Adult-FanFiction.org : Bleach

Forged Confessions	By : BookMaggot Category: Bleach > Yaoi - Male/Male > Ukitake/Shunsui Views: 3963 -:- Recommendations : 0 -:- Currently Reading : 5
Disclaimer: None of Bleach do I own, nor do I make any money, I cannot reap what I not sown, so please do not sue me!

Chapter List
- 1
- 2
Characters: Jushiro, Shunsui and Kenpachi.
Pairings: Jushiro x Shunsui
Timeline: After the winter war
Warnings: None (Perhaps some OOC?)
Satuts: WIP
Okay I know I've got so many stories going right now! But do not fret, they will be finished... as soon as this plot bunny dies -_-
NOTE: Sad but will have a happy ending :)
EDIT: Meep! Posted the wrong chapter >_>... still the same just... better lol. Enjoy guys! Thanks for reading, and sorry for the mishap >_<
* * *
Numb
He reclined back into the pillows. A small black book sat comfortably on his right thigh, splayed open and revealing hundreds of small messages. Jushiro smiled wanly down at them. A mixed feel of contentment and sadness washing over him. His pen was poised on a small blank area, even after all these years there was still some space. He thought for a moment, and then wrote carefully, concentrating fully;
When you’re with me, everything’s perfect.
He paused, bit his lower lip and smiled softly. Then turned a page, and his smile widened when he found and even larger space.
You are the cup to my sake, the pink in my haori and the straps to my hat. In other words, you complete me, Ju-chan.
Jushiro sat back and let out a small sigh. Filtered in these yellow pages, thousands more like these poetic thoughts lay strewn on them. He stared at it. He should destroy it, it was better all around. If anyone ever discovered this book it could ruin the reputation of both himself and Shunsui. But he never could, it was his solace and his small indulgence.
He’d learned to fake Shunsui’s handwriting years ago. And back then he'd never have imagined in his wildest dreams that he would use it like this. The writing had started gradually, secretly. In the beginning it had been small notes, sparse and years apart. Now he wrote and read them daily. In some respects it wasn’t right, it was perhaps even illegall in some way. Of course he’d told himself that over six hundred years ago and to this day he still did it. But it was a good innocent dream that didn’t hurt anyone.
Yet.
He turned another page, and let the endless confessions of love simply wash over him.
Just a small pocket of fancy he held close to his heart. A taste of heaven he could take out at his convenience and enjoy when no one was looking. It had been surprisingly easy for him to do it but then again he’d known Shunsui for so long, was it really a surprise? When they’d been younger he’d had to fake Shunsui's academy reports when he was too drunk to do them himself. Many of them, and to this day he could still forge his signature.
Or his handwriting.
He traced the drying ink, the black staining his fingers.
Every few days he’d open the book and stare at poems he’d written in a hand he knew, recognized but wasn’t his own. He wrote them in his hand, forged them and it was Jushiro’s small indulgence, the only one he permitted himself on a daily basis. Because he knew nothing could or would ever come of it. He wrote words he wanted to hear, he wanted to be said but that never would be.
Most days he liked to pretend he himself never wrote them, and for a moment he could dream that they had been written by Shunsui. That all the words scattered across the pages were put there by his hand. That all the words were meant for Jushiro, and for a moment his heart felt light and he felt loved in some small way. It gave him some comfort.
But some days, he couldn’t bear to look, it was a twisted lie he lived in, indulged in, a drug he couldn’t stop using. But it was the only thing that kept him sane. A dirty little secret no one knew about, and one he couldn’t bear to leave behind.
Jushiro stared at the yellowed pages. He should destroy it. He knew having something like this lying around would not only ruin his own reputation but that of Shunsui as well. But he never could. It was just too precious to him.
He sighed and with a smile he wrote in the corner, a small space still permitting a small message.
I love you, Jushiro.
He smiled sadly.
It wasn’t real.
It wasn’t true.
But for now, it was enough.
* * *
Shunsui came to visit him that evening, as was his custom. Always at the same time every day he came strolling into the thirteenth division with a smile and a bottle of sake. Sometimes Jushiro would admire him from afar. But he never took it further than that. His fantasies were meant for that small little book, his dark little secret. Apart from that he never felt right using his friend in any other way.
He loved him too much.
“Ju-chan!”
He was happily embraced from behind, and Jushiro grinned. “How are you tonight Shunsui?”
“Tired!” he huffed and flopped down opposite his friend sitting at the low table, “You’d think Nanao would know that I never work well under stress,”
“You my friend never work well….” Jushiro teased gently, quickly finishing up the last paperwork, “… ever”
Shunsui let out a hearty laugh. He was obviously in high spirits, “Point taken,” he eyed the paperwork, “How far are you?”
“Just about done,” he said, “You have enough there?” he gestured to the half bottle of sake in his friend’s lap. Shunsui grinned at him.
“I have a few hiding places here,” he said, “I’ll go get some more while you finish up,”
“Sounds good,” Jushiro said and smiling as his friend stood up, he rounded off the remaining few pages with his signature. That done he stretched languidly and headed for the kitchen to start the tea. He was tired, and a little tea never did him any harm.
He sighed as he waited for the water to boil. Thoughts drifted in and out of his head. He frowned, staring at the spot where his dear friend had occupied only moments before.
In his heart he knew there could never be anything between them. There are some things one just had to accept and Jushiro had accepted that many years ago.
He would never confess. He would never let him know how he felt, and he would always be happy just to have him close. There were times at night when his soul ached, when he saw Shunsui with a sexy little girl ,his heart would clench. But even if he endured that pain daily he would never ruin such a friendship. It meant too much to him. He could never have him but for now that was as perfect as it was going to get, and he was content.
Jushiro set the pot down on the strangely empty table. Shunsui wasn’t back yet-
“Ju…?”
He heard it from the bedroom. Curious, he stepped into the doorway, and froze in his stride. Shunsui stood in the middle of the room, the small battered book open in his hands. His eyes pulled into a frown, something Jushiro couldn’t bear to see. He recognized it instantly, his stomach coiled viciously a sudden panic rising in his chest but he clamped it down.
“Shunsui?” he asked as nonchalantly as he could.
“How drunk was I when I wrote this?” he asked turning a page with an expression mixed with disgust and worry.
Jushiro winced at the words, a sudden stab in his soul halting his answer. But he quickly righted himself and smiled, now was not the time, later when the shutters were close and the windows barred then he would cry. Now… he had to fix this.
“Pretty drunk,” he said with a smile, ignoring his hammering heart “You get a little wordy sometimes…” he cleared his throat, “Well the tea is ready, and you can have some-“
“Why do you keep it?”
“Hm?”
Shunsui hesitated and when he spoke there was a sharp edge to his voice, “I said, why do you keep it Jushiro?” he advanced a few steps to him. His reiatsu was pulled in tight, controlled almost.
Jushiro backed up quickly, avoiding his best friend’s eyes. How was he supposed to say this? How could he make this right? But no words were forthcoming the shock was effectively shutting down his vocal chords.
“Is this book yours?” Shunsui asked waving it in his face, “Did you write this?”
Don’t say anything! His mind hollered, think of anything else but don’t admit this! Don’t do it-
"Jushiro are you forging my handwriting?” he was still advancing and Jushiro was backing up into the next room. His hands shaking, and still avoiding his eyes, “Answer me!” he yelled.
Despite the warnings in his head, he nodded.
He could feel the drop in warmth. Not the rise in cold, just the sudden absence of heat. As if Shunsui had shut down all comforting energy. Jushiro stood quietly. His hands held loosely in fists, and his throat tightening in anticipation and fear.
“I don’t understand…” Shunsui said softly, his voice vacant of emotion.
Jushiro huffed a strangled laugh, “Then you are not very perceptive…”
There was a pause in which he stared at the pages again. Jushiro didn’t dare breathe too hard. He had so much he wanted to say, explain but words just failed him.
“Do you…” Shunsui paused, seemingly trying to grab words out of the air, “… like me Jushiro?”
“I would think that obvious,” his voice was perhaps a little breathless.
There was a long silence. Jushiro wished he could find the courage to say something. To explain but no explanation could make this right. No words could wash away these bitter thoughts, or tame this terror. But still he wished he could, he wished now of all times his silver tongue would work…
Jushiro jumped when the book hit the table. He watched silently as Shunsui stormed out of the room and slammed the door shut.
He stood frozen on the spot. The terror finally taking hold as his hands started to shake, and his eyes brimmed with tears. And he crumpled down to the waiting floor, and cried till his throat went hoarse, until his knees ached. But most importantly, until his soul went numb.
* * *
It would be hours before he moved. The darkness had swept the sky and he sat quietly in the dull light, the small flickering candle offering the only source in the room. His sobs and chokes had turned to small hiccups. His body and mind felt numb, dead and for once he was grateful. Vaguely he wondered how it was possible he hadn't started coughing yet, part of him felt relief. The other disappointment. Perhpas it would have been better had he started choking. Jushiro pushed himself up from the floor, he still shook. His limbs felt numb, his eyes puffy and his soul torn. He couldn’t feel the comforting reiatsu of his friend.
He was utterly alone.
Desperately he thought to reach out to his siblings but he quickly squashed that notion. It would not do for them to see him like this. They needed him strong, just like the rest of the seireitei, they needed him to be the support, the pillar and the constant. But it was terrifying to have no supporting reiatsu himself. Jushiro felt abandoned. But he had been abandoned hadn’t he? His only prop up had always been Shunsui, and now he was gone.
He coughed and staggered forwards, through blurred tears he groped outwards and grabbed the small book. Something that had once brought such joy now only gave him heart ache. He felt sick, he felt dizzy but he needed to do something about this thing…
The sudden burst of anger was surprising even to him. Without thought he spun around and stormed to the candle, he held the small book over the flame and watched dispassionately as it caught fire. All the beautiful words dying in flame and smoke. He should have done this years ago! He should have destroyed it! But it was too late now, the damage was done...
Regret always came too late.
His eyes caught the hissing words in the flames;
... and never let you go...
... my everything....
... you mean more to me...
...I love you, Jushiro....
And again he choked. The small burning book hit the ground. The flames licking at the floor but he didn’t notice. A new rush of tears had him on his knees. The ever lasting tears never stopping. He’d fallen for a man who could never love him. He’d fallen for someone who couldn’t even forgive his transgression.
He didn’t ask for much, just the chance to be close with no chance of ever touching. The chance just to watch and never reach. Never had he wanted anything more than what Shunsui would give him. Had he not proven that in all this time? Was it so hard to believe? That he would never betray that trust?
But you did, his mind scolded, by writing that book, byt keeping it you betrayed his trust, by always lying.
The pages curled in the heat, the black ink hissed in the scolding flames, and all he could do was watch. Should those fires take flame and burn his house down, would it be such a terrible thing?
He just felt so numb…
So very tired…
He couldn’t move…
Nothing really mattered anymore.
* * *
Wow depressing.... but hopefully okay? Any and all reviews or constructive criticism is more than welcome :) And thanks for reading. ^_^
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Forged Confessions