Summary: One night, Ichigo met a girl completely drunk and lost. She begged him to dance with her. "I'm totally screwed up" she said. But he didn't care. He took her, made her taste the heaven and then… everything got broken. Say, Inoue. Is the Percentage of that feeling between us still there?
Genre: Drama/Romance/Angst/Tragedy/whateversadthingyouwant
WARNINGS: I'm going to put all the drama and angst [strike]and smut[/strike] I can, so be a good girl and don't read it if you don't like this kind of fics (maybe I won't put so, so much smut, but the thematic is kinda... mature, and a lot of gross things are implied, so please, if you like just smooth and easy things, this is not a good place for you D:). I'm trying to be a respectable adult, you kow, and I have to protect all those little children of my creepy mind too. Mwhahahaha.
Author's note: Suck summary is a suck summary. Sorry. But you really really you should try to read this —and be my beta reader PLEASE, and fix my engrish PLEASE—. Hahaha *Cough*
This is for the FLOL 2011-2012 Fanwork Challenge.
Anyway, have a nice day.
Percentage
Prologue—After that
.
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If the concept of time disappears, I'd like to continue gazing at you.
Percentage – School Food Punishment
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.
He was abruptly awakened by the bright of the sun.
"Who are you?" it was the second thing Ichigo thought that morning.
He could perfectly feel the softness of her skin against his skin. Her legs between his. Her arm wrapping his waist, so thigh, even when she was still sleeping.
Maybe she didn't want to let him go.
Ichigo smiled, unwittingly.
She didn't know his name, so, how exactly she could want to hold someone she barely knew —excepting for the fact that she had slept with him last night? Ichigo knew that part of the prototype romantic story.
And it sucked.
Anyway, Ichigo wasn't the kind of man who spent the night with an drunk and unknown woman, so he really didn't know what exactly he had to wait for, speaking about the real life, of course.
But because real life was usually something rather depressing, he used to prefer not to hope for anything that wasn't moderately concrete (he always had hated all these abstract stuffs). However, his situation right now was very, very concrete.
"I need a minute. Please" he begged to some kind of superior being.
As if such thing was possible. Honestly.
Ichigo sighed, scratching the nape of his neck, secretly hoping that this action could help him to clear his mind.
It didn't work, of course.
Without many options, he had to stare at the girl again. Because it had already dawned, through the unclosed window, a ray of sun light had come directly to her long hair. Ichigo couldn't decide if it was brown, orange or some color in middle of them —maybe auburn?—, but he was as sure as that he was in his room, that with the sun light, her hair seemed to be on fire, burning all the bed and sheets.
And him.
Maybe because of that I'm so warm, he thought. Of course her naked body could explain that too, but Ichigo wasn't a man who thinks in such banal things at first time.
However, he had to accept he hadn't been acting like himself, at less for the last ten hours.
"Who are you?" he wanted to ask her again.
He didn't expect a second meaning of his question. He just wanted to know her name and then to start… start something that he wasn't sure at all.
Damn, I'm being ridiculously random, he sighed again, and you should wake up, princess. He looked at her.
And then, as if it was a fairly tail —a sad parody, though—, and for some mystery and cosmic reason his thoughts were heard, the princess suddenly opened her eyes.
And she looked at him.
And she closed her eyes slowly, and opened them quickly.
Then, the unknown princess blinked and maybe gasped in surprised.
This is the part when she didn't remember what she did last night, Ichigo thought, a little disappointed. A hidden part of him wanted she did remember. Him. And every single thing he did her last night.
But abruptly, she looked away, with her face all flushed.
Ichigo smiled, a little relieved. What part of the last night did you remember just now? He was tempted to ask, but something stopped him.
In some way, he believed that these words could hurt her —and the hell knew why. He didn't want to hurt her. Because he wasn't like this. At all. Why he was acting like a completely strange to himself? He wondered for an umpteenth time.
The answer didn't come; instead he had to focus about every part of her when he felt her arm moving off from him.
No. Please.
And as she would have heard him again, she put her arm around him back, holding him even more thigh than before.
The princess, still flushed, looked at him, but this time he could notice some kind of knowledge into her eyes. A knowledge about him.
He foolishly smiled.
Still without a word, he took his hand toward her face. With the index finger he traced an imaginary line from her cheekbone down to her chin. Maybe he did it because he wanted to remember how his lips felt when he kissed her there.
Or maybe just because of some awkward need to confirm that she was with him. Right now.
"You know," she had said quietly to him last night. "I'm totally screwed up."
He touched her cheek with his palm, making a slow circle movement over her skin. All the time, she was staring at him. Her big and gray eyes were looking at him with some kind of expectation.
But what was she waiting for?
He approached more to her, and put his forehead against hers. Her eyes were so near now that he thought maybe he could see into her mind through them.
"Are you?" Ichigo quietly said.
She blinked.
"I am what?" she whispered, with a sweet and nervous voice.
"Are you really screwed up?"
She didn't blink this time. Instead, her gaze seemed hardened and when she spoke to him, her voice was atonal and serious.
"Completely."
Ichigo smiled, but he didn't know why.
"What can I do for you then?"
She frowned, seeming disconcerted for a second.
"What's done it's done, I guess. It's not like I was looking for a store where to buy some kind of solution."
They remained in silence, staring to each other. He really tried to decipher every single movement she made with her mouth, her eyes, her eyebrows, but… there was nothing.
Why her words had sounded so definitive? Like if the end was already done and she knew it, but she wouldn't do anything about that. It was like she didn't care at all. Or could it be that there was nothing else to do?
Ichigo knew, of course, that everything will come to an end, eventually; but he didn't want to see her kind of sad expression now, as if she was resigned to let everything happen without a question.
Without make a try.
"I'm Ichigo Kurosaki. Who are you?" he finally could ask with eager in his voice.
After heard how desperately he sounded, he felt really embarrassed. Doesn't suppose the first thing you ask is the name? Ichigo had to look away because this entire situation suddenly seemed to be wrong. Terrible wrong. He never made mistakes like this one —because the gorgeous girl on his bed had to be a mistake—; he never made impulsive things just for the merely desire to do something.
Why?
The gorgeous—mistake girl coughed a little. He immediately looked at her.
Are you sad?
Her big-gray eyes seemed to be sparkling. But not because of happiness, apparently.
"You know" she gently said. "You don't have to do this."
He knew what she meant, but.
"And what am I doing? I'm just want to know your name, is it something so unthinkable?" Ichigo said, as if it wasn't a big deal for him.
But it really, really was.
Her facial muscles seemed tightened, like if she were going to say something but her body didn't let her. She repeatedly blinked as her gaze down on the sheets. Ichigo's hand, still touching her cheek, pulled her up, tenderly, to make her to look at him again.
Why do something if nothing last? What is the point of start something, if it certainly will come to an end?
"Who are you?" Ichigo repeated, gazing at her.
I was waiting for you, it had been the first thought of Ichigo this morning, when he opened his eyes and looked at the sleepy girl on his side.
I don't want to you to go.
"Orihime. Orihime Inoue" she answered.
Ichigo smiled, putting a lock of her hair behind her ear.
"Inoue" he said with a serious expression.
"W-what?" she stuttered.
"I'm going to kiss you."
Not for some rational reason, he said to himself as his lips were touching hers; not because she wasn't some big, big mistake, because she definitely was one. But—
Her taste caught him, and he felt the need to take more of her; to be between her long legs, pushing against her to make her understands with impatient that he was there with her. That, no matter what, he would be there for her.
And.
And.
She screamed his name.
"I'm here, Inoue" he moaned, pushing again. "I'm here" he repeated as she scratches his back. "I'm here."
But.
Why he wasn't there when the world was falling down?
Say, Inoue,
Is the percentage of that feeling between us
Still there?
Are you
Still there?
Author's note :
Do you have doubts? Confused? You can ask. I'll take like forever to answer, but I'll do it :D
And no, this won't be that typical story you are thinking of. I'll put some effort to surprise you (but don't blame me if I can't, eh xD). Next Chapter will be up in 2 or 3 days (and beta reader my engrish and I ARE WAITING FOR YA -so if you wanna be my beta reader, please let me know- D:)
Bye bye.
