Disclaimer: Characters © Tite Kubo.
::oO0Oo 'Love is a two way dream' oO0Oo::
Ice and warmth.
It's what she has come accustomed to waking up to.
Tepid and possessive arms coiled about a slim waist, flushed cheeks buried within an ample bosom. A ridged yet yielding form pressed so desperately against her own. So incredibly warm that upon waking, Orihime simply melted into the other's hold, burying her face in the mess of orange hair tickling her chin.
Ice and warmth.
He's still fast asleep, clinging so tightly onto her. And still dressed. Cool metal buttons of a damp jacket chilling the smooth skin barely covered by a thin, monkey patterned nightshirt. Her feet brush against boots soaked in melted snow and mud, and she wiggles her now dirtied toes, curling them away from the footwear. It wasn't a pleasant feeling. But all of this wasn't unusual. Nor is the dull, frigid feeling encasing her chest.
It's like an reflexive alleviative.
She knows why he's still dressed. Why the scent of cheap flowers, perspiration, and intoxicants leak from his pores. She's always known, but her heart always betrays her. Hot tendrils spread and threaten to impale her worn heart, spring forth her selfish jealousy for the world to view through scalding tears.
But the ice is there, a wall, a tomb. It stops it all before it can even start. Her resolve.
She knows what he does, why he's still dressed.
And she has completely accepted it.
Because he's still here when she wakes up.
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'I'm a fountain of blood, in the shape of a girl.
You're the bird on the brim, hypnotized by the whirl'
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Honey and crème…fucking sunlight.
Red bean paste…?
When he woke, he immediately took notice to the excruciating throbbing in his temples, which was amplified by the ray of sunlight beamed directly into his face.
Fucking hangover. He slowly, painfully, opened his eyes to take in the full impact of the invading sunlight.
The melted iron gaze taking hold of his own muted bronze one halted all expectations of pain. In this light, they held an impossible hint of amethyst amongst the grey, shone just as brightly as the gem. They sparkled at him, open and reflective, showing him nothing but the innocent mirthfulness they always, always seemed to hold.
He couldn't look away. It's like he's been struck by them all over again.
Even as his still wet clothing tightened uncomfortably to his skin, urging him to move and remove each item ruefully, he didn't dare to do such a thing. Even if he wanted to, Ichigo was utterly captured by this ethereal being before him. Copper-maroon hair slightly astray, spilling like the calmest of waterfalls over the smooth, pearly skin of bare shoulders, some falling between her breast, where his head was nestled.
It tickled against his nose, the urge to sneeze rising. He scowled at this and reluctantly broke the spell-like eye contact, holding his breath, not wanting to break the silent solace that he only found with her with a damn sneeze. He sighed through his mouth and moved ever so slightly, a delicately shaped collarbone beneath porcelain flesh now holding his view.
Then, finally, he inhaled, the urge gone. She smelled of honey and crème…
…with a small tang of red bean paste.
His stomach dropped. The brisk chill of realization hitting him, like a bucket of freezing water.
He did it again.
Suddenly a new urge took over, deep wrenching and upturning his gut. He felt sick. And disgusted. All with himself. He shouldn't be near her, he shouldn't be allowed to fucking touch her.
He tries to move, but a part of him is too weak, too caught up in her that all he can manage is several inches, his arms feeling like lead, unmoving from her waist. Then he's reminded of his clothing, damp still from the snow of last night. Damp in places where he spilled his drink all over himself. Where a woman he'd never see again…
Again and again he-
A gentle and tentative hand brushes through unkempt tangerine spikes. He freezes. He's been struck. Worried and wary eyes dart up and clash with calm and serene ones.
And like every morning, she smiles at him. As if nothing happened.
"Good morning, Ichigo-kun."
Fucking sunlight.
It's too much, she's too much. Too unbelievably bright in the aftermath of another of his sinful, pathetic nights of cowardly escape. He shuts his eyes tight, unable to take it, and disgusts himself even further, a heavy hearted breath leaving him winded as he gives in and leans into her. Lean arms holding her closer, afraid she'll burn out like a dying star, shinning so brightly for him.
It's just like last time. And now he's unintentionally becoming accustomed to her un-judging eyes and forgiving smiles.
"….Good morning, Inoue."
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'Drink me, make me feel real,
Wet your beak in the stream.'
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She's up in a heartbeat. Like the swiftest of honeybees, she's buzzing about; fixing tea, preparing a bath, setting out clothes. All while smiling like she's the happiest woman in the world, chatting away about a new design she'd made for the winter cupcakes at work.
And she is.
The one she's doing this all for halts her with nervousness and uncertainty thickly layering his tone. He finally is dressed in appropriate clothing, a plain white T-shirt and loose fitting sweatpants. When she collected his dirtied jeans and jacket, and politely shooed him off the bed to change out the sullied sheets, he gripped her arm firmly, but not harshly, before she could slip from the room.
Her heart had fell into a spell of awful palpitations.
Hate filled eyes and anger fueled fists filled her mind and Orihime nearly tore herself away from Ichigo's hold to cower in on herself. Curl up so tight and small that her assaulter would see her for the weak, useless thing she was and lose all desire to waste their energy on her. To numb her senses when they decided to make use of her after all and push and push and push until they were spent, rolling off of her, sweat not belonging to her helping the girl slip from the bed. Cold and broken on the floor.
Used.
But she remembered. It was Ichigo.
The hand wrapped around her arm that loosened slightly upon sensing her distress is one that made her feel safe, protected. Not entirely unbreakable….but valuable. She swallowed and looked back up to the eyes that always held her own, never straying, never giving her that look.
In the time it took for her to compose herself, Orihime finally noticed the sadness within them.
"I'm sorry….I keep.."
She blinked, then relaxed. It was Ichigo, she reminded herself again. The one so different from the others.
She knew what he was apologizing for, but wouldn't acknowledge it, not yet. It didn't matter.
"It's okay…" She said, smiling at him fondly, patting a hand to his cheek. "I have a ton of sheets! Besides, the stains this time aren't as bad as the others. They'll come out just fine."
He had let her go, shock and confusion written all over his face. Then he got it. He was so smart…he always understood. Though after all the times, after all the mornings so much like this one, Orihime figured the surprise wouldn't be so frequent.
So now when he stopped her, she knew that it was for entirely different reason. A normal one.
"Inoue…Er, Orihime. You really don't have to do all this. It's just a hangover", He said, even adding a weak chuckle.
She looked down at the towel in her hands, smoothing her hand across the fluffy surface.
"Yeah, but…I want to." She smiled sheepishly and directed her gaze back to him before moving to head to the kitchen, "You should lay down and rest, Ichigo-kun. I'll bring you your tea."
"But, Orihime..?"
She halted, glancing over her shoulder to catch that beloved scowl of his slipping into place.
Uh-oh…
"H-Hm..?"
Ichigo folded his arms, one orange brow arching upwards. "Isn't today Saturday?"
"Y-You, see, about that…."
"Orihime!"
Before she knows it, she's hiked over a very disgruntled and fuming orangette's shoulder, squealing as it dug into her flat stomach causing a horrible mess of butterflies to swarm about in it. Her body bounced with each quick step, sunset hair falling like a curtain, shielding her face. But from the floor she can tell where they're headed and soon, she's on her back, centered in her bed.
Ichigo is above her and her breath catches. His eyes are flaring amber now, slightly narrowed at her in disapproval, his bangs falling down towards her, and she can see the tense facial muscles usually hidden by them now. She suddenly wants to touch them.
But she can't do that now, he's 'mad' with her.
Her lips twitches. He catches it. The tan arms on either side of her head move and those large hands of his are on her cheeks. They heat and color under his touch and then, turn from coral to crimson when he pinches them. She yipped and wiggled under his hold, the butterflies building, rising up from her stomach to her chest. Any ice lingering there in melted.
It isn't needed any more.
"You weren't seriously considering staying home and skipping out on work to care for me….when all I have is a freakin' hangover?"
Oh no!, she yelps internally, he's making that face!
She can't hold it no longer, and the giggles burst free from her, so abruptly that Ichigo is at a lost for a moment, and tilts his head. Much like a confused and curious puppy does over a noise it's never heard before. It doesn't help.
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The sound is so sweet, so mellow, that he can't help be crack an unwilling smile for her. An eyebrow twitches, in agitation at the conflicting objectives going on within him. He didn't want her to stop laughing. Before now, he was sure he'd never hear it again, and once again she'd taken him off guard by giving him something he sure as hell didn't deserve.
But she was doing too much now. She loved her job, he knew she did. Unlike anyone he knew, she was actually disheartened when her presence wasn't necessary at work, at the little bakery across town. So why in the hell did she keep staying home to watch him wallow about till his sense knocked back into place? He wanted to scold her, he had been, until she started giggling.
"Geez…What is it about this face that gets you so worked up?"
Orihime bit her lower lip, unshed tears making her eyes glimmer silver, "Y…Your eyebrow does this weird quirking thingy."
He snorted. That usually intimidated people. "You mean this?"
She fell out into another fit, head nodding vigorously and he simply gave in and joined her. This was a reason she was so special to him, the whole, strange and backwards way she viewed him. When others saw a threat boiling beneath the surface, they fled or tried to take him on. She simply saw a comical eyebrow quirk and the false anger.
It's one of the reasons why he loves her so much.
But it was her confusing and weird nature that got him so worked up. When the bad times rolled around and he…did what he did, she so easily forgave him. She shouldn't. And he really wished she didn't.
But right now, she was laughing, and it was growing increasingly difficult to put himself down and curse her generous ways.
"Alright, alright. Enough of that now! If you don't go to work, I'm never making that face again."
The giggles stopped and her expression morphed into mortification.
"You don't mean it…"
"I do."
"You wouldn't!"
He smirked, "I would. Now why don't you go make use of that bathwater, hm?"
She was out from under him in a second, and he only saw a flash of her long hair before the bathroom door shut. Ichigo stared at the door for a moment before a mischievous grin broke across his face.
"I hope you know 'm driving ya!"
He snorted, then chuckled at the soprano shrill that responded to his declaration as he moved to set her uniform out for her, then to get dressed himself.
He wouldn't notice until later that just like that, everything had switched back to normal. That they wouldn't even discuss what happened the night prior. And it would take him days to notice what Orihime had intentionally done.
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They held hands.
For the entirety of the long drive, feminine and ductile fingers patterned with firm ones, fitting together perfectly. Her attention on the shimmering snow-packed streets blurring by was deterred by the sensation of his pulse beating dully against her wrist.
Her smile grew in jubilance and the joy rising in her chest warmed her more than her coat and heat blasting through the vents.
They had fallen into a mutual silence of appreciation after a few moments of small talk. Orihime peeked over at Ichigo. His eyes were hard and focused on the slippery roads ahead, brows knitted and mouth screwed into a concentrated scowl. It was one that the woman was so relieved to see, completely unlike the one he had when he woke that morning.
Another thing she noticed was that he wasn't wearing the same jacket, though she was sure it was clean for him to use again. She didn't dare speak on it though. They were both happy again, well, she knew at least she was, and now he was acting normal. She wasn't about to ruin it all by inquiring about an article of clothing.
Soon, they were outside of her current place of employment, and Ichigo released her hand to put the car in park.
He turned to her. "Just call me when you're ready to be picked up, alright? Still got yer' cell phone?"
"Yup!" She smiled and nodded, proudly holding up said item. It was only one so far that survived the constant dropping the woman put all her cellular devices through. Ichigo nodded approvingly.
"Okay then, I'll see you later…." Something shifted across his expression, his hands clenched together before he relaxed them, and a wistful smile graced his face. "I love you."
Orihime had turned fully in her seat and simply stared at Ichigo. Then that feeling rose up in her throat. Her smile threatened to falter, but she tightened the muscles in her face, kept it in place.
"I love you too," She had replied, and leaned over. He seemed to hesitate for a moment before meeting her halfway. Their lips met.
The kiss kindled a chain reaction. It wasn't scorching, overwhelming, but it left her breathless. When Ichigo moved, broke his lips from hers then pressed them together again, she could breath again. It was like he was her zephyr, life giving and replenishing air coated her, engulfing her. She took as much as she could of it in and he generously gave her more. It was far from overwhelming, nor was it too little. It felt like it was just enough, that if this was the last kiss she'd receive from him, it would sustain her with the memory of it alone.
Oh, but she'd miss it. She'd miss him.
With a start, Orihime pulled back from the kiss, habitably running a hand along the tuff of hair the base of her neck. Why did she keep thinking things like that? Why? He wasn't like the others, she reminded herself. There was no need for her to brace herself and imprint every endearing memory to heart. He wasn't going to leave…
A small part of her, a part she liked to keep locked away reared its ugly head in her mind.
She knew exactly why.
"I-I should get going…" she giggled a bit nervously, patting her cheeks. "Miyuki-chan doesn't like it when I'm late. A-And she can always tell when we've been….she teases me about it."
Ichigo just nodded. "Have a great day, Orihime. Ja ne."
She fused with the handle before stepping out the car then turned, waving to him. "Ja ne, Ichigo-kun."
With that, she hurried off to go inside, taking the slightly false air of simplicity with her.
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'Game we're playing is life,
Love's a two way dream'
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A/N: Hullllo. Geh, I know, another story. And its an angst one at that, but a close friend of mine asked me to adopt this from her and finish it. And her birthday just past, so doing it seems like the perfect late birthday gift!~ I'm aiming for five chapters here, real short, but the chapters will be long. She based it off of a song by a woman named Bjork called Bachelorette, which is actually pretty nice, and her interpretation of it's meaning. And a ton of other things, she said, but I don't remember…*whispers* She talks entirely too fast at times.
So while I collab with her on this,(lol, you can probably tell what parts are hers and what parts are mine…) I'll also be redoing chapters from Healing Bonds like a said I would. And as for Memories of the Heart….
I think I might just drop it. The desire to continue it is gone…
So I hope you like this first chapter and reviews are really appreciated.