Sugar Streak

Trembling Tigerlily

She froze where she stood. The silence in the room seemed to press in around her, almost suffocating, but not quite. Her breath caught in her throat, and she choked slightly, holding herself back. She blinked hard and drew a deep breath. An attempt at regaining composure. An attempt without much hope. She felt her hands begin to shake slightly as he advanced, as calmly as ever, until he stood barely a foot from her. She balled her fists, knowing it would show her weakness, but needing to steady the trembling that seemed to bring all coherent thought to a standstill.

Her eyes stared purposefully at the ground before her feet as she turned to face him. She willed herself to stay calm, to stay strong. Taking another careful breath she chanced a glance upward. Her eyes followed his clothes steadily, the same white as her own, whether perfect or empty she could not decide. Her gaze met his hands, loosely at his sides and now not hidden beneath the sleeves of his usual haori; pale, slender, strong and carrying secrets that she felt a mortal should never think to hear. Tracing up the line of his left sleeve, her eyes flicked to his waist briefly to note the absence of his zanpakuto, not that it really mattered much. She came to a halt before his jaw, letting her eyes fall to rest where his collarbone was met by black-trimmed white.

She knew he was smiling, he always was, and it chilled her every time she saw it. Such deceit that she knew she could never understand, all embodied in that secretive grin in a way that it felt as if he did it simply to haunt her with the venom that she knew was there, even if she never once bore witness to it. It felt silly that while her friends fought, she stood here alone in front of this man, avoiding the sight of his smile, but at the same time she could not help herself. He terrified her, and did so in way where she did not know quite what she was frightened of or why.

She didn't want to see his confidence, his seeming happiness, when she herself felt like her legs would barely hold her standing. She was shaking now, she knew. As much as she tried to steady herself, she continued to quake, hoping he hadn't noticed. She knew he had. She opened her mouth to say something- anything- but no sound came out, and he spoke instead.

"Scared, are ya?"

His voice seemed to ring out, but it was barely above a serpentine whisper. She silenced her gasp in her throat, remaining quiet and staring straight forward, shuddering as she felt his fingers brush a loose lock of striking hair back behind her ear. His face would be mere inches from her own now, if she could dare to look up at him, and she knew such proximity would only make the answer to his question all the more obvious.

"'Hime-chan," he whispered, and she wondered how even at that volume he sounded amused as he uttered her name, taunting, "Ya do know it's rude not ta answer, don't ya?"

Orihime swallowed, again trying to pull herself together, but he leant in then, shattering any resolve she may have gathered as his cheek brushed hers, coming to rest at her jaw with his breath ghosting lightly at her neck. Her heart seemed to hammer too hard while her breathing tried to quicken and stop both at once.

Not so cold, she thought, her eyes now pressed tight shut, as if she hoped she might be able to close out what was happening altogether. He spoke once more, and as she felt his words fall onto the delicate skin of her neck, she could not help but hiss.

"I said," he pressed, more emphasis in his speech this time, "scared, are ya?"

He pulled away only slightly, placing two fingers to guide her chin up, forcing her to look him in the face. She wondered quite how apparent the fear was in her eyes as she clawed at her blank mind for answers. Never had such a happy face invoked such uncertainty in every part of her, or made her feel so helpless. She wondered if she should lie, if there would be any point in such a thing when faced with an apparent master of duplicity. Should she fasten a brave face and push him away? It seemed like a good plan, or maybe it was simply her only one, until her shaking hand made contact with his v-shaped neckline, his skin warm beneath her fingertips. She took a ragged breath and stared straight at the man's face.

"Yes," she almost stuttered, her voice sounding a lot less strong than she had hoped, but still she determinedly kept her eyes on his grinning face.

Her breath hitched as his thumb traced over her lips, but he stopped as soon as he had started, his hand now sliding to the back of her neck, inclining her head so she was once again met with his angular collarbone. She heard his amused chuckle before freezing once more as he pressed his lips to her forehead. It was a second that they remained there, but it felt to her an hour in which she could barely breathe, her stammered attempts at speech falling dead in her throat.

He left her then, his amused smile turning back to her in the doorway with a nod, and her name reaching her ears as the door fell shut and locked once more behind him.

~ * ~

Ichimaru Gin, you are a bastard. I was so terrified of getting his character wrong (as I wrote in my piece at the end of the next chapter), so I sort of copped out and wrote it all from Orihime's point of view. I like the outcome though, because it lets Gin keep that air of mystery that always surrounds him. This took forever, but in the end I sat down at my PC, erased everything I had written previously, began, and it just flowed beautifully and was finished that same evening. I'm proud of it, I think. Of course, other opinions are never unappreciated. Thank you for the feedback on the previous chapter. ^_^