Disclaimer: I do not own Bleach or its characters. That would be Kubo Tite.
About this: Kisuke musing on what it means to love and be loved. : / Kind of shorter than I thought it would be.
About this: Kisuke musing on what it means to love and be loved. : / Kind of shorter than I thought it would be.
67%
I was sixty-seven percent sure it wasn’t love. I loved Isshin.
Shunsui was a replacement for something I could never have. It wasn’t like my fellow captain was serious about me, either. It was a fling: short, sweet, simple. If this was true (and it was!), why did I catch myself staring more at Shunsui at the captain meetings? Why did I have to stop myself from calling out his name in the middle of the night when my dreams got the better of me? It made no sense, in retrospect. Everything that we did together was fuelled by lust alone; there was no love behind our actions.
Then why couldn’t I get my mind off last night?
It was the way he had looked at me; it had to be that. His expression had held actual affection and adoration as he had kissed me, soft and slow. Nothing like the fast, desperate kisses I usually initiated. Or maybe it was the gentle manner he had held me in, whispering something about how it didn’t always have to be about sex. And I had let him hold me.
In a way, it felt like I was betraying Isshin, myself, and my heart most of all. It didn’t seem right that I had found Shunsui’s arms warmer than Isshin’s. Neither did it seem right that I had felt more relaxed than I had in a long time just letting Shunsui hold me like that. It just didn’t seem right … that I trusted Shunsui so much more. I trusted Shunsui enough to tell him who I really loved. I trusted him enough to let him have my body. And, above all, I trusted him not to hurt me. Was that love? It can’t be, I kept telling myself, it can’t be love because I love Isshin.
I was sixty-seven percent sure it wasn’t love, but that other thirty-three percent begged to differ.
I was sixty-seven percent sure it wasn’t love. I loved Isshin.
Shunsui was a replacement for something I could never have. It wasn’t like my fellow captain was serious about me, either. It was a fling: short, sweet, simple. If this was true (and it was!), why did I catch myself staring more at Shunsui at the captain meetings? Why did I have to stop myself from calling out his name in the middle of the night when my dreams got the better of me? It made no sense, in retrospect. Everything that we did together was fuelled by lust alone; there was no love behind our actions.
Then why couldn’t I get my mind off last night?
It was the way he had looked at me; it had to be that. His expression had held actual affection and adoration as he had kissed me, soft and slow. Nothing like the fast, desperate kisses I usually initiated. Or maybe it was the gentle manner he had held me in, whispering something about how it didn’t always have to be about sex. And I had let him hold me.
In a way, it felt like I was betraying Isshin, myself, and my heart most of all. It didn’t seem right that I had found Shunsui’s arms warmer than Isshin’s. Neither did it seem right that I had felt more relaxed than I had in a long time just letting Shunsui hold me like that. It just didn’t seem right … that I trusted Shunsui so much more. I trusted Shunsui enough to tell him who I really loved. I trusted him enough to let him have my body. And, above all, I trusted him not to hurt me. Was that love? It can’t be, I kept telling myself, it can’t be love because I love Isshin.
I was sixty-seven percent sure it wasn’t love, but that other thirty-three percent begged to differ.
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