Bleach Fan Fiction ❯ The Cliche ❯ Chapter 1 ( Chapter 1 )

[ A - All Readers ]

By: astair

disclaimer: bleach is the sole property of tite kubo. no copyright infringement is intended.

a/n: byasana has consumed a very large portion of my heart and this is dedicated to them-their tragic and eternal love-and all those who simply adore this couple. i sincerely hope you all enjoy reading this. no pressure on reviews (seriously) but i would certainly love to hear what you all have to say.
thank you.

~as always,
tamara.

the cliché
byakuyahisana

two clichés make us laugh..
a hundred clichés move us,
for we sense dimly that the clichés
are talking among themselves,
and celebrating a reunion.
--Umberto Eco

It started gradually. Not over an accidental collision or even at first sight; bless that fool who would bet his life on one furtive glance. It didn't start over dinner or a few stimulating conversations, not during the long walks at night where the trees were their only companions. Not even when they sat contemplating the storm together, lengthy hours spent in speculating its next course, while the ghosts of their past dissipated slowly in the face of the rising tempest.
It started with faltering steps. The stumbles along the road were carefully maneuvered. The occasional outburst smoothed over with flowers and kisses. It had nothing to do with the first time they said it; that was merely the culmination of their feelings, like the moment a poet grasps upon a word to finally subdue the deep waters stirring inside.
It wasn't borne out of alienated solitude or their insecurity at meandering into uncharted lands. They didn't know where they were going with it but they were on their way.
It started not with hushed whispers and sweet nothings. It didn't start when she walked down the aisle, regality personified, towards his waiting arms as they planned, pipe-dreams of a world with each other. Not even did it commence when they held hands and looked over the horizon and promised to grow old with each other, to weather out the specters of life and death in unison.
The haunting ballad of time in the background made no difference.
Standing over her coffin with watered eyes and a sense of caprice, he could finally comprehend what her presence meant and what they shared. But that wasn't the beginning, neither the end.
That dark night when he surrendered meekly to solitude and departed this world didn't end their story.
It was just a footnote, an after note, of no apparent consequence to the plot. It wasn't a love story for songs and books, not even was it adequate to be worth remembering. The articulate rambling and the world soon drew blankets over them, never to be uncovered again.
It started because it had to.