didn’t remember when he had unconsciously raised his fingers up to his own cheek, as if trying to shield the ragged lines the other shinigami had tried to touch.

At long last, Kira turned to look away. ‘You react as if I’m seeing them for the first time.’

Shuuhei wasn’t, in theory, bothered by those scars, and he was used to them. He wasn’t even really sure how this had come to be an exception, recently, and only with Kira. He had to tell himself to bring his hand down, away from his face, before his body registered to doing it.

‘…I know. It’s just different, somehow, now that we’re—’

‘—They haven’t changed, Hisagi-san. They still look the same,’ Kira interrupted. ‘They still hold the same memory. There’s nothing to be hesitant about in cuts that have stopped bleeding. It just shows that your wounds have healed.’

Shuuhei knew which wounds they were. They hadn’t always been in the flesh. He knew which of those wounds they’d healed in themselves, in each other. He knew which of them had left scars.

He felt himself ease up slightly, understanding what the other shinigami was saying.

Kira let a fleeting look of relief cross his features, curling smooth fingers around Shuuhei’s palm. ‘I know what you’re thinking. Of course I’d feel obliged to say something, if I catch you worrying about needless things,’ he said. ‘You have never been any less than attractive, you know. I’m the one you should feel the least self-conscious around.’

A dark eyebrow lifted in amusement at this. ‘In other words, you don’t care about the way I look – you like me just the way I am, right?’

The blond shook his head.

‘I didn’t say I didn’t care. That’s not the right way to say it,’ he replied, slowly raising his other hand towards Shuuhei’s face. ‘I do care. I was there when you got these scars. You bear them and I think of your selflessness and courage when I see them. They’re a part of you.’

Shuuhei felt a tender fingertip outlining the curve of his eyebrow – the one cut by the scars – and his eyes reflexively fluttered to a close when he saw the other shinigami leaning over, moving towards him. A moist warmth, Kira’s tongue, lightly traced the thin lines of raised tissue on his cheek; it made all the hairs on the back of his neck stand up, and a sensitive quiver crawl down his spine. His hand tightened, subconsciously, around the one that clasped it.

‘You know that we have other, more recent scars too,’ the blond murmured; the dark-haired vice-captain could feel the partly-open mouth moving against his jawline. ‘Deeper scars, Hisagi-san.’

The heat of their wavering breaths mingled in the thin space between them. Shuuhei opened his eyes and could see the soft, fine eyelashes close to him, and understood the tremor in Kira’s voice, one that yearned for his consolation, his contact. There was a pleasant faint smarting from a wound somewhere that had not quite healed. Shuuhei was not entirely sure which of them bore that comforting ache, but it still reached him, touched him, either way.

He brushed aside the long strands of Kira’s fringe and ran the back of his forefinger over the pale cheekbone.

‘And they’re a part of us now, too,’ he uttered, ‘to prove that we’d survived. Right?’

The blond didn’t say anything, but his mouth turned upwards slightly at the corners. It was warm. It was a sight that was much too rare.

Shuuhei curled an arm around him and moved to him, breathed to him, and did not recoil when Kira kissed his scars.