Disclaimer: I need one. Bit of a dead giveaway, neh? Ok, fine, I'll behave… mostly. I don't own the characters, Tite Kubo does. What I do with them would probably give him a stroke, but I don't make any money from any of this. Not so much as a penny or a yen. The story idea was all mine, however.

Rating Warning: I am rating this story 'M', for language, alcohol and adult situations. Don't like, DON'T READ! Put your big, non-fictional person pants on and deal with it.

Chapter One

Orihime picked at her food. She knew it was important to eat something, but food just didn't appeal to her. Sighing, she pushed back the plate and rose, clearing the table into the kitchen sink. Even her usual bean paste creation failed to entice her appetite.

She didn't mean to be so pathetic, she just couldn't seem to help it. In the wake of her brother's death, she had done her best to stay strong and be the best person she could. Then she had met Ichigo. Ichigo had lost his mother a few years ago, and she had identified with him on a gut level because of the mutual pain. She decided then that she would do her best to be whatever he needed, since neither of them had anyone.

For the years they had been in high school together, she had steadily stood by his side as a friend. She could still remember the day during freshman year when she realized she was in love with him. He hadn't come to school that day, and Sado had said he was sick. Ichigo never got sick. His father was a doctor, even. All the same, she had been extra careful with her notes that day, and had copied them out during her breaks.

When lunch break started, she had gotten up to join him on the roof before realizing he wouldn't be there. His absence was painful. That was when it had occurred to her that such pain did not fit a mere friend. It was the indication of what steady companions they had become. Her chest had ached with the realization that she wouldn't be able to talk to him, but at the same time, the knowledge of the strength of her own feelings made her glow.

When Rukia had appeared, Orihime learned what jealousy felt like. Anger, and frustration, encompassed by a burning need to assert that SHE had been there first, and that Rukia had no right to come between them. She had managed to hide it, of course, but then came the death sentence and Ichigo rushed off to save the pint-sized shinigami from her own society. Feeling the need to understand, she had gone too. Seeing that he was right in fighting the injustice of Rukia's sentence, she had done her best, but had not been strong enough to be a true helpmeet.

She had sworn to get stronger.

Then came Aizen's lackey, forcing her to leave Ichigo to save him. She could make peace with sacrificing herself on his behalf. Sure, it was good to save the others, but she would not have sacrificed herself for them. She cared for them, but… that feeling was nowhere near the intense emotion she felt for him. Once again, he had embarked on a mission to save. Only this time, it was to save her! She was elated, but at the same time slightly disappointed that her attempt to keep him safe had been thwarted.

All the efforts to save her had resulted in his near death. Twice. And at the end of the quest to save her, she was still relegated to the background. No exclamations of relief on his part, expressing his delight in her safety and continued presence in his world. Just guilt that he hadn't protected her as he had promised.

She had loved him until the day Rukia had smacked him back into being himself. That day, she saw that she would only be a burden on him. That day, she let go.

It had hurt. Still did, if she were honest with herself.

Walking to school every morning, she would try to time herself so that she wouldn't see him walking with Rukia. That still hurt too much. She still acted the same as she always had, when others were paying attention, but the rest of the time she hid behind the smile that had become her mask. There was only one person she couldn't hide from. Uryuu-kun.

A/N: OK, so plot-wise I haven't much of a clue where this is going. It started on an angsty night involving a lot of bourbon, and I'm not sure what to do with it. Any thoughts?