#but guess who kept her tumblr to herself over the span of our two year relationship

[pinkhairedlily]

The Spring He Came Back

Summary: Momo found herself face to face again with her childhood best friend after he left town ten years ago in the middle of winter. She waited every spring and fervently hoped for his arrival.

Set in an alternative universe where Soul Society is a normal town, and Momo and Hitsugaya are normal adults. 

Author’s note: Hello Tumblr! I’m back to posting fanfictions again. Thank you to @rays-of-fire-and-ice​​​ for hosting HitsuHina Day and being the most loyal blog out there! 

It’s spring again. Hinamori took in the sight of the budding dogwood trees against the backdrop of the setting sun as she rode her bike on the way home. Ten spring seasons, but why am I counting? She sighed, dejected at the trail of her thoughts.

A lot of things have happened within that span of time - the town that was once a cozy enclave of memories has become an escape for the younger, rowdier bunch. This encouraged the rise of businesses that eventually took over natural spaces, like the meadow of daffodils where they used to hide from household chores, the riverfront where they tried to catch fish but they ended up falling anyway, and the hill where they used to stargaze well after the lights were out.

They. Hitsugaya and her. Hitsugaya, the scrawny kid with an ever irritated disposition.

Despite this, she thought herself the same. She had the same hobbies, went to the same market, bought her fruits from that one vendor, ordered her usual in the cafe by the corner of her flowershop which she bought just two years ago. Yet she found herself still waiting.

The next day

Her black tea went cold on the counter. Again. She was so busy updating the accounting books. It was fortunate that customers were scarce today. Just as she was stretching her arms from too much typing, the door to her shop opened.

“Shiro-kun?” His turquoise eyes levelled with her sight, and his face mirrored her shock.

“Hello?” The silver hair caught her eyes first, and then she saw him. The youngest postdoctorate professor of the town. He was featured countless times in major scientific journals and magazines. The most notable, Nobel Prize, just might do a piece on his work on physics.

And yet to her he was still her childhood best friend who disappeared during winter.

Hitsugaya gave a small smile and took a few steps closer to the counter. “Rangiku said this place is the best flower shop. I didn’t know you’re the owner.”

Probably because you went off the deep end when you left at 15. “I didn’t know you’re back.” Hinamori’s hands tried to grab scissors and some ribbons, but they all fumbled from her grasp. “So what flowers do you need?”

He did not reply to her earlier sentence, just stood there awkwardly with his hands inside his jeans’ pockets. She noticed he was a few inches taller than her, his hair quite longer, and his face more angled than what she remembered. He also wore glasses...which was weird because she knew he had a 20/20 eyesight.

“Are you busy? Can you show me around?” He asked instead. Hinamori wanted to shout in response. Why should I have to?

“I don’t think it’s rational that you can come right here and then ask me to give up a day’s business to be your tour guide,” she replied and eventually sighed. “But I guess you can be an exemption."

They walked together in fragile, awkward silence, held together by noise of the crowds. She showed him the top sights in town, reacquainting the stranger with the streets he once frequented before. Eventually, they arrived in front of the library.

“It’s still here, huh?” Hitsugaya stiffened his stance ever so slightly.

She was still the library’s dedicated visitor and reader but not for reasons in the past. While the haunting feelings lingered, I no longer felt guilt and pain, only regret for my younger, naïve self who didn’t know better. That person also left ten years ago. He plagiarized published works, and she was his willing assistant. Teenage shrieks broke through my reverie.

“Dr. Hitsugaya!” “He’s here! He’s the real deal!” “I can’t believe you came back to your hometown. Will you do consultations here?” “Can you sign my copy of your book, Professor?”

Hinamori took a few steps back, wavering from the newfound popularity surrounding Hitsugaya. When the little commotion died down, they found themselves again in company of the fragile, awkward silence. She was wondering if he wanted to go here to spite her.

“Do you despise me?” Momo suddenly blurted out. She kept her gaze on the library building, on its red brick walls, and the ivy leaves trailing its surfaces. On her periphery, she thought she saw pain flicker on his face. He left in the middle of winter, when nightmares were the strongest and ghosts were the loudest. She drowned in guilt and self-pity for a long time. Until she decided to take back her spring.

Hitsugaya sighed and ruffled his long silver hair. “Momo I-” He sighed again, probably phrasing the words in his head on how to deliver this to her in the best way possible. That was the academician’s training unlike his younger version where he can just say anything. “I’m sorry for leaving that way. I needed to.”

“I disgust you.” Momo knew this dulling pain. It was her most fervent fear, and it was coming true.

She felt him touch the locks of her long hair, and that made her look at him. He held her gaze. “You’ll never disgust me, Momo. It’s just.....you were so lost that time, and I thought you needed to heal on your own terms without me hovering and dictating what you should have done.”

Her eyes were brimming with ten winters’ worth of tears and worry. “But....I needed you, Shiro-kun. I was so lonely. I was ridden with guilt. My association with Dr. Aizen threatened your acceleration to the university because I was your friend.” It was the first time she said his name since the fiasco. And then it dawned on her. “They thought all your works were plagiarized too.”

“And I cannot put you through all that again. It was better for us that way, wasn’t it?”

“You left for me?”

“If I stayed, they would have called you multiple times for grueling discussions. Your communication was also tracked so I didn’t write to add to your burden. Besides, it was easy to find other better universities outside of town. I’m sorry I did not push through with our dream to study and graduate together.” A hint of a smile crept on his face. “I had the urge to replace him quickly, so this was the result.”

Momo reached out to touch his glasses. “No, please, Shiro. You are not him.” They were not graded lenses. “You are Hitsugaya, and you are more than him.”

She suddenly reddened with her statement. “Oh um.. So why are you looking for flowers earlier?” Wow nice change of topic, Momo.

“I asked Rangiku where you were and she gave me the address of the flower shop. I guessed I would find her in a bar, and I was right. But I couldn’t guess where you were.” Hitsugaya took off his glasses. He looked like he was flushing. “I was looking for you, Momo.”

"You’re so straightforward now.” Hinamori tried to laugh off this observation. It was true. He tiptoed around her before, avoiding any topic concerning feelings or emotions. She should meet him halfway then. “And I waited for you.”

Like spring blooming right after the harsh winter, Hitsugaya smiled at her reply. "To compensate for our lost time, would you consider it too fast if I asked you for a date?”

[flowersandinternet]

i miss him. everything. i miss having someone to share my every thought with, show every cute animal and baby video, talk about all our nerdy interests that i dont share with anyone else. i miss the near immediate phone call after i mention im down or anxious. i miss the tight squeezes, whether they were full of joy or just holding me until i stopped crying. i miss giving back scritchies every night before sleep, even when i was always promised some back, but never got them bc it always put us both to sleep. i miss his skin, smooth and perfect and warm, the closeness and safeness of being that close to another human, the way we clichely fit together so perfectly wrapped up in only the covers and each other. i miss him excitedly explaining whatever soccer game was on, whatever wrestling match, and any GOT plotlines i didnt quite understand and how the book did a much better job. i miss waking up next to him, how precious he looked half asleep in the morning, his messy bed hair, bright blue eyes, and perfect lil butt ready to squeeze. i miss how well he got on with my whole family, and the intense love for my boogie boy and the cats. i miss having a first port of call for any work related thing i didnt have the answer to, as well as someone to immediately bitch about how dumb a customer was being. i keep finding myself thinking back to the first moments, the first time i saw him on my first shift, the care, humour, and encouragement he gave in regards to starting uni, and the day I finally admitted to myself that id stop repressing the crush i had on him, which also turned out to be the same day we started talking seriously. about our second date when i locked my keys in my car an hour from home, ruining our date plans, but getting to know him in a deeper way as he drove me home and back to get the spare key. about the night we started dating, and the cuddles we shared. about the nights we stayed up talking till 5am. the night i told him i adored him, and he first told me he loved me. the songs that are still so full of love they make me cry. and mostly how certain we were of the future, that we were the people we were going to marry and spend the rest of our lives with. i dont really know where we went wrong, but i get nauseous when i think about not having him beside me. if its for the best, then its for the best. i just wish i wasnt miserable. and i wish he were here.

[okayohay]

I Just Wanted To Be Edgy Too

You can find this ongoing fanfiction on Wattpad here, but for the sake of the fandom, I wanted to share the first chapter on Tumblr, just in case you’re bored and want a fanfic to binge on. I started writing this a longggg time ago and decided to change the names and post it as a “fanfic” last fall. I’m absolutely humbled by the amount of people who have read it and reached out, and wanted to extend the story to a new audience. Please let me know your thoughts! Enjoy!

I Just Wanted To Be Edgy Too

Status - ongoing (Eighty-Six Chapters)

Rating - IDK, R I guess.

Chapter One

Van

I sometimes forget how much I love Benji Blakeway.

I forget how deep the span of our boyhood goes, and how much of his adolescence rubbed off onto me, and vice versa. I forget that he's been at my side since we were kids, dodging punches and sharing cigarettes in parking lots. I forget that he sat through every break up and proclamation of new love I announced. He was one of the first people I ever got drunk with, one of the first people I told when I kissed a girl for the first time. For all intents and purposes, he was my brother, just as good to me as my best friend, Larry was in more ways than not.

Sometimes I forget all that, but tonight, tonight I'm reminded why I love the bloke.

His fingers pick up when he hears me slowing down on my guitar and hesitating on my words. If the crowd notices, they say nothing, but Benji can hear it, sense it even. I'm belting what's left in my lungs into a mic that shorted out a few times already. Maybe if I could stay in one place and not get tangled in the cords littering the stage, it wouldn't be a problem, but that's another story. Benji senses my lag in the chorus, and hears my breath as I plow my fingers through the strings harder. If they hold up until the end, we'll have one hell of a send off, but if they split, if any one of them breaks before it's over, we're going to call it a night early. I've had to improvise a finale before. I've played through the final bridge with an air guitar while Benji kept the beat along with Bob's drums. In those moments, everything relies upon Johnny Bond, my lead guitarist who depending on his mood, might give some or might give all.

I didn't want tonight to be one of those nights. I didn't want tonight to be an air guitar night. Tonight needs to end on a high note, which brings me back to Benji.

My mic shorts out again just as my voice cracks on the high note, and without hesitation, Benji dives in, cutting through the roar of the crowd and the deep spine of Bob's drums. His bass shrugs its shoulders off Bondy's finale, and he delivers the background vocals with such prestige, that I don't even need to sing my part. The audience is doing it for me. I raise my hands over my head and clap along to the beat Bob's conveying. Benji tosses me a knowing smile, and for a moment I lose track of it all. I'm not on a stage in America, in front of thousands of screaming people, I'm in a basement with the boy who turned out to be a rockstar a decade later. He's still a mess of curly hair and quiet jokes, and I love him for all of that. I shake my head and I'm back in the now, as Benji leads the crowd into an encore of madness. Bondy's guitar echoes off the snare drum casually, and I catch a glimpse of his eyes on me. I know that look. He's waiting to see my next move, waiting to see how this will play out, and I decide to make tonight about Benji.

I wrap my free arm around Benji's neck, my guitar hanging loosely from my side, grip his mic and sing into it with him. The uproar from the crowd ensures me it was a good move to make. Benji laughs as his elbow narrowly avoids my rib cage, and I slice my fingers through my guitar strings, pelt out the last line, and point at Benji during the send off.

I fucking love Benji Blakeway.

The lights stay low as the song ends, the boys bow after throwing out picks and drumsticks. I stay for a moment and clasp my hands over my mouth, sending kisses into the air as I drape my guitar around Larry, my best mate turned guitar tech. He tosses a black towel over my neck in return and I duck into the small room to the left of the stage.

My tour manager, Steve, tosses me a water and I finish it in one long swig, wiping my lips with the sleeve of my button down shirt. He hands everyone else a water and congratulates us on another good show. I think he uses the term well played, but I black out as he attempts to manage us. I don't need managed right now. I'm high on the euphoria that happened minutes ago, and I'm not ready to let the politics of what I do ruin that yet. I reach for another water and run the towel through my damp hair. I'm soaked in sweat like I am after every gig we play. I run the towel along my neck and take a deep breath. I turn on my heel and see my band mates doing the same. It takes a moment for us to catch our breath, and once we have, we immediately exchange screams and pats on each others backs. For a second, it feels like we're new again. It feels like 2015, when we were riding the coat tails of a newly released album and promoting it worldwide. I feel younger, bolder even. At some point during our run, I grew up. I can't tell you when it happened. Maybe it was after the second album catapulted us into extreme success. Maybe it was at the end of a relationship with a woman I thought I'd have forever. Maybe it was just age.

Tonight, it felt like it used to. An ease. Benji reaches for two bottles of beer from the fridge and hands me one on a smile. We exchange glances for a moment, the unspoken bond of boyhead tapping lightly on our shoulders. Bondy grabs a beer for himself and tosses one to Bob who fumbles with it, but eventually secures it in his grasp.

"You two going to make out now, or what?" Bondy's tone cuts through the atmosphere sharply and we all laugh and clink our bottles together.

"Well played, Blakes." I say as I bring the bottle to my mouth, the beer going down much easier than it should.

"Well sang, McCann." He replies and we laugh as Bondy imitates the screams from the door behind us.

**

Sometime after I'd lost count of how many beers I had, I find myself outside, leaning against the brick wall of the venue. I hit my fag like it's a joint, and I wish it was. Maybe we were in Chicago, maybe we were in Milwaukee, maybe it didn't matter. The days started bleeding together in 2016, and they never really stopped. The word on the street was that we wouldn't be home for Christmas this year, not that I had anyone to be home for, but I saw the dissatisfaction in Bob's eyes when he overheard Steve setting up holiday shows and booking interviews. I saw the concern spread across Benji's face, but he wiped it away when he caught me looking. I could sense their stress even when they were doing their best to hide it. Sometimes I wish they would just feel it, just let it live.

I blew out a lung full of smoke and pressed myself further into the wall of the building. It was cold for early fall, but it felt oddly like home and I smiled lightly at the thought. Even though I had no one there other than my Mum and Dad, it still stung knowing it would be sometime after the New Year before I really spent time with them again.

I was interrupted by the slamming sound of the metal door crushing into the wall next to me. I backed away instinctively and brought the fag to my side. The loud booming voice of our opening act echoed off the metal of the door, and he had a women draped around him that looked barely legal. I held my tongue at all the things I wanted to say to him. I was him once. I was just like he was for many months and it cost me a lot of good things in my life. I wish I could warn him about it, but him and I...we don't dig each other.

I swallowed the bile that was rising in my throat as he looked at me and threw shade.

"McCann...keep this between us okay? Promise?" He motioned to the girl wrapping herself around him. I knew what he was getting at. His girlfriend would be joining him on tour in a few days, and he didn't want her to know about any of this.

I nodded at him once and finished my fag.

The first thing you should know about me, is I'm terrible at keeping promises.