Disclaimer: The author of this fanfiction does not, in any way, profit from the story. All creative rights to the characters belong to their original creator(s).

At the Gun

by Pout

Byakuya was indifferent to most things. It was his best front.

Rukia watched with tears leaking from red corners framed by long, weeping lashes and choked on a gasp as she looked down on her farewell carpet of crimson and screams. Old friends, new friends, the most beloved of people; they had all been crunched under the fall of heavy heels. And so she wept, very much full of regret and self-derision.

Byakuya heard her gasp, saw her quit her struggling, inhaled the scent of gunpowder floating freely, tasted foreign blood on his lips, and felt her dying breath float across his cheek. He thought it was oddly poetic.

Yes, people thought clearest at times like that…times when blood was pouring from open mouths, the open mouths of the never-been-kissed.

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