“You are mine. Yes you are. You are mine even if I watch from afar”
Colors of red, yellow, and brown leaves swirled around you.
You inhaled the cool breeze. The frosty air hitting your insides like ice picks. Sighing you muttered, “I hate that my parents made me move and leave my old friends behind…”
You grabbed a nearby red leaf and surveyed its wrinkles. “This new place sucks. I wish I was back at my old place. This school -“ You paused and looked around to see adolescents shuffling into the academic buildings like zombies, “-is so boring.”
From behind you, a certain boy chimed in. “Damn right it i.s”
You jumped in surprise. “Ah! What the heck!”
The boy –correction the short male teen- smirked, “You’re lack of cursing amuses me, brat.”
Your cheeks flamed. Here he was again. The infamous guy that broke many girls’ hearts:
You puffed out the smoke you were holding in your lungs through your nose, your eyes closed, “You aren’t real.”
Sherlock frowned as you took another long drag of your cigarette and then put it out on his gravestone, shaking your head as if trying to clear your thoughts. You turned and let your eyes slide open, looking at him for only a moment before drifting past him, “You aren’t real. Please go away. John’s already thinking of committing me and I would prefer that not happen.”
“(F/n)…” he called but you kept moving, “I don’t want to see you anymore, Sherlock. I can’t handle this. It’s unhealthy.”
You really didn’t believe he was there, what had you been seeing for you not to believe in what was right in front of you?
He jogged to catch up with you, placing himself in your path and holding your shoulders, and you looked up at him for a moment before yank
Two men, dressed in white scrubs that outlined fine muscles, held an even larger man by his biceps. They led him through the dreary bland hallways to one of many rooms in the labyrinth-like building. The large man walked in without fighting and one man quickly jabbed a needle in his arm, a sedative. As soon as the doors closed behind him he snapped his head around at it. He glared at the door for a moment, mumbling something his breath.
Ivan had been in a mental institution for years now. How long? He wasn't sure. He just knew it was a long, long time. He was admitted here when he was in his mid-twenties, now he was nearing middle aged. His family had stopped visiting him years ago. They left him. The voices told him that. They didn't want him. He was useless to them and they would let him die here.
"Not until you fight me!" A man yelled as he chased after the female soul reaper. His black hair was pulled into several spikes on his head and an eye patch lay over his right eye.
"I just fought you this morning!" You cried turning faster. How the heck did it end up like this? When you found out you would be in the eleventh squad, you couldn't have been happier. You loved to fight, but it seems there was some in your squad who loved it even more. That was your new Captain, Kenpachi Zaraki. Ever since he first saw you fight third seat, Ikkaku Madarame, he took up asking you every day to fight. At first you would happily fight him. He was one of the strongest Soul Reapers, but then he started to ask you several times a day, sometime before you could rest or heal your wounds.
"That one doesn't count!" Kenpachi yelled not giving up the cha