A/N: I have no business posting another chapter fic right now but fuck it I'm gonna do it anyway because I have no self control. This was originally a one-shot that came out of nowhere, but then I started writing an outline for it and it was gonna get really fucking long. So now I'm breaking it up into little chapters and expanding on it a little more than originally planned. Fun fun. Let's hope I can keep up with it (I have like 20 chaps mapped out, so I have a bit of a head start).
Suggested tunes as of now: Anthems for a Seventeen Year-Old Girl by Broken Social Scene and This Modern Love by Bloc Party. I'll probably eventually make a playlist for this on my tumblr like I did for other fics because I'm too fucking obsessed with playlists it isn't even fit.
Anyway, hope you like~!
Disclaimer: I do not own Bleach. / Titled after lyrics from the song Appreciation by Jimmy Eat World.
The sweater she'd borrowed from Hisagi was completely soaked by the time she got to the bus stop, the already too large hoodie now uncomfortably damp and heavy as it hung from her shoulders, the shape of her body barely visible. She caught her breath as she stood in the small glass shelter on the sidewalk, shifting her weight from one foot to another as she tried to maintain her balance and causing the drenched soles of her sneakers to squish and squeak.
The night had been all warm air and clear skies when she'd left for the party, totally unexpectant of the horrid downpour that would ensue just a few hours later as she left her apartment wearing just jeans and a thin long sleeved shirt. She'd been too drunk and unprepared, her thought process irrational when she'd grabbed a random sweater from the laundry room and sprinted out into the rain, not bothering to stop when her friends shouted after her. What they'd said, she had no idea.
She felt hot and humid, the layers of damp fabric beginning to stick uncomfortably to her body. There was a rip in the knee of her jeans from when she fell, and she cursed the month of April vindictively.
She was combing dank stringy locks of hair behind her ears when she heard the sound of hurried footsteps on pavement, splashing harshly in the accumulating puddles as they drew nearer. She stepped to the side warily when a tall figure entered the shelter, long and lanky limbs fixing themselves next to her. She struggled to keep her eyes trained on her feet, her fingers latched onto the drawstring of her hoodie and pulling the ends back and forth restlessly.
The figure next to her shifted awkwardly, a grunt sounding low and dry, and she couldn't help looking up at the stranger. He was practically a giant from her perspective, so tall he had to hunch his shoulders, even then only getting about two inches of space between his head and the roof's underside. She noted the bright orange hair that stuck out from beneath his hood, a deep frown marring his narrow face and his downcast amber eyes glinting in the beam of streetlights. It sent her mind reeling, and she relaxed slightly when she realized she knew him. Kind of, anyway. She'd sat behind him in class for the entirety of the last school year, and she'd always ended up eyeing him up and down the field at soccer games that she was forced to attend with her friends.
Kurosaki Ichigo, she recalled miraculously. Though she was certain he would've been completely overlooked if it hadn't been for his unconventional appearance.
"Hey."
He stiffened instantly at her voice, casting a surprised glare to his right. He hadn't even realized anyone else was there. The girl was no stranger though, he discerned easily, her too big and too vivid eyes having met his in passing through school hallways and dimlitted parties, remarkably hued and unforgettable. But they also tread in different crowds, having condemned her to peripheral memories.
Kuchiki… something, he remembered half-heartedly. He'd never been very good with names. Or at least he told himself so.
"Hey."
She smiled, the black makeup smudged under her eyes becoming even more poignant as her cheeks swelled. His frown subsided only slightly, and he found himself staring at her for longer than was appropriate.
It was the first time they'd actually spoke to each other.
"Whatcha doin' out so late?" she slurred airily, her body leaning too far to the side and causing her to teeter on the spot. He eyed her carefully.
"Could ask you the same," he replied dryly, not offering much of a tone as he cast a look across the street. "I was working, if you have to know."
She half-nodded, her head bobbing up once and holding it's crane.
"Were you at Hisagi's party?" he questioned aptly, noting that the school-famous party host lived just a few blocks away, along with the fact that she was wearing a sweater three times her size that said 'Hisagi' on the back of it along with his jersey number, 69.
"Hm?" She blinked dazedly, her eyes slow to meet his again. "Oh," she laughed once, more like a hiccup. He'd never taken her for a drinker. "Yeah, I was."
He cast his eyes to the ground absentmindedly, scratching his temple. He felt odd. "Did I miss anything?"
A slight frown graced her lips, musing an answer. "Nothing extraordinary," she decided in short. "Lots of people making out and throwing up, as usual. You were sincerely missed, though. I heard many complaints of your absence."
Ichigo grimaced. His popularity was perplexing.
"Wow," she teased, staring up at him pointedly. "And to think I wondered what all the fuss was about. I mean, you're so lively."
He glared at her, and she only laughed more. The sound of it resonated in his chest, and his glare grew soft and dense at the shock of it.
"Oh!" she damn near croaked, her body tensing up in surprise as she noticed the approaching bus. He held back when he realized it wasn't the bus he was waiting for, giving her room to exit the stuffy shelter. She shot him a meek smile as she brushed past him, nodding a silent goodbye before heading towards the awaiting bus, her arms spread out at her sides in a clear attempt to balance herself.
Ichigo stared after her, watching with outward indifference as she boarded the bus, taking a seat near the front. She caught his gaze once more before he had chance to look away, her violet depths piercing him studiously through the foggy windows, bright and intriguing. They pulled him forward as the bus shuddered to a start, departing down the road hurriedly, and his gaze latched onto its rear lights inattentively.
An odd feeling spurred in his chest as the bus disappeared from his view, hitting him hard in the pit of his stomach and dusting his cheeks with a faint but distinctive tinge.
He wasn't sure, but it felt significant.