Title: chinatown fiction
Author: tasteslikemiso
Characters/Pairings: Ichigo/Hitsugaya
Rating: T
Word Count: 1000
Notes: For hopelesslover23's request, which I used as the summary. Title from the September 20, 2005 prompt for the lj community 31_days. Edited quite a bit recently to make it less ambiguous.
Summary: Ice skating and childhood dreams.
"Trying to sell a pawn shop its own merchandise back? Now that's bold, even for you." Toushirou smirked. "Or did you think I wouldn't notice?"
"No, no you must be mistaken," he pretends to be offended. "This oil lamp has been in my family for years! It's an antique! Honestly, I expected more from this establishment. You always give me the best prices, today you accuse me of stealing."
"You are a thief." Toushirou points out dryly.
"Nah, not just a thief. You make my work sound dull. At least I'm not minding my grandparents' shop all the damn time. You should learn to live a little, kid."
Toushirou determinedly ignores him, trying to focus on the derivative in front of him.
"Starting right now. Close up for today, come to lunch with me. Unless you think you can afford to lose my business for good?" He heads for the door, lamp firmly in hand. "Later, Toushirou. Nice knowing you."
Toushirou grabs the keys, rolling his eyes. "You don't give up do you? I never get any work done whenever you decide to show up. And don't take that, really. I'm not going to tell you again."
Toushirou had never approved of Ichigo stealing, but it wasn't store policy to ask questions. It had started when he dropped out of university to help raise his sisters after his father passed away. It was always "just until they got back on their feet" and he'd always said he would stop, but was never quite sure when that would be. He was working overtime at a hole in the wall restaurant for shit pay, and trying to scrape together enough money to finish college eventually. Toushirou had always warned him that he was treading on thin ice. Now he had finally fallen through.
They retraced the path of many winters, feet sinking into the snow with each step. It hung heavy on the trees around them and in the air between them. Walking onto the ice, Toushirou wondered bitterly if it would crack under the weight of their unspoken words. He'd wanted to have the conversation inside but Ichigo had insisted on coming here, ruining this place.
She catches Ichigo's eye from across the room, already a little tipsy judging by the over-brightness of her gaze. He brushes against a man on the way over to her, slides up to the bar and pays for her drink out of the poor sucker's wallet. Later, while he is undressing her, he will remember that he'd once wanted to be a doctor.
In the morning, the sun throws light across Toushirou's bed in unreadable patterns and glares off the ice frosting the window. His hand emerges from the blankets, already reaching for the skates beside him.
Ichigo slips out of bed, pulling on his clothes quietly. Raking one hand through his hair, he grabs the necklace from her nightstand. He turns to leave, hesitating only to paw through the bag perched on her dresser.
The air is still, he doesn't need to look around to know Ichigo isn't here. He delays as long as possible, lacing and unlacing his skates. He practices as long as possible, lungs burning and head spinning. He walks back as slowly as possible, trying to make out yesterday's footsteps or a familiar face along the way.
His grandmother needs to rest, so he takes over for her when he gets back. He's doing his homework behind the register as usual, eyes flicking towards the door when the bell rings and Ichigo steps in.
"I didn't see you this morning," Toushirou says, flipping the page nonchalantly. Ichigo rummages through the shelves looking for junk. Fingers skim over something smooth and cold, he palms the jade dragon. One of many trinkets that fills this shop, a veritable tourist trap.
"Yuzu was sick," he lies, rolling the dragon over in his palm.
Toushirou realizes he's read the same page three times. Irritated, he glances up to look at Ichigo's face.
"I've got some stuff to sell." Ichigo places the wallets on the counter: both leather, both expensive, both empty.
Toushirou narrows his eyes. "You're going to get caught one day."
Ichigo shrugs, then shoves his hands in his pockets. "What are they worth to you?"
"You had more." It's a fact, not an accusation. Ichigo still won't meet his eyes. "But you already dumped it, didn't you? This morning, at Liao's."
Ichigo fidgets with the dragon in his pocket. "Is that why you weren't there?" Toushirou barely restrains laughter. "Don't trust Liao to keep your secrets, Ichigo. Necklaces, rings, bracelets. There must be quite a few women around town feeling naked without all their jewelry." He sounded bitter, his eyes were sharp.
"Toushirou, I'm sorry-"
"You should be. If you had something that valuable, you should have brought it here."
He throws fistfuls of bills at Ichigo. "Here's your money. Get out of my sight."
They walked together in silence, Ichigo rubbed the dragon in his pocket for good luck. He needed it now more than ever, but he didn't know if he deserved it. Ichigo tried to offer it to him, Toushirou slapped his hand to the ground. The dragon glinted an angry green in the snow. You can't get back what's been stolen. Toushirou squeezed his eyes shut, wishing he hadn't been the one to catch Ichigo in the act.
There was nothing to explain, really. Just like Toushirou had expected. He didn't want to hear the truth, he already saw it reflected in Ichigo's eyes: saw skin and sweat, lipstick and high heels. Ichigo kissing them, touching them. Casing the joint as he's watching her undress, remembering where she puts down her purse. Ichigo tried anyway, he said things like bills and real world and real problems and Toushirou not being able to understand, Toushirou being just a child. His words were drowned out by the blizzard swirling around them, and Toushirou looked up to watch the sky fall.