1Summary: Sometimes Chizuru has a sort of hypothetical, subconscious narcolepsy. (She is asleep until someone will have the kindness to wake her up.)
Disclaimer: I do not own Bleach.
Pairings: Chizuru/Orihime, Tatsuki/Orihime
- - - -
And there's a demon in my head who starts to play
A nightmare tape loop of what went wrong yesterday
And I hold my breath till it's more than I can take
And I close my eyes and dream that I'm awake - 'Narcolepsy', Third Eye Blind
- - - -
At first, Chizuru doesn't understand her feelings for Orihime. It started out as a friendship that was doomed, more or less, from the beginning, and they both probably knew that in the back of their minds. To Orihime, this didn't matter because she'd never invested much in Chizuru (beyond the fragile politeness of her naturally too-nice interior-, beyond this, she hadn't invested hardly anything in Chizuru), and to Chizuru, it didn't matter because things like that were impossible to think of when you care so much for a person.
Eventually, after going through spurts of believing it was 'friendship', and then 'like-like', and then 'perhaps just like', and even 'love', Chizuru understood that it was pure infatuation. It was in the same league as obsession and it is far, far worse to be infatuated with someone than it ever would be to love them.
Tatsuki loves Orihime-, perhaps even Ichigo or Ishida or one of those other people in their group which she was pushed aside from and never accepted into, loves Orihime, but Chizuru does not understand what this is or how this is, because she is simply infatuated.
Love is love, and it is not love that she feels for Orihime (because if you loved someone, even that would not make you accept all of their quirks, their faults-, it would not make you kneel and bow and pamper them and keep coming again and again even as you were pushed aside as if you were nothing), it is infatuation. And this is wrong.
- - - -
In truth, Chizuru probably could have seen that there was some terrible, horrible, big secret in Ichigo and Ishida and Orihime and Chad and Rukia and even Tatsuki. She could've seen it, but she didn't, and that is because Chizuru keeps one hand over her ears and one hand over her eyes.
She might've even, had she had another hand to spare, placed one softly over her own lips, because at times she cannot stop herself from desperately wanting to kiss Orihime and this is all bad and unrequited and maybe even worse than whatever Orihime's group (this is what she refers of them, because their names often taste bitter on her lips, even of this is probably better and probably a well-enough preventative than trying to kiss Orihime) is trying to hide.
It is not that she is what people would probably refer to as a lesbian (Tatsuki, who is almost even more lesbian than she is, even refers to her as this at times), because there are plenty of those and Orihime is probably one too, but that the feelings are unstable and she is more 'in love' with the idea of Orihime than Orihime herself.
It's what infatuation is, underneath it all, and distracted as she is by it, Chizuru does not see that Orihime is slowly trickling away from her life, as is most everyone else.
Chizuru sometimes pauses in keeping a hand over her eyes to place it on her hip.
- - - -
"Chizuru, would you like some?" asks Orihime, after being rudely refused by Tatsuki and the other girls, holding out a slice of something that looks rather vile and most likely is.
"Don't take it-, in fact, don't even listen to what's in it." Tatsuki grumbles over beside Orihime, shoving her own lunch into her mouth and brushing crumbs off her lap (her lap, which is skirted, and you imagine that this skirt is probably discarded exactly two seconds after she is out of school because she doesn't seem like the type of person to like skirts at all).
Chizuru looks at it in questioning (shock, surprise, because Orihime mostly never offers you anything-, not in affections, not in physical objects), before lightly taking it and trying to resist the urge to let her fingers linger longer over Orihime's hands. She has warm hands, but not enough to be clammy or sweaty, and they are so very different from Chizuru's, which are cold and boney but sweat whenever she tries to warm them up at all.
She thinks Orihime probably lotions her hands-, a soft, chaste, baby powder smell rises up from them a bit, and Chizuru smiles and remembers to say, "Sure, thank you."
Orihime beams and pokes a tongue out to Tatsuki, and Chizuru feels a violent pang in her chest at that because it mostly agrees with her assumptions that Orihime had only did it to rub something in Tatsuki's face, something childish and ignorant to anybody's feelings like 'see, she took it', or 'I win, haha'.
Chizuru doesn't eat the sandwich, anyway, and it lays dull and forgotten next to her for the rest of the period before it is later thrown in the trash and she is able to smile again.
- - - -
Chizuru cuts her hair, not enough to be painfully noticeable, but enough to be daring, and ruffles her clothes. Her normally straight skirt is crinkled and her shirt and tie seem to slump against her body (not curving round peach-sized breasts, ones that could be cupped in somebody's hand, ones that are nothing like Orihime's, and it seems like everything about Chizuru is different from her but they are not perfect opposites, not people who would fit together and have all the traits the other is missing) instead of tucking into it.
She hopes Orihime will notice.
And eventually, Orihime does, when it is almost time for their last class period to end. "Chizuru, is something wrong? You're looking really depressed and a little messy today!" she chimes, still bright, even if she had been asking someone about their mother's or father's death.
"Hmm? No! Not at all." Chizuru says back, and she grins, halfway sincere at least. "Were you worried about me?" she adds after a second, and the corners of her lips rise further, further. She kind of wants her face to break-, perhaps there would be something, anything, beyond her skin that Orihime would actually like. There is nothing there for either of them in flesh.
"Err, well...kind of." Orihime admits with a small, airy laugh. Then she smiles, as if in knowing (and comfort), and gives a rushed wave as she quickly jogs to catch up with Tatsuki, who has already collected her bags and is walking out the door.
It is slightly satisfying to see that one Tatsuki fist clenched at her side.
- - - -
Three days now, that Orihime has been offering her part of her lunches.
They are all equally disgusting, the 'presents', but each seem more carefully made than Orihime's normally are, and all the bigger pieces are given to her and the smaller ones stay with Orihime.
"Chizuru," Orihime says, offering out a piece of something or another on her palm. Chizuru soon figures out that it is only a simple pocky stick, and is slightly relieved.
"Thanks!" she replies, and grins around the stick, hanging out of her mouth like a cigarette or tooth pick.
Orihime gives a close-eyed smile, and Chizuru feels more open with Orihime, even just momentarily, blinded than she ever did before then. The pocky tastes decidedly sweeter with a smile.
- - - -
"-hime, y-you don't want this..." says Chizuru as Orihime presses herself into her, and she can feel the heat and the breasts and the curves and the dainty rib bones.
"Yes I do." is Orihime's reply.
Chizuru looks to where her hand is pressed up against the dark, shadowed wall of one of the large school broom closets, and the other is tangled in Orihime's bright locks, the color of soft orange peels. Orihime smells like soapy roses, likely from whatever shampoo she has been using (once, Chizuru would've obsessed over it, asking and brown-nosing until she knew it, but now, here, in these types of situations, it doesn't seem half as important), and sweat.
Orihime's whole back of her shirt is soaked through with sweat. Her breasts, when Chizuru slips a hand into the already partly unbuttoned top, are also sweaty, sticky and clammy, and she wants to recoil because before, before, Orihime always had warm, perfect hands, that were not as her body is now.
It is like, overwhelmingly, this girl pressed into Chizuru and mewling softly as one of her nipples is tweaked, is not Orihime, but some ugly, terrible clone.
"Sure," she says, and then whispers, "Thank you."
Chizuru doesn't even have to put her hands over her ears to not hear the words this time, and somehow, it is not relieving.
- - - -
At first, Chizuru does not understand that Orihime probably loves her, and that she comes to her again and again for more than their bad, clumsy love making, which is not really love making. Sex has never seemed as real when it is just two girls-, two boys, yes, a man and a woman, yes, but not them, perhaps just for the reason that it is them, and not anyone else.
Chizuru should not be having sex with Orihime, and Orihime really should not be having sex at all, because she should be the unspoken, inarguable lover of Tatsuki and Tatsuki would sternly preserve Orihime's virginity until it was deemed acceptable.
Chizuru should be squealing over how cute Orihime looks when she's blushing, or how wonderful she looks in her uniform. Chizuru should ever remain the flat-chested, Orihime-infatuated lesbian who everyone knows about and everyone rolls their eyes on, and this is not how it is at all, not one bit.
Orihime should not slowly be moving into Chizuru's house, and Chizuru should not reach for a skirt in her wardrobe drawers and get Orihime's, or be looking for a school neck tie and end up with one that distracts her all day Orihime's sweet, rosy-hinted smell. Orihime should not sleep over on weekends (in the same bed, much less), and she should not see less and less of her friends and most of all, most of all, her friends should not see less and less of her.
But it is all there, black and white (soft orange-peel orange), and it is something that maybe Chizuru can get used to. She has always been a very accepting girl, when it comes down to it, and this is not any different.
Except for the fact that she'll probably never get used to accidentally grabbing Orihime's underwear from the laundry and thinking that perhaps it could've been different, and knowing that it should have.
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