a brief glance, a fleeting smile
Abarai Rukia scrolled through the news on her iPad as she heard the shuffling of feet, boxes being moved, and objects being transported into the next apartment unit right next to theirs.
Rukia breathed a sigh of relief as she took off her tan reading glasses. Renji, her husband of four years, was on a business trip with her brother and so she would have the place all to herself. She was actually looking forward to her alone time. Not because she didn't love Renji – they were crazy in love – but there were times when she needed her own space and time, without anyone, her husband included, invading them. Those times of peace and solitude were the times she cherished the most. To not be bothered was part of the beauty of life.
"Nya."
Rukia looked down and saw that her precious white cat, Chappy, was demanding food. She gracefully jumped down from her white cushioned bar stools and picked up Chappy, snuggling her, and was rewarded with Chappy purring contently.
Knowing she didn't have much time to spare, she put a half cup of dry kibble into Chappy's trusted clear food bowl. Chappy nudged her soft head onto Rukia's leg once more, her way saying "took you long enough, human, but thank you," and sauntered towards her food bowl.
Rukia softly giggled at her sassy cat. After pulling her hair into a messy top knot bun, she grabbed her light gray backpack, and keys and walked out of her three-bedroom apartment.
She always had anxiety when she had to leave her beloved kitty. "Bye Chappy."
As she locked her door, she noticed a flash of orange in her peripheral vision. Deciding to ignore the flame, she turned around and walked towards the elevator. Her new neighbor's door was opened, but Rukia didn't really care who the new tenants are – just as long as they were not obnoxious, shady, or serial killers, then she was sure they could all live in harmony.
Rukia briefly stopped as she heard a no-nonsense, hardened voice yet laced with hidden undertones of warmth, talking to someone. Most likely a confused mover.
"Yeah, place that box here. No, on your left. That's your right. Gah! Here let me do it."
Rukia wasn't sure why, but she nodded, approving of the man's self-approach to moving.
Shows that you're not a lazy ass.
Just as Rukia walked pass her new neighbor's door, he came out to help the other movers.
The two walked in a half circle, desperately avoiding bumping into each other. They didn't know it, but both hated contact, especially with strangers.
The neighbor, Rukia noticed, was probably a foot or two taller than her, so she flickered her eyes upwards to make eye contact with him. And when she did, she noticed that the flash of orange was his hair. And now she was trying extra hard to fight her current desires of chortling to death. But she shouldn't be surprised anymore – colors in a crayon box extended to eye colors and hair colors. Even so, this man's hair was really orange. Very orange. A bright orange.
Meanwhile, Ichigo stood in front of who he presumed to be his new neighbor: very short, thin, almost frail looking, arms full of tattoos, the left had an intricate half sleeve design while the right was littered with medium to large tattoos. But it wasn't his neighbor's body art that he was paying attention to, but rather, he was staring at her simple gold rose wedding band. He simply stood there, fixated on her ring finger, an unknown feeling seeping into his heart.
Rukia kept her neutral gaze on her neighbor. He was quite good looking and judging by his silver wedding ring, he and his partner most likely moved to Tokyo for their future. She wasn't sure why he was so transfixed with her tattoos, though.
If she continued to let her neighbor glue his eyes onto her skin, then she would be late to work.
Clearing her throat, she said, "Hello, you must be our new neighbor. I'm Abarai Rukia; nice to meet you and welcome."
Ichigo's spellbound quickly cured itself as he heard her voice. He was surprised that such a deep, posh voice emitted from such a pint-sized body.
"Yeah," Ichigo started, his trademark scowl forming. "My wife and I are just moving in. I'm Kurosaki Ichigo by the way. Nice to meet you."
The two shook hands and both felt an inexplicable jolt of electricity as soon as their hands made contact.
Rukia was sure neither one of them were robots nor cyborgs.
Ichigo wasn't sure what to think of their contact, but it wasn't unwelcomed.
Rukia looked around and noticed that his wife wasn't around.
As if reading her mind, Ichigo answered, "She had to immediately return to work after our honeymoon. She's in South Korea right now, so I told her to meet me here when her job was completed. Our lease begins today so I decided to make the jump and finish unpacking before she arrives."
Rukia nodded. "So newlyweds?"
Ichigo simply nodded in return. He was never that talkative and him engaging in small talk was highly uncharacteristic for him.
What he didn't know was that Rukia was the same. She wasn't one to initiate conversations, but here she was, breaking her own mold. Renji would be proud of her.
Rukia gave him a small, awkward smile. "Well, it was nice meeting you, Kurosaki-kun. I'll bake you and your wife an apple pie later. I need to get to work before they fire me." She chuckled. As if someone can fire the boss. They might form a rebellion, though.
She smiled at her inner joke, something that was lost on Ichigo. Thinking that she was making a joke at his expense, Ichigo scowled at her.
"I hope the move goes smoothly. Let me know if you need help. I usually come home at 6pm or 8pm, depending on the projects and meetings I have lined up for the day. You have a good day, Kurosaki-kun." Rukia bowed and elegantly walked towards the elevator, her cognac loafers softly clacking on the shiny marble floors.
Rukia pushed the elevator button and stared at the numbers, waiting for number 5 to light up. She wasn't sure why – it wasn't as if she felt compelled to – but she made a full turn to briefly look at Ichigo again and saw that he was loading more boxes.
The elevators dinged, signaling Rukia to enter. Without another glance, she entered and the elevator doors were slowly closing. She saw Ichigo looking up from his boxes and stared at her just as the elevator doors were closing and she could've sworn that he gave her a small smile.
.
.
.
Ichigo unloaded several boxes into his unit: a spacious two-bedroom apartment. It was an ideal place for them. Orihime would love this place. While the architecture was charming, the atmosphere seemed homey and not as pretentious as the other places he visited.
It was going to take him maybe two days to finish unpacking and setting up their apartment. Then he had to see how the construction of his restaurant was doing. The grand opening was in a month. He was the one who suggested moving to Tokyo. It was time for him to open his flagship restaurant: Zangestu. While awards weren't indicative of anything, he was ready to be a part of Japan's always-present, accelerating food institution through his own visions.
As usual, Orihime was supportive of him and said that she would go anywhere he went. Just as long as they were together.
He wore a half smile on his face. That was just like Orihime, more considerate and accommodating to his own desires than her own. At times he felt selfish, but he had his own goals and he wanted to fulfill them.
He started dating Orihime during their first year in college, but he decided to drop out of his biomechanical program and college all together when he started to work at a sushi restaurant, where he fell in love with the art of creating things with your bare hands and giving – selling them, really – to others and making them feel satisfied and content.
Then again, it could be that his mother was a great cook and he wanted to commemorate her memories into his current profession.
He scratched his orange mop and before he was able to stop himself, he randomly called out a name –
One that was not his wife's name.
.
.
.
Rukia was sitting in her office, full of negative space – a stark contrast to her apartment mostly because Renji loved interior design and postmodern art. Sipping her coffee, Rukia began reading reports from the IT Research Lab and jotted down notes in her black journal.
She established and opened the IT Group six years ago. Immediately following her graduation and obtaining her doctorate in both engineering and interdisciplinary information studies, she decided to take a chance and pursue her dream: a research lab where she was able to design, innovate, create, and research the interconnections/intra-workings of science and technology. Most importantly, she was able to collaborate with the people she became friends with since college. It was a taboo to work in an environment full of friends, but she trusted her friends with her life.
Renji had been supportive of her since she told him of her dreams in high school. The two were on and off during their senior year in high school and although they were admitted to different universities, they entered a stable relationship since their undergraduate years.
They were together for thirteen years, including their four years of marriage.
She smiled. Often times when she was reflecting on her relationship with Renji, she would find herself smiling at no one and at nothing in particular. Renji understood her better than anyone else. And yet at time, she always contradicted herself – because she's only been with one person – Renji. Was it correct to assume that a person she's known for majority of her life was the lone person who understood her? Because she didn't provide additional spaces for others to understand her?
Rukia closed her eyes. After a few seconds of temporary darkness, she opened her eyes and blinked slowly. Whatever her thoughts may be drifting to, she had to end them now before they would come back and perpetrate avoidable pain and suffering.
She sighed. If only she could predict her future.
She resumed taking notes, happy to distract herself from her near inner aggression –
She wasn't sure why she wrote that person's name down.
.
.
.
She was at his door at approximately 8pm, with a homemade apple pie in hand. He invited her in with a scowl-like smile on his face and as promised she helped him moved his things in accordance to his wishes.
After two hours, they ate pie and conversed as if they were longtime, separated friends desperately trying catch up with each other. In reality though, they were trying to get to know each other more through polite banter. As Rukia inwardly noted, they were being overly polite and careful in their language. Ichigo then boiled some water in the kettle for some tea.
Once the conversation became more about their spouses, a topic that both wish they desperately wanted to evade yet both couldn't deny that they were interested in the other's respective spouse. The need to wanting to know a stranger's life was like an odd, unfathomable human desire.
As such, they shared their revelations about falling in love and marriage. And life.
.
.
.
if only they paid attention to the burner.
End notes:
Not as dialogue driven as my previous writing pieces. This story is influenced by Wong kar-wai's visionary film, In the Mood for Love. I like the slow burning process: nothing substantial happens until the fire begins and spreads (AKA the art of long windedness). In keeping up with the angsty stories that are being uploaded, I am quite certain there is no way this story will have a happy ending.